Libby plucked out the orange gem. “It’s a big faceted crystal.” She looked at it. “Probably fake.”
Larry blinked, and then he moaned. Not a zombie moan. A human one. Translation: OUCH!
“Holy crap,” said Libby. “He’s alive.”
* * * * *
“I’m freaked out,” admitted Libby as she helped her husband arrange a comatose, but breathing Larry in the backseat of the Honda. “Seriously. Freaked. Out.”
“I think we should belt him in,” said Ralph as he studied the not-so-dead zombie stretched in the back seat. He was too tall to fit, so he was really scrunched in there.
“Hel-lo,” said Libby from the other side of the car. “Your wife needs reassurance.”
Ralph stopped contemplating the Larry transportation issue and rounded the car to hug his wife. “This is Broken Heart,” he said. “When was the last time something weird didn’t happen here?”
“True.” She sighed.
“Patsy and Gabriel will handle this. They’re expecting us. So let’s drop off the zombie.” Ralph kissed her. She melted into his embrace, and for a second, the kiss went nuclear.
When they pulled apart, they were both dazed and breathing heavily. “If there wasn’t an almost dead guy in it the backseat, I would take you to our bedroom right now,” said Ralph.
“Yay for night school!” said Libby. The boys were in third grade now, and their daughter had started kindergarten. “Boo for zombies.”
“The faster we deliver Larry, the faster we get home, “ said Ralph. He waggled his eyebrows. Let’s go,” said Ralph.
“I’ll buckle him in. You start the car.” Libby felt a little guilty for shoving the zombie around and being in a hurry so they could return home for some nookie.
“What about the gem?” asked Libby.
“Let’s give it to Patsy and Gabriel. Maybe it belongs to Larry. ”
“Okay dokay.” She threw her husband a smoky look. “Let’s roll. ‘Cause time is a’wasting.”
Ralph took off down the driveway, tires squealing as he made a sharp turn onto the street.
Larry, not so comfortably arranged in the backseat, groaned.
* * * * *
“The zombie’s here,” said Patsy. The queen of vampires and werewolves was sitting on the front porch with her husband sharing a bowl of ice cream. Offering him some had been a big-assed mistake because he’d eaten half the freakin’ the bowl. But then he suggested what they could do with rest of the ice cream, and she’d darned near called Ralph and Libby to hold off on the delivery of the strangely alive Larry.
“I hate being the boss,” she groused as they watched the Honda zip up the very long driveway. “Is it just me, or does Ralph think he’s a Nascar driver?”
“He does seem to be in a hurry,” said Gabriel. He leaned down and kissed his wife’s neck, which made her shiver. “I promise we will have time later to explore our dessert options.”
Patsy grinned at him.
Ralph barely had the car in park before he jumped out, and swung open the door to the Honda’s back seat.
“Here you go,” said Libby, as she popped out of the car, and helped her husband haul out the zombie who looked less dead than usual.
Patsy left the bowl of ice cream on the porch, and walked with Gabriel to take over their new charge. “You found him a snow bank?”
“Yep,” said Ralph. “Here.”
Gabriel was forced to pick up Larry in order to prevent him from falling onto the concrete driveway.
“He had this on him,” said Libby. She lobbed an object at Patsy, who caught it easily.
“That’s it?” asked Patsy incredulously.
“Yep.” Libby scrambled into the car and belted herself in.
“Good luck,” said Ralph. He practically dove into the car, and within two seconds, the Honda was zipping back down the drive.
Patsy looked at her husband, feeling even more grumpy. “They are so going home to have sex.”
“Yeah,” said Gabriel. “I think the werewolves in Siberia could smell those pheromones.”
“Lucky bastards,” said Patsy. She sighed. “All right. Let’s get him into a room and get Stan over here. Unless he’s having sex, too. Why does everyone get sex, but me?”
Gabriel laughed, as they both turned toward the house. “I promise, my love, that I will accommodate your needs as soon as possible.”
Patsy brightened. “Sweet.”
Her gaze went to Larry who seemed to sleeping peacefully in the werewolf’s arms. “I wonder what his story is.”
“We will know soon enough,” said Gabriel. They walked into the house.
A few minutes later, with Larry securely tucked into a comfortable bed and the phone call to Dr. Michaels completed, Gabriel returned to the porch. He picked up the bowl of melted ice cream.
And grinned.
* * * * *
“He’s not bad-looking,” said Linda. “For a zombie.”
Larry had blue eyes, and blond hair. He was tall, and as he got more and more … well, alive. He was also getting muscled.
“I don’t think he’s a zombie anymore. He appears to be returning to the same form he had before he died,” murmured Stan. He was staring at the man with clinical precision, no doubt noting details no one else would think important.
Her husband looked down at the unconscious man splayed on the bed. Patsy and Gabriel had placed him in one of many available guest bedrooms. The man who’d spent weeks shuffling around Broken Heart with an eyeball Superglued to his forehead was looking less dead with every passing minute.
“He’s got a heartbeat. And his lungs are working.”
“And he’s got skin,” added Linda. “Not to mention all of his hair.”
Stan rubbed a hand over his bald head and slanted a glance at his wife. She grinned and kissed him soundly. “I love you, Cueball.”
“Well, I’d believe you if you weren’t drooling all over the dead guy.”
“He’s not dead,” she said. “Besides, you’re the only guy, dead or otherwise, for me.”
Mollified, Stan moved away from the bed. He scooped the orange gem from the nightstand. This odd gem had been going around Broken Heart and granting wishes to whoever held it.
“He must’ve made a wish,” he mused.
“He learned how to talk?” asked Linda.
“Maybe you don’t need to state your wish verbally. Though expressing a wish psychically when you have no brain activity shouldn’t be possible.”
“That’s mine,” said a hoarse voice.
Linda and Stan were both startled and turned to look at Larry.
“How did you get back into your body? How did you get … alive again?” asked Stan.
“I wished it.” His eyes closed and he sank back into unconsciousness.
Linda glanced at her husband, who returned the orange gem to the nightstand. “We should let him rest. I’ve taken all the samples I need.” He picked up the case where he’d stored the blood and skin he’d taken from Larry.
“Poor soul,” said Linda as she took her husband’s free hand. “I hope he’s okay.”
“We’ll know more after I finish the tests,” said Stan. “C’mon, sweetheart.” He led her out of the bedroom, and she turned and shut the door behind them.
* * * * *
The closet door popped open and Jenny stepped out. Okay. Larry was her zombie, and she had to take responsibility for him. She rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe she’d even thought that. Mom was all about responsibility this and responsibility that. At least rescuing a zombie was more fun than doing chores.
Quietly, Jenny crept to the bed and patted the man’s arm.
He blinked awake. “Jenny?”
“Yeah,” she tugged on him. “C’mon. I’m getting you outta here.”
He smiled. “You’re rescuing me?”
“Like you rescued me, Larry.” Jenny didn’t like thinking about that night in the cemetery. If Larry hadn’t seen
her fall into the pit … she shuddered just remembering how it felt to have the earth give way under her feet and that inevitable sense of falling.
“Where are we going?” asked Larry.
“Somewhere safe,” she promised.
“I need clothes.”
“Thought of that!” Jenny ran to the closet and grabbed an armful of clothing from the floor. “I brought some of my dad’s sweats.” She piled the pants and shirt onto the bed. “There’s another way out of this room,” she said. “In the closet. There’s a little hallway that goes down to a door into the garden. Soon as you’re dressed, I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay.”
Jenny scurried into the secret passage, her heart pounding. Her plan had only been to get Larry away from the adults who would only poke and prod him like he was a lab rat. She didn’t know what she would do after she got him to her secret place in the woods, but as her mother often said: One damned problem at time.
* * * * *
Larry Stotten stood underneath the oak tree and watched Jenny scrabble up the wood slats that had been nailed into it, forming a ladder to the tree house above.
“Daddy built it for us,” said Jenny. She paused. “Not Patrick. My real dad. He died.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I’m lucky I got two good daddies. Some kids don’t even get one.”
Larry’s newly beating heart stuttered. He’d once believed himself to be a good daddy, too. After his wife died, he’d moved his two little girls to Broken Heart. He’d thought, much to his everlasting regret, living in a small town would be safer. He hadn’t counted on his wife’s gem bringing trouble to their door.
On her death bed, Lila made him promise to never give it to her step-brother. Ean wasn’t a nice man, she’d said. A big understatement. He was a kidnapper. And a murderer. But at least he’d never gotten the gem.
There were so many things Larry hadn’t known about Lila or her family. It hadn’t been her fault that her mother’s second marriage had been to a man without moral character. It was Lila’s mother who’d stolen the gem and had given her to her daughter for safekeeping.
Larry hadn’t known his wife’s secret, not until she gave him the stone and told him to protect it, and their daughters. It seemed liked yesterday, not fifty years ago when she’d lost her life—and entrusted him with both secret and burden.
He hadn’t known about the gem’s powers. He hadn’t known Ean was an honest-to- God mage. He hadn’t known there was no way to ever keep his daughters safe.
“Larry?” Jenny’s voice filtered down from the tree house.
He shook off the memories, and began the climb. His thick fingers and sneakered feet didn’t do well on the thin strips of wood. He slipped a few times, but finally, he managed to get to the square hole cut in the bottom of the tree house. It was at least a decade old, and the floor creaked ominously as he crawled onto it.
Jenny was prepared. She had two battery-powered lanterns, a stockpile of energy bars, chocolate, and bottled water. She even had pillows and a sleeping bag. “I figure you can hang out here until we figure out what to do next.”
“Thank you, Jenny. You’re a good friend.”
She beamed at him. He remembered that his daughters used to smile at him like that, especially if he’d said yes to candy or to an extra bedtime story. Grief squeezed him. He could never, ever get those years back. His life had been stolen.
“Why are you … you know, alive?” Jenny was studying him, her smile giving way to a frown.
“This.” He pulled the gem out of his pocket. “It’s a wishing stone.”
“Wishing stone?” She looked skeptical, which made him laugh. The child lived in a town with vampires, dragons, werewolves, and zombies, but the idea of a gem that granted wishes seemed unbelievable to her. He tucked it back into his pocket. “A long time ago a mage named Merlin made it. It’s dangerous, Jenny. A lot of people would like to get their hands on it. People who aren’t very nice.”
“Why don’t you wish it away?”
“I can’t. There are rules. Especially for the guardian.” One wish per person. He’d never made a wish on it. He hadn’t known what it was until after Lila died. She’d transferred guardianship to him the day before she passed away, and told him what it did mere minutes before she breathed her last. He would never know why she didn’t wish away her disease. Had she already made a wish? Or did she want so badly to be free of the gem, she preferred to die? He wanted to believe enough in her love, in her loyalty, to think she would’ve never left him and their daughters alone unless she felt as though she had no choice.
The day his girls disappeared, he’d intended to the stone’s hiding place and wishing for their return, but Ean had found him first. And killed him.
After he died, he had no idea where he’d gone. He didn’t remember. Not heaven, not hell. Not even limbo. One night, he’d woken up in his desiccated body fighting in a battle right out of an Orson Wells screenplay.
It turned out that Queen Patsy had called forth the dead in the Broken Heart cemetery to fight demons and vampires trying to destroy the town. After the fighting was over, and they had won, he could only think about staying out of the grave. He knew there was something he was supposed to do, but not what. And he hadn’t known his name, or even what he was. There was only that insistent, driving urge to remain upright and moving.
After he’d found the gem in Stan and Linda’s backyard, touching it brought everything back.
He made the wish to live again. He’d felt the heat and the power of the magic—and then … well, he’d woken up in a snowdrift, then in Ralph’s Honda, and then in the bed at Queen Patsy’s house.
“I have to find my daughters, Jenny.”
“No problem,” said Jenny. “We’ll search the Internet.” She pulled out a small laptop.
Larry understood that technology had made many leaps since his demise. He’d seen enough computers on his ramblings to know what they were—even if he wasn’t sure how they worked. Curious, he watched Jenny flip open the machine and start tapping on the keys.
“Their names are Beatrice Alice and Catherine Laverna, right?”
“Yes,” said Larry. “How’d you know?”
“My friend Tamara and I looked up their school records.” Tap, tap, tap. “You filed missing persons’ reports and then you disappeared.”
“Did they … were they … “ He swallowed the knot his in throat. “Found?”
“You mean dead?” She looked at him, sympathy in her gaze. She turned the laptop around and showed him the screen. “Adoption records for Beatrice Alice and Catherine Laverna, both with the last name of Stotten. They grew up in Tulsa, and still live there. They got married, had kids, and grandkids.”
“Adopted?” Bea had been six, and Cathy eight. Now his own children were older than he was. He’d been returned to the age he’d died, which made him thirty-two.
“I’m sorry, Larry. There’s nothing about them being found in town. Or how they ended up getting adopted.”
Had Lila’s brother kidnapped them, and then somehow grown a conscious, allowing them to return to Tulsa to be adopted? His stomach squeezed. Had Ean adopted them?
“Who raised my girls?”
“Leticia and Ernest Mortimer,” said Jenny. Larry frowned. He’d never heard of them.
“Is it really important to know how they got there?” asked Jenny. “You wanted to know what happened to ’em, and now you do. Bea’s an accountant and Cathy’s a doctor.”
Larry looked away, his eyes hot with tears. His daughters were alive, and apparently doing well. And what could he do? Show up and say, “Hey, I’m your dead father?”
“I’d like to see them,” he said. He just needed to make sure they were okay. “Can you find out about Ean Whittaker?”
Jenny nodded. While she worked, he ate one of the energy bars. It wasn’t too bad, but the chocolate bar was much better. He’d forgotten how great food could taste.
Larry blinked. “What?”
Once again, she turned the computer around and handed it to Larry. On the screen was an article from the Tulsa Tribune. It was dated the same day he’d died. Three men and two little girls had been in a car accident. Apparently the car had stalled on a train track and been broadsided. Only the girls had escaped unscathed. “My daughters lived,” said Larry as he returned the laptop. “And Ean and his goons died.”
Maybe Lila had made a wish, after all. It would be just like her to plan ahead like that, and very much like her to give up her own life for their girls.
Technically, he had closure. Or at least he would when he saw his daughters with his own eyes. Still. He felt oddly at ends. The driving force behind his reanimation, and his own wish to live again, seemed to be moot.
“What now?” asked Jenny.
“I don’t know.” He unwrapped another chocolate bar. “I’ll go to Tulsa and see the girls, and then … well, I guess I could live in Broken Heart.”
“Your house is kinda falling down,” said Jenny. She chewed on her bottom lip. “They’re gonna want to test you and stuff.”
“Who?”
“Doctor Stan.” Larry shrugged. “That’s okay. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“I won’t let them hurt you.”
He reached over and chucked her under the chin. “You’re a good kid, Jenny.”
He could see that she was pleased by his compliment. “I guess we don’t have to hide out then,” said Jenny. “I’ll take you home. Mom and Dad will help you.”
“Okay,” said Larry. He was still the guardian of the gem’s power even though he couldn’t wield it. He’d used his wish. But maybe it could be used to help Broken Heart and the people who lived here.
“C’mon,” said Jenny. She shut the laptop and shoved it into a backpack. Then she grabbed one of the lanterns. She scurried to the hole and made her way down the trunk.
Larry followed, a little more sure-footed this time. Jenny waited for him, and then turned to make her way through the woods toward her house on Sanderson Street.
Broken Heart Tails (Broken Heart Vampires) Page 3