by Jess Haines
“Sure. After you eat. You and Sara both need to stop waiting until you’re completely worn out to take care of yourselves.”
Shrugging, I tucked into the food he set in front of me. He’d put food in front of Sara, too, but she was only picking at it, not really eating it. That wasn’t a good sign. Whatever was going on with her was worrisome, but I had a full list of issues at the moment, so I’d have to find out what was up with her as soon as I was sure the rest of the immediate messes I was dealing with were under control.
The other hunters talked about things that didn’t concern me. Where people I didn’t know were hanging out tonight, who was coming along on the scouting party checking in on some of Clyde’s properties later, local politics that didn’t interest me, and when to meet at The Brand. It took a bit for it to sink in that Devon intended to go with a group of these hunters a little closer to sundown, and take Sara and me with him.
Barely tasting the food I was shoveling into my mouth, I set down my fork and pushed the plate aside, turning to frown at the hunter. “Why are we leaving? Shouldn’t we stick around here if we’re going to hide?”
Tiny snagged a piece of sliced melon off the side of my plate, shaking it at me to emphasize his point before shoving it into his mouth. “We need him tonight, and we’re not going to leave you two alone. You’ll be safe at The Brand. We’ve got enough hardware there to stop an army of leeches.”
Though I didn’t like the idea, I had no alternative to offer. Neither did Sara. She pushed her plate away, most of the chicken on her plate shredded instead of eaten.
“Devon, you want to show me to that phone?”
He nodded, gesturing to the living room just outside of the kitchen. “There’s a phone in there.”
I thanked him and headed over, spotting the phone on an end table next to a couch. It was wireless, so I took it up to the guest room I’d slept in and pulled my Rolodex out of the duffel I’d been carting around.
Arnold didn’t pick up. A little bit annoyed, I scrambled for Trinity’s phone, poking around the options to find the phone number before I ran out of time to leave it in the message. The battery still had about half a charge, but I would have to be careful not to mess with the phone too much unless someone had a charger I could borrow that would work with the phone.
“Hey, it’s Shia. Sara and I need some help. There are a bunch of problems right now, but the biggest one is that there’s a necromancer working with another vampire to take down the vamp we were supposed to be staying with. Long story, but we’re with some White Hats right now instead, and they’re talking about killing the mage. Any advice about how we can neutralize the necro before the White Hats hurt him or themselves? Give me a call as soon as you can. The number is . . . um . . . one sec . . .”
It felt like it took forever for me to find it, but once I did I got the numbers out in a rush, then a second time, a little slower, in case he didn’t get it the first time—but the message cut off right in the middle. Frig. I hoped he got the numbers.
I also really, really hoped he’d have some advice on how to deal with the necromancer. The thought of facing Gideon again unarmed, and with the charm around my neck not blocking all of the necromancer’s powers to mess with my head, was not a happy one. Even if he had no intention of hurting a normal person, he might make an exception for me or Sara if Fabian told him to.
Tucking the cell phone in my pocket, I brought the cordless back to where I had found it and rejoined the White Hats in the kitchen. The guys were talking about sports, while Sara was talking to the only other woman in the room, some girl I didn’t know. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, and no one paid me much attention except for Devon when I slumped into a chair between him and Sara.
“Any luck?”
I shook my head, not really wanting to discuss Arnold in front of the others. Devon had met him before, but I wasn’t sure how much he knew about the mage, or what he had thought of him at the time.
“Well,” he said, brushing imaginary dust off his pants before rising, “why don’t we get a move on, then? Come on. Let’s hit the road.”
The other White Hats got up, some of them adjusting weapons I hadn’t seen while they were seated. It wasn’t particularly surprising, just unsettling. Sara didn’t seem to have any problems standing or walking, so some of my concern for her faded. Like I’d earlier figured, it was probably just a combination of jet lag, stress, and exhaustion from all the running around we’d been doing.
Tiny slung an arm over my shoulders, then ushered Sara to be on the other side of him. It wasn’t anything possessive or creepy; he was genuinely friendly and was grinning down at us both like Christmas had come early. Judging by the flat stares and looks we were getting from the other White Hats, I was guessing that he was having a hard time making friends out here, and was glad to see us because we had never judged him or kept him out of the loop.
Not that I had anything against these White Hats, but so far no one I had met in this town had been anything other than crazy, inhospitable, or flat-out hostile. Los Angeles was not going on my list of places to visit again anytime soon.
The sun was still a long way from setting, and I found myself wishing for a pair of sunglasses once we got outside. We piled into the three cars filling up the driveway, and a couple people even headed to the street to get into a fourth. Sara and I stuck with Devon, Tiny, and one of the other guys in a big SUV. The car was nice, clean, and a lot more expensive than what Devon had been driving back in New York.
I had to wonder what these guys did for money in this town. Did they have some kind of day job? How did they make enough money to afford these nice things, as well as support their hunting habits?
Whatever. Not my problem.
We took yet another freeway I’d never heard of. Staring out the window, I watched the world pass by.
We hit a traffic jam on the 134. Devon poked at his GPS, but even with the alternate route it spouted out, we were at a standstill. At one point, a cop passed us on a motorcycle, weaving between the cars. A black-and-white soon followed, driving on the median. Then another. And another.
There must have been some kind of major accident up ahead, because the traffic going the other way had stopped, too. There was a park off to our left that seemed pretty packed with people, most of them moving in our direction, towards the freeway. Probably coming to see what was going on.
I craned my neck a bit, trying to see around the driver’s headrest.
“What the hell is that?”
Tiny’s words drew my attention to where he was pointing. The people in the park.
Wait.
That wasn’t a park. There were gravestones set into the grass, so neatly laid that at first glance, I hadn’t noticed.
It was a cemetery.
“Devon, those are—”
He cut me off. “I know. That’s Forest Lawn Memorial. Shit. We’re in a lot of trouble.”
The necromancer’s powers weren’t as hindered by daylight or witnesses as I’d been given reason to believe by Clyde and Fabian. That crowd—those weren’t people. Not anymore.
And they were headed right for us.
Chapter 22
“Get out of the car! Go, go, go!”
We didn’t need any more prompting from Devon. Everyone piled out and followed Tiny, who was leading the way around the maze of stopped cars and trucks to the nearest exit. Some of the other White Hats were joining us, too, getting out of their cars as soon as they saw what we were doing.
I glimpsed some zombies milling around the other side of the freeway, stopping traffic. There were more marching up an on-ramp on that side, moving in our direction. I had no doubt they were coming for me and Sara.
It was still a heck of a run, but we had to get off the freeway and away from the zombies doing their slow shuffle in our direction. When I glanced over my shoulder, even more of them were already over the fences surrounding the cemetery and what looked like a wide, man-m
ade river past the road that ran between the park and the freeway. Despite all the obstacles in their way, most of the zombies were moving straight for us, even altering their path a little bit to adjust to our change in position.
How the hell did they know where we were? Why were they after—?
No. Stupid question. I knew why they were after us.
Rather than focus on the monsters coming toward us from the south, I put my attention on what lay ahead. People were rolling down their windows, sticking their heads out to see what was stopping traffic or watch us, though no one attempted to stop us. A passing cop on a motorcycle hollered at us to get back in our cars, but he kept going—probably on his way to face whatever was holding things up ahead.
The nearest off-ramp on our side was about a quarter of a mile away, and the traffic there was completely backed up, too. We dodged around the cars, working our way over to the side of the road, some of the White Hats pulling their guns or knives and holding them ready. It made me wish desperately for my own gear, but nobody had offered to outfit me with anything, and I hadn’t thought to ask for any weapons before we left Devon’s place.
I almost smacked into Tiny’s broad back on the downslope of the off-ramp. I sensed something was wrong long before I saw it. Or smelled it.
The sick-sweet charnel reek of decaying bodies hit me like a smack in the face. The other White Hats were gagging, one of them on his knees at the side of the road, puking his guts out. Tiny’s hand groped behind him, making contact with my shoulder, shoving me back.
I skidded on the dry, brown dirt and gravel, grabbing at a nearby side-view mirror to catch my balance. The cheap piece of crap came off in my hand when I put my weight on it, and I ignored the “Hey!” from the driver as I twisted around and ran back the way we had come.
The rest of the White Hats had stopped at the top of the ramp, their eyes wide and mouths open as they stared at what was behind us. So far I hadn’t seen, but I was sure it would probably be a great deal like what Sara and I had witnessed outside of Jimmy Thrane’s hideout.
One of the guys slapped a pistol into my hand when I hit the top. I spun around to see how close the zombies might be and to make sure the rest of the White Hats were out of harm’s way.
Sara was lagging a little behind, but Devon had her around the waist and was dragging her up the incline. The other White Hats had their guns out and aimed at the zombies, but no one had fired any rounds yet. There was another gaggle of zombies at the bottom of the ramp, marching toward us in a loose formation. They weren’t moving very fast, and some of the people in the cars were screaming or leaning on their horns, drowning out the sounds of radios and hush of commands being bantered between the hunters. One of the panicked drivers tried reversing, and the crunch of breaking glass and metal followed the squeal of tires on the asphalt.
Distant gunfire rang out from the direction the cops had been headed, echoing against the hillsides. A sharp crack, followed by a more full-throated boom, like a shotgun. More screams.
We had to get the hell out of there. The only way left to go was down the hillside along the off-ramp, opposite the cemetery, unless we wanted to risk running back the way we’d come. It was the only way we could go that wasn’t being cut off by a swarm of walking dead. There was no way we could keep going forward. Whatever was up ahead was enough to keep a cop from stopping to question us when we left our cars—and from the look of all the lights flashing out of the corner of my eye and the thunder of a helicopter approaching, there were plenty more police on the way.
Cripes, was I wrong about Gideon and Fabian’s plan? Were they trying to start the zombie apocalypse? This was a much bigger horde than we had encountered outside of Thrane’s hideout.
A nearby cry from behind whipped my attention onto the White Hats at my back. There was a large group of animated corpses behind us, another group crossing the freeway, and a third coming from where all of the gunfire was originating, all moving to converge on our location. The screams from the cars around us were getting louder as the zombies approached, and more people were panicking and backing their cars into the ones behind them as they tried to escape the solid gridlock. Couldn’t blame them for that, though escape at this point was a hopeless cause. There were too many monsters, and they were coming from multiple directions.
The White Hats had yet to open fire. I thought it might have been because of all of the innocent bystanders, but it might have been because of the police and witnesses, too.
Then I heard a roar. Not mechanical. The sound drowned out everything else, even the screams of terrified people around us.
Tiny gave me a not-so-gentle shove in Sara’s direction, most of the White Hats and even the zombies turning in the direction the sound had come from. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought the ground was shaking in rhythmic thumps.
I’m not sure if I screamed or not when I saw what had made that sound—what was causing the ground to shake. I was a bit too terrified at the time to tell.
Now, I’ve spent more than my fair share of time around werewolves. Their half-man, half-wolf form was nothing new to me. When shifted, they usually stood on their hind legs, upright like a man, with the head and tail of a wolf, complete with clawed hands and furred bodies. They’re bigger than people in that form—unquestionably. Since I had dated one for a while, you would think I would have been fairly inured to what they were, what they looked like, and what they could do.
Then again, I’d never seen a shifted Goliath before.
Rohrik Donovan was the largest shifted Were I had previously run into, and he had easily been the size of a particularly beefy Bengal tiger.
What stood before me was something completely different.
Imagine a school bus. Now imagine a werewolf that, from the tip of its snout to the end of its long, swishy tail, was half the length of that bus.
You’d have a Goliath.
It galloped down the empty stretch of freeway until it reached the nearest clump of zombies, tearing into them with all the aplomb of a chainsaw. Rotted people parts flew every which way, gore spattering its mottled gray coat, and the screams of people in nearby cars were deafening. Most of them stayed in their vehicles, but a couple tried making a run for it. I couldn’t tell if they got away or not. There were too many zombies blocking the view on the street for me to be sure.
The White Hats started shouting orders, and some of them aimed their weapons at the Were. I barely had time to scream, “No!” at them before a few of them unloaded on the creature.
It yowled and looked our way, liquid golden eyes swimming with hatred. Some of the teeth it bared at us looked like they might be close to a foot long.
Real smart. That’s right, go ahead and piss off the gigantic, oversized, murderous werewolf.
The stupidity of the White Hats was going to be their undoing, not mine. I tucked the gun into the waistband of my jeans and made a grab for Devon, who was still holding on to Sara, and for Tiny, tugging them after me. They all looked petrified, the White Hats’ guns aimed at the gigantic werewolf stalking in our direction.
Its broad head swiveled toward us, and the teeth it had been baring at the hunters parted as it made some sound that was half growl, half whine. It made an annoyed gesture, that clawed hand sweeping in a negative motion, before it ducked its head and took a chunk out of a zombie that was still moving toward us.
Thank God it was only annoyed by the bullets instead of enraged. If it hadn’t been so intent on tearing apart the walking dead, I’m sure it would have been White Hats spattered across the concrete instead. Hell, judging by the size of the thing, it probably could have thrown a car at us without breaking a sweat if it had been so inclined.
Gideon must have noticed something was wrong with the zombies. Maybe that they were being mowed down faster than they should have been, or possibly he sensed the way they were dying. I had no way of knowing how his tie to them worked other than through his ability to command them. Whatever clued him
in, the bulk of the zombies shifted their focus from Sara and me to the Goliath that was tearing them apart.
I winced in sympathy when a few of them dug their rotted fingers into the Were’s fur, some latching on with their teeth. We didn’t have enough time to see what else the zombies or werewolf were about to do. Or if the bites made the Goliath turn into a zombie-werewolf. The thought alone was enough to make my blood run cold.
Devon, Sara, and Tiny didn’t need much additional prompting to follow me. We rushed down the hillside, past some bushes and trees, and straight to the ivy-covered chain-link fence surrounding the blacktop of a parking lot behind an office building.
Tiny gave Sara a boost, while Devon and I scrambled to get over the top of the fence.
A womanly screech nearly shattered my eardrums and startled me so badly that I lost my grip on the top and landed so painfully on my back on the other side that all of the air was knocked out of my lungs. I stared up, gasping for air, as Tiny spun around to deck the zombie that had grabbed him. I could hardly believe the big guy had made such a high-pitched noise.
His fist went right through its rotted ribcage. I had to swallow back the urge to throw up, scrambling to my feet so I could help Sara over the fence while Tiny and Devon shoved at the creatures grabbing at them and reaching for us.
One of the zombies had Devon pinned against the fence, pulling him down before he could get onto the other side. His arm under its jaw kept the snapping teeth from latching onto him, but its long, dirty fingernails were clawing at his ribs, tearing up his shirt and leaving bloody streaks behind. Sara placed a piece of wood into my hand. A thick gardening stake or something. It didn’t feel very sturdy, but I would make whatever use I got out of it count.
Hastening back to the top, I braced myself with one hand, hefting the piece of wood with the other. “Devon, down,” I ordered, swinging up and over with as much strength as I could muster. He slid down, his thin wifebeater catching on the chain-link fence as he pushed the zombie toward me.