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Chapter Seventeen

“He’s coming. He’s coming for you.”

A nightmare pulls me from my dead sleep with a violent jerk.

Sweat slicks my skin as I gasp, panting until I realize I don’t need to breathe.

My heart hammers against my ribs.

In the darkness of Costin’s underground sanctuary, I can still see the lingering image of Conrad’s face from my dreams.

Though, now it’s not the mocking ghost who’s haunted me since his death, but my brother, desperate and afraid.

“Tamara.” Costin’s voice cuts through my panic, his cool hand finding mine in the darkness.

The image of my brother fades like it was never there.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

I feel Costin shift beside me on the bed, his body pulling me into reality.

“What is it?”

“Conrad,” I manage, my voice steadier than I feel.

“He was scared and trying to warn me.”

Costin doesn’t dismiss it as just a dream.

Instead, he sits up, instantly alert.

Even in the pitch darkness, I can feel the intensity of his gaze.

“What did he say?”

Before I can answer, a piercing scream echoes through the estate, followed by the sound of breaking glass.

The sanctuary’s ceiling trembles, dust raining down on the silky sheets.

Costin is on his feet in an instant, moving with supernatural speed.

I’m only a heartbeat behind him.

My hybrid reflexes nearly match his vampire quickness as I ready for battle.

The echoes of the scream fade.

“What is it?” I whisper.

“Stay close,” Costin orders, as he reaches for the ceiling.

“What about the sun?” I ask.

“That sounded like glass. It’s not safe.”

“It’s night,” he answers.

“Can’t you sense it?”

I look up at the ceiling.

The prickling warning that came with dawn has faded.

Costin pushes open the hidden door leading up to the study.

He jumps up, moving with elegant grace.

I try to follow his example, but my foot is less sure, and I stumble a little.

The rancid scent hits me first.

It’s the copper tang of old blood mixed with the putrid smell of decay.

The study is intact, but chaos unfolds elsewhere in the house.

Panicked shouts and breaking furniture mark the unmistakable sound of combat.

He leads me through the corridors.

My wolf senses are alert to every sound.

My vampire instincts calculate threats.

I sense the carnage waiting for us before we enter the main foyer.

Three servants lie dead on the marble floor, their bodies strewn in unnatural angles.

My heart breaks to see them.

We weren’t close, but they were always kind and didn’t deserve this fate.

Anthony stands at the base of the grand staircase, his hands glowing with defensive magic as he faces off against the open front door.

Beside him, fallen back on the stairs, looking terrified, is Paul.

Paul.

Here.

My heart stutters at the sight of him, and I look for Diana.

I can’t see her.

This is no place for a human.

I should know better than most.

“Get back!” Anthony shouts, hurling a burst of magic through the front door.

I hear something gurgling in the night.

“I can’t hold them all!”

“Tamara?” Paul’s voice is a mix of relief and horror.

There’s no time to process his reaction.

“Diana?” I yell, looking for where the girl might be hiding.

“She’s not here,” Anthony answers as Costin and I rush toward them.

“Walking corpses?” Costin asks, scowling.

“They’re coming up the drive from the old graveyard,” Anthony says.

“We almost didn’t make it to the house.”

I see the front door isn’t open, it’s torn off the hinges.

Rotting creatures amble through it toward us.

The first one wears a coat that might’ve been red for his burial but is now the color of mold.

His hat is smashed against a crooked skull, the kind of lopsided triangle you see in paintings of powdered men posing with muskets.

A woman in a collapsed mobcap limps behind him.

Her dress hangs open at the throat, and her arms are nothing, but clawed bone wrapped in paper skin peeling like old bark.

Her petticoats drag like a bridal train from hell, barely hanging onto her naked hips.

It’s something I could have gone a lifetime without seeing.

“Zombies?” The word sounds like a curse.

I cover my nose and mouth.

The smell is horrible, enhanced by my preternatural senses.

I can’t look away as I watch the dead walk.

Why does it have to be zombies?

Anthony throws magic at them, knocking the creatures back only to have more clamor to get inside.

They stumble into each other in a grotesque dance to reach the door.

“Aim for their heads,” Costin instructs Anthony.

A moan sounds from one of the servants on the floor and I automatically go to her to help.

“Mina?”

“Tamara, no!” Costin shouts.

He zooms into me just as I’m reaching to touch the woman’s shoulder.

The momentum knocks me back.

I struggle against his tight grip.

“Costin, what the hell are you?—?”

A gargle cuts me off as Mina lifts her head.

Half her face is missing and she’s oozing blood.

Her shoulder juts at odd angles as an arm hangs limp at her side.

She jerks violently as she comes at us.

What is left of her mouth opens like she wants to bite me.

I don’t hesitate.

The wolf surges forward.

I strike her face propelling her across the foyer.

The other now-undead two servants begin struggling to their feet to join the others.

Paul looks terrified as he grabs a marble bust from its stand.

I hear his human heart calling to me.

He lobs it at undead Frankie at the bottom of the stairs, subduing him.

Poor Frankie.

The servant was a low-level magic and has only worked for us a couple of years.

Paul’s eyes meet mine and I see the moment my new look registers.

He stiffens and gives a small shake of his head.

There’s no time to ease him in.

This is not how I wanted to introduce him to my changes.

I wonder if he sees me as a monster now.

There’s no time to soften the blow.

They won’t stop coming.

Buttons from a militia jacket clink softly as a soldier emerges, the brass dulled by centuries but still attached.

He leads others like a commander.

They groan incoherent threats, biting the air as if that is their only driving need.

I come between Anthony and an attacking corpse soldier, my claws already extended.

With one savage swipe, I separate its head from its shoulders.

The body takes a few trembling steps, hands grasping blindly before dropping to the ground.

The disembodied head keeps trying to bite.

Costin is a blur of movement.

He grabs reanimated Micah and carries him toward the door.

The servant used to hide in the various rooms pretending to clean, so he didn’t have to work.

He might have been lazy, but he didn’t deserve this fate.

Costin bowls over the zombies as he makes his way out of the home.

I hear thuds.

He’s clearing the front steps of attackers before they make it inside.

The flow of corpses slows.

Moments later, Costin reappears, hands bloody.

He grabs Frankie, who is still squirming to get to his feet near Paul and carries him out.

I see them go upward only to have Frankie’s body drop to the lawn.

“How have zombies breached the property? There are spells protecting the borders,” Anthony says in confusion.

“We’re protected by family magic.”

The realization hits me like a slap.

“Mortimer,” I growl.

“Why would…?” Anthony shakes his head in confusion.

“Long story short? He’s in league with Leviathan,” I say.

“There was a meeting here earlier. Astrid humiliated him in front of his friends and kicked him out of the family. He has access to the estate’s defenses. He knows the blood keys, the structure of the spells, and where the weak points are. If he wanted to hand the house over to Leviathan, it wouldn’t be difficult.”

Costin materializes beside me, his movements a blur as he tears through three more undead with efficient brutality.

He tosses them out the door as soon as he dispatches them.

“Zombies are necromancer puppets. Leviathan is here.”

“Zombies,” Paul whispers.

We all glance at him.

“Yeah, man, zombies,” Anthony says.

Blue magic swirls my brother’s fingers as he lifts them toward the door.

The broken wood fits itself into place before glowing red.

“Fucking necromancers. Of course Leviathan would have a stash of Colonial corpses lying around like wine he’s been aging for a special occasion.”

“Come on, Paul,” I grab his arm and lead him down the stairs.

We need to find a safer location.

He stares at my clawed hand on his arm, and I try to retract the shift, so I don’t scare him.

“You’re…” he manages.

“I know. I won’t hurt you,” I try to sound reassuring.

I’d never hurt him.

A cold laugh echoes through the foyer, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere.

Leviathan’s disembodied voice fills the space.

“Sorry about my pets. They’re not housetrained.”

I hear the corpses outside, banging against the side of the house trying to get in.

“Why are you here?” I demand, positioning myself protectively in front of Paul.

Anthony moves to my side, his magic crackling at his fingertips.

“I don’t like how we left things unfinished, my little lotus flower,” Leviathan’s voice replies.

“Ew.” I grimace at the nickname.

Costin places his bloody hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

I feel the possessiveness through our bond that he tries to hide when he looks at Paul.

“Conrad?” Anthony takes a step forward in surprise.

Conrad’s ghost steps from the shadows as if he’s been watching the whole time.

His eyes are dark pits reflecting the obscurity inside his spirit, but his movements are sluggish as if he’s struggling to stay manifested.

“What the hell happened to you?” Anthony demands.

I hear the anger and confusion tinging his words.

I can’t say I blame him.

Before his death, Conrad had almost succeeded in killing all the people in this room.

Conrad doesn’t speak, but his face turns toward the floor.

Paul cries out in surprise.

I turn, but before I can process what’s happening, the marble floor beneath Paul’s feet ripples like water.

A stone hand with a missing finger bursts upward.

It grabs his ankles and pulls him downward.

“Paul!” I dive for him, catching his wrist as the stone liquefies around his legs.

His face is contorted in terror, eyes wide and pleading.

“Hold on!” I strain against the supernatural pull, my new strength locked in a tug-of-war with whatever magic Leviathan has conjured.

Costin is there in an instant, his hands joining mine, but the magic is too strong.

Paul is wrenched from our grasp and pulled under, the floor solidifying once more as if nothing had happened.

I beat my hand repeatedly against the marble.

“Paul!”

“The old church. Come alone, hybrid,” Leviathan says.

“Like hell she will,” Costin snarls, his eyes blazing crimson.

“Conrad,” Anthony yells, but the ghost fades, not speaking.

The sound of the remaining zombies suddenly stops.

I look out the window to see them collapsing into limp piles of decaying flesh.

The foyer falls silent except for Anthony’s ragged breathing.

“Anthony,” I turn to my brother, “why did you bring Paul here?”

Anthony runs an irritated hand through his hair.

“You asked him to come. Zephronis sent me to get him from the safe house. You wanted closure. He refused to let Diana come, thank the gods.” His eyes dart to the window where the corpses litter the yard.

“We arrived just as these things started stumbling onto the property. They crowded the car. I tried to get him out, but?—”

“It’s not your fault,” I cut him off, my mind already racing ahead.

“Leviathan was waiting for an opportunity to draw me out. He’s been watching the estate with Mortimer’s help.”

“Yeah, what the hell is up with that?” Anthony frowns.

“I’m going to need someone to catch me up.”

“Costin can. I have to find the church.” I start for the door.

“I know it,” Costin says, his voice tight with controlled rage.

“It’s a deconsecrated site surrounded by a colonial graveyard on the far north edge of the property. You can’t go there. It’s not safe. It’ll be a necromancer’s playground. His magic will be stronger there.” He motions to the floor.

“You saw what he was able to do.”

“He said to come alone,” Anthony puts forth.

“You can’t be considering it.”

“I won’t abandon Paul,” I say.

Guilt crushes down on me.

In my selfish need for closure with Paul, I dragged him once again into harm’s way.

When will I learn just to leave him and his daughter be?

I’m no good for them.

All I do is cause them grief.

“Diana is safe?” I ask Anthony.

“She wears the amulet and is in a safe place,” he assures me.

“If something happens to her father, she’ll be looked after.”

I meet Costin’s gaze, seeing my own determination reflected in his eyes.

“Since when do we do what necromancers tell us to?”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips.

“Never.”

“We need to move fast.” I head for the door.

“Paul’s human. He won’t last long with Leviathan.”

Anthony hesitates.

“I should tell Astrid?—”

“I think she’ll get the picture when she sees the bodies on the lawn,” I cut him off.

“Call her from the car. Tell her to alert the council.”

Outside, the night is unnaturally still.

I feel the full moon’s approach like a crisp sting in the air.

I keep an eye on the corpse piles.

They don’t move.

Anthony’s sleek black car waits in the circular drive, engine purring and door hanging open.

I see the driver dead on the ground with bite marks.

“Poor Gary,” Anthony whispers.

“Leviathan is going to pay,” I swear.

“It’s time he was stopped. Permanently.”

Costin takes the driver’s seat.

I slide into the passenger side while Anthony climbs in back, already dialing Astrid.

“Do you have a plan?” Costin asks as we tear down the driveway, gravel spitting beneath the tires.

“Save Paul. Don’t die. Make Leviathan regret being born.” I flex my hands, feeling the hybrid strength flowing through me.

“I’m making this up as we go.”

“Good plan.” Costin nods and presses the accelerator to the floor.

He drives down an overgrown dirt road that looks like it hasn’t felt tires in decades.