Servant of the Undead

by Isabelle Drake

  * * *

  Hayden knew he was dreaming and struggled to wake but the dream held him, gripping him in its sinister arms.

  He was back by the maple tree outside the longhouse, but it was a late summer evening and the air was warm, humid and filled with earthy sweetness. Instead of icy and dotted by the last snowflakes of a blizzard, the night was the kind a person could stay outside until morning, cradled by the lingering heat of the day, reliving the vitality of nature’s potency. In front of Hayden was a fire, logs stacked upright like a teepee. Flames roared, skipping up into the black air, embers floating toward the stars. Three women were tossing branches into the center of the upright triangle, the sweat coated muscles of their arms flexing.

  The fire, like the night, was perfect.

  The yellow and orange flames lit up dozens of faces. Seated in the grass, Hayden was part of a circle. Actually, there were two circles. One made of people standing. The inner circle, the one he was part of, was made of people seated cross-legged in the grass. Because of the fire in the center, he couldn’t see all the way around but he could see enough to know the people seated were young, old, male, female, attractive, and plain. There was nothing about them that was similar. Except that they were alive.

  Those in the outer circle were not. Each of them held the end of a chain, a rope, or a leash. Mattie was behind Hayden, holding the end of his chain.

  There was no music and only very little talking. The most distinct sound was that of the fire, roaring as it grew. Tension snapped from person to person and most of those seated were still, eyes glazed.

  Hayden turned and looked back over his shoulder. “Where’s Rachelle?”

  “She’s there.” Mattie jerked her chin up, indicating a spot several yards away. “Can’t you see her?”

  Hayden leaned forward, feeling the heat of the fire on his face as he searched the crowd. Mattie pointed to a cluster, but Hayden still didn’t see her.

  She kicked him. “No, not down. Look up.”

  Hayden wiped a bead of sweat from his cheek as he lifted his chin. Rachelle stood beside a black-haired woman about twice her age. The woman held a brown clay jug and two large brown mugs.

  A thin line of dread worked up Hayden’s spine as he watched the other woman fill the cups and hand one to a man at the end of her leash and one to the man at the end of Rachelle’s. Obediently, the men drank, handed the cups back. Rachelle patted the top of her servant’s head. He lowered his shoulders and looked down, letting her stroke him. Hayden took his gaze away from Rachelle and her pet.

  Mattie leaned down and whispered into Hayden’s ear. “She’s not the girl you think she is.”

  One of the women who’d been tossing branches into the fire came forward. She strolled through the shadows, moving around the center, stroking some of the pets as she passed. She stripped off her clothes as she walked, tossing each piece to the ground, leaving a trail. Twisting and turning, she reached back to run her fingers over the tattoo along the base of her spine. Her skin glistened with sweat, her muscles were tight. As she moved, she cupped her breasts and looked upward.

  She neared Hayden, and he recoiled. She dropped her hands, knelt in front of him, and reached for his arms. He leaned back, hit Mattie’s thighs with his head. The woman shoved her tits in his face. Struggling for consciousness and finally woke.

  * * *

  Judging by the slant of the sun, it was late afternoon. He had to assume it was the same day because the fire was still going, low but enough to keep the frost out of the air. The pot of corned beef hash sat on the floor next to the bed. It smelled oily and sour, but he reached for it and the plastic spoon beside it. She’d also left a mug with what smelled like water, but he left that alone.

  Even cold and congealed, the hash went down quickly. Lingering visions of the dream did not.

  The images were vivid, even crisper than his recollections of the night before.

  The heavy swing of the door made him jump. Mattie rushed in, then stopped short, staring at him. “What?”

  Hayden ran his hand over his face, trying to wipe the fear and disgust from his expression. He lowered his hand and looked at her, feeling as if he was seeing her for the first time.

  “You finally figured it out?” She crossed the room and sat on the table.

  He put the pot on the floor, tossed the spoon in to it. “How does the initiation happen?”

  She started swinging her feet. “It starts with a tea, one stronger than the one you drank in the car on the way here. Even stronger than the one we gave Rachelle.”

  Mattie went on to explain the initiation process. A person drinks the tea. The herb mixture slows their heart until the tribe leader—Matthew for them—has sex with the initiate. Climax and death must occur simultaneously.

  “Some people die?”

  Mattie hopped off the table, grabbed some logs from the stack piled by the wall and put them in to the stove. After shutting the door, she scooted onto the table again.

  “Matthew usually strangles them, so yeah, some people die. That’s the chance they take.”

  Hayden looked out the window, tried to guess how long he’d been asleep. “It’s the chance you took.”

  She nodded.

  Three o’clock? He figured. Not later than five, because the sun was still up. “You let him strangle you?”

  “It wasn’t Matthew who turned me, but yes, I was strangled. It heightens the orgasm.” She tapped her fingers across her knee then worked the tips up her thigh. “But I bet you already knew that.”

  He ignored the jib and waited for her to continue.

  “At death, they’re a dormant. Stored until the tribe leader wants to revive them.”

  Hayden lifted an eyebrow, waited again.

  She moved her hands to her knees, leaned forward and started swinging her legs again. “The revival is a simple matter of another elixir delivered into the skin.”

  “The spine tattoos.”

  Mattie nodded. “See, you are smart.”

  If it could be done intentionally, that revealed a new possibility. “How is it undone?”

  “You see, Hayden?” She smacked her boots together. “We both want the same thing.’

  “I have no idea what you’re after.” He let his sarcasm crack in his voice. “I want a better job and to pay off my student loans.”

  She smirked, the corner of one side of her mouth disappeared beneath her hair. “What do you need to do that?”

  “ Information.”

  “Yep.”

  “You want me to figure out how to cure your tribe?”

  “You’re getting warmer.” She stopped swinging her feet. “Except for one thing. Everything you find out is for my ears only.”

  “What makes you think I’m going to find out anything? And if I do that I’ll give it to you?”

  “That editor guy, Bob, he’s creaming for more. He’s one reason.” She hopped off the table and collected the empty pot and plastic spoon. “I’m the other. You go get me what I want, and I’ll leave you alone.”

  “You’ll let me walk?”

  She nodded and put the pot on the table.

  Why were they pretending he had a choice? If he didn’t do what she wanted, he’d be right back where he was, chained to her bed or worse.

  “Why can’t you go find it yourself?” She glared at him, telling him she wasn’t going to answer. “Rachelle? What about her?”

  “She’ll be free to go.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. You understand what’s at stake now and what can happen if you don’t deliver. So you’ll deliver.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “You don’t have to trust me.” She came over to stand beside the bed. “You just have to do what I tell you to so that I don’t fuck your life up and leave your girlfriend locked in that cage.”

  He tapped the metal ring around his neck. “Who’s going to service you while I’m off getting this infor
mation?”

  “Thanks for your concern but it’s unnecessary.”

  He watched her from the corner of his eyes.

  She smirked as she held out her hand. “I realize that for you to do what I want, I have to let you go. It isn’t like I can follow you around like some kind of stalker.” She laughed, a tight, harsh sound. “Well, I could, but I don’t have to in order to get what I want. Do we have a deal?”

  No choice really. He accepted her hand and shook.

  Chapter Eight

  “She’s not the girl you think she is.”

  The next morning, Hayden trudged through the clumps of gritty, brown snow covering the sidewalk, clutching his phone to his ear, wincing at Bob Keeler’s shrieks of joy. For once the two of them wanted the same thing and as usual Hayden had a plan for how to get it. It was possible that within 24 hours he’d have delivered what Mattie demanded, given something to Bob that would make him even more giddy, and he’d be rid of the whole sick mess.

  “Excellent. More, more, more.” The man barked. “I want it all.”

  He wasn’t going to get that. Not even close. But he’d get enough.

  Wind whipped around the corner of the library building, biting Hayden’s skin, reigniting the new chill that now lingered inside him, tingling just below the surface of his skin. Hayden tucked his scarf into his coat and buried his chin into the knot at his throat, bracing himself for the last steps to the library. Bob, barreling on, didn’t even notice that Hayden wasn’t responding beyond a half-hearted mumble. Even though he had slept in his own bed the night before and things seemed to be somewhat under control, he was not in shape to deal with his aggressively enthusiastic boss.

  “I’ll make the call for the convention pass, and double check on Belmont, that fucking weirdo author, make sure he’s going to be there. Asshole better be. I’ve sent the man a few emails--copied you on some--but so far he hasn’t gotten back with me. You know how those writers are--arrogant. Evasive. Total pains in the ass. You pin him down. Talk to him. Get details. Get something good.”

  Hayden knew what he meant. He’d seen the emails. It hadn’t been a few. It had been dozens.

  Bob rambled on about what he expected to happen at the convention, so he murmured another agreement and clutched the phone to his ear. Hayden’s concern for Rachelle, delivered to her own apartment just before Mattie had left him at his, still lingered. The assurance that his girlfriend just needed to sleep it off didn’t sit well with him. What sort of long-term damage had been done? Wouldn’t she notice the physical after effects of that session? Was she going to wake up, find herself bruised and sore and then come looking for him? He had no reasonable explanation for what’d happened. The best he could hope for was to get what he needed from Belmont and be rid of Mattie.

  The sarcasm in the man’s voice sparked some life into Hayden, and he finally managed to speak a complete, coherent sentence. “Right, I understand what you want.” Good thing his boss never wanted any actual proof that what he printed he was true, because no way in hell was Hayden going to provide that.

  After another round of coughing, Bob barked a curt goodbye. Hayden dropped his phone into his pocket and then rounded the corner. The entrance to the library was about a half block away. It would’ve been easy, just ducking inside and getting what he was after, except Mattie stood on the steps, her tangled hair hanging across the shoulders of her leather jacket as she turned to face him.

  Doing his best to return her brutal stare, he kept going forward, stopping in front of her and taking in the slices of pale flesh visible between the binding straps. Without trying, he remembered how her big tits felt, pressed against him or filling his hands. Stop looking, he told himself. “Thought you weren’t going to stalk me.”

  She laughed, her face looking oddly human in the bright afternoon sunlight. “Stalk you? Isn’t that a little extreme?”

  That quick glimpse of her skin, the memories of it, were enough to make his body respond to her. He did his best to ignore it, but his blood had already started to thrum, his heartbeat slow and heavy. Sex. That’s all it was, yes. But not on his terms. Was it ever going to stop? The need. The want. The fear. “I understand now, nothing is too extreme.”

  Mattie’s lips twisted as she dropped onto one of the low, snow-covered steps of the library. She crossed her legs, dangling one booted foot above the icy clumps dotting the concrete then looked around, her gaze moving slowly through the surroundings, assessing threats measuring possibilities. There was neither. The streets were humming with cars, shuttle vans and delivery trucks, but the sidewalks were mostly empty, so even though her reply was soft, he heard her easily. “I lied.”

  He propped one foot beside her and leaned down, close enough to see the tiny bits of ice clinging to feathery ends of her lashes. That was a mistake. Instantly, he sensed the vapor of tension that constantly circled her, spiraling around like a vortex of motion. If he let it, it would pull him in again. “What’re you doing here?”

  “What do you think?” She uncrossed her legs and set her palms in the snow beside her, and angled forward, close enough for him to smell her skin and feel the icy chill surrounding her. “I don’t trust you,” she said.

  The images he’d been trying to squelch all morning tumbled through his mind, taunting him, reminding him of what he’d been part of. What he’d done. No matter how he justified it, he knew part of him had craved it, wanted to do it. He didn’t trust himself around her either, but still forced himself to not back down. Keeping his nose near her cheek, he asked, “So you’re going to follow me around?”

  “Nope.” She leaned back, swung one leg over the other. Hayden caught a glimpse of her bare pussy. “You go ahead. I’ll be here. Waiting.” Her sneer told him she’d flashed him intentionally and was satisfied by the way he’d taken the bait.

  Why bother hiding it? Why give her more satisfaction? He made a point of looking over her pale legs visible beneath the fishnets and below the tiny skirt. Her torso was hardly covered by the red strips of wool. If that wasn’t enough to get her noticed, she also had on the black leather jacket. “You don’t think you’re going to attract some attention, sitting in the snow in a miniskirt?”

  “What the fuck do you care?” When he kept staring, she made a show of zipping up her jacket then squinted against the sunshine. “In case you haven’t figured it out, Hayden, I’m not the kind of person who can walk into the library unnoticed. At least out here, I can disappear if I need to. That isn’t a possibility in there.”

  Even though that was true, he’d rather have her with him so he could keep track of her. Until she was cut out of his life for good, apparently he had to find a way to deal with her random chaos. “Anybody lifts an eyebrow at you, you can tell them you’re part of the comic convention.”

  She scanned the area, then shook her head. “No thanks, pretending to be someone I’m not isn’t my thing anymore. Just get that book, bring it to me.”

  Maybe it was his imagination, but he was beginning to think she seemed anxious. Jumpy. “Everything okay?”

  “Again-what the fuck do you care?” She closed her legs and tightened herself in a ball. “Go get the shit.”

  Thinking about Bob, he said, “We’re going to look at it together.”

  “I may be a liar but I’m not the sort to back out on my word. A deal is a deal.”

  Delivering the book was the first piece of their agreement, the easy part. It was the second part—the unknown—that worried him. He had no control over what that book did or didn’t tell them. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “I know you will.” She turned, looking away, pretending to be watching the traffic but her attention was not focused on the cars and trucks.

  He backed away, leaving her there in the middle of the snow and ice to go inside.

  A longhaired guy was perched on a stool behind the counter. Hayden nodded at him as he rushed past and headed straight for the stack where he’d found the book.


  It wasn’t there. He looked around, checking the shelves above and below, in case the book had been put away in the wrong place. The one he was after, by Belmont, and the two others that had been next to it were gone too.

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  What sane, normal person would suddenly want those books?

  No, not sane. Not normal.

  Hayden bolted from the stack and headed to Bates Hall. It wasn’t totally empty, the way it had been on that night. A few college students hunched over books and tapped on laptops. A single girl was already asleep, her long red hair hanging over her arms. He took another look around. That guard had to be around somewhere. Hayden crossed the room, weaving between the tables, the vaulted ceiling making his footsteps echo. The historic beauty of it all was completely wasted on him as he passed through the Government Information room, cut through the Abbey Room.

  He was just reaching the stairs to the third floor when he saw the blur of the blue security uniform right as the man ducked into the Boylston Room. Hayden called after the guy and after a pause, the man turned around.

  “Remember me?” he asked, moving forward. “I was here the other night, you know, when we had the storm?”

  The guard twisted his too-full lips, as he looked Hayden up and down. “Yeah, man, I remember you. Zombie guy.”

  Something was definitely wrong with the guy, but Hayden hung tight and persisted. “Right. That’s me.”

  “You left that book on the table, open. The lady that works the front desk in the morning found it—God knows what she was doing up here—and she came after me, telling everyone I left it there, just because I was talking about the zombies. You know, warning people to be ready and all.” The guy squinted and leaned closer. Close enough so the scent of stale coffee blew across Hayden’s face. “She’s one of those older ladies, you know the kind who thinks she has the right to tell everyone what to think. Anyway, she waved that book around and made a fucking stink about those pictures. Told everyone I was some kind of pervert.”