Undead Much?

by Stacey Jay

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “Fine.” I sighed, shifting on the cold ground. “What’s in it for me?”

  “Not you, you idiot. Me.”

  “Oh.” Okay, so I was a little slow on the uptake, but I had just regained consciousness. “What’s—”

  “Life. I get to live,” Aaron explained as he pounded away at the herbs he’d placed in a small clay bowl. “You’ve got very special blood, you know. Witch blood, the most powerful blood on earth.”

  Witch blood. Could that be what the “WB” in “WB virus” stood for? If so, how the heck had Aaron found out I had it when I didn’t even know myself?

  “I drink the blood of a living Undead who has tasted witch blood and I get to live,” he went on. “I’m terminal. Brain tumor. Inoperable.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “No, you’re right. I’m not,” I said, straining at my bonds until I could barely feel my fingers. I had no idea whether what Aaron said was true, but he believed it, and that was all that mattered.

  “That’s cool. I’m planning to kill you. So I guess we’re even. The spell doesn’t actually require your death, just your blood, but I—”

  “How did you even learn about this spell? I’ve never heard of—”

  “You’ve never heard of a lot of things. Didn’t even know you were a witch, did you?”

  “How can you be sure Jess isn’t lying to you too?” I asked, refusing to focus on my cluelessness. “Telling you what you want to hear so you’ll help her raise her stupid army or whatever? She lied to me for years. Years. And I was supposed to be her best friend.”

  “Possible.” He shrugged. “But I’m kind of out of options. Besides, I doubt she’s lying. She didn’t need living Undead for her plans. She’s been helping me raise them just to heal me, and it’s been taking it out of her big-time, the poor thing. She’s been in the hospital three times.”

  Aha! So Jess’s seizures weren’t from what she’d done last fall, but from much more recent dabbling in the black arts. I should have guessed she was up to something. She was never the type to give up after one measly defeat.

  “For a little while we thought she’d be able to donate the witch blood, since she was at the hospital anyway, but the living Undead have to take the blood straight from the source, and there was no one in a coma at the Settler clinic. Besides, her guards never left her alone. The best she could do was slip some of her blood out the window to me when no one was looking.”

  So that was where the blood on the hospital beds had come from. Jess had witch blood. Her mom had been deep into dark magic, and I’d always wondered how Jess had become so powerful in only six years of practicing the black arts. Probably wasn’t so hard if you’d inherited the WB virus from your mother. And since Jess was a chick, it would explain why the virus type was the one only present in females.

  Finally, real proof that I wasn’t the bad guy! Now . . . if I could only live to tell the Enforcers about it. They could get a blood sample from Jess, run the special test, and, bam, they’d have their zombie raiser! I couldn’t even fault them for not realizing the truth sooner. After all, why would they run special blood tests on Jess? She was in prison, not considered a threat to anyone, and Monica had said magical blood types were only present in the tiniest portion of the population.

  But now they’d know to test that witch, and I could finally put the insanity of the past week behind me. I just had to stall until I figured a way out of here or someone from SA found me. Surely, no matter how incompetent they’d been lately, they would realize I’d fled Carol and come looking. Kitty had told us about tracking spells Enforcers can work if they have the blood or hair of the person they’re looking for, and she certainly had plenty of mine on hand.

  “So how did you find out about Jess, anyway?” I asked, continuing to struggle with my bonds, encouraged by a slight loosening in the rope around my right wrist. “No one at school knew she worked black magic.”

  “I was in a support group for terminally ill patients. Jess contacted Elsa, one of the other girls in my group, but things between them . . . didn’t work out.” Aaron pulled back the sleeping bag to reveal the slack and lifeless-looking face of an older man.

  “Contacted?” The news was enough to shock me into stillness for a few precious seconds. “How did she contact anyone?”

  “I don’t know. Elsa didn’t tell me how they met, but they kept in touch with notes.”

  “Notes?” I had become a parrot. A shocked, horrified parrot capable only of repeating the ridiculous things coming out of Aaron’s mouth.

  “Yeah, little notes like back in elementary school. That’s how Jess and I did it too. We’d stick our notes to each other in a hole in an old headstone at Rolling Meadows Cemetery.” He smiled. “I saved all of them. I think I’m going to make a scrapbook.”

  A scrapbook. He was going to make a scrapbook. I doubted they made stickers for a notes-from-a-freak-who-helped-me-bring-about-a-zombie-plague page, but there was no need to dash Aaron’s crafty dreams. I had more important things to focus on, like the fact that Settlers’ Affairs had massively screwed up.

  If I made it off this roof alive, I was going to insist on an investigation into the Carol and Little Rock branches of SA by the National High Council. They’d allowed Jess to sneak notes out of a maximum-security prison. That level of incompetence was ridiculous at best and criminal at worst.

  I was no longer certain all the “oversights” lately were simply the product of bumbling, narrow-minded Elders. There might very well be a traitor in our midst. A traitor who had facilitated Jess’s evil plans, and who wanted me dead and Arkansas plunged into a state of zombie emergency.

  “Jess needed someone with a terminal disease. Only someone close to death is capable of channeling another person’s spirit, and that was the only way for Jess to work her magic in the outside world.” He smiled. “She was hoping Elsa could help her out. But Elsa died too soon. When you think about it, it is pretty amazing that we found each other. There were kids in my support group from all over the state, but Jess and I both grew up in Carol. It made it so much easier to develop a deep, magical connection. We knew all the same people, had a lot of the same friends, same values, even went to the same church before she left town.”

  “She didn’t leave town—she was arrested for crimes against humanity!” I shouted, unable to keep my freak-out under control as Aaron began tracing the runes of reanimation on the unconscious man’s face. He was going to raise him like he’d raised the other coma victims and turn him into a bloodthirsty monster with me as the intended meal. I had to keep him talking, had to figure out some way to get out of here. “She’s a monster, she’s not—”

  “Shh! She’s inside me now . . . her power, her spirit . . . She can hear you.” His eyes got this faraway look that made him even creepier. “No, I know, you’re not a monster, you’re an angel,” he said, allegedly talking . . . to Jess? Who was inside his head somewhere? Maybe chatting it up with all the other voices in that crazy melon of his?

  “She’s a psychotic freak,” I said, half hoping the nutcase was right and Jess could hear everything I was saying. “And I’m going to make sure she pays for everything she’s done.”

  Aaron scowled as his eyes refocused on me. “That psychotic freak is going to be my wife if everything tonight works out the way we planned, so I’d appreciate it if—”

  “What?! Jess is gay. You know that, right? She prefers girls, a girl named Beth, to be specific. So I don’t get—”

  “People change, and we’re in love.”

  “In love? You’re crazy, and even if you weren’t, you’re too young to get married.” They were like an episode of Engaged & Underage: Psycho-Killer Black-Magic Edition.

  Aaron laughed. “Well, you’re entitled to your opinion. We weren’t planning to invite you to the wedding anyway.” He finished with the herbs and stood up. “Listen, I’ve really enjoyed you, M
egan, but we’re out of time. I hope you know how much I appreciate this. And honestly, you should die proud. If you hadn’t been so good at your job, one of the other living Undead would have bitten you and we wouldn’t be here right now.”

  The man on the ground stirred and twitched, and a low groan escaped his parted lips.

  “Aaron, don’t do this. You don’t want to murder me, I know you don’t.”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “Yes, you do! This isn’t—”

  “One with witch blood must give blood to the living Undead, and I must drink of the living Undead until death if I’m going to live.” Aaron backed away when the man groaned even louder. “That means I’m going to kill this guy after he bites you. If you were free, you wouldn’t let me get away with that, would you?”

  “Please, please,” I begged, scooting backwards until I ran into a wall of brick. The edge of the roof. There was nowhere else to run. Or scoot.

  “Sorry, but Jess is pretty excited about you dying a criminal.” He paused and tilted his head to the side, as if listening to a voice only he could hear. “She also thinks it would be cool to use your blood on the altar tonight. I told her you’re still a virgin, so there’s no need to use one of the cheerleaders’ blood.”

  “How would you know what I have or haven’t—”

  “It’s totally obvious, even if I hadn’t been spying on you and your boyfriend. You won’t even let the poor guy get to second base—there’s no way you’ve headed in for a home run.”

  Great. Once again, my lack of experience of the nookie variety was biting me in the ass. You’d think I would have learned my lesson the first time I was targeted for my virgin blood and just done it already!

  “She really hates you, you know,” Aaron continued. “Even after she found out her mom wasn’t really dead—”

  “What?” Jess’s mom wasn’t dead? What the freaking heck?

  “Don’t worry. You don’t need to worry about that. Or your dad. That’s why I kept those medical records from you. I didn’t want you to have to learn what a creep your dad was right before you died. Didn’t seem fair.” He shook his head sadly. “But you found out anyway, right? At the pond? I didn’t figure anything else could make you so upset. Sorry about that.”

  “Right. I can tell it’s really breaking you up inside.” Something moved at the edge of my vision, and a spark of hope leapt inside me, but I did my best not to follow the shape with my eyes.

  No matter who—or what—it was, there was no way my situation could get any worse. I had to hold on to what little hope I had left and pray someone had come to help me. Maybe one of the cheerleaders had a change of heart. Or maybe Ethan and Monica figured out where I was.

  It was a long shot, since no one saw me leave, but man, did I want to see another Settler face right now. If only I’d told one of them about Cliff and his warnings when I had the chance! Then they would have known to look for me somewhere near the river.

  Another flash of movement behind Aaron, but this time it was easy not to look. I had eyes only for the living Undead man who was reanimating in earnest, rolling over and pushing to his feet among much groaning and moaning. “I really do feel bad,” Aaron said. “I’m probably not going to be able to watch the actual biting part, you know.”

  What a prince.

  The coma victim was up now, lumbering to his feet, shaking his head like a dog getting out of the water. The movement knocked the sock cap off his head, and two long braids fell down around his face, making him look like a deranged Willie Nelson.

  Frantically, I pushed myself into a seated position against the bricks behind me. It didn’t put me in a much better position for combat, but it did give me a peek at who had joined us on the roof.

  It was Cliff! Sweet, wonderful Cliff who was even now creeping up behind my kidnapper. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure he’d made it in time.

  Undead Willie lunged for my throat and I screamed a raw yelp that couldn’t compete with the feral groans issuing from the man’s foaming mouth.

  CHAPTER 21

  While Cliff tackled Aaron to the ground, the coma dude’s cold hand latched onto my shoulder and his mouth strained toward the exposed skin of my neck.

  “Get off!” I bent my knees to my chest and then kicked directly into the man’s groin. The fact that I was only wearing socks took the edge off the blow, but he still groaned and fell to his knees, giving me a few seconds to reposition myself for the next attack.

  Which was coming fast. The longer Willie was reanimated, the faster he moved. Pretty soon, there would be no way for me to hold him off.

  “Cliff, help!” I yelled, even though a part of me was as terrified of Cliff as the coma zombie.

  The sounds coming from across the rooftop weren’t pretty. At All. Aaron was screaming like his fingers were being chomped off one by one—which they very well might have been; the man on top of me was in the way, so I couldn’t see what Cliff was up to—and the smell of hot, sickeningly sweet blood filled the air, reminding me Cliff was a zombie, no matter how lifelike.

  But I didn’t have any time to angst out about how Cliff was taking Aaron down; I just needed him to hurry and get it done before Braid Guy opened my jugular.

  “Unh!” Willie dove for my ankles, clearly meaning to disable the part of me that had delivered the groin kick.

  Living zombies so sucked ass! I mean, at least the dead Undead didn’t learn from their mistakes. They were scary and wicked persistent, but, mercifully, as dumb as the dirt they crawled out of.

  “Cliff!” I dodged the man’s first grab, but the second time his hand lashed out, he caught me around the calf, his fingers digging into my skin with a force that made me cry out.

  “Megan, help!” Aaron wailed, his voice cracking as his words turned into another scream of pure agony. “Help me!”

  He had to be kidding. He was asking me to come save his ass? The girl he’d intended to be zombie chow?

  It was so ridiculous I started laughing. Really laughing. Giving myself a stitch in my side, losing it even as I kicked and flailed and did my best to keep Willie from digging into my calf like it was something from a KFC bucket. I was laughing so hard tears were streaming down my face by the time the guy actually latched his teeth into my flesh and chomped.

  “Ahhh!!” I screamed, a sound so filled with rage I could feel it vibrating through my every cell. That was it! I’d had enough! The walls holding my power fell with an almost audible popping noise, and I cast. “Reverto!”

  I hadn’t had any success disabling living zombies on my own up until this point, but then, I’d never dared cast this way before. As I sent my power sweeping out toward the man chewing my leg, I held nothing back. I hit Willie with everything in me. I used every ounce of my Settler power as well as that curled, sleeping thread of dark energy I’d never dared use before.

  I’d always been afraid to call upon that black force, what I now suspected was a legacy of my witch blood, but at the moment, I didn’t care. I didn’t care who got hurt; I didn’t care what karmic price I paid; I just wanted to destroy the thing that threatened me, to make Aaron and this man on top of me disappear. Forever.

  No sooner had I recovered from the recoil of the reveto spell when the man’s mouth went slack and a shudder ran through his body. The smell of burning skin and hair filled the air, mingling with the odor of fresh blood wafting from Aaron and Cliff’s side of the roof. Then, slowly, Willie stood and turned back toward the one who had raised him, the one whose blood he had to taste to return to his rest.

  Cliff—who had Aaron pinned to the ground—stood up and backed away, swiping at his bloodstained hands as he went.

  “Thank God, I—no. No!” Aaron barely had time to get to his feet before Willie fell on him, his open mouth latching around the tear Cliff had made in Aaron’s arm.

  Braid Dude’s jaw muscles clenched and blood gushed down his chin, but it didn’t seem to quiet him in the least. In fact, he only grew
more frenzied, his fingers clawing at Aaron, knocking him backwards, the pair of them locked in a deadly embrace that ended a few short feet away when Aaron’s knees hit the wall surrounding the roof and they began to fall.

  “No!” As soon as I realized what was happening, I shoved my back into the wall, pushed myself into a standing position, and ran, but it was too late. By the time I reached the edge, they’d had already smashed onto the pavement below.

  “Oh my God.” Cliff joined me, leaning over to peer at the broken bodies. Neither of them was moving, and it didn’t look like they ever would again. “It happened so fast.”

  I didn’t say anything, just stared down the seven stories to the ground, trying to come to terms with the fact that I was a murderer.

  “This isn’t your fault,” Cliff said, sounding remarkably calm for a guy who had just ripped another person open right in front of me. But at least he pulled back before anyone was seriously hurt, let alone killed.

  “No, it is. When I cast, I—I knew what I was doing.” I bit my lip and backed away from the edge. “I wanted to make them both disappear and—”

  “You were only defending yourself.”

  I turned to face Cliff, wondering why the trace of blood on his right cheek didn’t trouble me the way it usually would. Maybe I was turning into a monster, finally losing touch with whatever it was that made me a normal, freaked-out-by-bloodshed-and-death girl. “That man was innocent, and Aaron was—I could have figured something out . . . I didn’t have to kill them.”

  “You didn’t kill them. Don’t do this to yourself. Aaron was trying to kill you. And that poor man looked like he’d been in a coma for a long time. Death was probably a blessing.”

  “I don’t care! I still didn’t want to—”

  “I know, I know.” Cliff brushed my hair out of my face, then turned me around to work on the knots binding my wrists behind my back, his touch as soft and gentle as always.

  He’d just gone rabid zombie on a guy five minutes ago, and now he was back to playing the sweet, supportive friend. It was enough to freak me out. As soon as my hands were free, I wasted no time pulling away from him and spinning around.