by T. A. Brock
As she watched herself walk away with Peg, she realized she was the cause of the despair. Someone, whoever she was seeing through, was feeling hopeless and lost all because of her.
And how could that be? She didn’t know anyone in Asher. She couldn’t be the cause of anyone’s sorrow.
It was a dream, she assured herself. That was all. Just a crazy, weird dream.
As quick as a blink, the dream ended and Cori came awake…to the daylight. She’d slept the whole night through and she was glad for it. Except now she had to go to school again. She had to face people again. She had to try to be normal again.
Ignoring the disturbing dream, she got ready for school and went downstairs. Her mom was already gone—no surprise there—but at least she’d made blueberry muffins and left them on the counter. Cori ate one, standing at the sink, and then forced herself out the door.
The second day of school had to be better than the first. It was like a rule or something. First day sucked; second day was better. First day: headache, epic book crash with hottie, mystery meat for lunch, and Mrs. Simon (she really did smell like fish). Second day: preventative action. No carrying huge stacks of books, stick to the salad bar, and keep her distance from Mrs. Simon.
Feeling a touch optimistic, she headed toward her first period class. She did the same pause-just-outside-the-door routine except she was early this time. Students brushed by, hurrying to class. But no squashed toes today, so second day was already better.
Deep breath. Here goes part two.
She entered the room and instantly felt that pulling sensation. She ignored it and scanned the room for an available seat.
Her heart sank. There were exactly four empty ones and they were all surrounding a particular student who’d been missing from class yesterday.
Grayson. Wonderful.
How was every desk already full? Was it a class of overachievers? Or did they sacrifice a few minutes of hallway social time in order to avoid the class grouch?
She glanced at Mr. Peters, but he was busy writing page numbers on the board. And it wasn’t like she could ask him for a different seat option.
Drummer boy smirked at her from his seat one row away from Grayson.
She sighed.
The first empty desk was the second from the back, which meant she was forced to step over a lot of legs to get there. She also noticed that not every seat was actually occupied with a student. Books and jackets took up any extra openings. Saving seats should be against the law. Moments like this, it was akin to smothering kittens.
Eventually, Cori was able to slink down into the chair. Just before she did, she made the mistake of glancing at Grayson.
He was glaring at her with something close to hatred. But why? Because she’d bumped him in the hall? Was he crazy? A psycho maybe?
The bell rang and Mr. Peters started outlining appropriate research methods for their upcoming paper on Shakespeare. Minutes later, the door opened and another student entered. Or, Cori guessed he was a student. He was big—kind of huge, really. And dressed all wrong for such a wet climate. He wore jeans, a faded blue T-shirt that hugged his muscles, and flip-flops. Considering the constant drizzle that was Asher’s calling card, the flip-flops were a bit much.
It was clear by the way everyone gawked that he wasn’t a familiar face.
“Class, it seems we have another new addition to our student body.” There were some snickers at the phrase student body. “Meet Aiken McGrath. Aiken is from…”
“Minnesota,” Aiken said, coolly.
“All right, then. Aiken, you can take a seat next to Cori. She’s new too. Cori, raise your hand.”
Hesitantly, she slipped her hand up. Aiken’s eyes danced around the room until they found hers and then locked on like a heat seeking missile. His were the strangest shade of gray-blue—more gray than blue. They bore into hers as if they were trying to see the back of her skull. He maneuvered through the aisle with an unearthly ease, his solid gaze never breaking from hers.
Just as he was about to sit, a throat cleared roughly behind her and Aiken’s head snapped toward Grayson. Aiken froze, his slate eyes narrowed. Cori couldn’t tell what Grayson looked like because he was behind her, but it felt like some kind of standoff. Did they know each other? The tension was a thick sludge.
Finally, Aiken took his seat.
Throughout the lesson, Cori snuck looks at him. He was pale, like most people in Asher (no matter the skin tone, there was a general lack-of-sun feel to everyone). However, it didn’t take away from Aiken’s looks. With his short wavy brown hair and those eyes, he easily put most guys to shame.
Most. But not all. She could name one, who happened to be sitting behind her, who could definitely hold his own against the new guy.
Just then, Aiken glanced over and caught her looking. Quickly, she ducked her head.
“You’re new too. Where’re you from?” he whispered.
When she glanced back at him, he was smiling. It was a friendly smile. A stunning smile. A take-your-breath-away smile. She found herself grinning back.
“Indiana.”
He raised one bold eyebrow and nodded. “You like it here?”
“Not really.”
“I get that. Why’d you move here?”
“Long story.”
He leaned toward her, not caring that Mr. Peter’s was still in full lecture mode. “Maybe you could tell me at lunch. You have A or B?”
“B.”
He smiled that brilliant smile. “Me too. What do you say?”
She was a little surprised. Gorgeous guys didn’t usually talk to her, much less want to eat lunch with her.
“Uh, sure.”
He grinned wider. “Sweet.”
As she turned her attention back to the teacher, she marveled at how her second day of being a new student was turning out so much better than her first.
Grayson scowled deeper as he listened to Cori and Aiken. In a matter of two minutes Aiken had managed to do what Grayson had never even thought to: learn about her. Apparently she wasn’t from Tennessee.
But Aiken kept looking at her even after they’d finished talking. And for reasons he couldn’t answer, that made Grayson angry.
Well, there was one reason—a big one: Aiken was a zombie.
Grayson could tell the minute the guy walked into the room. He could smell him. He smelled, well, dead. Humans couldn’t register the scent, but other zombies sure could. Just like Grayson could tell Aiken was older than him. His scent was stronger. But not as strong as Leiv’s and Raina’s.
Just then, Grayson couldn’t help himself. Leaning forward so he was only a few inches from Cori’s hair, he breathed deep and closed his eyes. She smelled like rain and mint. Fresh. Not stagnant. Not dead. He loved her scent, loved how it drowned out the stench of zombie.
He hated his own. And Aiken’s. Especially Aiken’s.
The bell rang and he watched as she hurried out. The class emptied and still Grayson sat there. Aiken was the last to leave. He stood and stretched, acting all casual, as if he had no clue what Grayson was. His shirt came up in the front and Grayson noticed a purple tinged scar in the shape of teeth on his lower abs. A skar. More evidence that he was a zombie.
Grayson followed him out into the hall.
“Hey, you,” he called. “Why are you here?”
Aiken turned slowly. His gaze skimmed over Grayson like he was some kind of organic sludge.
“Is your tribe local?” was all the guy said.
“Of course. Now answer my question. What are you doing here?”
“What’s your name?” the zombie countered.
“It doesn’t matter.” Grayson scowled. “The quota is too high in Asher. You can’t live here. How many are in your tribe?”
“I don’t have a tribe. I’m here on business.”
Oh, really. “What kind of business?”
Aiken stared at him eerily for several moments and then smirked. “That is for me to know
and for you to guess at.” He spun on his heel and sauntered away.
But Grayson wasn’t done.
“Leave the girl alone,” he said, his temper rising too quickly and threatening to take control.
Aiken turned and regarded him with one eyebrow cocked. “Why would I do that? She’s stunning. And all work and no play makes Aiken a very dull boy.”
Grayson felt a growl coming and had to bite his cheek to rein it in. “She’s not a plaything.”
Aiken smiled easily—too easily. “Don’t worry, buddy. I won’t hurt her. I’m not a monster.” He winked before disappearing into a group of students.
Grayson stood there for a minute, his mind all whacked. He didn’t want that zombie anywhere near Cori. He shouldn’t care but…well, he didn’t know a thing about him. What if Aiken was one of the bad ones? What if he hurt her? She was too vulnerable for that.
He went to his next class, determined to find a way to keep the guy away from her. Except, she was there. God, how many classes did they have together? He’d skipped a couple after lunch yesterday too. He wondered if they shared any of those.
Her being in the same room was nothing more than a distraction. And he needed to think. At least this time she was sitting all the way across the room from him.
A second later, Asher’s newest zombie stepped through the door. And worse, he sat next to Cori again. Between breaks in the lesson, the two of them chattered. Lucky for them, Mrs. Simon ran an easygoing classroom. Normally he was glad for that. Now? Well, it would be a great time for her to start cracking down.
Grayson watched through slitted eyes as they exchanged smiles. A shy grin from her, a knowing one from the zombie. Rage became a slow burn inside Grayson’s chest. Until the final straw was broken.
Aiken said something—Grayson couldn’t hear what it was for the way his ears were pounding—and Cori laughed, a quiet bubbly happy sound. That was all it took for his vision to flip to russets. His skin felt tight and his throat burned. He would lose it if he watched a second longer.
Grayson lunged from his chair and ran from the room.
Chapter 7
Over My Dead...Well, You Know
A COMMOTION CAUGHT CORI’S ATTENTION, someone stumbling. She was shocked to see Grayson practically running for the door. He looked strange…sick.
“Mr. Patch, where are you going? Are you all right?” Mrs. Simon called after him, but he was already in the hall.
Cori glanced at Aiken. He had an odd look on his face. His eyes were narrowed…and was he sniffing the air? She didn’t smell anything strange.
“What is it?” she asked. And just like that, the expression vanished and he was back to normal.
“Guy’s weird,” he said.
“He looked sick.”
“Yeah, maybe. Anyway…what were you saying about your mom?”
She couldn’t remember. All she could think about was Grayson. Should someone check on him?
“Uh…” She glanced at the door. At Mrs. Simon where she was helping a student work through an algebra problem. At her own paper. Back at the door.
She could sense that feeling again. The drawing. What was it? She wondered absently if she should see a doctor. Combined with the headaches, she supposed it was cause for concern. But then, she hadn’t had a headache today. Just the foreign sensation of being drawn to something.
She raised her hand. “I need to use the restroom.”
Mrs. Simon produced a hall pass, and Cori completely forgot about Aiken. Out in the corridor she stopped just long enough to get her bearings. She let the odd feeling be her guide. It was something like instinct. A sixth sense. It felt natural—even as it felt supernatural. She didn’t understand it, but she followed it anyway, a sense of urgency propelling her.
Cori walked between the rows of lockers, winding through the school. After a little bit, she started to feel panicked, like she was running out of time. She gave up walking and started running. She forgot all about how ridiculous she must’ve looked, forgot about everything except getting to whatever was calling for her.
Rounding a corner, she stopped abruptly. Because the pulling had stopped. And because Grayson was up ahead. He was hunched over and stumbling as if he couldn’t get his legs to move, scooting away from her. It was obvious something was very wrong. He needed help.
“Are you okay?” She ran to him.
He threw up his arm—even though he was clearly having trouble moving—as if to shield himself. From her?
“Do you need help?”
His face was partially covered by his arm and he was bent over, but she could tell he’d turned a pasty white. And he was trying to shake his head but was jerking it instead.
“Let me call someone—”
“No,” he croaked. His voice was almost non-existent, airy and gravelly. “I’m…fine. I just…need…”
She came closer. She still couldn’t see his face but he looked like he was suffering.
“What? What do you need? An inhaler or something? Where is it? I’ll go get it.”
He shuddered and gasped, still trying to shuffle away. Cori thought he might collapse at any moment.
“Come on. Talk to me. What’s wrong with you?” Urgency made her voice hard.
“Water. I need…water.”
“Water? Okay. The bathroom’s not far. Here, lean on me.”
He didn’t move so she scooted close and tried to support his arm.
“No! Don’t—don’t touch me.”
She couldn’t believe he was going to be a jerk now. When he was in obvious pain and she was the only one around to help.
“Oh, shut up. Do you want my help or not?” she snapped.
He didn’t so much answer as groan. So she took it as an invitation. Since he was a lot taller than her, it was easy to duck under his arm. She expected to struggle with his weight but found he wasn’t all that heavy. She must’ve been experiencing an adrenaline rush.
Together they limped along. Cori was grateful that the men’s room was empty since she wasn’t technically supposed to be in there.
“The sink,” he rasped.
She propped him up there, turned on the faucet, and backed away. That’s when she got a good look at him. His skin was wispy thin, like tissue paper. His eyes were dark holes sunken into his face; the irises were mud brown, the whites yellow and veiny. His lips were blue, his cheeks hollow.
She squeezed her eyes closed as an unwanted memory of her dad nestled into a silk-lined coffin pounded at her brain like a fist.
Grayson looked similar—unbelievably close to death.
The thought terrified her. So much she couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. Would he die right here in front of her?
She stood there in disbelief, watching him drink from the tap. She waited as he slurped, her hands balled and knuckles white, muscles both locked in place and poised to run.
When he finally rose from the sink, Cori could hardly believe her eyes. He was completely back to normal. The black eyes and sallow skin, gone as if they were never there. He was standing at his full height again and moving easily. The pain seemed to be…just gone.
Cori swallowed hard and met his eyes in the mirror—eyes that were green again. He didn’t say a word, his expression blank. He only stared.
For so long, he stared.
“Are you okay?” Her voice came out so easy. So much more level than she actually felt.
He looked away, busying himself with washing his hands. “You should go before someone catches you in here.”
She shook her head, trying to figure out what just happened. “Do you feel better? I mean, what…what was that?”
He dried his hands. “I’m fine.” Then he walked out of the bathroom, leaving her staring after him.
Grayson was freaking out on the inside.
Freaking. The freak. Out.
Nobody’d ever witnessed him in the midst of a water cramp—well, nobody except his family.
He walked as quic
kly as he could away from the bathroom, away from Cori. But she was right behind him.
“Wait a second. Hold on. You should see the nurse. Or, or…something.” She was practically running to keep up with him.
“I’m fine,” he said again, with an edge this time.
“Yeah, now. But you…you looked like death.”
She had no idea.
“Dehydration,” he snipped. “It does that to people.” Well, not people but zombies.
He looked straight ahead and kept his pace. But she wasn’t done.
“Just, will you stop for a second?”
He did. Abruptly. But he couldn’t look at her. “What?” he barked.
She was stone silent. What was she thinking? She must be freaked out, wondering what she’d seen. Maybe in shock. He finally glanced at her. She didn’t look freaked out.
She stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “You’re not all right. Not really.”
She was reaching for his arm. She was going to touch him again? Was she crazy?
Fear and confusion had him jerking backward. “I said, I’m fine,” he snapped. “Now, stay the hell away from me.”
He stuck around only long enough to see her eyes flutter away and her face burn red with embarrassment. Good.
He was relieved when she didn’t follow him. He needed to think. What would Leiv do in this situation? Obviously he would make sure she didn’t suspect he was something other than human. But he couldn’t make himself go there right now. Besides, she hadn’t really seemed scared. Exactly how much had she seen?
Lunchtime was hell. He watched from afar as Aiken sat down at the table with Cori and her new friends. He watched Peg and Rex as they transitioned from curious to accepting. Peg seemed especially affected by the zombie. Aiken’s obvious charm worked well because by the end of the hour, they were all laughing like they’d known him for years.