Page 27 of Siren in Love (In Love #1)

Mike

U nsurprisingly, Peter opened the door not three seconds after Mike’s knock. The vampire didn’t look as if he’d been asleep.

“What?” Peter said, eyeing their hastily thrown-on clothes. “‘Bookish Is the New Sexy.’ Hmm. Lovely T-shirt choice for a librarian, Corvin.”

Mike swallowed hard and ignored Peter’s interest in Corvin’s quirky wardrobe. “I told Corvin. Listen, there’s a situation. My necromancer ex wants me back and is using at least one zombie to achieve that fantasy.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “What did I tell you about dating necromancers, Michael?”

Corvin giggled with nerves, and Peter looked straight at him, which made Corvin shut right up.

“Keep it together, Corvin,” Peter said. “Things like this happen, and one just has to keep one’s wits about himself. While one goes ahead and decapitates the undead.”

“Umm. D-decapitate?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Mike said.

“Yes, it’s the most effective way to dispose of them. Michael, I’m sure Corvin can handle the sight of one or two decapitations just fine. Recall how competently he helped dispatch the yule cat?”

“What?” Corvin squeaked. “Yule what ?”

“Relax, he’s joking.” Mike knew full well Peter wasn’t.

He was turning into do-not-fuck-with-me Peter, and not the kind that would sue you if you did.

The kind that would stash your body behind some crates in an abandoned cotton mill if you tried anything stupid.

Dominic had no idea what was coming for him.

“Yule cat. Come on inside.” Peter ushered them across the threshold and closed the door behind them. “You brained it with your dictionary—very nice form that. I knew then and there that Michael did well to claim you.”

“Uhm. C-claim… Can we turn on a light? It’s totally dark in here.”

“I see well in the dark, and it’s better if we leave the light off for now. We wouldn’t want to give our position away.”

“Peter, what do we do?” Mike asked. “I’d love to lure Dominic into the ocean, but—”

“He knows you and will have brought earplugs.” Peter nodded. “Kindly walk me through this from the top. Why is your ex here when we specifically went to Morrowvale to get away from skyclad Wiccans?”

“Wiccans?” Corvin said. Mike made for the couch and pulled Corvin down with him. “You mean…witches are real?”

“Of course they are,” Peter said. “But Wiccans aren’t witches. Witches, thankfully, do their magic clothed most of the time. Michael, the necromancer.”

“I don’t know what he wants.” Mike pulled Corvin close. Corvin let him, and Mike relaxed, if only a fraction. “He showed up just before we left for the resort and declared he wanted to be with me. I told him to get lost.”

Peter nodded. “He followed you.”

“Your ex…is a necromancer?” Corvin was catching up, and his voice told Mike just how much things were churning in Corvin’s head. “Why are zombies real?”

Peter nodded once. “Yes. Quite a relevant question, Corvin. Zombies should be too distasteful for reality, but alas, no such luck. I suggest we detain the necromancer or kill him and end the zombies permanently as we go.”

“We can’t kill anyone!”

Peter bent over Corvin to squeeze his shoulder. “Of course we can.” He was grinning, and the light filtering in from the windows made his teeth stand out in the darkness. “After all, if you will keep on calling me Peter the Terrible, I must at least attempt to earn that title.”

Corvin’s eyes went wide, but before he could say anything, a moan from the hallway, followed by the noise of fingernails scratching against wood, made them all fall quiet.

“That’s the door to our suite,” Mike said, easily pinpointing where the noise was coming from.

Peter snuck to the door and looked out the peephole. “Can’t see your necromancer, but there’s recently zombified staff. I count two gardeners and a bellboy.”

“What’s happening?” Corvin whispered. His hearing wasn’t good enough for him to have picked up what Peter had said, which was probably for the best.

“There are zombies in the hallway,” Mike said. He pulled Corvin to his feet. “Peter, let’s get to the stairs and go outside. We don’t need the zombies near the other guests.”

“Agreed.” Peter was still whispering. “Oh, make that three gardeners, but this one brought his shears! How thoughtful.”

Mike was glad Corvin’s hearing was quite human. He pulled him to the door.

Corvin reached for Mike’s hand. “We can’t go out there. Unless of course this is just a murder mystery. In which case, guys, you almost had me.” His smile was faint.

“Does he need to be shown fangs?” Peter asked, and this time, it was just loud enough that Corvin could hear.

“ Fangs ?”

“No, thank you, Peter.” Mike turned to Corvin. “Honey, we’re going to go out there, and then we’ll run toward the stairs. We want those zombies away from other people, and they’ll probably follow us, because Dominic wants them…well, to be frank, he wants them to eat you.”

“ What ?”

“Michael, showing him my fangs would have been kinder than that revelation. Mind your sweet human’s sensitive nature.”

Corvin’s head spun toward Peter. “ My what ?” His voice was taking on a slightly panicky note.

“Corvin.” Mike let his song flow into his voice. “Calm down. You felt that, didn’t you? I just made you calm down.”

Corvin nodded. “It’s almost like when you hum…when we make love, you know? Like a warm hug.”

Mike was dumbstruck. He’d never used the force of his song with Corvin when they were in bed together. I wouldn’t have…would I? “Corvin, everything you’ve wanted to do with me, that’s been you. I never made you do anything, I swear.”

“I know that. But…when you sing, I just feel safe. Like, because you always do it, and it seems to make you happy.”

Mike gasped. He wasn’t sure he’d heard right. He feels safe with me! He’s not afraid . “Corvin—”

“I hate to interrupt this moment you two seem to be having,” Peter said, “but the zombies are getting quite eager out there, and if we want to outrun them, we need to go. Now.”

“Fine,” Mike said. “Corvin, get ready. And stay with me.”

Corvin nodded.

“Almost,” Peter said. “Ready… Now.”

Peter stepped back from the door and opened it in one vampirically fast and elegant move.

Mike took hold of Corvin’s hand and pulled him to the stairs on the right, while Peter dashed to the left where the zombies were, presumably to get those shears from the former gardener.

Moments later, a sharp swish and a squishy noise confirmed that.

Mike pushed the door to the stairs open, and after checking that there was no one there, he started down, Corvin’s hand still in his.

The stairwell was a contrast to the hotel and its sandy white and gold decor. The concrete stairs stood out in sharp, serrated edges, and the echoes of their footfalls as they ran rang like a ship’s bell rung to warn of an approaching storm.

“Those were real fucking zombies, and Peter the Terrible cut off the gardener’s head,” Corvin said.

“I know, honey. Keep running. Focus on the stairs, not the decapitation.”

“Right. Running. Fuck. Can’t you, I don’t know, sing them to sleep?”

They were down the first flight. “No. They’re dead. The nervous system is kept running by magic, and siren song only works on living things.”

“Siren song? That’s what you call it?” Corvin said. His hand squeezed Mike’s.

“Yes.”

Above them, the door to the stairs opened, and a heartbeat later, Peter joined them, gory shears in hand. “I took down three. The remaining two are following. Bless a zombie’s tenacity.” He overtook them. “They were trying to bite me. I loathe zombie bites. They fester.”

“Ugh,” Corvin said as Peter settled in to take the lead.

“Oh, and can I just say that I congratulate you two on working things out? See, Michael, I told you, you should have told Corvin sooner.” With the shears in his right hand, the words sounded like a mild threat, but then a lot of the things Peter said did.

“You move so fast. Fuck, you really are a vampire. Those really were zombies. Okay. This is okay.” Corvin’s voice trembled. “This is fine. But those shears really aren’t.”

“Honey?” Mike looked over his shoulder as they got to the first floor.

“I’m good. Really. It’s just…cognitive readjustment. I’m dealing.”

Corvin looked pale, but that could have been from being woken in the middle of the night. Mike had little time to worry, because Peter pulled open the door to the lobby a crack.

“I think I can hear the night receptionist praying for his bladder control beneath the desk. Two zombies, facing the elevators and dropping worms. Michael, it would appear your necromancer ex raided the local cemetery.” The vampire looked over his shoulder, straight at Corvin.

“Now, sweet, dictionary-wielding Corvin, watch as I handle these shears before you judge how okay it is for me to have them.”

Peter pulled the door open a little farther and sped out into the lobby. He caught the waiting corpses from behind, and with a sharp clip, he decapitated one.

The head landed on a small round table, right next to a vase full of tulips. A worm wiggled from the mouth, and Mike made a mental note to leave a generous tip for the cleaning crew.

The other zombie got the shears in the neck as well, but either he had tougher bones or was simply more obstinate. Peter didn’t manage to fully decapitate him, the shears sticking in the zombie’s neck as it turned, grayish fingers grasping like claws.

“Curse all hells and half the heavens!” Peter stepped away from the zombie, evading it. “I was trying to make a point.”

From above them, Mike heard shambling corpses following them down the stairs.

“Come on,” he said, and ran toward the exit with Corvin in tow.

Peter joined them, and they dashed outside. The moon was full and the air smelled of salt and ocean. The sounds of the breeze, of waves rolling in, faded to quaint background music at odds with being hunted by zombies.

Peter looked at Mike. “You said you saw your necromancer here? On the premises?”

“Ex necromancer, but yes. Why?”