Page 49 of Alastair

“Dammit, Ray.” Bellamy snorted. “Fuck yeah we want chicken wings.”

“With a sweet and smoky glaze!” Gray chimed in. He still clung to my side. The others had released me already. “And waffles.”

The evening took us back to Raiden and Titan’s house, nestled on the edge of the island. Nico, Clara, and Sirena joined us for dinner. Penemuel popped in for a moment, grabbed a waffle and stuck it between his lips, waved, then flew back to Baxter’s. He was deep into another novel—his way of escaping from reality.

“If you’re back from the celestial realm, you should come over for dinner,”I said to Lazarus. Wherever he was.

Why I felt the need to invite him? I didn’t know. But since that snowy night in Echo Bay, I found myself thinking of him more. And gods, I couldn’t get his scent out of my nose. Which… I refused to dwell on.

He didn’t respond.

I told myself it didn’t bother me, told myself that the weird ache in my chest was left over from the heavy conversation with my brothers andnotbecause a—very—small part of me had been hoping he’d say yes.

***

“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” I said, tearing my eyes from the screen and pinching the bridge of my nose. I hadn’t even taken a sip of my morning tea yet.

“Yep.” Gray lowered his phone and slowly kicked his feet as he sat on the edge of the counter, his legs dangling down. “It’s a zombie.”

“That video isn’t the only one,” Mason said as he strode into the kitchen, scrolling on his phone. The short sleeves of his Marine Corps tee cut into his thick biceps, the material sporting a few small holes at the bottom and thinning in places from years of wear and tear. A pink mark rested on his right cheek from where he’d been sleeping hard just a few minutes earlier before being woken by the onslaught of notifications. “Storm just sent me links to about a dozen or so others. The hunter boards are blowing up with confirmed sightings too.”

I stared longingly at my steaming cup of tea, still untouched. Why couldn’t the apocalypse hold off for another hour? At least long enough for me to eat a cranberry pumpkin scone and drink my first much-needed cup.

“How bad is it?” I asked. The obvious answer could only be: catastrophically bad. End-of-the-world bad.

I took a sip of my tea. Might as well.

“A lot of people think the videos are fake,” Mason responded as he texted someone—probably Thor.

Gray nodded. “I read some comments where people think it’s a publicity thingy for a new zombie movie. Like how beforeITreleased, there were a lot of clown sightings.”

“Any deaths so far?” Another sip. It would be a shame to waste such great tea. I eyed the scone on the small dish beside my cup. I had just heated it before being interrupted, so it should still be nice and warm.

Gray snatched it from the plate and, still kicking his feet, took a bite and spoke with his mouth full. “Yeah. Can ya believe that one of the attacks was caught on video, went viral, and people are still like, ‘haha that’s so fake. You can tell that’s not real blood.’ Like, who do these humans think they are? How dumb can ya be?”

I stared at the crumbs falling from his lips and onto his blue “Naps R Fun” T-shirt. So much for enjoying my scone.

“This is really yummy but kinda dry.” Gray frowned at it, still chewing. “I’m gonna wash it down with chocolate milk. Then, it’ll be perfect.” He hopped down from the counter and bounced over to the refrigerator.

Mason gave me an apologetic smile before walking over and finding the baking sheet that, unfortunately, had only crumbs remaining from the batch of scones Titan and Raiden had baked yesterday morning and brought over for our household.

The last one was currently being devoured by my hyperactive, scone-stealing monster of a little brother.

Right. The attacks. I needed to focus.

“Send teams of hunters to the towns and cities closest to where they’re stationed,” I told Mason. A headache was forming behind my eyes. From stress, more than likely. I told him to schedule nightly patrols so all major areas with heavy foot traffic were covered. “Discovery seems inevitable at this point, but caution them to show discretion when hunting. The moment humans start to panic, this whole fucking situation will turn into more of a shitshow than it already is.”

Mason relayed my orders.

“Wow.” Gray blinked at me, the evidence of his thievery on the corner of his lips. “You said ‘fucking’ and ‘shitshow.’ That’s almost as shocking as the zombies.”

“That language is unbecoming of you.”

The memory of Lazarus’ words from that night in Echo Bay—specifically, the strange sense that he’d been smiling when saying them—caused a fluttering in the center of my chest. I forced the possible reason from my mind. Locked it away with all the other questions the angel stirred up in my head.

A loud vibration drew my attention. My phone lit up on the counter beside the jar of sugar, where I’d forgotten it after making my tea. An unknown number flashed across the screen.

“Yes?” I answered. I had little patience for polite greetings that morning.