Tanya still hadn't let go of his hands--he really was lost, she thought, lost and upset and shortly, if she was any judge, to be very, very angry. She wasn't sure she wanted to think what an angry Spocklar might do, so she wanted to forestall him at least until Az had done his thing. Who, if she was any judge, had to be at the outer reaches of the Swamp even now, far angrier than she had ever hoped to see him himself.
"You want to go kill the fucker, don't you?" she asked, her soothing tone rather at odds with her words. Az would definitely want to, too, and she wouldn't mind a crack at him herself...but that was the joy of Jary. There wasn't any limit to how many times she could resurrect someone, after all. "This is through, I'll have some zombies find him for you. You just chill until then, 'kay?"
The zombies had somehow got rid of Sharley's bloody ruined coat, and were at work now washing the blood off her arms. She didn't normally wear T-shirts Outside--she only had this one on because nobody gave a shit in the Other. The sleeves were long-ish for a T-shirt, but the zombies had pushed them up to work with their washcloths, and Sharley was a little too dead to worry about her scars. They were deep and long and ugly, all up and down her arms, some crisscrossing and almost seeming to form patterns. They were white with age, knotted and twisted where they should have had stitches and hadn't. Under normal circumstances she wouldn't have let anyone see them, but dead was dead and she could hardly protest.
All of them looked up sharply, all at once--they'd felt Az's arrival, too, and they were ready to run for it whenever he got there, which would, knowing him, be any minute. None of them wanted to be around when the god of Death found his murdered daughter.