The City Series (Book 1): Mordacious

by Sarah Lyons Fleming

  “None of us thought of it.”

  “I should’ve.”

  She leans her head against the oven. “I know you’re Golden Boy and all, but that’s ridiculous. You aren’t responsible. I’m the one who wouldn’t leave the cart.”

  “Okay, so it’s your fault.”

  Sylvie laughs; Rachel would’ve punched me. She draws her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs. Her lips are pale. I was warm from exertion, but now the damp has descended to my bones. The temperature is in the forties or low fifties, but she’s wet and that can be dangerous. We don’t always get enough calories versus our activity level, and there’s not a lot of extra padding left on her, if there ever was.

  “I’m going to put my arm around her shoulders,” I say to Italy and Jayden. “She’s cold.”

  “How do you know I want your arm around me?” Sylvie asks through chattering teeth.

  “What girl wouldn’t?” She snickers and edges closer. I take an arm out of my coat and pull her against me, then wrap my coat and arm around her. “Better?”

  She nods and, after a few minutes, stops shivering. I’m not glad that we’re being held hostage in a bakery or that we may be on the verge of hypothermia, but Sylvie’s body is warm, and soft where it should be soft. She smells terrible from the zombie that landed on her, but if I move my face to within an inch of the top of her head, I can smell her. I know there’s some biological or chemical reason why women smell so good, but that doesn’t make me enjoy it any less.

  The next two hours take about three days to pass. Jayden hums under his breath until Italy tells him to stop. I entertain myself with thoughts of which of the two kids I would punch first. Sylvie gets tenser and tenser, until she feels like a bowstring ready to snap. Finally, Italy speaks. “You have a lot of food?”

  I’m silent. He points my gun with his upper lip curled and bony face even sharper. He now officially looks crazy enough to use it. “I asked you a question.”

  Sylvie sits up. I throw my arm in front of her like Mom would in the car. God only knows what she’ll say. “No, we don’t have a lot of food,” I say. “And if your next question is about where we live, you might as well go ahead and shoot.”

  Italy and I are now embroiled in a staring match, but I can outlast him. Something moves outside the door. I slide the knife from my boot as we all jump to our feet.

  “Yo, Jayden,” a voice says. “You in here?”

  Jayden opens the door. “Yeah.”

  A guy enters. My height and around my age, with flawless brown skin. I know a good-looking man when I see one, and this one’s cheekbones and dark eyes probably make women swoon. He looks relieved until he spots me and Sylvie, then he drops his head. “What is this?”

  “We got their food, Eli,” Italy says. He rubs his chin with a jittery hand. I step in front of Sylvie because his gun hand is just as jittery.

  “Yeah, I see that. I also see you got them.”

  “Are there any zombies outside?” I ask.

  Eli shakes his head. “I got rid of them.”

  “We made a deal. You take our food and we go home. But I want my gun. You can keep the ammo.”

  Eli looks from me to Sylvie and then turns to the kids. “We have to bring them back.”

  Sylvie sucks in her breath. I take her hand. They’ll have to lead us there at gunpoint. “We’re leaving.”

  She matches my first few steps, and then we halt at the gun Eli produces with an almost apologetic grimace. “I’m going to have to insist you come with me.”

  Chapter 68

  Eli is an agreeable jailer as he follows behind me and Jayden, who carry the cart in the drizzle. Sylvie walks beside us, eyes straight ahead and arms crossed. Eli took her chisel, and she almost flipped out when he did, but she could be made of stone with all the emotion she shows now. There are times when a poker face comes in handy—you don’t let them know whether you’re scared or about to go apeshit on them. I wish I knew which Sylvie is because if it’s the latter, I’ll have to intercept if at all possible. I get the sense that once you’ve pushed Sylvie too far, all patience goes out the window, and we need to wait for the right moment.

  Eli takes out the two Lexers we come upon with a grace heretofore unseen. He reminds me of a ballet dancer or boxer with the way his long knife glides in and the way his feet move quietly on the concrete. You can now add perfectly conditioned to the perfect face I’d like to smash with my fist.

  Italy unlocks the door to an apartment building and holds it open until we’re through. Eli orders us to drop the cart in the lobby. I stand next to Sylvie and wait for our next instructions. I’m thinking the right moment will be here soon, maybe when we’re herded to wherever he plans to take us and before we’re separated.

  Eli stands in front of the glass doors, gun aimed in our direction. “Are you the ones who fucked with my boys?”

  Sylvie turns to me, two angry spots of red rising on her cheeks. I’m as confused as she is, but I can only imagine what will come out of her mouth if I don’t speak first. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say. “Pretty sure you’re the ones fucking with us.”

  His eyes skate between me and Sylvie, then, finally, he nods. “I believe you. We’ve run into some unfriendly people, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t them.”

  I don’t need to ask what he planned to do if we were them. His icy expression makes that very clear. “Well, we’re not.”

  “I can see that. So, I’m sorry.” He drops his gun to his side. “I’m not going to shoot you, all right? We brought you here to talk, that’s all.”

  Sylvie curses. All the pent up tension threatens to send me flying at him, but I push it down. He will shoot me if he has to, that I don’t doubt, but only if he has to.

  “Give me my gun,” I say.

  Eli’s impeccably groomed eyebrows lower. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You look pretty angry, for which I don’t blame you, but putting a weapon in your hand is probably not my best move at the moment.”

  “Then we’re leaving.” I take Sylvie’s arm. I’ll come back for my gun, and they won’t like when I do.

  Eli moves to block the door, then slides his gun into his holster and shows us empty hands. “Please. Just hear us out.”

  “Why?”

  “We need allies.”

  “You might have better luck finding allies if you don’t rob people and hold them hostage.”

  “Right,” Eli says with a pointed glance toward his two comrades. “All I’m asking is that you listen to what we have to say. If you want to go after that, you go.”

  He motions to the kids. Italy hands me my gun, which I don’t holster, although Eli’s stance—relaxed, hands up—supports his words. Sylvie is rigid beside me. “You should’ve talked to us at the bakery,” she says. “But, instead, you take us on a long, mysterious trek and make us think you’re going to kill us at the end?”

  “I needed to make sure you wouldn’t hunt us down if we let you go. Because I’d want to hunt down these two if they did to me what they did to you.” Eli glowers at Jayden and Italy, who have become incredibly interested in the inlay on the marble floor. “Would I have given you back your weapon if I wasn’t telling the truth? I brought you to our block. Now you know where to find us.”

  Sylvie crosses her arms, though she must see he makes a good point. We all need allies, and, based on what he said, they aren’t the ones who took a few potshots at Guillermo. It’ll work out better for everyone if this area doesn’t become a contest of who can get more in less time.

  “We’ll talk,” I say.

  Eli’s hands come down. “Thank you. And I apologize agai—”

  “What?” Sylvie yells. “What the f—”

  I take her arm and whisper, “They know things we don’t. It can’t hurt to have people we trust. Like Guillermo.”

  “Guillermo didn’t kidnap us,” Sylvie hisses, then mutters something I can’t hear before she says, “
Fine. I want my chisel.”

  Eli pulls it from his back pocket and walks it over to Sylvie. She snatches it from his hand. “Interesting choice of weapon,” Eli says. “You might want to consider some sort of holster for it. Or something more lethal.”

  Sylvie tilts her head slightly and stares at him, expressionless. Eli, who so far could be the most self-possessed person I’ve ever met, furrows his brow after a full minute of her gaze. Sylvie’s lips curve, but there’s a glimpse of something cold and dangerous behind her brown eyes. Holy shit, she is pissed. “Thanks for the advice. It means a lot coming from people who can’t find their own food.”

  Jayden and Italy bristle, but I catch Eli’s smile as he turns and motions toward the end of the lobby. “Come on. It’s just through here. Boys, get that cart.”

  We follow him into a concrete courtyard. I keep my hand on my holster, though I’m almost positive he meant what he said. Eli removes a wide section of fencing and leads us into a small backyard, fitting the panel into place once we and the cart are through. He does this on each subsequent fence until we reach the yard of a brownstone.

  “This is us,” Eli says.

  The back door leads into a kitchen. Two kids in their teens stand from the table. One could’ve just stepped off the boat from County Cork with his ruddy cheeks and blond hair. The other is Asian, with a stocky build and buzzed head. Eli’s the oldest so far.

  “Go find India,” Eli says, and the two scurry into the hall on the left. He guides us through pocket doors into a living room with tall windows and an elaborately carved mantle, then points us to a comfortable couch and perches on the arm of a chair. “Do you want some water?”

  “No, I want a ride home and my food back,” Sylvie says.

  I close my eyes briefly. We should’ve gone home. I could’ve come back without her.

  Eli might laugh, based on the rise of his chest. “Well, I’m thirsty. I’ll get you both water.”

  He leaves us on the couch. Sylvie is no longer cold. She can’t be with the way her eyes burn. “Will you be quiet?” I ask.

  I recoil when she turns on me with a snarl. “No, I will not be quiet. People think they can take what’s not theirs and force us to travel to Peter Pan’s hideout and I’m supposed to sit here and be quiet?”

  She moves as far away as possible on the couch, then uncrosses one arm and points at me. “And you know what? If you ever, ever tell me to be quiet again, I will kill you myself. And I won’t lead you on a mysterious trek first.” A laugh rises in the kitchen. “That goes for all of you,” she calls in that direction, “not just him.”

  To think I worried about her out alone in the big bad world. I can see how this somewhat entertaining, slightly frightening anger could transform to serious rage. I would not want to be on the receiving end of that rage. I’m considering a way to make peace when Eli returns with three glasses of water and stands in front of Sylvie. “Choose one. That way you know it’s not poisoned.”

  She glares and takes a glass, drinks the entire thing down and sets it on the floor. Eli hands me mine and sips from his before he sets it on a side table beside his chair. “You’ve probably figured out that I’m Eli. What are your names?”

  “None of your business,” she says.

  “Eric,” I say.

  Eli nods. “All right. That was Tommy and Harold in the kitchen.” He points to the two kids from the bakery who now sit on the living room floor. “You met Jayden and Vinnie.”

  Sylvie bursts into laughter. We turn her way. “Private joke,” she says sweetly.

  I grind my jaw. Eli flashes me a sympathetic look. “You can leave, but I’d like you to wait for India. She’ll want to talk to you.”

  “She?” Sylvie asks.

  “She’s in charge.”

  “You have a Tinkerbell?”

  Eli shakes his head in a way that’s both exasperated and slightly approving. “Are you always like this?”

  “Like what?” she asks.

  “So…” Eli begins, lips pursed while he looks to the ceiling.

  “Attritive?” I fill in. I couldn’t have designed a better flow of conversation for today’s word if I’d tried. Sylvie curses under her breath. I’ll pay for it later, but it’s so worth it right now. “Kind of like abrasive. Wears you down with friction.”

  Eli touches his nose and points his other finger at me. I like this guy even more than I hated him just before.

  “Like those sponges my mom used to buy,” Jayden says. “What’re they called again?”

  “Scotch-Brite,” Vinnie says.

  I laugh with the others. Eli leans back in his chair with a slight smile, although I don’t think Eli is ever truly at ease—he strikes me as a hard guy to surprise. He turns to Sylvie and raises his eyebrows as though still pondering his initial question.

  “Only when I’m kidnapped at gunpoint,” she says.

  Eli’s teeth flash. “Touché.”

  One corner of Sylvie’s mouth curves then straightens at new voices in the kitchen. Eli excuses himself. After a whispered conversation, a woman about Eli’s age enters the living room. The similar bone structure suggests they’re family, but where he looks sculpted and statuesque, her pretty face is open and welcoming. Her mass of short black hair ends in springy curls that bounce on her way toward us.

  “Hi, I’m India,” she says. “Let me say first that I’m sorry about all this.”

  I shake her proffered hand. Sylvie does the same, then refolds her arms. India sits in a chair and leans forward, elbows on knees and chin in hand.

  “All right, here’s the deal: These boys shouldn’t have taken anything from you. What I’m thinking,” she cuts her eyes their way, “is that they got so nervous they forgot what they were supposed to be doing. Which was what, Vin and Jay?” She circles her hand at them.

  “Getting our own food and staying away from people,” Vinnie mumbles.

  “Now you remember.” India gives Sylvie a look that says you see what I’m dealing with here, right? “Did you apologize?”

  They shake their heads. India waits until they murmur an apology and then turns back to the couch. “So, Eric and…”

  “Scotch-Brite,” Eli says with a wide smile.

  “Sylvie,” Sylvie growls.

  “Eric and Sylvie,” India says, “I’m sorry, too. We were looking for people who want to help each other out. Maybe trade. But we had an incident a while ago, and it scared everyone. I don’t blame you if you don’t want a thing to do with us, but I’d like it if you did.”

  My answer would be yes, but after Sylvie’s death threat, I’ve learned not to make a decision that involves her without prior discussion. “We can talk it over with our people,” I say.

  “That’s all I’m asking.”

  “What kind of incident?” I ask.

  “A few of the boys went into a store up by 70th Street,” Eli says. “Bunch of people were in there, so the boys tried to talk and got shot at for it. Jayden’s arm was grazed, but they got away.”

  Jayden blinks a few times. Now it makes a lot more sense that they took my gun straightaway and held us hostage. If those were the kind of people I’d met so far, I’d probably do the same.

  “Do you know where they came from?” I ask.

  “No idea. Haven’t seen them again, but we also haven’t gone back that way.”

  “Why haven’t you gone to Guillermo?” Sylvie asks. “You must have seen him by the Key Food.”

  India nods. “We’ve seen it, but we’ve heard shooting from over there, too. We saw them chasing people one night.”

  “Somebody went after them,” Sylvie says. “Maybe those same people. They were defending themselves.”

  “So they’re all right?”

  “They’re great. And Guillermo says anyone’s welcome to live there, as long as you don’t mind work.”

  “No one here minds work. And, if they do, they get over it quick.” I’d bet on it, judging by India’s amused yet firm expressi
on.

  “We can introduce you if you want,” Sylvie offers. The Sylvie who, three minutes ago, was about to explode, has just offered to take India to Guillermo’s. She even smiles. My head spins.

  “We’d appreciate it.” India stands and calls, “Lucien, get in here and meet these people.”

  A teenager walks into the room. His bland expression changes to bulging eyes at the sight of us. Sylvie leaps from the couch with a squeal the likes of which I never thought I’d hear come from her mouth.

  “You made it out!” She claps her hands, even more excited by this kid than the rain this morning. “You really must be lucky.”

  “I thought you all were dead.”

  “We got stuck in the bathroom, but we got out eventually. What about you?”

  “I followed that guy Craig into the kitchen,” he says. His voice is soft, almost a mumble, but his shock has turned to a smile. “I thought he was going for some food. Next thing I knew, there were zombies all over the place. I hid in the pantry and got out after most of them went into the cafeteria.”

  Everyone has been watching this discussion in varying states of confusion, but I’m at a total loss. Sylvie turns to me bouncing on her toes, death threat forgotten. And I might be a chump, but I can’t find it in me to hold a grudge.

  “This is Lucky. We met at the hospital. He was there for kidney stones.” Sylvie turns back to him. “I was looking for you. I hoped you got to your aunt’s house, but I didn’t think it was possible.”

  Lucky spreads his hands. “Here I am.”

  Sylvie looks to India. “You’re the aunt?”

  “The one and only,” India says. “Lucien’s my nephew. Eli’s my twin brother.”

  “Lucien,” Sylvie says, deep in thought. “So was that you on the street with the shopping cart a few weeks ago? You had some people with you who…”

  He studies his shoes. “Yeah.”

  “We’ve learned a lot since then,” India says. She frowns at Vinnie and Jay. “Or some of us have.”

  “Who else got out?” Lucky asks.

  Sylvie rattles off names I know and a couple I don’t. “Remember Clark? Kearney killed him on the way out. Pushed him into a group of zombies so he could get away. We think he pushed Dawn, too.”