Undead for a Day

by Chris Marie Green, Nancy Holder, Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  “No,” Bridget said, taking the pack. “That’s not right.”

  Marica narrowed her eyes. Bridget raised her chin.

  “Very well. I’ll have him taken care of,” Marica said. “I promise.”

  “You’ll give him a decent burial,” Bridget said. “You’ll let his father know.”

  “Oh, he already knows,” Marica said dryly. “Now come with me. The Amayas shouldn’t be able to penetrate our defensive barriers but you can never be too careful.”

  Bridget cast one last look at Xavier, then began to walk away—straight into one of the statue-like corpses. It fell over with a crash.

  “Sorry,” she said automatically.

  It groaned as if in response, and she blanched and reached out to set it back upright. But she thought the better of touching it.

  Then she realized that Colin wasn’t limping. He saw the shock on her face and smiled at her.

  “Yes. Got my eye back, got my leg back,” he crowed as he hopped from one foot to the other. “I can even run.”

  She was stunned. In all the excitement, she hadn’t noticed. Holding back tears, she threw her arms around him again and they held each other in silence for a few moments.

  “Colin,” she whispered. She looked at Marica. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Will it—will it last?” She was afraid to even ask.

  “Yes.” Marica walked over and eased Bridget aside. Then she planted a long, lustful kiss on his mouth, grinding her pelvis against his. Colin looked embarrassed but he didn’t pull away. She looked playfully over her shoulder at Bridget. “It’s his wedding gift.”

  “What?” Bridget cried.

  “We’re married,” Marica said.

  “It’s only for a year,” Colin said.

  “So far.” Marica kissed him again.

  Then there was a sharp, whistling sound and Marica bellowed “Incoming!”

  And the graveyard exploded.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It was like the end of the world.

  Bits of corpses and chunks of stone shot into the night sky and plummeted back down like bombs as Bridget, Colin, and Marica charged through the open graveyard gates.

  “Hold hands! Hold hands!” Marica yelled. “You’ll be stronger!”

  Colin gripped Bridget’s hand and she glanced up. A large, dead tree limb was falling their way. She yanked on him to dodge it. But the huge piece of wood angled left and landed five feet away from them. Bridget gave him a look and he smiled briefly, as if he had personally deflected the branch. Maybe he had.

  Just outside the gates a beautiful black Jaguar XKE sat untouched. Marica yanked open the driver’s door and Colin raced around to the passenger’s side. Bridget tried the door behind the driver and barreled in, throwing her pack onto the seat. Before she had shut the door, the car was moving.

  “Attack! Attack!” Marica said. “Duende incoming!”

  “Roger that!” a voice crackled from a speaker inside the car.

  Marica said something in Spanish that sounded like swearing. Then she swerved as the ground in front of the car burst into the air from a cannonball-like force.

  “Thank God we got to you in time,” Marica said.

  Another explosion rocked the car. Bridget braced herself for a rain of debris but nothing touched the car. Colin reached over the seat and waggled his fingers. She slid her hand in his.

  They raced along a steep, narrow road lit by moonlight and bomb bursts. The road fell away into a deep valley on Bridget’s left. The Jag climbed toward jagged mountain peaks. On the right, huge boulders dislodged and roared down the adjacent cliff face. Bridget let out a shout.

  The rocks seemed to hit something just outside the Jag, then soared up and over the roof, rocketing downward on the other side into the valley. The image of Colin’s Beretta hanging in midair flashed through her mind. Magic. Favored.

  “Get us out of here,” she ordered Marica. “Send us home. This has nothing to do with us.”

  “It does now,” Marica said. “You killed Xavier Amaya.”

  “I did not!” she shouted. “You did!”

  “Talk later. Let her drive,” Colin told Bridget.

  The wiser course, to be sure. Marica was taking evasive action, negotiating the twists and turns like a Grand Prix racecar driver. Bridget started to flop back in the seat but Colin held on to her hand.

  “Stronger together,” he reminded her.

  “Why? How does it work? What are the rules?” she asked.

  “Just keep holding hands,” Marica said. “More later.”

  Biting her tongue, Bridget kept silent as the wheels clung to a hairpin turn and on the other side, they headed toward a tunnel drilled into a huge craggy granite mountain. They zoomed into the tunnel and the Jag’s high beams flashed on. A bomb went off behind them, close enough to make the car jump in the air. Bridget gripped the armrest with her free hand, wishing she were in the driver’s seat. She felt like a sitting duck, at the mercy of this freak who was so very not Colin’s wife. Every bit of this was Colin’s fault, and when they got out of this—because they would—there would be serious payback. Forever.

  The car accelerated flat out like at a million RPM’s. Bridget automatically braced herself, although if they hit anything going this speed, they would die. Unless magic saved them. As if in sheer terror, Colin squeezed her hand, and she waggled it to tell him to back off. He loosened his grip.

  “I love you, Bridge,” he said hoarsely.

  “Shut up. We are not going to die,” she snapped.

  “I’m sorry—”

  She batted his cheek with the back of his own hand. “Stop it. Make a wish. To live.”

  “Yes. That would be a big help,” Marica said encouragingly.

  There was a Y-intersection ahead. Marica forked left and the Jag hugged the curve like a lover. Then the road declined sharply and the Jag bulleted downward. Bridget had hated roller coasters all her life. Now she hated them more.

  “Ouch,” her twin protested, and she loosened her grip.

  Ahead, a large metal door ratcheted up and the Jag sped beneath it so closely Bridget swore the bottom of the door sheered off a few millimeters of exterior paint job.

  There was no metallic squeal, just she and Colin shouting in unison. The Jag began to slow, then slid to a graceful stop inside a cavernous space in which were parked a number of other vehicles—Hummers, panel trucks, and something that looked like a flying tank from a science fiction movie.

  Men and women in black catsuits and body armor surrounded the car. Their submachine guns were pointed directly at the Jag’s windows.

  “Out,” Marica barked like a general.

  Marica slid from behind the wheel. Colin let go of Bridget and both Flynns followed Marica’s lead. Bridget felt it was prudent to hold her hands above her head.

  “Stand down,” Marica told the commandos. “I have the twins.”

  The soldiers weren’t exactly jaunty as they lowered their weapons, but Bridget did take note of the heavy sighs of relief and big smiles flashed at her and Colin. No one bowed as Marica swept by, but they were deferential. Apparently she was in charge.

  “Your brother’s in the war room,” one of the armed women told Marica. “He said to go on in.” She bobbed her head at Bridget and Colin. “They’ve been cleared.”

  Marica snorted. “Of course they have. Dios, is he going to take credit for them, too?” She looked over her shoulder at Bridget and her brother, who were still holding hands. “You can let go now.”

  They exited the cavern through a plain metal door painted brown, then trotted down a hall on a linoleum floor. The walls were painted a light gray-green, and there were framed photographs of people in dark blue uniforms. Air Force? More images from science fiction movies flashed through Bridget’s brain. These guys weren’t wizards, they were aliens! Favored was another word for extraterrestrial!

  “This used to be a missile silo,” Marica said. “When we took it over, we thought it would
be useful to keep all this as camouflage.”

  Colin and Bridget exchanged incredulous looks. The bonfire on Shadow Island was clearly some kind of star gate and—

  “Are we still in Miami?” Colin asked.

  “Yes. The missile that used to be here was aimed at Cuba.” Marica opened a door. “Watch your step.”

  As if on cue, the floor shook. Beyond Marica, Bridget saw swirling star fields and wispy purple and lavender spirals. Missile silo, her ass.

  “Leonardo,” Marica called out. “I’m back. With the Flynns.”

  Then Marica walked into the dazzling open space, seemingly floating, and Bridget hurried up to Colin and yanked on his wrist.

  “Whoa,” she said. “Stop.”

  “It’s all right.” Marica sounded amused. “There’s a floor.”

  Keeping hold of her brother, Bridget opened her fanny pack and fished around for loose change. She tossed a couple of coins, and they clattered on something invisible.

  “Okay,” she said, looking at her brother. “You go first.”

  He smirked at her and walked forward, looking like he was also floating. The room flashed a brilliant white-blue, and a taller, more masculine version of Marica appeared. Above some serious body armor, his dark hair was pulled back in a small queue like a samurai. His eyes were deep-set chocolate brown flecked with gold. His nose was very straight, and his jaw was a rough-hewn rectangle. His gaze rested on Bridget, and something flickered across his face.

  “I’m Leo Caracol. In the absence of our parents, Maria del Carmen and I lead our house, Casa del Diablo. Thank you for coming,” he said. “Both of you.”

  “Didn’t have a choice,” Bridget bit off, refusing to be charmed.

  “Oh?” Leo ticked a glance at Marica.

  “I didn’t have time to explain,” she said. “We had to get out of there as fast as we could.”

  “What happened to Amaya?” Leo asked, and Marica smiled grimly.

  “Dead. Our booby trap worked.”

  Leo sighed and dipped his head, a gesture of respect. “He was a great witch. We could have been formidable allies.”

  Witch. The word hung in the air.

  “Never happen. We’re bitter enemies, and there will never be peace between us now,” Marica snapped. “And we have better allies.” She gestured to Bridget and Colin.

  “Hold on,” Bridget said. “I’m not your ally. What the hell is going on?”

  Marica said to her brother, “There’s no time to lose. Colin and I should make love now. To strengthen the mingling.”

  “Sí,” Leo concurred.

  “Oh, my God, Colin, what the hell?” Bridget said and her brother made an inscrutable face that could mean anything from “don’t ask me” to “please don’t ask me.”

  “We’re under attack. The Amayas are retaliating. We need to defend ourselves with equally strong magic. And sex magic is one of the strongest forms,” Leo explained. He slid her a glance laced with a bit of mischief. That explained the Amaya orgy.

  “To us, pleasure is serious business,” Marica insisted. “Ecstasy is a very potent form of power.” She slid her hand down over Colin’s ass and gave him a lingering kiss. “Come on, baby. We need you. We’ve been sleeping together for weeks. And you’ve loved it, right?”

  “Yeah, well,” Colin murmured, avoiding eye contact with Bridget, and Bridget translated: he had realized she was married.

  “So you knew about us,” Bridget said. “That he was all Favored or whatever and that he had a twin. You’ve been using him.”

  Marica and Leo shared a look. Bridget couldn’t translate it word-for-word but it was obvious they were debating about how much to reveal. She held her tongue, waiting for them to get their story figured out.

  “Until this afternoon, your brother and I always went to my penthouse in downtown Miami,” Marica began. “Colin was very private, and he never discussed his family. But I went to his place this afternoon to get ready for your Halloween party. And that was when I realized he had a twin. I told him about our situation. It’s Samhain, when we make our bold moves. I asked him to marry me for the year.”

  “But first you had to kill Xavier,” Bridget said sarcastically. “Bold move number one for the merry widow.”

  “We were only married for the year. I was released on the first stroke of midnight. Xavier died because he was remarrying,” Marica said. “If he hadn’t jumped into the bonfire with you, he’d be alive now.”

  “Yeah, about that bonfire,” she said.

  “I didn’t know Colin had written you a note,” Marica said, looking stricken. When he confessed, I altered the curse.” She gave him a pointed look. “You said you wanted to get married.”

  Both women looked at Colin, and he shrugged apologetically.

  “We were at my place. She’s giving me an eye and I’ve got a leg again, then suddenly there’s a fire in the fire ring, you know that one by the palm trees in my back yard? And we jump over the ring and we’re married! Then we were out of there in the Jag. It happened so fast. I freaked out.”

  “You have to understand. What they took from us is irreplaceable,” Marica said.

  “The crystal,” Bridget said, and Leo looked uneasy. As if simply talking about it was bad karma.

  “The sphere is ours. Our family created it centuries ago,” Leo said. “And we need it. Marica went to them as a year wife to parlay about it.”

  “And they refused to return it. So I took it,” Marica said. “It’s with us now. Where it should be.”

  And you killed a man to get it.

  “Well, they think it’s theirs,” Bridget said. “According to them, you stole it.”

  Marica gave her hair a toss, then slid her arms down Colin’s sides. “I don’t care what they think. They can go to hell.”

  “So we are in difficult times,” Leo said to Bridget. “We’re doing things we would otherwise never have done.”

  “Why send me to Shadow Island with the Amayas? Why not bring me here?” Bridget asked.

  “That’s my fault,” Colin said. “I overheard Marica on her cell phone. I thought she said that was where we were going.”

  “Then what about the other Amayas who jumped into the fire?”

  “They’re fine,” Marica told Bridget. “They’re still on Shadow Island. We couldn’t curse them because we didn’t have their essence. We had Xavier’s because I’d slept with him.”

  And Colin’s slept with you too, Bridget thought fearfully.

  “But how could you be sure he’d jump into the bonfire?”

  Her expression hardened. “I couldn’t, but it was worth a shot. I know the Amayas. They’d do whatever it takes to attack us. A year marriage between witches is very powerful. I figured he’d marry one of his cousins on Samhain to increase his power. If I had thought for one second that he’d get hold of you, I would never have done it.”

  “It’s worked out,” Leo said. “You’re here. Safe.”

  “How do you figure that?” Bridget asked. “We’ve been kidnapped and now we’re your prisoners—”

  “We want you to be our allies. Protected and well-treated,” Leo said, bracing his feet on the invisible floor as another explosion rocked the room.

  He reached forward and typed in the air and colorful windows of graphics and strange characters appeared. Rainbows of light flashed across his face as the images danced in kaleidoscope patterns: the Virgin Mary, cloudbursts, comets, knights in shining armor, and something that looked like a cave made out of ice. Then a forest and a ring of women in scarlet cloaks and men dressed for a Renaissance fair, all holding wands. Pictures expanded, collapsed, were replaced. Music played, then ran backwards, then dropped to whispers.

  Bridget remained steadfastly unimpressed. He was doing nothing she hadn’t seen on a dozen TV shows. Or so she told herself.

  “We don’t want to be your allies,” she said. “We want to go home. Now.”

  “But we’re married.” Marica fluttered her lon
g black lashes at Bridget’s brother.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Bridget said. “You’re no more married than Xavier and I were.”

  “You and Xavier were. Very married,” Marica replied.

  Bridget raised her chin. “Then Colin, consider yourself very divorced. We’re going.”

  She didn’t wait to see if they would try to stop her. As she had done so many times before, she wrapped her hand around Colin’s forearm and led him forward. Not only did it amaze her that he’d gotten mixed up with these people, but that he had apparently done it sober.

  Her shoes clomped on the clear floor as she made a purposeful beeline to the door. Colin trotted along beside her. For years he’d hobbled around in perpetual pain, angry not only that he’d been hurt, but that he seemed unable to achieve a miraculous reentry into life like so many other disabled vets. Would Marica take back his leg and his eye?

  “Don’t go,” Leo said to her retreating back. “Not like this. You’re Favored, but you have no House. You have no one to turn to. At least let us give you some training so you can protect yourself. If you walk out that door, the Amayas or someone even worse will scoop you up.”

  “You can teach us how to protect ourselves? You’re under attack! We can take care of ourselves. Just go back to your computer programming or whatever the hell it is you’re doing and we’ll be going,” she bit off.

  “I’m casting spells,” Leo replied. “The Amayas are coming at us. Hard. If you leave, you’ll have no defense against them.”

  “And they think you helped us get Xavier,” Marica reminded her.

  “We don’t even know where we are,” Colin murmured.

  “I don’t trust these people,” she murmured back. “And I think it’s really twisted that sex is involved.”

  “I hear you,” he said earnestly. “Once we’re out of this, I’m not ever having sex again.”

  She guffawed, and he looked a little hurt. Then he threw her a sheepish grin and moved his shoulders. He sighed.

  “I think we have to stick around until we get a plan together,” he said. “Seriously, Bridge. These guys are witches. And they have territories—Houses. And everyone who’s got powers is supposed to be a member of one, and we aren’t. We’re, like, rogues. Or illegal aliens. Plus we’ve got the twin mojo.” He lifted his brows. “We’re in demand. We’re, like, prizes. Someone else will come after us.”