Page 28 of Siren in Love (In Love #1)

“He raised the undead to hunt you and Corvin and to replenish their numbers if someone gets in their way. They’re not looking to eat other humans as far as I can tell. I assume he wanted to watch while the zombies ate your Corvin.”

“I thought it was bad enough when he watched me get dressed through the kitchen window,” Corvin mumbled as they rounded the pool bar. It was boarded up and looked oddly sad without any cheery umbrella cocktails or lights or people. Behind them, undead moans followed.

Peter tsked. “Necromancers. I had one as a client once. Difficult people all around. But as I was saying, he will have wanted a front-row seat to his creations tearing into you and ripping the flesh off your bones before feasting on your—”

“We can all imagine it, Peter, thank you,” Mike said, then stopped dead in his tracks.

There were two more zombies waiting in the shadows that led to the parking lot. One groaned, and then they both shuffled forward. They wore old-timey funeral garb and looked well on their way to total decomposition. Mike was glad they were upwind.

“Botanical gardens,” Corvin said, then pulled Mike that way.

“Good thinking.” Peter took the lead. “They’ll have more useful gardening tools there.”

They got away from the new zombies.

“They’re following us.” Corvin pointed at the zombie with the garden shears still in its throat. That one was leading the charge at their back.

Peter jumped over a deck chair by the pool. “They’re being directed to do so. The necromancer will be here somewhere. Which means, once he runs out of zombies to set on us—”

“It’ll only be him,” Mike said.

The zombies behind them struggled with the deck chairs, and as Mike looked over his shoulder, the fresher bellboy zombie fell into the pool.

At least zombies aren’t raised to be smart . Mike knew all too well that it took an extraordinarily skilled necromancer and very fresh corpses to raise the fast kind of zombie, the kind that was potently lethal because of their speed and dexterity. Luckily, Dominic isn’t that good at what he does .

The path to the botanical gardens, charming and romantic during the day, had taken on an ominous, eerie air.

The colors had faded mostly to shades of gray apart from the few circles of light drawn by the lanterns set near the ground.

Mike started humming, using his siren sense to let the echoes in the darkness show him what he couldn’t see.

“Why are you humming now if it doesn’t help with the zombies?” Corvin held Mike’s hand tightly.

“The way sound travels helps me take in my surroundings. It’s a lesser-known siren skill.”

Corvin’s jaw dropped. “Wait, are you telling me you have echolocation? Like a freaking bat ?”

Peter giggled. “Echolocation. Oh, Michael, he’s just the sweetest human ever.”

Mike respected his boss, but right now he wanted to toss a tune at him that would make his fangs fall out. “It’s not echolocation.” Mike considered for a moment. “Okay, it’s a little like echolocation, in an extremely oversimplified way.”

“That is so cool ,” Corvin said.

Mike’s heart swelled with joy. “It is?”

Corvin nodded. “Yes! Like you’re the main character in a superhero story.”

“Well, it’s pretty much like echolocation, I guess.”

Peter cackled. Mike ignored him and went back to humming. The zombies were still on their heels, shambling as fast as they could on their undead feet.

The entrance to the botanical gardens was a large, ornate rose gate that had yet to be conquered by vines and blooming things. In the dark, it looked like metal bones framing the pale face of the moon.

They jogged through it and along the angular gravel walkways surrounding a wide patch of spring flowers. Behind that, the fountain with a nymph spouting water from a seashell purled away, and the large structure of the first hothouse shimmered faintly in the moonlight.

Peter tried the door and found it open. “This is surprising. Much like not encountering any of the undead on our way here.”

“You think he tried to get us to the hothouses?” Corvin asked.

The vampire shrugged. “Possible. I suggest we each see about arming ourselves as soon as we can. I knew we should have stopped by the kitchens for a cleaver and a few good knives. One should always make time to visit the kitchens during a zombie attack.”

How many zombie attacks has he weathered? Mike wondered, not sure whether he really wanted to know the answer.

The first hothouse was the one with the orchids and the butterflies, though few of the insects bent their wings to the moonlight.

Those that did shimmered like the rarest gems, in moonstone pale grays and pearly silvers, and if it hadn’t been for the current situation, the sight would’ve been enchanting.

“Oh.” Corvin pulled his hand out of Mike’s. “That count as a weapon?”

He pulled an earth-encrusted trowel from under a few lush leaves. The doors behind them were pulled open, and the zombies continued their approach. Mike wondered how the dead and now exceedingly wet bellboy had managed to get out of the pool.

“Better than nothing.” Peter looked over his shoulder. “Keep it.”

“Want to try getting those shears back?” Mike asked.

Peter shrugged. “They got stuck between vertebrae and muscle. I’d rather not, considering how close to its teeth they are.”

The only things the hothouse had to offer other than the one trowel were orchids and that deep earth scent that now reminded Mike of decay. The next hothouse connected to this one, and they made their way through an iron-framed glass door to get to it.

This area had lush plants, just like the first hothouse. Wooden bridges led the visitors on a walk that was meant to feel like they were visiting the rainforest. Insects huddled beneath the foliage, and Mike could sense nothing out of the ordinary.

Peter’s right. This is too easy. Mike’s stomach twisted into knots.

“Oh, promising.” Peter took a sharp turn to the right, straight into the flower beds.

They followed, and Mike pulled Corvin close when he stumbled over a root in the dark.

“Where are we going?” Corvin asked, even as the zombies entered the hothouse behind them.

“Personnel only. I hope they keep more equipment there,” Peter said. Mike heard him try a door, which turned out to be locked. With a yank and a screech of metal against metal, Peter circumnavigated the need for a key to get through.

“Shit, this is dark,” Corvin said, and Mike put his arm around his hips, leading him.

The sickly sweet smell of fertilizer gave this away as a work shed of some kind even before Mike got a sense of the place. Instead of being just a storage room, this seemed to be some sort of brick-built hallway.

Alcoves held tools and plants with their branches clipped short and, in some cases, wrapped in burlap to ward off the cold and keep the plants within ready to bloom again.

Mike slowed to move some of the larger plant pots into the path so the zombies would have to deal with them. Not much, but better than nothing.

“This’ll do nicely.” One of the tools, a spade, had caught Peter’s attention. He pulled it off its hook, tested its heft, and handed Mike the shovel next to it. “This was probably an older connecting structure between hothouses. There is a blocked door ahead.”

With his siren sense, Mike could tell Peter was tearing into an uneven stretch of wall ahead of them a moment later. He’s right. It’s a door behind the bricks.

“What’s happening?” Corvin leaned close to Mike.

“I think Peter found a door behind the wall.”

“Hope it leads outside,” Corvin mumbled. “It’s so fucking dark in here.”

“Let’s see,” Peter said, and the sound of him yanking a piece of wall away almost drowned out the zombies getting through the door behind them.

For all the failings of the average zombie, they were tenacious to a fault.

“Oh, this is interesting.” Peter did something to the door that made it groan in protest before it opened with a screech.

Through the uncovered exit, light blossomed. It wasn’t much, barely enough to give outlines back to the world. Peter was a shadow passing through the door, and Mike and Corvin followed after him. The hungry groans of the undead trailed them like the sickly sweet scent of rot.

Beyond the rusted door Peter had nearly torn from its hinges lay another greenhouse. This one was wild, neglected, abandoned. Through dirty glass, moonlight fell in patches like so many tiny raindrops.

Mike hummed to get a better sense of the place, its broken glass windows and rickety wooden tables once used for planting or display.

Vines had overtaken much of the place, swallowing walls and floors.

It was still a big space, and due to the leaves blanketing the structure, it allowed for few echoes, meaning Mike only got a limited sense of their surroundings.

“It smells in here,” Corvin said.

Fertilizer. But there’s also—

“Oh, welcome, welcome! You took the long way around, I see.”

Dominic. He was there in the darkness. His voice came from the other end of the greenhouse, and he wasn’t alone.

Mike might’ve mistaken them for statues—a good two dozen, if not more—but they were zombies. Moans sounded from decaying throats, the dead ready to do their necromancer’s bidding.

Fuck, Mike thought. Right into his trap.