Her smile falters. “Well, they’re destructive and evil.”
“Termites are destructive and you don’t kill them. Hannibal Lecter is evil and you don’t believe in the death penalty.”
Malik snickers.
Now Mom looks annoyed. “They’re brain dead and eat the living. You don’t understand, dear. You’re not magical yet.”
My heart sinks into my socks. Did she really pull the ‘I’m older and know more’ card? Or was it the ‘you’re a kid and don’t know anything’ card?
Malik clears his throat. Even the King of Condescension heard her tone.
Mom gives him a tight smile. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Malik. I hope to see you around often. This world isn’t safe and I feel secure in knowing Aria will be in your company.” She gives me the stink eye and stands. “Come back any time.”
Malik stands. “Thank you, Mrs. Ricci.”
While she gathers her coffee mug and the morning paper, I stare at Malik. He’s wearing black jeans and tee, black boots with metal loops and zippers, and a black leather jacket rests on the back of his chair. He’s the walking ad for a motorcycle gang magazine. His arms are very toned for someone my age. Maybe it’s in his DNA.
“What are you staring at?” he asks as he sits back down.
Warmth creeps into my neck. I look away. “How old are you? Are you going to the Nocturne Falls High school?” I can’t recall if Harmswood offers classes for hunters, but I doubt it.
His chuckle is soft, and creases quickly form and then disappear between his brows, as if the question had been absurd. “No, I graduated last year.”
“So you’re nineteen?” The same age as Gio and Tomás.
“Yeah. Why?”
I shrug, trying to play off my curiosity, but in truth, I’m disappointed. I assumed come Monday I’d see him in the halls at school. It doesn’t matter. It’s not as if I even like him. “No reason. So why are you here?”
“I brought the chains,” he whispers. “As I was sneaking down the driveway, your mom spotted me. She was waving goodbye to two men and an older woman. I had to introduce myself.”
Dad must’ve taken Leo to town to deal with his car, and Nana loves road trips, even if they’re just to the corner.
“And you decided to lie and say we’re friends?”
“Would you rather I say I was here to chain up her zombie son?” He cocks a brow.
I sigh, partly because my brother is a zombie and partly because Malik’s right. I definitely don’t like when he’s cocky about it. “How is he?”
Malik nods. “Still out.”
“And Tomás?”
He smiles, displaying a set of dimples I didn’t notice last night. “Also out. You obviously didn’t tell your folks like you planned. Any progress on finding a cure?” He sets his mouth into a grim line, as if forcing it shut to keep “I told you so” from spilling out.
“I couldn’t tell them. Some important stuff with my sister came up. It wasn’t a good time.”
“Like there ever will be one?”
A sob burns the back of my throat, and I look away.
“Come on.” He stands and grabs his jacket.
“What are we doing?”
“I want to show you something.”
“Do I need clothes first?”
He looks down at my pjs and smiles. “Go change. I’ll finish my breakfast.” He returns to his seat and picks up his fork.
As I step into the hall, the hairs on the back of my neck feel electrified. I glance back.
Malik's staring at my butt.
Chapter Seven
The image of him checking me out is still on my mind, which doesn’t make the trek through the streets safe. I keep glancing from my peripheral vision to see if he’s watching me, only to stumble on dips in the sidewalk and nearly walk into a tree and garbage can. I must look like a complete moron.
After I trip on a Frisbee and fall into the owner’s flowerbed, I decide to stay one step behind him. This way, I can watch where I’m going and check out his butt. Compact, tight—not too flat like most guys but not rotund and freakish.
Malik turns into the front archway of the place we met.
“You want to show me the cemetery? Why didn’t we cut through the woods again?”
He motions for me to follow. We walk to the east side, along a fence covered in ivy. He points to an old tombstone with a crack running diagonally from the top corner, disappearing into the soil. Cyrus Zayid. Date of death is sixteen years ago.
“Who’s that?” I ask.
He stares at the grave as if hypnotized by it. “My great-uncle.”
“I’m sorry.” What’s with the genealogy lesson?
“He was a hunter too, bitten by a zombie. His brother, my grandfather, thought he could cure him.”
I roll my eyes, realizing where the story’s headed. “And he couldn’t, so he had to kill him?”
Malik stares at me. “Yes but not before Uncle Cyrus killed twelve innocent people, including my mother.”
My stomach falls to my knees. Oh crap. “Sorry,” I whisper.
“I was three. I have pictures and memories associated with my mom. The ones my father told me about, but I don’t actually remember her. I do, however, recall the night Uncle Cyrus broke into our house, the panic, the yelling.”
What can I say to that? This time will be different? Of course it will. My parents are witches, which translates into a heaping pile of magic. He comes from a line of warriors. They’re not known for their healing abilities.
“We have two more stops,” he says, leading me toward the exit.
“What’s next? The ghost of zombies present or future?” I can’t help but try to lighten the mood.
He stares at me, brows knitted together.
“This is the past, right?”
His eyes widen. “Present.”
“No, your uncle has been gone for over a decade. That’s the past.”
He grabs my wrist, his grip firm and warm, and pulls me behind him. “And that’s the present.”
On the other side of the metal fence is the pasty-skinned, white-haired, pale-eyed Zombie Sire. At least I think it’s the same guy. Same jeans and blue T-shirt.
“Stay behind me and when the coast is clear run home,” Malik says.
Fear slithers down my body. Is he serious? What if there are more, waiting for a nice, virgin brain around the corner?
Malik pulls a knife from a jacket pocket, like I’d pull out a tube of lip gloss. He crouches into fighting position and manages to block me from Zombie Sire’s sight.
I peer over Malik's shoulder as the zombie lurches past us.
What the…?
Malik slowly stands straight and looks from the direction the zombie came to where he went off to and back again.
I do the same. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” He scratches his cheek and sounds thoroughly disappointed.
I’d think this was a win-win. Who wants to fight a deadly creature? But obviously I’m not a hunter.
“That’s never happened before,” he says.
“Can we get out of here before he comes back?”
Malik turns to me and shows me his blade. “I know how to handle him.”
“Sure, if he returns alone, but what if he went off to grab a bunch of his friends?”
He smirks. “I don’t think it works that way.”
“You’re not certain?”
“Well, every breed is slightly different.”
“Wait. What? I thought you and your father tracked them. Aren’t they all from the same virus?”
“No. When we kill them, the virus stops spreading.”
“So this is a new virus strain? How do you know what started it?”
“We don’t. It’s why my father is researching…”
Is he serious? “Then how do you know there isn’t a cure?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He shuts it and fro
wns.
Excitement and hope builds inside me. “You don’t know. You haven’t a clue. For all you know, a shot of penicillin or green tea can work.”
He chuckles. “Well, I doubt an herb can eradicate a virus.”
“But you don’t know.”
Mr. Hot Shot Hunter isn’t so hot anymore. Okay, he’s still hella cute and totally hot, but now I know I’ll save my brother.
I turn and head back toward my house. “Tell me what you do know.”
“We got wind of an outbreak last week. We expected to arrive and see a swarm of them, but so far we only found three, including your brother.”
I have no doubts it will be taken care of, if it gets out of hand. Nocturne Falls will simply not allow a zombie outbreak. The town was created to be a safe haven for the supernaturals by the Ellinghams—a powerful family of vampires. They’ll stop this for sure, and Malik and his dad will be out of a job. Unfortunately, I’m not sure what this means for Gio. But if Zombie Sire is still running around, it means he isn’t a big enough problem for the town founders to have gotten wind about him.
I don’t point this out though. Malik and his dad have to know the town history.
“Is that it?” I ask. “Do you know anything about them, like if they infected anyone else or how they got sick to begin with?”
“Does the how matter?”
Is he for real? “Of course it does. What if he’s not really a zombie and just has a nasty cold?”
He cocks a brow and his face oozes with skepticism.
Yeah, it was a dumb question. “Okay, maybe not, but some other kind of weird infection. Of course it matters.”
We reach the end of the woods, and the urge to see Gio becomes overwhelming. I take off and run toward home. I don’t give Malik a reason why.
His footsteps sound behind me, thundering after me. I have no doubts he’ll pass me in a second. When I reach my street and he’s still a step behind, I laugh that I won. I immediately realize how silly I’m being. “Winning” is something I’d think about with Gio or Leo, not a cute guy. And because I’m slightly winded, and really need to work out more—or at all, the laugh comes out as a high-pitched, weird scream.
That’s when I see Mr. Arnold in his driveway, by his car. He’s our neighbor to our right and a normie. He jumps at my yelling and turns with a wide-eyed stare. When he realizes I’m not getting sliced and diced, his stare turns into a deep frown.
“Are you alright?” Mr. Arnold asks.
“Yeah, s-sorry.” With my panting, the words come out as a harsh whisper.
Malik stops beside me, our arms brushing against one another.
“You kids shouldn’t play around like that. Someone can get hurt.” Mr. Arnold gets into his car and slams the door.
If only he knew.
“Why were you running?” Malik asks and follows me up my driveway.
“I need to see Gio.”
I hope no one is out back and sees Malik and me walk into the garage. I don’t have time to check though. I have this overwhelming urge to see Gio this very second. I’d call it magical intuition, because it’s super intense, but I’m still a dud.
When I reach the door, I spot Tomás’ face through the glass pane. There are deep creases across his brow, his eyes are wider than normal, and he’s gnawing on his bottom lip. Oh my Goddess, what’s going on?
I jerk the door open and fling myself into the space. “What’s wrong?”
But as I take it all in, there’s no reason for him to elaborate. It’s all very apparent.
Gio is sitting up. Awake. His legs are chained together by the ankles and his wrists are bound and resting in his lap. He’s not bolted to the garage in some way, as I suspected. The chains will only make moving around more cumbersome, but they won’t prevent him from getting up. How many people has Malik tied down?
Gio looks pale but not dead. That’s great.
And I’d cheer except standing beside him is Nana.
Chapter Eight
“I can’t believe you know.” It’s the first thing out of my mouth, and judging by the scowl on Nana’s wrinkly face, I should’ve chosen different words.
“Just because I like to zap things doesn’t mean I’m an old kook.” She taps her temple. “I’ve the eyes of a twenty-year-old. So, when were you going to tell us your brother is a zombie?”
Well…
“I wanted to tell everyone but Cari caused a big scene, and I didn’t want to upset Mom and Dad more.”
Nana thinks about my words and then nods. A brief smile crosses her mouth. “You’re a good daughter, Aria.”
I grin. Maybe I didn’t make the wrong choice in not telling. “When did he wake up?”
“Not long,” Tomás whispers. I almost forget he’s in the room with us.
“Why does he look alert?” Malik asks.
I glance to a candle, lighter, and mortar and pestle sitting on the floor near Nana’s feet. She did a spell. “Is he cured?”
Her frown deepens. “No. I can’t say a few words and have it go poof.”
Malik gently clears his throat in an “I told you so” way.
“I need to know how it originated,” Nana says.
I can’t help but smirk.
“Then why does he look better?” I ask.
“I’ve stalled it, halted the progression of the virus to buy us some time to figure out what we’re dealing with. It won’t hold forever, but we should have a couple of days.”
That’s good. No, it’s great. It means there’s definitely the possibility of curing this thing. I nearly giggle in my excitement. I feel ten pounds lighter with this news.
“Who’s the boy?” Nana asks.
“This is Malik Zayid. He’s a—”
Nana squares up to Malik. “If you even consider killing my grandson, I’ll electrify your scrawny butt and send your ashes to your grandfather in a brown paper bag.”
A smile as long as the Mississippi stretches across my face. A little harsh, but go, Nana!
Malik nods and whispers, “Yes, ma’am.”
She taps Malik's shoulder with her fingers then walks to Gio. They stare at one another and Nana gently kicks him in the leg with her slipped foot. “You idiot. You’re a Ricci. Some of the strongest witches in the modern world, and you allow some zombie to get that close. Why didn’t you freeze him?”
Gio lowers his head and softly grunts.
“He probably fell asleep,” Tomás says. “He’s been staying up late, studying for his college classes.”
Oh no, college. Does this mean two of the Ricci kids will be dropping out? Dad’s going to push for me to go to the University of Georgia even more. There go my dreams of culinary school.
A horn honks and we all turn to gaze at the street. A white car is pulling away from the curb. Cari waves to her friends.
Nana growls. “Shut the door before your sister finds out.”
I close it and realize Nana’s staring at me with an angry glint in her eye. I swallow hard.
“And where were you? Why didn’t you see your brother getting attacked?”
“I was looking at my phone.” Before she yells at me, I say, “I know my answer is lame, but Nocturne Falls is safe. It’s one of the reasons we live there. It’s what Mom and Dad have been saying for years. Up until last night, I didn’t even know zombies ever existed. Goddess forbid anyone in this family tells me anything.”
She steps an inch from me; her hot mint tea breath tickles my nose. “Don’t sass me, young lady. Zombies haven’t been in these parts for years. No one knew they’d return. They aren’t like the rest of us. They aren’t natural. You can’t be born as one. You have to be infected and all of the past viruses no longer exist. This is something new.”
She lowers her voice on the last sentence, and it sends goosebumps along my arms. I’m thrilled she knows and is helping, but the fact that she’s stumped scares me.
“Do not tell your folks. This will crush your mother right now. I’ll fi
nd a way to fix this.”
I can’t imagine what this will do to Mom. I shake my head. “I’m not saying a word.”
She peers to Gio. “He stays tied up until then. We can’t risk him killing anyone. And you.” She glares at Malik. “I’m watching.”
She steps to the door and when it clicks behind her, we all let out a collective sigh of relief.
Even Tomás. “Now what?” he asks.
The poor guy has been here all night.
“Do you want to go home and get some proper sleep? I can take over. My brother is my problem after all.”
“No, I’m not leaving. I’m seeing this through.”
I smile my thanks then step closer to my brother.
“Gio, can you hear me?”
He grunts, and my stomach drops. Is this it? My brother’s brain has been reduced to mush and our future consists of groans?
Fear overwhelms me. “I’m sorry I’m not a better sister.”
“You’re fine,” he whispers.
I suck in a breath. “You can speak?”
He tries to raise his hands but the chains must be too heavy because he doesn’t make it up too high. “I feel foggy.”
I laugh. He flinches and I clamp my hands over my mouth. I glance to the guys.
Tomás grins ear-to-ear.
Malik frowns. “How can this be?”
I assume he’s not looking for a “you don’t know everything” answer, so I keep it to myself. Besides, rubbing his face in his lack of knowledge isn’t nearly as much fun as knowing Gio isn’t a full-on zombie.
“Do you need anything, buddy?” Tomás asks.
Gio fidgets for a moment. “Yeah, I’m starving.”
“What can I get you?” Tomás asks.
I bite my lower lip. Please don’t say brains.
He focuses his eyes on me. They aren’t back to normal. They used to be dark brown, but now they’re lighter. So light they almost look white. It’s freaky.
“Is there anymore of that broccoli salad you made the other day?”
I frown, not sure if I heard him correctly. “You want broccoli?”
When I was making it, he stuck his tongue out, like a little kid. He said it smelled like farts. At the time, I rolled my eyes. He could be so juvenile.
Broccoli & Broomsticks Page 4