by Tina Gerow
But, Logan…. His sandy blonde hair and ice blue eyes were etched into her mind, as was his cocky grin. She’d always been a sucker for a cocky grin. Okay, that and a nice ass.
She may be a former supernatural warrior, but she’d definitely developed human preferences.
Returning her thoughts to the task at hand, Ariel landed lightly on the roof of the main house and froze. She listened to make sure no one heard her. She wanted a discreet look around, not company. Padding silently around the perimeter of the roof, she glanced down at the ground to ensure no one was about. When she was sure all was quiet, she vaulted herself off the roof and landed silently on the ground, willing her wings back into their tattoo form.
Her tank top hung loosely in the back where her wings had stretched it out. Yet another tank top ruined. But it was worth it to stretch her wings now and then. She could always fly topless, she supposed, but for a woman with curves, it would be just as bad as jogging braless. Not a pretty thought.
She’d landed on the south side of the house, close to a stream that ran through the back of the property. She could hear nothing out of place above the gentle bubbling of the water over the rocks.
The wind shifted, and the smell of death and decay reached her. Ariel instantly came alert. Very few things in this world smelled like that. But she’d killed every single one of them at one time or another. She turned toward the putrid stench and crept forward silently.
Ariel listened intently, then peered around the back of the house. Every hair on her body prickled to attention. A ruffling sensation at her nape crawled along her skin like a rattler on its belly. Pure evil. The calling card of the vampire. But there was also something else out there she couldn’t quite place.
I wonder if I’m sensing James? Ariel shoved the thought away. Gabriel was right, if she hadn’t sensed this same thing when she met James earlier, he couldn’t be truly evil. She wasn’t sure exactly what he was in that case, but she’d save that dilemma for another time.
She crept along the back wall of the house until she came to the steps leading up to the wrap-around porch, and then she saw it.
A zombie trying to shuffle its way up the porch steps. No wonder she hadn’t placed the smell. Zombies smelled different depending on their rate of decay and where they were originally buried.
Tattered remains of a suit clung in patches, and bones and teeth were clearly visible through the ooze of rotting flesh. A cheerful red tie flapped in the breeze looking like a cherry on a dung heap.
“Damn! Why does it have to be zombies? I hate killing zombies. I can’t get the smell out of my hair for weeks!”
She ducked out of sight. Zombies weren’t the smartest creatures. Probably due to their rotted brains. But she didn’t want to draw attention to herself before she found the controller—most likely the vampire she sensed. Not to mention the rest of the zombies.
Where there’s one zombie there are several—they always traveled in packs.
She sniffed the air to locate the others and found them out by the barn. Along with the vampire. Why is there is always a vampire?
He stood in front of a pack of more than two dozen zombies and spoke to them using very animated hand gestures, like well meaning but ignorant people use to talk to the blind.
From the looks of him, he hadn’t been a vampire very long, he wore a leather biker jacket and his black hair swept back into a fifties ducktail. Since vampires of a few centuries were considered teenagers, this one was still a baby.
No wonder he’d gotten zombie duty. It was the KP of the evil food chain.
Luckily, he hadn’t noticed Ariel—he seemed to be having trouble getting his zombies to behave. They milled around bumping into each other and into him, while he kept pointing toward the house, mouthing “house.”
Like fighting Laurel and Hardy on evil steroids. The thought popped into Ariel’s head, and she had to stifle the urge to laugh aloud at her own lame joke.
In the meantime, the zombie behind her finally navigated up the steps and swung a tattered arm, smashing through the glass on the door and losing his hand in the process.
It would have been funny if she weren’t the only one here to stop them all.
The zombies out at the barn turned toward the noise and lumbered forward, finally accomplishing what the vampire apparently couldn’t.
Ariel cursed under her breath. She didn’t mind group fighting, she’d had worse odds, but with zombies, it would be messy.
Concentrating, Ariel willed her arm to change to stone. The familiar sensation of icy cold traveled up her arm making her shiver.
Adjusting her stance, as the arm was heavier in this form, she waved it experimentally. She briefly wished she’d brought her sword, but when she planned the evening, her agenda didn’t include zombie chopping, so she’d have to make do.
Ariel bounded up the steps and backhanded the red tie zombie, watching its head fall off, roll across the porch and over the side as it landed with a wet splat. The decapitated body still tried to get in through the door, but it would have a harder time without the head since it would have to feel its way around.
That was the problem with using zombies, if they weren’t fresh they fell apart too easily. And even though the various parts would continue to fulfill their mission, they usually weren’t very effective.
She raised her arm to disassemble Mr. Red Tie further, but the other zombies closed in behind her before she had a chance. Fighting in close quarters was never easy, but she had to have more room to maneuver with this many enemies.
Ariel turned to face the first zombie coming up the steps. She delivered a hard roundhouse kick to the side of its head and then a front kick, which knocked the group back like rotting dominoes, giving her time to unfurl her wings and fly out into the yard between the porch and the barn.
She landed hard, rotating her body into a fighting stance as the shock traveled up both legs. The taste of adrenaline coated the back of her tongue, sharp, metallic and heady—better than the effects of alcohol or any drug.
Her wings rose around her giving her at least some protection and allowing her to fight only a few at a time.
Thankful her wings were tough, leathery and flexible, Ariel charged ahead into battle. Zombies usually didn’t carry weapons, so they could pound on her wings or try to rip them, but that was about as effective as trying to rip tires with your bare hands.
Zombies pressed close all around her and she saw the vampire off to one side, leaning against the barn, a smirk on his pale, James Dean face.
Asshole, I’ll get to you.
She didn’t have to worry about him going for the house—since he definitely wasn’t invited, he couldn’t cross the threshold anyway. One of the “perks” of being a vampire.
The zombie in front of her, wearing the tattered remains of white sequined wedding dress, clamped onto her non-stone arm leaving painful furrows in the tender flesh. She immediately shifted the injured arm to stone, healing away the abrasions as if they’d never been. Then, using her free stone arm she lopped off the zombie bride’s head and sent it rolling—wedding veil and all.
If she could remove most of the heads, they’d be forced to grope around.
Before she could take down more than two of the zombies in front of her, a shotgun blast sounded next to her causing her to jump. She whipped her head to the side in time to see the zombie to her right explode, or at least the head. She sheltered her face against the spray of bone and rotted flesh, then turned to see where the gunshot blast originated.
There on the porch stood Logan McAllister, his feet comfortably set apart, a pump-action shotgun cradled against his right shoulder like a familiar lover. As she watched, fascinated, he squeezed off another shot and pumped the shotgun, ejecting a spent shell. Then he fed another cartridge of double aught buckshot into the chamber. He looked like a man who knew how to use a firearm.
“Damn! Why couldn’t he stay in the house?” she asked the nearest zombie, a
nearly six-footer who resembled a Jack-o-lantern in that every other tooth was missing. In answer, it squeezed its rotted hands around her neck, an ever tightening vice that threatened to snap her spine. Without conscious thought, stone rippled along her neck, thwarting Jack’s efforts to choke the life from her. She reached around to grab both of Jack’s shoulders and ripped his arms from their sockets. Jack grunted, but the hands stubbornly refused to release her neck, so she left the arms hanging down like lumpy long necklaces.
“Don’t you know when to give up?” She began to pry one of the hands from her throat, even as Jack tried to head butt her. His movements were clumsy and she sidestepped easily. One of the attached arms chose that moment to give up its grip on her neck, and she used the newly free arm to beat back the rest of his body.
On the edges of her peripheral vision she saw the vampire make a beeline for Logan. Apparently, he’d been waiting for the zombies to flush Logan from the house.
“Oh no you don’t, baby vamp.” Ariel stretched her wings to take flight in an attempt to reach him, but a sea of rotten flesh impeded her ten-foot wingspan.
Icy panic surged through her veins at the thought of Logan at the mercy of the vampire. When did I start feeling responsible for him? I haven’t even officially agreed to take the case yet!
He stood fifteen feet away, but she knew she’d never make it to him before the vampire did. “Aim for the heart!” she yelled at Logan and beheaded two more zombies, still using the zombie arm as a weapon.
“Clan! I need you at the McAllister ranch, now!” Ariel heard her sisters’ frantic assent, so she returned her attention to cutting a path through the zombies so she could reach Logan. She made it within ten feet when another shot rang out. A large hole blossomed in the vampire’s back, but since he didn’t disintegrate, some of the heart must still be in tact.
She saw only a small flinch cross Logan’s face as he pumped the shotgun to eject a spent shell and fired point blank at the vampire’s head. The right side of the vampire’s face exploded, sending bone and cartilage flying out like shrapnel. Ariel winced as a piece of bone embedded itself into Logan’s cheek. Blood poured down his face, but to his credit, he never took his hands off the gun. He pumped the shotgun again and aimed. But before he could pull the trigger, the vampire bared his fangs and lunged—at Logan’s crotch, knocking the gun from his hands.
What the hell? Since when does a vamp not go for the jugular?
Logan stumbled back as the vampire rounded on him and tried to orient himself with only one eye.
Depth perception has gotta be a bitch with half your face missing. Ariel pushed past another zombie and grabbed the vampire from behind, just as he lunged again for Logan. Fangs bared, he went in for the kill. The loud snap of fangs clacking together as they missed Logan’s crotch—again—echoed through the night.
Realizing with half his remaining brain Ariel was behind him, the vampire whipped around, a feral growl sounding low in his throat, his claws extended for attack.
Ariel willed her midsection to change to stone as the vampire raked his nails down the front of her body. He jumped back hissing in pain, a few of his fingers hung limp from his hand.
“A gargoyle,” he growled, hatred burning in his gaze, his mouth barely working enough to form the words. “I thought you bitches died out centuries ago.”
“The ‘bitches’ are alive and well. Sorry to disappoint you.” Ariel thrust her stone hand through his chest, crushing the rest of his heart. His body disintegrated around her outstretched arm. She turned away quickly, to avoid breathing in any of the foul smelling ashes.
Another gunshot whistled past her, and a zombie’s head exploded off to her left. Her gaze ricocheted back toward Logan. He stood unsteadily against the back wall, but continued to methodically pick off zombies.
Ariel marveled at his composure. It wasn’t every day zombies showed up in his back yard with a vampire who tired to kill him…or chomp off his balls. But no one would ever know it by looking at him. He seemed perfectly calm, his movements smooth and fluid. The deep-etched scowl and the slight tremor in his arms when he stopped to reload, the only thing that betrayed his inner tension.
Ariel’s head jerked to the right as a zombie grabbed her by the hair. It was her own fault. She’d allowed herself to become distracted by watching Logan. Focus! Pivoting for better leverage, she gripped the zombie’s arm and snapped it in two, the hand still buried in her hair like a macabre barrette. The rest of the zombie tried to push past her and up to the porch. Dropping to a crouch, Ariel swung her leg around completing a sweep kick and knocked the creature’s legs out from under it. It hit the ground with a squishy sucking sound.
With only two intact zombies left, along with several writhing pieces still doggedly trying to get to Logan, Ariel caught up to the zombie halfway to the porch steps. She executed a front kick, then smashed her hand into its cracked jaw knocking its head sideways. This one was fresher and his head sat ear-to-shoulder, still held on by some ligaments and tissue. His sight, now impeded, he began walking in a tight circle.
She punched him in the back with her stone hand. Impaling a zombie resembled sticking your hand in rotting waste. The stench wafted out in a brown, thick cloud. Her stomach pitched and rolled, and she began to salivate, the first hint of nausea churning. She tugged hard on her hand. It sounded like slurping mud when she finally freed it.
The unmistakable sound of wings cutting through air signaled the arrival of her sisters, who joined the fray with relish. Ariel heaved a sigh of relief. Worried about Logan, she desperately wanted to check on him.
“You brought us out here to fight zombie parts?” demanded Kefira. “You could have at least left us each a whole one.”
It had been almost a year since any of them fought like this. And as much as all of them were glad not to do it daily anymore, the rush of adrenaline and the thrill of the fight still pulled at them.
Ariel surveyed the yard. It looked like a used parts lot for Dr. Frankenstein. There were partial zombies everywhere, but only one fully intact—if you could ever call a zombie that. “Clean up the parts for me so I can check on Logan,” Ariel yelled. She ignored the curses from her sisters and turned to walk toward the porch.
This isn’t the way I wanted him to find out I’m not exactly human. But then again, I guess there isn’t really a good time.
It wasn’t one of those first date subjects—“Oh, by the way, I’m a gargoyle. Any non humans in your family?” Yeah, right, that would go over well. She knew she’d have to haze his memory, but she dreaded the condemnation and even the fear she knew would show in his gaze right now. She should be used to it after centuries of experience, but for some reason, she still wasn’t.
*****
Logan collapsed against the wall, legs out flat in front of him, his pump-action lying across his lap. He gripped it like a lifeline to a time where things made sense.
When exactly did the world start going crazy? He tried to muster enough energy to care, but a slow numbness spread through his body as his adrenaline ran out. He slumped back against the wall. How much more strange can things get? After all, he just spent the last half hour fighting what he assumed to be a vampire and rotting mummies.
And then there was Ariel. She wasn’t exactly what he pegged her as earlier in his office. A gargoyle, according to the vampire, but Logan wasn’t sure what that was.
He noticed the tickle of something on his face and reached up to touch it. When did that happen? He ran his fingers over the sharp shard embedded in his cheek and winced. His hand came away wet with his own blood. “Terrific.”
Movement caught his eye and he glanced up to see Ariel, massive grey-black wings billowing around her. The breeze played her raven hair around her face, and his breath caught at the sizzle of attraction that shot through him. He noted with appreciation the thin tank top, which showcased the most amazing pair of breasts he’d ever seen. She looked like an erotic statue come to life undulating
toward him.
Apparently, he was a man who found large wings attractive on a woman, because his body wanted to take her right here on the steps, even though his mind wasn’t even ready to have him stand up. A laugh tried to swell up out of his throat, and he swallowed hard to restrain it. It seemed his baser instincts weren’t affected by a little death and mayhem.
Something wasn’t right here. Maybe he’d just taken a hard hit to the head. Yes, a concussion could explain everything. None of this could really be happening. He didn’t even believe in vampires, let alone mummies and beautiful women with wings.
He glanced at Ariel and shook his head to try to clear his vision.
His world tilted precariously. He slapped both hands to either side of his head to make sure it didn’t fall off his shoulders and roll off the porch like one of the mummy’s had. He’d hoped shaking his head would clear things up, not make him woozy.
He looked up at her again. She still had wings, and now that she stood closer, he had a nice view of tantalizing cleavage when she leaned over so she could be eye level with him. And the light musky vanilla scent of her wafted out to tantalize his senses.
Damn, maybe this wasn’t a bad vision after all.
“Are you okay?” she asked in a tentative voice.
Logan tried to nod and then groaned as pain shot through his head. “As long as I don’t move my head, I think I’m fine—other than…” he struggled for how to list all of the unusual things he’d seen. He gave up and made a sweeping gesture with his arm to encompass his entire back yard.
She nodded, seeming to understand his discomfort. “Dara can take care of this.” She reached out to touch his uninjured cheek. “She’s our healer. We’ll get you cleaned up and then we can talk.”
“Dara?” He looked past Ariel and saw three women, all of them stunningly beautiful, also with wings, out in his yard picking up mummy parts and corralling them into a squirming pile. He wasn’t sure what they were going to do when they rounded them all up, but he was glad they were keeping them away from the barn and his horses.