Living Dead Girl (Vampire Hunter Book 1)

by S. C. Reynolds

  There were hardly any visitors at this time of day. Just a couple of grounds-keepers wandering around. I nervously eyed the shovel in Henry’s hand. I wasn’t convinced he would pass as a gravedigger if someone saw us. “Couldn’t we have parked any closer?” I hissed.

  “This is the quickest way. We’re almost there!”

  And then we were there. I had tried to brace myself ahead of time for the shock I felt certain would come from seeing my tombstone again. But the shock I experienced was for a completely different reason.

  “What the hell happened?” Henry exclaimed.

  There was my grave, undisturbed, peaceful even. The soil I had clawed my way out of was neatly packed in place. “This, this doesn’t make sense!” I stuttered. I stared in disbelief. Even the grass on top was intact. It looked like it hadn’t been disturbed in, well, a year.

  “Shh! Did you hear that?” Henry grabbed my arm.

  We stood frozen, listening. I could barely make out the faint sound of a woman’s voice. As it grew louder, I was paralyzed, but Henry sprung into action. “Come on,” he whispered. I still couldn’t move. “Aurora!” Henry tightened his grip on my arm, wrenching me out of my trance-like state. That voice sounded so familiar. I was practically mesmerized.

  We dove behind a huge oak tree just as the visitors came into view. I gasped, slamming my hand over my mouth. A man and woman and young girl walked into the clearing. I squinted, not believing what I was seeing. But it was true. My parents and sister were here.

  They stopped at my gravesite. “Here, honey, do you want to put these out for Aurora?” Mom turned to Kayla.

  Kayla, my beautiful sister. She looked so much older now. When I was alive, she had been 12. She was taller and less childlike than I remembered. But it wasn’t just the growth spurt. Kayla’s eyes looked haunted and she had a pained expression on her face.

  Kayla didn’t speak, but she was crying softly. She laid a bouquet of flowers on top of my grave. Lilies. My favorite.

  “I can’t believe it’s really been a year,” Dad said softly. My mom leaned her head on his shoulder. She was crying as well.

  “Kayla?” Mom prompted. “Do you want a few minutes to talk to your sister?”

  “What’s the point?” Kayla turned and looked sharply at my mom. The haunted look had turned to anger. “It’s not like she can hear me anyway. As Dr. Jameson says, she’s in a better place now.” Kayla made a sound, which resembled a snort/laugh.

  “We thought Dr. Jameson was helping you through these feelings.” My dad sounded tired. “Your mother just wanted to give you time alone with Aurora if you needed it.”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.” Kayla’s voice shook. “This is just such an awful day. It brings back so many memories of this day last year. And I still just can’t believe she’s gone. And in such a gruesome way.”

  I watched in horror as the three people I loved most in the world, the three people I would give my life for if I could, stood huddled together crying. After what felt like eons, they finally turned to go.

  “We’ll go have lunch at Jarret’s in Aurora’s memory,” I heard my mother say as they disappeared from view.

  I turned to Henry. His eyes were brimming with tears. “Stupid allergies,” he muttered.

  I patted his arm. “I would be crying if I could after hearing that. I guess I hadn’t really thought about what everyone else has been through; I’ve just been so focused on figuring out what happened. I’m really sorry.”

  “That’s understandable,” Henry responded. “Don’t beat yourself up too much. I’d probably be a driveling mess if I was in your shoes.”

  “Oh, and I wouldn’t worry too much about being a zombie if I were you,” he continued. “I was just freaked out when I first saw you. As soon as I had a chance to think, I realized that everybody knows a person becomes a zombie by contracting a deadly virus.”

  Interesting.So I didn’t die due to deadly disease exposure. One cause of death eliminated, 8 million to go.

  Chapter 7

  The drive back to the house was very quiet. I think hearing and seeing my family had deeply affected both Henry and me. I knew we had lucked out, finding the grave undisturbed – I was eventually going to tell Mom, Dad, and Kayla that I was back, but I had to get answers first.

  “So have you talked to Mom and Dad since I, um, died?” I blurted out to Henry once we were back sitting in his living room.

  “Not really,” he replied. “I ran into your mom at Kroger a few months ago, but we just said hi in passing.”

  We sat in pensive silence for several minutes. I decided it was time to lighten the mood by changing the subject. The world didn’t revolve around me, and besides, you have to make the best of a bad situation, right?

  “You haven’t told me anything about what’s happened in the last year! There must be some good gossip at school?”

  “Since when have you known me to have the gossip?” he retorted. “You were the one always filling me in on all the scandals and romances.”

  “Oh!” I exclaimed. “I just realized, I haven’t even asked you what’s going on with Michael England!” I was grinning ear to ear.

  Michael England was the hottest guy in school (in my opinion, as well as most of the female sophomore class). He was tall, muscular, with dark brown hair and smoldering blue eyes. But he wasn’t the stereotypical jock; Michael was the brooding, quiet kind, who didn’t realize his own beauty. He was shy, but we had just been getting to know each other when I died. I was sure he had been planning to ask to me to the end of the year dance.

  Henry looked annoyed. “Let me get this straight. You were killed, brought back from the dead, your grave shows no signs of so much as a blade of grass ever being out of place, and yet one of your biggest concerns is Michael England?”

  “Well we might as well focus on something fun. I can’t think about all that other stuff right now. My brain is on overload.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll tell you, but you’re not going to be happy about it.”

  Uh oh. “Does he have a girlfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  I felt like the wind had been knocked out of my chest, which was odd, considering I couldn’t breathe if I wanted to. “Please tell me it isn’t someone I know.”

  “I could tell you that, but it would be a lie.”

  “Who is it?” I demanded.

  “It’s Jessica. They’ve actually been together for awhile now.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I shrieked.

  Henry winced and put his hands over his ears. “Keep your voice down, Rory! I’ve already got a raging headache. Geez, get a grip!”

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m just pissed. You know Jessica was the one supposedly helping me get with Michael. She was his lab partner, and she said she would put in a good word for me.”

  “Maybe they bonded over your death. They say tragedy can bring people together.” Henry laughed at his own annoying joke.

  But I was not laughing. They say tragedy can bring people together. Henry’s words were ringing in my ears and I had a funny feeling I was about to be even more enraged. I decided to try to pretend I wasn’t upset or Henry might not truthfully answer my next question.

  I traced my finger along the edge of the couch arm, where a thread had gotten snagged and formed a knot in the fabric. “I guess Michael would have no way of knowing I would be resurrected, so I can’t really blame him. Just out of curiosity, how long have they been seeing each other?” I asked nonchalantly.

  “Eh, I don’t know,” Henry grumbled.

  “Come on,” I coaxed. “I won’t get mad. I promise.” I looked up at Henry innocently.

  Henry still seemed hesitant to tell me – I was sure he could see right through my “I won’t be mad” lie – but he also knew I wasn’t going to let it drop until he spilled the beans. “They started dating right before the end of the school year.”

  “Wait.” I was confused. “School still has almost a month left.
So they just started dating?”

  “No, Rory. Last school year.”

  “Are you seriously telling me that not even a month after I died, they were hooking up?” My voice sounded shrill, even to my own ears. “That’s so offensive!”

  “I did warn you,” Henry replied. “He ended up taking her to the school dance.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I knew the world hadn’t stopped when I died, but I thought maybe it might have slowed down just a little bit. It was incredible that merely a week after my death the kids of Donaldson High School were laughing it up at the annual end of the year dance. And then I had a horrible thought, almost as bad as picturing Michael and Jessica locking lips.

  “Henry,” I whispered. “Please tell me that you didn’t go to the dance. On the one-week anniversary of my death.”

  Henry wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Yes, I did go.”

  “How could you do that to me?” my voice caught in my throat. I wished that I could cry and let everything I was feeling out. How could my best friend go dance, laugh and pretend nothing had happened?

  “What were we supposed to do?” he retorted. “They brought a grief counselor to the school. It was mandatory that everyone go, at least once. Your death almost killed me. But I had no choice but to keep going. Was I supposed to sacrifice the rest of my life, crawl in a hole and never leave the house, because you were gone?”

  I knew he was right, but I was too hurt to back down. “One week. Would it have killed you to grieve for one week?” I turned to leave. “I’m going up to the guest room. Please just leave me alone.”

  “Rory!” Henry called.

  I kept walking.

  “Fine, be a big baby about this. Turn on the one person in the world who’s trying to help you. That’s real mature.”

  When I got to the guestroom, I collapsed onto the bed. What am I doing? My head was swimming. I wished I could sleep and get some perspective. That always used to help me in the past. Even though I knew it was pointless, I pulled the covers around me and shut my eyes.

  Chapter 8

  The next thing I knew, Henry was knocking on the door. “Come on. Unlock the door already.”

  I jolted into a sitting position. I was on the floor next to the bad, resting my head on the mattress. What in the world?

  I scrambled to my feet and unbolted the guestroom door.

  “A year in the grave and you still aren’t caught up on your beauty sleep,” Henry quipped, smiling. It was an olive branch. Obviously he was going to pretend our conversation earlier hadn’t happened, which was fine by me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You’ve been sleeping for, like, 18 hours. Which is weird because I thought we figured out you didn’t need to sleep.”

  “Huh?” I was confused.

  “After you went upstairs, I assumed you just needed to be alone for awhile. I got worried around 10 last night so I finally came to check on you. I tried to get you to open the door but you wouldn’t. Just kept repeating that you were fine.” Henry looked at me strangely. “You remember this, right?”

  “Um, yeah,” I fibbed, biting my lip.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “I decided that the undead really do have to sleep and you needed lots of it. But I had no idea you’d sleep all the way to Sunday. And all the way through Sunday, apparently, if I hadn’t gotten you up now.”

  18 hours! I’ve been asleep for 18 hours?

  “It’s been so overwhelming. I guess I really needed the rest. I feel completely refreshed now. Almost like my old self.” I hoped my voice sounded normal.

  Henry nodded. “Good. My parents will be back tonight so this is the last day we have the house to ourselves.”

  “And you have school tomorrow,” I said.

  “Yeah, so instead of us spending the day arguing and trying to figure out this crazy situation, why don’t we do something fun?”

  “That sounds perfect! What did you have in mind?”

  Henry grinned. “Sunday matinee. Like the old days.”

  I smiled back. Henry knew me so well. What would I ever do without him?

  Chapter 9

  The first few days on my own were weird. It helped that Henry’s parents worked extremely long hours so I could still spend the daytime around the house. By 7 or 8 at night I had to be holed back up in Henry’s room. It was a pain. The hardwood floors were old and creaky, so I couldn’t walk around in the attic unless he was up there with me. Even then, only one of us could move around at once. But I knew this was a temporary situation.

  There was also the whole ‘sleeping’ issue. Every couple of nights I would get a dull ache in my head – not painful, just intense. And before I realized what was happening, I’d be out like a light. Henry thought I was just sleeping – and I planned to keep it that way, at least until I understood the blackouts and could figure out how to control them.

  On top of everything else, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. For no reason, the hairs would stand up on the back of my neck as though someone were behind me. The first few times it happened, I’d spin around, ready to fight whoever was there. But no one ever was.

  Maybe I should have kept my guard up, but for what reason? I had no way of knowing what was about to happen.

  When I finally met my stalker I didn’t stand a chance. I was watching TV downstairs – my routine for when Henry was at school – when I was tackled from behind. This time, I hadn’t even had the hair-on-back-of-neck warning.

  The intruder shoved a gag in my mouth and pulled me off the couch in one swift move. I struggled and tried to whip around to see who – or what – was attacking me, but a cloth bag was pulled over my head and secured around my neck by some type of strap.

  I was dragged backwards for several feet, flailing in all directions, kicking my legs wildly. My attacker pulled me off of the ground so that my feet couldn’t touch the floor. “You’re coming with me,” hissed a gruff male voice. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but the end result is going to be the same.”

  I knew that I was completely overpowered, but I couldn’t go without putting up a fight. I wonder if he knows I’m already dead. Followed by an even worse thought. What if he knows what I am and he’s sending me back to the grave? Or planning to torture me for eternity?

  I was unceremoniously hurled into the trunk of a car, hands and feet bound behind me. I tried to scream, but it was impossible with the gag in my mouth. I could feel the low rumble of the engine as he started the car and sped down the long, winding driveway. It was a good thing I didn’t need to breathe because the bag over my head was stifling.

  He must have been watching my every move. Seen what time Henry and his parents come and go. Gotten the code to the gate, and probably even a key to the house. I shuddered. Whoever would go to these lengths meant business. And the fact that I had no clue what hell lay ahead of me was terrifying.

  It felt like I was in the trunk for ages, but I knew that couldn’t be right. A few minutes into the drive, I tried to count the time, like I had seen a kidnap victim do on Crime Scene. It had ultimately led the investigators back to the perpetrator’s home. 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi…I found my mind wandering again and quickly gave up that endeavor.

  The man who was driving was talking. His voice would get louder, then barely audible. I strained to hear.

  “Yeah, I got her,” he growled. “Be there soon. Yeah. Yep, I know the orders.”

  The car stopped abruptly after a bumpy ride over what I guessed were huge pieces of gravel. He threw open the trunk and yanked me out. I felt like a rag doll, being pulled in multiple directions. I desperately tried to regain my balance as my feet slammed into the ground. “Walk,” he commanded.

  “I’m going to take the gag out; no use in screaming. There’s nobody around to hear you. I’ll take the bag off when we get inside. I can’t risk you seeing where we are.”

  I felt a glimmer of hope. All those days of watching hours and
hours of mystery and crime shows had taught me a thing or two. The attacker never lets the victim see his face or where they are going, unless the plan is to kill them. But, on the other hand, then there were the real sickos who liked to keep them blindfolded, and only uncover the eyes right before they cut the victim’s throat. I shuddered.

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “We’ll talk when we get inside,” was all he would say.

  I walked on quickly, ready to get my fate over with, because really, what else could I do? After Henry had dismissed my concerns on the first day when I thought the kitchen door was ajar, I had stupidly decided not to tell him about my feelings of being watched.

  My potential executioner jerked back on my arms. “Stop!” he commanded. “We’re here now. Don’t want you bashing into the door.”

  I did as I was told, and heard the creak of a large door swing open. I made a mental note of the fact that he didn’t knock or use a key to get inside. I thought this bit of information might be useful if I had an opportunity to escape.

  The air inside felt thick and hot against my skin. Still with the bag over my head, he led me several steps into the room. “There’s a chair behind you. Sit down.” I stretched my bound hands backwards and felt for the chair before sitting on it.

  He quickly untied then retied my hands to the back of the chair. Then, as promised, he removed the bag.

  It was dimly lit inside. He stood at the opposite end of the room, completely covered in a long hooded coat. I couldn’t see his face, but he was very tall, well over 6 feet for sure, and had a large, obviously muscular frame. No wonder he was able to sling me around like that.

  Even though I couldn’t make out his face, I could tell he was looking at me. “I’ve been watching you for several days now,” he said. His deep voice didn’t sound as gruff as before. He was definitely more relaxed.

  “I, I thought I was being watched,” I stuttered. Get a grip, Aurora. Don’t let him see your fear. “Why have you been stalking me?” I asked in the sternest voice I could muster.