Unturned- The Complete Series

by Rob Cornell

  It sounded good. It also sounded too easy. And there was still that whole cat connection. “You think the fact that he shifts into a cat like Glass did, and they both attacked me, that it’s a coincidence?”

  Sly scrunched up his face. “Cats? What cats?”

  I guess we hadn’t had a chance to tell about that part. “Ask me again some time.”

  “Markus is part druid,” Mom said. “We know now Glass was a mage. He must have been a practicing Animagus. It’s a completely different thing.”

  “It’s still the same kind of animal.”

  “A panther is not a cougar.”

  “Now you’re just splitting hairs.”

  “You know what?” I held up my hands. “Let’s forget it. Going to anyone in the Ministry is a bad idea. I should never have mentioned it.”

  “We can’t face the conspirators on our own, Sebastian. Your instincts are right. We need our own man on the inside. And if Markus were at all involved, I would have remembered.”

  “Unless he never told you.”

  She paused, put a hand on her hip, and looked me over. “This isn’t about Markus at all, is it?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “This is about Fiona. Her betrayal.”

  “This has nothing to do with her.”

  But was that true? I hadn’t thought much about Fiona since Mom told me she’d killed Dad. I had gathered a lot on my plate since then. She was sitting in a corner of my subconscious, though, wasn’t she? All the times we’d made love. The first time she trusted me enough to shapeshift into her tiger form in front of me. The extreme level of care she had given Mom when Mom had been stuck in the nursing home.

  All of that sullied by the truth—that none of it was real, all just a ploy to get close to me and Mom, to report on us, to set us up.

  I wandered to the table and dropped into the chair next to the spot the one I’d kicked away had stood. I rested my elbows on the table and held my head in my hands.

  Sly’s chair scraped against the tiles as he pulled himself close. “We’ve got to trust someone, brother. The only other option is going on the run for the rest of your life. These folks don’t sound like they’re gonna give until they get what they want. Especially when it’s brought on a war with the vamps.”

  “Or there’s my plan,” Mom said right behind me.

  I glared at her over my shoulder. “Not even funny.”

  Her dead stare said clearly she wasn’t joking.

  So our options were…

  Run away.

  Kill Mom.

  Trust Markus.

  I grunted. “Fine. We’ll feel him out. If he can give us any sense of who’s working for Able and who isn’t, that would go a long way.”

  “Good,” Mom said.

  “But,” I added, and pointed at her. “You are going to do some more research on how we might destroy the cloak.”

  “You’ll need me with you to talk to Markus.”

  I thought about their extra closeness in the limo. I did not want to see that shit again. Besides, I had better reason for wanting her to stay behind. “You’re biased toward him. It’s better to have a skeptic talk to him. I need to make sure he’ll root for our side. I just need you to set up the meet.”

  She sighed, nodded.

  I turned to Sly. “Do whatever you can to help her. If we can blow that fucking thing up, this all goes away.”

  “Right,” he said. “There’s just one last thing.”

  I didn’t like his tone. I’d had enough bad news, for the gods’ sake. “What?”

  “Odi.”

  Chapter Forty

  The stairs down to Sly’s basement creaked underfoot. The basement was finished. Drywall, carpeting, a pool table, an old projection television right out of the ‘80s, Sly’s favorite decade. Framed photos of Michael Jackson, Devo, Lita Ford, and a number of interchangeable hair bands adorned the walls, some of them autographed.

  Unlike the rest of his house, the smell of marijuana permeated the space. An IKEA coffee table in front of the TV had a water bong on it about the height of a toddler. I didn’t go over and sniff it, but I had little doubt the leather sofa would positively reek.

  Sadly, a few of Sly’s ode to the ‘80s pictures had hung on the now scorched wall and hadn’t survived Odi’s flames.

  In front of the blackened wall, Sly had, appropriately, put down Odi’s casket.

  I crossed the basement, rounded the pool table, drawing my fingers across the soft felt, then crouched next to the coffin. It had lost its shine in the process of taking it out of Toft’s lair. I created a curved streak through the dust with my hand, then wiped my hand clean on my pants. Who cared? They were already a mess.

  “I’m sorry, man. I don’t know what to do with you. I can’t…I can’t just bring you a sacrifice to feed on. Would pig blood do it?”

  I didn’t know, and Odi wasn’t offering any answers through the lid of his coffin. I did know they drank it socially. Barry had kept a supply at the switch, would pour it into wine glasses, and his undead customers would drink it up and make their lips glisten as if covered in cherry sauce.

  Thinking of Barry depressed me more than I already was.

  This was the kind of situation the term FUBAR was made for.

  Where could I get pig blood on such short notice? Make a trip to the butcher? Hello, I need four gallons of pig blood, or cow blood if you’ve got it.

  Honestly, I doubted it would work well enough to revive him. He needed good, strong blood from…

  “Holy shit,” I whispered. I touched the puckered scar from not one, but two separate vamp bites. One from a vamp sent to capture and turn me. The other from Goulet himself, in yet another attempt to corrupt my soul.

  That first time, I ended up drinking the blood of a vampire, infecting myself with it. Hence the magical brand on my shoulder to hold it back. After that, rumors started among the undead. Because of the impossible mix of vampire and mortal blood inside of me, my blood was thought to be stronger somehow. It could have been bullshit. After all, it hadn’t helped Goulet stay alive after I unloaded a full mag of silver rounds into his chest.

  If it were true? Maybe I could use it to help Odi.

  Then, I’m gonna kick his ass for nearly killing us all.

  I eased the coffin open. The hinges barely made a sound. I didn’t have to worry about sunlight. The basement only had shallow glass block windows in three places at the top edge of the walls, and Sly had tacked up towels to keep out what little light they let seep through.

  Odi lay like a corpse, especially pale against the casket’s blue lining. He was still vamped out. His mouth hung open slightily, giving me a glimpse of his stubby fangs. The vampire equivalent of baby teeth. The hole in his throat had closed to a black spot like a cancerous blotch on the skin. Gross, yes. But at least I couldn’t see inside anymore.

  His chest looked a little less concave. I gently pushed on his breastbone and felt a squishy give. If it hurt him, he was too conked out to notice. He didn’t so much as twitch.

  If I was going to feed him, I needed to wake him up. I didn’t want to shake him awake. If I startled him, he might attack me. As wounded and out of is as he was, he might fall to his baser vampire instincts. I’d offer him my blood, but I was going to do it on my own terms.

  I looked around the basement. My eyes locked on a rack attached to the wall nearest the pool table that held a number of cues. I got the longest of them and stood back from Odi’s coffin, as far as I could while staying close enough to poke him. I probably looked ridiculous. I didn’t care. I would have rather had the proverbial ten-foot pole to touch him with. Alas, a trip to Home Depot wasn’t on the schedule for the day.

  I played dirty, because I didn’t have time to waste.

  I poked him right in the healing wound in his throat. And I didn’t hold back. I jabbed him a good one.

  He snapped awake snarling. Bloody foam flung off his lips. His l
ips peeled so far back I could clearly see his gray gums. He came out of it so quickly, I didn’t have a chance to pull the pool cue back, and he grabbed it, yanked it out of my hands, nearly bringing me down with it, and would have if I hadn’t let go.

  He broke the cue in half and threw the pieces wildly.

  One half whizzed over my head.

  I ducked.

  The other half went harmlessly clattering into a far corner.

  Odi’s gaze met mine. The red glow in his eyes turned to pinpricks, the rest of his eyes pure black. From a distance, it looked like a pair of black widow spiders had crawled into his eye sockets.

  The air seemed to drop ten degrees. My heart kicked. I drew on the power of the wind and used it to form a shield in front of me. If he launched at me, I could easily block him. I couldn’t keep him from getting hurt, though. If he came at me hard, his vampire strength could work against him, and he might end up breaking a bone or two.

  Despite the flash of rage, Odi stayed put. Instead of attacking, he clutched at his sunken chest and screeched in that skull-splitting way only vamps could do. He was too hurt to attack. Which was saying something, because I had seen vampires with missing limbs and half their faces burned off lash out more fiercely than if they’d not been injured at all.

  I let my shield drop.

  “Odi.”

  He hissed at me between his fangs like a feral cat.

  “It’s me. It’s Sebastian. Your Jedi master.”

  He cocked his head. The red in his eyes expanded like glowing pupils.

  “Come on, padawan. Snap out of it.”

  For ten seconds or so he stared at me. Then he blinked a few times. His fangs retracted. His skin smoothed and took on a little more color. And, finally, his eyes cleared. He looked like the goofy teen I knew and…liked.

  The confusion on his face quickly scrunched up into bald pain. He groaned and dropped onto his side. The coffin door shimmied and almost fell closed. “Ah, fuck. God, fuck.”

  I approached him and knelt down beside the coffin. “Odi.”

  “What did I do? What the hell did I do?”

  “I ain’t gonna sugar coat it. You went ape shit, kid.”

  He snuffled and writhed, bumping his head a couple times against the inside wall of the coffin. “I’m dying.”

  “Probably feels that way, but you’re a vampire now. For you guys, dying’s a little harder than it looks.”

  He gritted his teeth and looked up at me. “Are you enjoying this?”

  “You almost killed my mom. So, yeah, I’m savoring.”

  “Oh, God.” He kicked at the inside of the coffin like he wanted to break it apart. The thing was made of pretty stern wood, though. This wasn’t some cheap pine box.

  “You’re a vampire, Odi. God’s not going to help you.” I didn’t mean it as a barb, but it sounded like one, and Odi reacted in kind.

  He shot his hand out, grabbed the front of my shirt, and yanked me down until he had me right in his face. “Stop. Talking.”

  His breath smelled like rot. Made me wonder if there was more severe internal damage.

  “Fair enough,” I said.

  He let me go and went back to squirming in agony.

  I stayed close. “I want to say one quick thing, then I’ll shut up.”

  He sneered at me. But he didn’t object, so I went with it.

  “You need to feed, or it’s going to take you forever to heal.” I kept back the part about how he might die first. He didn’t need to know that. “I want you to feed on me.”

  His kicking, his groaning, his cringing all stopped at once. He stared up at me as if I’d asked if I could examine his prostate. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I shook my head, then I held out my wrist. “Goulet seemed to think my blood had special properties for vampires. Drink.”

  “I…I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. Just pretend I’m one of the puppets Toft brings you at meal time.”

  “You don’t understand.” His face scrunched up in pain again. He pressed a fist against his chest as if holding it in place. “I’ve never…I’ve never fed on a human.”

  My mouth dropped open. I think I blubbered a bit.

  Never fed on a human? How was that possible? Why?

  I didn’t need to ask the questions. Odi knew what they were.

  “Toft didn’t want me to. He said…something about keeping me pure.”

  Pure.

  Man, I had been hit with so many crazy things lately, my brain simply could not accept this one.

  Memory full. Please delete applications to make space for new programs.

  “What have you been eating?”

  “Toft’s blood.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Blood is blood.” He grimaced against a new shot of pain. He looked so miserable I had some sympathy pains. Especially one spiking through my head. “At least, that’s what Toft says.”

  I knew Toft fed on humans. Supposedly willing donors. So, technically, wasn’t Odi drinking human blood via Toft? I did not understand the depths of vampire physiology enough to even guess. You didn’t need to know the digestive system of the undead in order to turn them into dust.

  I didn’t have time to learn about it either.

  “Well, I hate to take your virginity without buying you dinner first… Oh, wait. Yeah, never mind.” I bent back my hand to give him a cleaner shot at my wrist. “Just drink.”

  He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head like a two-year-old who didn’t want to eat his broccoli.

  “We don’t have time for this, Odi. If you give a damn about Toft and want to get him back, you need your strength. This is one-hundred percent prime Unturned blood, motherfucker. Not just any vamp can get shit this good.”

  He snorted, even managed a smirk. “Are you sure?”

  “Don’t ask me that. Just bite me already.”

  He looked at my wrist, and I nearly reared back when I saw the hunger in his eyes. He licked his lips, then peeled them back to expose his fangs. I braced myself.

  Odi sank his teeth in and started guzzling.

  Chapter Forty-One

  The face Sly made when I came upstairs with my arm all bloody and fang holes in my wrist almost made me laugh. His eyes went so wide, another centimeter more and I might have caught a glimpse of his brain behind them. His jaw hung loose, not much unlike Green’s did went he was stoned to the gills. In fact, I felt pretty confident Sly would be hitting that bong downstairs first chance he got.

  “What did you do?” he asked when he caught me in the hall before I reached the kitchen.

  “Don’t ask stupid questions, Sly. It’s not your style.”

  “Brother, you’re out of your mind.”

  “Be that as it may, Odi is now making a very, very quick recovery.”

  Sly furled his brow. The door to the basement was right behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me. “How quick is very, very?”

  “Pretty very, dude.”

  Sly jumped at the sound of Odi’s voice. He clutched at his chest. When he spun around to face Odi, Sly’s short ponytail whipped by my face and would have whacked me if it had been any longer.

  The kid, standing in the doorway to the stairs, now free of the shadows, grinned. “Hey, Sly.”

  “You…” Sly looked Odi up and down. Outside of the kid’s ripped up clothes and the blood on him—some of it mine—you wouldn’t have known he’d been hurt at all.

  “Me,” Odi said. He pointed down the hall. “All right if I use your bathroom?”

  Sly nodded quickly.

  “Odi,” I said, stopping him. “It’s not dusk quite yet.”

  “Oh, right. Should I go back downstairs?”

  “For now. I’ll pick up some new clothes for you before you wake up. You can wash up then.”

  “Get some clothes for you, too,” he said, nodding at my own wrecked ensemble.

  “I plan on it.”

  Sly
gaped down the stairwell as Odi retreated back to his coffin. He didn’t say anything until Odi cleared the last step. “What the holy fuck, brother?”

  “I notice we’re swearing a lot more,” I said. “Stress, you think?”

  “Cut the bull…” He wrinkled his nose, then growled impatiently. “Crap. Shit. Poop. Whatever. You need to tell me what happened.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I gave Odi a dose of Unturned blood, and it worked wonders.”

  He squinted at me, studied my face. “You’re damn pale. How much did he drink?”

  “More than Goulet,” I said. “More than any other vamp. But not any more than he needed.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Don’t nag me about it. Help me wrap this thing up and think of a story to tell Mom.”

  I heard Mom clear their throat behind me. So it was my turn to jump at the sudden appearance of someone at my back.

  “I think I got the story just fine,” she said.

  “I know this sounds gross,” I said. “But I need to get my arm tended before Odi’s clotting saliva wears off and I bleed all over Sly’s nice carpet.”

  That got them to stop bugging me.

  With Sly’s help, I cleaned, gauzed, and wrapped up my wrist. Then I hummed a little magic into it. Sleep and a good meal would take care of the rest.

  Mom stood right outside the bathroom when we emerged. The look on her face was all mom. When I was little and did something especially naughty, she would threaten to “get her spoon,” which was a standard wooden cooking spoon. Once, she had paddled me so hard with it, it had snapped in half against my ass. We had a good laugh about it, then I was sent to bed without dinner.

  Right now, I thought she might whip out her spoon and start beating me with it.

  “Look, Mom. I need him well. Not just because I’m sworn to him. I need his help.”

  “The kind of help he gave us at Toft’s?”

  “No,” I said. “The kind of help he gave us at the nest.”

  Technically, the same kind of help. Just worked out better the first time. But Mom took my message and backed off.

  The three of us were all huddled in the hallway. It was a little stuffy. I desperately wanted to suck on some fresh air.

  “What now, brother?”