Coco Robicheaux was the most powerful gris-gris man in Plaquemines Parish, but right now he was nervous. Sweating bullets nervous.
He didn’t like what he had been contracted to do. It terrified him. But a job was a job, and what was more, he was being paid an enormous amount.
His assignment: raise a Zombie Army. For raw materials, he had stumbled upon a cemetery full of defunct vegans, victims of their stupid macrobiotic diets.
The dark magic was working. Decomposing hands clawed their way out of moldering graves. But Robicheaux’s smile disappeared when he heard their hungry howls.
“Gra-a-a-a-a-a-ains!”
He didn’t like what he had been contracted to do. It terrified him. But a job was a job, and what was more, he was being paid an enormous amount.
His assignment: raise a Zombie Army. For raw materials, he had stumbled upon a cemetery full of defunct vegans, victims of their stupid macrobiotic diets.
The dark magic was working. Decomposing hands clawed their way out of moldering graves. But Robicheaux’s smile disappeared when he heard their hungry howls.
“Gra-a-a-a-a-a-ains!”
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