Page 20

The car eats up the miles.

Costin drives with the reckless confidence of someone who can’t die in a crash.

Anthony speaks in rapid, hushed tones to Astrid, explaining the situation.

I tune him out, focusing instead on preparing myself.

The wolf and vampire inside me seem unusually aligned, both ready for the upcoming battle.

“There,” Costin points as we crest a hill.

I lean forward to see.

I haven’t had reason to go to the north end of the property before.

Beneath the cold light of a waxing moon, stands the silhouette of a crumbling church.

Its steeple is partially collapsed, and the graveyard surrounding it stretches into the darkness like a sea of crooked headstones.

The wrought iron gates are chained shut, but they look ancient and brittle.

Costin brings the car to a sliding stop in front of the fence.

The scent hits me first.

It’s damp earth and the old decay of rotting wood from the church, which makes me wonder how the structure remains standing.

One push and the termite temple is likely to crumble.

“Look at the ground,” I say quietly, stepping out of the car.

My shoes sink in the loose soil, and I feel the sponginess of it underfoot.

The land has recently been disturbed.

Overturned grave dirt reveals the source of the zombies.

“The veil between worlds is thin here.” Costin comes beside me.

His nearness steadies something wild inside me that’s been coiling tighter with every mile.

I wouldn’t want to be here alone.

Even so, the hairs on the back of my neck lift, and my wolf blood is already bubbling in warning.

“It’s why necromancers are drawn to places like this. There is easier access to the dead.”

Undead, my mind corrects thinking of zombies.

And then it hits me.

I’m undead now.

Does that make us like supernatural cousins or something?

Gross.

I’m going to try to not think about it.

“If we don’t handle Leviathan, Astrid will.” Anthony joins us at the gate.

“I wouldn’t want to be him or Mortimer tonight after the damage they caused at the estate.”

I wrap my hands around the rusted chain and pull.

The metal groans, then snaps with surprising ease.

The sound is sharp like a starter pistol going off.

My stomach clenches.

I wait for someone to answer it.

Nothing does.

Tension knots my shoulders.

The gate creaks open, vibrating in my bones like a string pulled too tight.

I step onto the cemetery grounds, and a chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the night air.

I sense movement all around us, subtle shifts in the shadows and the soft crunch of dead leaves where nothing visible walks.

“I feel like we’re being watched,” I murmur.

“We probably are. Focus all your senses,” Costin replies, his voice carrying a predatory edge that reminds me he’s not just my lover but a centuries-old master vampire.

“Nothing is insignificant. Attacks can come in the most unexpected of forms.”

My nerves prickle.

Invisible eyes track our every step.

The magic is heavy here, exerting a gravity that pulls us under.

We move deeper into the graveyard, following a winding path between the tombstones.

Magic crackles around my brother’s hand, casting a blue light.

The glow shimmers off headstones and bones left behind in the churned earth.

Wet stone and broken marble carve out grotesque shadows.

They’re thicker and move against the light.

Giant statues loom among the gravestones.

An angel with outstretched wings and a missing finger lords over robed figures with faces worn smooth by time.

I point at the hand.

“I think that thing grabbed Paul.”

“When we were kids, we used to dare each other to spend the night in places like this,” Anthony tells Costin.

“We brought Conrad here and scared the shit out of him. He would have been, oh, eleven or twelve? Anyway, he broke the hand off that angel, and we convinced him he was cursed.”

“I never…” I look around, shaking my head.

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“You were never invited. Sorry, Tam-tam,” Anthony says.

“Though, to tell you the truth, if we had known what really lurked in the dark,” he continues, “we would have never slept with the lights off.”

“You still don’t sleep with the lights off,” I tease, trying to keep my voice light despite the tension coiling in my stomach.

A twig snaps to our left.

We freeze, all senses alert.

Nothing moves.

Then, a low sound rumbles the dirt at our feet.

The vibration hums up my legs, a slow-building chill that climbs my spine.

The ground begins to crack and bulge, as something beneath the surface struggles to break free.

The wolf snarls.

The vampire tenses.

“Move!” Costin orders, grabbing my arm and pulling me back just as a bony hand erupts from the soil near where I was standing.

All around us, the earth pulses and heaves.

Rotting hands claw their way up from disturbed graves.

Corpses in various states of decay begin to emerge, their hollow eye sockets somehow fixing on us with hungry intent.

“Come on, seriously? More fucking zombies? This seems excessive,” I mutter, backing up until I’m standing between Costin and Anthony.

I didn’t think the smell could get any worse, but I was wrong.

Thankfully I don’t have to breathe.

I can’t say the same for my brother.

Anthony clears his throat and presses a hand to his face.

Dirt rains down from the reanimated bodies as the dead drag themselves free.

They lock onto us with predatory need.

“Next time I get to pick the activity,” Anthony grumbles.

“Beheading zombies is not my idea of a good time.”

The first zombie lurches toward us, its movements jerky but surprisingly agile.

I don’t wait for it to reach us.

I launch myself forward, my hybrid speed turning the world into a momentary blur.

My claws extend and I tear through the corpse with a violent blow, separating its torso from its legs.

The top half keeps coming, pulling itself forward with determined arms.

“Head!” Anthony shouts, sending a blast of magic that obliterates the zombie’s skull.

The body finally collapses, lifeless.

More rise, forming a shambling wall between us and the church.

I bare my fangs.

The wolf and vampire are in perfect agreement for once.

These walking stink bombs need to die…

again.

Costin moves like air, flowing between the undead with deadly grace.

He tears through rotting flesh and brittle bone with ease.

He doesn’t waste energy or motion, each strike precise and fatal.

I find myself trying to follow his lead, but I lack his elegance.

I move more like a beast trampling a field than air.

I sense a zombie before I see it, and spin to remove its head.

The hybrid strength flows through me.

Anthony provides support, his magic blasting paths through the thickest clusters of undead.

But for every zombie we destroy, two more seem to rise from the earth.

“How many people could they possibly bury here?” Anthony yells.

As if answering him in the most horrific way possible, a large mound begins to rise under the angel.

The stone creature tips over and crashes down as a mass grave is unearthed.

A tangle of bodies fights to the surface, climbing over each other.

Anthony tries to contain it with magic, but it doesn’t seem to have an effect.

The sound of their fury is deafening.

“We need to get to the church,” I shout, ducking under a swinging arm and retaliating with an upward slash that splits a zombie from groin to crown.

“This way,” Costin calls, clearing a path toward a narrow gap in the growing horde.

We make a break for it, fighting our way through.

The stench is overwhelming when I breathe out of old habit, but I push through, focusing on the church.

Paul is in there.

I have to reach him.

A skeletal hand catches my ankle, its bony fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to draw blood.

I stumble, nearly going down amid the grasping dead.

But before I fall, Costin is there, ripping the skeleton apart and hauling me back to my feet without breaking stride.

“Thanks,” I gasp, immediately back in the fight.

“Always,” he replies, his eyes briefly meeting mine with an intensity that steals my breath.

My heart is beating fast and I’m ashamed to realize I’m partly enjoying myself.

We reach the church steps, battling through the last ring of zombies.

Costin shoves himself against the heavy wooden doors, which fly open with a crash.

We tumble inside.

Anthony immediately turns to slam the doors shut behind us with his magic.

Undead hands thrust through the gap, but he forces the doors closed with a final surge, dropping a heavy beam across them as a makeshift barricade.

The banging starts immediately, dozens of fists pounding against the wood.

I look around half expecting the building to fall down on top of us.

It’s surprisingly stable, more so that it looked on the outside.

“That won’t hold them long,” Anthony pants, leaning against the wall.

Dirt and blood mar his body.

He pushes up his dirty sleeve and swipes his forearm at the blood on his face.

“You so owe me a spa package after this, Tam.”

I take stock of our surroundings.

The church interior is a ruin of collapsed pews and fallen rafters.

Moonlight streams through holes in the roof, casting eerie patterns on the dusty floor.

At the far end, where the altar would have been, a faint glow emanates from beneath the slatted floor.

“There.” I point.

“Underground.”

We pick our way through the debris, alert for traps.

The glow leads us to a section of the floor that has been cleared of rubble.

In its center is a stone slab with a metal ring.

“A crypt,” Costin says, his voice tight.

“How uninspired.”

“Allow me,” I say, bending to grasp the ring.

The stone is heavy, but my new strength makes lifting easy.

It swings upward, revealing a set of narrow stone steps descending into green-tinged darkness.

The stench of rot is stronger here, mingled with something else.

“What is that?” I ask, glancing at my brother.

“I had a class that smelled like that. Alchemical compounds,” Anthony says.

“Alchemy. The basis for most necromancer magic.”

I wrinkle my nose but can’t hesitate.

Paul needs me.

“I’ll go first,” I say, already placing my foot on the top step.

Costin catches my arm, his grip firm.

I nod.

He blurs as he disappears into the hole to scout ahead.

Anthony and I descend side by side.

“I know men and that one is crazy in love with you,” Anthony whispers.

I didn’t need him to tell me that, but I like hearing it.

“The feeling is mutual,” I admit, keeping my voice soft to match his.

“Thank you for coming with me. Thank you for being my brother and always protecting me.”

“Stop thanking me. It sounds too much like a goodbye,” he answers with a wry grin.

“Tokens of appreciation will be accepted in the form of spa vacations and hot escorts named Hans.”

I can’t help but smirk at his deflective humor.

The stairs lead to a vast underground chamber that bears no resemblance to a simple crypt.

It’s more like an unholy laboratory, with glass containers lining the walls, each holding floating specimens I can’t bear to examine too closely.

Many look like the orb I saw Leviathan carry Conrad’s spirit away in.

Arcane symbols cover the floor and ceiling.

They glow with that same eerie green light.

And at the center of it all, chained on his back to a stone altar, is Paul.

I see bruises forming on his cheek and neck.

“Tamara,” he calls, struggling against his bonds.

“Run. It’s a trap!”

“Of course it’s a trap,” Leviathan’s voice echoes through the chamber before he steps from the shadows.

He looks exactly as I remember him.

Unremarkable features somehow convey ancient malice.

His simple black clothing is a stark contrast to the elaborate setup around him.

“But that doesn’t make the invitation any less sincere.”

“Let him go,” I demand, stepping forward.

Costin moves with me, his presence at my side a reminder that I’m not facing this alone.

“You brought uninvited guests. How rude,” Leviathan tsks though he hardly looks surprised.

Or concerned.

“Paul has nothing to do with this,” I insist.

“On the contrary,” Leviathan smiles, the expression never reaching his eyes.

“Your human pet is the perfect bait. He is your weakness. And look, here you are, right on cue. He’ll make a nice first soldier for our army, don’t you think?”

“Tamara, get out of here,” Paul yells, struggling against his restraints.

“Hush,” Leviathan draws his hand down and Paul instantly gasps and passes out.

“If you wanted me here, you could have made it a little more welcoming,” I growl.

“No need for the zombie apocalypse upstairs.”

I glance at Paul to make sure he’s still breathing.

Leviathan chuckles.

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, my friends needed the exercise, and I needed to see what you are capable of.”

He gestures toward the shadows on his right, where more figures begin to emerge.

These aren’t simple zombies.

They’re Egyptian mummies straight out of a museum.

They hold spears and look ready to pounce.

They move to stand behind us, forcing us deeper into the main chamber of the crypt.

Then, almost reverently, Leviathan gestures to his left.

“Come say hello to your new queen. Don’t be shy.”

The creatures who come forward are the worst yet.