"This is gonna be gross," Tanya warned him, "and when she wakes up she's gonna be really confused and really, really pissed off. I need you to just talk to her--say anything, it doesn't matter what. She's coming back from a long way away and she's got to get anchored back right or this won't end well." She didn't want to freak him out any more than she had to, but she wasn't kidding, either. They had to make sure it was actually Sharley that came back.
The zombies had scattered to the furthest edges of the little clearing, watching silently--they'd never seen this before, either, or anything like it; the god of Death hardly resurrected people every day. Azarael ignored them and everyone else--his whole attention was focused on Sharley, with an intensity that was inhuman and almost horrible. Even Tanya didn't know what the hell he was doing, until he shrugged off his cloak and then swung a sword that had to be as tall as Sharley off his back. Tanya had only ever seen it once before--the sword, the sword of Death. It was extremely plain and utilitarian, with no fancy decoration; this was a weapon made with one purpose in mind.
Normally one, at least. Its function was going to be reversed just this once, the only time and the only way it could. Without a word he raised the thing high over his head, and brought it straight down into his daughter's ruined chest.
Tanya's hand reflexively tightened on Spocklar's--she'd known that was coming, but still. Ironically, Sharley's scream didn't bother her half so much--it was as though everything she hadn't been able to give voice to before she died found its way out now. Only a little blood, though, which perhaps wasn't surprising; God knew she'd lost most of it already. Bone-white hands clawed at the table, her eyes opening and locking in a crazed glare on her father--not recognizing him, not yet. An inhuman snarl escaped her throat, but before she could so much as reach to tear at Azarael he'd pulled the sword free and pressed both his hands against her sternum, just below her collarbones. What little blood she had left welled around them, red through his marble-smooth fingers.
"Be still, Sharley," he said, and then, when she completely ignored him, added something else in a language even Tanya didn't know. Whatever it was, it worked, because she quit trying to claw his eyes out and did indeed go mostly still, though she twitched occasionally. Her eyes were still horribly vacant, but at least they'd lost that insane animal rage.
"Talk to her," Tanya whispered. "She'll try to choke Az if he does it...just say anything. Just let her hear your voice."