“Angel!” she cried. “This is so great!”
“I’m so glad you made it,” I told her.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” she said, “even though my social calendar is sooo jam packed.” She rolled her eyes.
I laughed. “You’re way too busy kicking ass and taking names.”
“I can’t help myself,” she said with a snort, then glanced back, frowned. “Dammit, I lost Kyle. Where the hell did he go? He was right behind me.”
“He’s probably scouting the perimeter,” I pointed out.
Her mouth curved into a fierce scowl. “This is a parrrrrty. He isn’t supposed to be working.”
“I think he’s always worrrrrking,” I replied.
She laughed. “True. Not even going to try to argue that one.”
“How’s everything going for you?”
“Pretty damn good,” she said with a smile, then cocked her head toward a quiet corner and headed that way.
I got the idea she wanted a private word and followed. “What’s up, chick?”
“I’m dead!” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Yes, I know,” I replied with a grin. “I even went out on the scene, though there wasn’t much body to recover.”
Two days after Philip’s meltdown on the movie set, the burnt-out shell of Heather’s Jeep had been found at the end of Shore Road. When the sheriff’s office investigated, they discovered a body—or rather they discovered teeth from a body, since the fire had been hot enough to burn the bones to ash. Between dental records that convinced authorities the teeth belonged to Heather, and a significant amount of blood near the burned car that matched her DNA, there was no doubt in the eyes of the law that she was quite dead.
Heather hooked a finger into her cheek and pulled it away to show three molars that looked a little too perfect to be real. “New teef!”
I shuddered. “Oh my god. I can’t believe you let them pull your teeth.”
She dropped her hand, winked. “That’s what anesthesia and Percocet are for!” But then she grimaced. “It was the best way, short of chopping off a body part, to convince everyone I’m dead.”
“I guess it’s worth it if it helps keep you safe from Saberton.”
A wince flashed across her face. “And my brother.”
“Do you think he’ll believe you’re really dead?” I asked.
She gave a slow nod. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’m fairly positive he will. After all, I can’t imagine he’d believe that Pietro Ivanov would actually welcome Julia Saber into his fold.” She shrugged. “The story that was leaked is that I tried to come over to your side, and that when Mr. Ivanov found out who I really was,” she smiled and spread her hands, “shit got ugly.”
“Well, you look damn good for a dead chick,” I told her, smiling. And now I understood why Brian had wanted the Saberton man to get a good look at her on the movie set. Had to let them believe she’d been brought on board.
“Thanks! Oh, and I have a new name. Naomi Comtesse.”
“And a new hair color too. Looks great,” I said with a grin.
“All part of the new identity, thanks to Mr. Ivanov,” she said. Then she shook her head. “He sure has a lot more connections than I knew, and I’m pretty sure I’m only seeing the tip of the iceberg even now.”
I doubted she knew that iceberg was likely over five hundred years old. “Yeah, he seems to know everybody,” I said in a noncommittal tone.
“I’m not complaining,” she said fervently, then looked past me toward the door. “There’s Kyle. I’ll go check in with him and catch up with you later.” With a cheerful wave she headed off.
Musing, I watched Heather-Naomi go. There was no denying the look in her eyes when she saw Kyle. She definitely had a thing for him. I let out a soft sigh. I’d had every indication that Brian really liked her and couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret that the no-nonsense head of security had apparently missed out.
I turned back to the party, mingled, and did my best to spend time with everyone who’d shown up. Satisfaction wound through me as I made the rounds and checked on food and drinks. I had honest-to-god friends, and it felt damn cool. Okay, so most of them had no idea I was a brain-eating monster, but they all seemed to be more than okay with the non-zombie side of Angel. And that was a helluva lot more than I had before I was turned.
The party slowly wound down until it was clusters of people sitting and talking both inside and out in the backyard. I went to the kitchen to get a head start on clean up, surprised to find that one or more of the guests had taken out the trash and loaded the dishwasher. For about the thousandth time that evening I smiled and basked in the knowledge that there were people who had my back, even for little stuff like tossing empty cups and wiping the counter for me.
A subtle butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling passed through me as I went back out to the living room. I looked around, surprised and pleased to see Philip standing unobtrusively by the door, gaze roving over the remaining people. He looked a helluva lot better than the last time I’d seen him—the day of all the mayhem. Obviously Dr. Nikas had done a lot of work to fix or control the damage to him.
I moved to him, smiling. “You made it,” I said softly.
He returned the smile. “I did.” He looked up to scan the room, then back down at me. “Step outside with me for a minute?”
“Sure,” I replied. I swept a quick glance around to make sure everything was going all right, then followed him out to the front porch. The night was warm though not oppressively so. A nearly full moon hung above the trees, and the muted sound of laughter and conversation drifted from the backyard. Mosquitos buzzed, but they had no taste for zombie blood and left us both alone.
Philip moved down to the far end of the porch before turning to face me. “It’s been too long,” he said. “I should have found a way to come and talk to you sooner. It took me a while to reconcile everything, the actions I took while undercover.” His eyes met mine. “And I did. I know I did what I had to do, and…and that it was worth it.” He exhaled. “But for the parts that involved you, I don’t expect you to hold that same view. All I can do is say I’m sorry for hurting you in any way. And, thank you for all that you did for me.”
I touched his arm gently. “It’s okay,” I said. “I mean, once I knew you were undercover I was able to look back and see that you really did everything possible to keep me from getting hurt worse.” I gave him a smile. “It sure wasn’t easy being your zombie-mama, but I’m really glad you seem to be doing better.”
“I am doing better,” he said. “Dr. Nikas has worked wonders. I still have periods of pain, but not continuous like it was before, and it doesn’t get intense.” Remembered agony shimmered briefly in his eyes, and my heart clenched in sympathy for what he’d endured. “I’ve even been able to cut my excess brain consumption back considerably.” He shook his head. “My first six months as a zombie were a nightmare on so many levels.”
“I know,” I said, mouth tightening. “It pisses me off. It shouldn’t have been like that at all.”
But Philip shook his head again. “It wasn’t only what Dr. Charish did. It was the first-hand experience of being a second-class citizen with Saberton. An eye opener, to be sure.” He met my eyes again. “I went from being one of the guys and a valued member of a team, to being…less than human. Worth less than a human.”
An involuntary shiver went through me. I’d spent the last year pulling myself up from being a second-class citizen, doing my damndest to turn my life around and make something of myself. And yet there were still people who would see me as less than human. This was why Pietro’s damn zombie mafia needed to exist. I sure as hell didn’t always agree with the methods, but without it or something similar, we were all on our own, waiting to be exploited or killed.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I told him.
He gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Of course, the instability crap emphasized my
difference, but it was disturbing to note the change in attitude, when nothing else about me had shifted.”
I gave him a sad smile. “I’m glad you’re not undercover anymore.”
“As am I,” he replied. “I suppose I have Dr. Charish to thank for that, both for the original debilitation, and for fucking me up so badly that last day.” A grimace swept over his features. “I’d have been with Saberton much longer if I’d been, well, normal. And, on a personal level, I’m very glad I’m not.”
My brow furrowed. “You’re glad you’re not normal?”
Philip chuckled. “Ah, no. I’m glad I’m not with Saberton anymore.” He smiled wryly. “I wouldn’t mind being a ‘normal’ zombie at all.”
“Oh, right. Of course,” I said, wrinkling my nose at my obtuseness. I tilted my head and regarded him. “Y’know, this is gonna sound weird, but if anyone had to make you a zombie, I’m glad it was me.”
His smile widened. “I’m glad it was you too. You rock.” Then he bent and picked up a largish flat rectangular box that had been leaning against the wall. “Here, I have something for you.”
“Oh?” I said, raising an eyebrow as I took the box from him. “I kinda like presents.” I opened the box, then grinned as I pulled out a brand new jacket in the exact size and style of the one I’d worn to the Gourmet Gala. “No, you rock!”
His eyes crinkled in a smile. “Had to cut the other one to make sure Bell didn’t break your skin when he bit you. No idea what effect his truly screwed up parasite could have on a normal one.” He shrugged. “Maybe nothing, but if he’d drawn blood I’d have found a way to get word to Dr. Nikas, just in case.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You didn’t have to get me a new one.” Then I grinned. “But I also won’t let you take it back now.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “A scuffle on the front porch could be entertainment for your party.”
“It would give the neighbors something to call the cops on us for,” I said with amusement. “They don’t know what to make of the new, outwardly-respectable Crawfords.”
Philip lifted a hand to my cheek and looked into my eyes, smiled gently as he leaned down. For an instant I was absolutely positive that he intended to kiss me—and almost absolutely positive that I wouldn’t do a damn thing to stop him.
But he simply laid a gentle kiss on my forehead and straightened, though his hand lingered on my cheek.
“I don’t know about them,” he said, voice soft, “but I’m pretty impressed by the inward respectability of Ms. Angel Crawford.”
My heart thudded erratically as I struggled to come up with something to say in response to all of that. “Um. Thanks,” I managed.
Smiling still, he withdrew his hand. “Come on, Zombie-Mama,” he said. “You have a house to warm, and I have beer to look at longingly.”
Chuckling, I tucked the box and jacket under my arm. “Best zombie-kid ever.”
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Also by Diana Rowland:
SECRETS OF THE DEMON
SINS OF THE DEMON
TOUCH OF THE DEMON
FURY OF THE DEMON*
MY LIFE AS A WHITE TRASH ZOMBIE
EVEN WHITE TRASH ZOMBIES
GET THE BLUES
WHITE TRASH ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE
*Coming in 2014 from DAW
White Trash Zombie Apocalypse Page 29