One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie Tale (18 page)

The witch shakes her head. “No. Let her approach you.”

I swallow, but stand my ground. Sure enough, the half-Komodo slowly climbs to her feet and steps toward me, one hand outstretched as though to touch mine. And suddenly, like a light bulb has gone off in my head, I see her, and myself, and all the other halves, as what they truly are. Not half-monsters at all, but half-human.

Who says I can’t learn?

Thirty-One:

Zombie, Heal Thyself.

I’m woken up the next morning by my mom’s voice, calling to me from the living room. “Isis Blue Monroe, why is there a
dog
on our couch?”

If my heart beat normally, it’d be racing. “I’m coming, Mom!” I scramble out of bed, into the same clothes I wore yesterday, and hustle out my door. Maxx must be normal sized, or my mom’d be screaming bloody murder. That’s something to be grateful for. And for the fact that he’s obviously not talking, because I’m pretty sure that’d send her over the edge, too.

“You
know
we’re not allowed to have pets,” she greets me.

“Yes, ma’am, but he’s not exactly a pet.”

Maxx lowers one eyelid in a supremely lazy wink.

“Isis, what is he doing
here
?”

I glance at Maxx.

“He can’t answer for you,” she snaps.

And that’s when it happens.

“Actually,” Maxx clears his throat. “I can answer for myself.”

My mom screams and collapses into a heap.

“Mom!” It takes me two steps to reach her, and I’m still seconds behind Maxx, who is licking her in the face. How very…dog-like.

My mom comes to sputtering. “What—get off me!” She pushes Maxx away. “Isis, what the
hell
is going on?”

It’s the first time in forever since I’ve heard my mom swear.

Maxx’s ears lay flat against his head. “I am sorry for startling you,” he begins, but my mom’s hearing none of it.

“I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you need to
get out
of my apartment.”

“Mom, he’s a friend, it’s okay.”

She sits up and glares at me from the floor. “It’s a talking dog, Isis. That’s nothing close to okay!”

I laugh and she glares harder. “It’s
not
funny, young lady.”

“Actually, Mom, it pretty much is. This
is
my reality. I’m Maxx sitting.”

“There’s no way we can have a dog here, especially not a Saint Bernard. People will notice and the landlord’ll be notified.”

I kneel down at her feet, and try to take her face in my hands. When she sees my empty sleeve, she starts to cry. “Oh, Isis, what now?”

“It’s just my arm, Mom. It’s totally fixable, I promise. As for Maxx, he’s not exactly a dog.”

She reaches up and does what I want to; she wipes the tears off her own cheeks. “Then what is he?”

“I am a hell-hound,” Maxx announces. “Would it help you accept my existence if I changed shape?”

My mom smiles weakly. “I don’t know if anything you did would help me accept all the changes I’ve been forced to deal with lately.”

“I did not expect you to find me on the couch,” Maxx says. “I expected Isis to be awake before you. She said you were suffering from jet lag.” He cocks his head to one side. “Do you need to sleep more?”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Ummm…Maxx, where’d you put my arm?”

“It is on your dresser,” the hell hound replies. “I was not sure where you wanted it.”

“I’ll be right back, then we can go,” I say. I leave him in the living room, grab my arm off my dresser and hightail it back.

“Excuse me, but where, exactly, are you going?” My mom hasn’t bothered getting up from her place on the floor.

“I’m going back to the club, Mom. I’ve got to get my arm put back on.” I have no idea what I’ll do if Nacelles can’t fix it, but I’ll cross that bridge if it happens.

“Are you ready?” Maxx’s going to move us from this reality straight to Nacelles. I’m not sure I’m thrilled with the idea, but neither do I want to be stopped by the cops because I’m carrying an unattached arm. Decisions, decisions.

“Yes, no, I don’t—” before I can finish my sentence, my body begins to vibrate at a low frequency. It starts at my toes and moves its way up into my chest and finally my head. I shut my eyes to try and dislodge the weird sensation, and that’s when the air bends.

Just like that we’re standing in front of Tucker the revenant, guarding The Blood Bank lair.

It frowns. “I know you. You’re ‘not food.’”

It’s super flattering to be remembered. “Isis. My name is Isis.”

“Tucker,” Maxx says.

The six foot tall creature glances down to meet Maxx’s gold eyes. “Maxx,” it replies. “You are small.”

“I am smaller, yes. We have come to see Nacelles.” I’m not sure why Maxx didn’t zap us straight to the lich, but I assume he knows what he’s doing.

“He is not available.” The revenant says. Those massive metal beams seated on the floor the last time I was down here are across the door. The club is definitely closed.

“Look, Tucker,” I say, stepping forward. The creature’s nostrils flare. I remember what he eats and what I’m holding in my one remaining, attached, arm. I step backward. “I need to get in and see Nacelles. Will you help me, or not?”

He tilts his head sideways while he considers me. “Did you bring food?”

I hide my arm, both arms, behind my back. “Uhhh…no, I didn’t, sorry. But I’ll bring you something next time I come, I promise.” I swallow hard. I don’t want to ask the next question, but I do anyway. “What kind of meat do you like?” As long as he doesn’t say ‘human’, I’m good. I can handle this.

“Steak is good.” Tucker says.

Whew. I can do raw cow. “Okay, I’ll bring you a nice steak next time if you’ll let us in now. Sound fair?”

“Kobe beef is better,” the revenant’s tone is hopeful.

Okay, even I know Kobe beef is so out of the realm of my pocketbook it’s laughable. “I can’t afford that, but I might be able to swing a nice rib eye from the Farmer’s Market.”

“That’s acceptable.” The moldering corpse turns, unbars the door and steps aside so we can walk through.

All the lights are on and chairs are stacked on top of tables. There are a lot more of them than I saw before, but then again, the lighting pretty much sucked.

Maxx trots across the floor, his toenails digging into the cinnamon colored carpet. I follow him over to the hidden door.

“Put your hand against the wall,” the hell hound instructs.

I remember Ink doing the same thing. I echo what she did, and the door slides open.

“Follow me,” Maxx says. “I do not know if Nacelles has released the ghouls.”

I remember the ghoul from my first visit to the club, and I cling to Maxx. There’s no way I’m risking my life. The corridor is lit, but not well. I can’t help but wonder where Maxx is taking us, because as far as I can tell, there’s no end in sight.

A tall, thin man dressed in a very familiar suit appears out of the darkness. “Maxx, you’ve returned.” A line of drool snakes down the corner of his mouth and drips off his chin. “And you brought a snack.”

“Back off, she is not a snack.” Maxx’s lips curl up.

The man’s eyes flash red. I back up further. I do not want to be between Maxx and anything he’s pissed at. Not after the half-Komodo incident, anyway. I know better. He doesn’t look pleased at the ghoul standing between us and where he wants us to be.

“Nacelles Caldmer allows us the run of his domain after club hours,” the ghoul states. “Any flesh here is ours to consume by right.”

The fur on Maxx’s back stands to full attention and smoke begins to rise. It’s odd to see on a Saint Bernard. “Do not try me, undead. You know I will win.”

The certainty in his voice is chilling. I hope the ghoul backs down because I really don’t want to see him go all demonic again.

A guttural growl emerges from the ghoul’s throat but he takes a step backward, then another, all the while not taking his eyes off Maxx.

“Inform your master we are here,” Maxx says. The smoke from his fur continues to rise toward the ceiling, as thick as mist.

“You and I are not finished,” the ghoul’s voice echoes even as he continues to back down the hall until he’s out of sight.

Maxx huffs. “What a stupid creature. It thinks it is superior because it has a human form.”

“It wanted to eat me,” I state.

He glances at me. “Well, yes. That
is
what ghouls do.”

“Does anything here not eat people?”

“I do not.” Maxx says.

It’s the perfect time to ask. “What do you eat, then?”

“I eat whatever I wish.”

“What about souls?”

“My hell hounds do not eat souls,” Nacelles steps out of the shadows in front of us.

I squeak.

The lich raises one eyebrow. “Isis, I didn’t expect to see you here again.” He gazes at the arm in my hand. “Ahhh…I see what the problem is.”

I step forward. “Can you fix it?”

“You haven’t tried healing yourself yet?” The lich asks.

I blink in astonishment. “I can do that?”

“I don’t know what you can or cannot do,” Nacelles replies. “Your essence and Ink’s mixed. That could produce some interesting side effects. Tell me, have you noticed any strange abilities?”

“Ink can’t mesmerize me. And I can keep up with Maxx when he runs in and out of reality.” I remember the fight with Noelle. “Oh, and I threw a half-fae into a wall by accident, but I think that was because of Andrew, not Ink.”

“Did you now? Those are significant effects, but not all of them are vampire based. You are quite interesting.” The lich’s voice is thoughtful. “Come in to my chambers and we can experiment.” He turns his attention to Maxx. “Are you hungry?”

“I am,” the hell hound replies.

“What would you like to eat?” Nacelles asks.

Maxx’s tail begins to thump and the long strings of drool dripping from his mouth sizzle as they meet the floor at his paws. “I want chicken!”

“Ummm…I introduced him to KFC,” I say. “I hope that’s okay.”

The near skeleton shrugs bony shoulders. “It’s his palate. If he wants to eat chicken, he can.”

Maxx grins at me before vanishing.

Nacelles gestures in a ‘come here’ way. “Come. Let’s see what other abilities you might have.”

Thirty-Two:

Ouch, That Kinda Hurts!

Nacelles’ chamber isn’t what I think a monster lair should look like. I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to expect, but certainly not the warmth and light I find. The same purple couch he summoned before stands against the far wall and scattered cushions litter the carpeted floor. It looks more like the inside of a genie’s bottle than anything else.

“Now, how did this injury happen?” Nacelles takes my arm from me and peers at the torn shoulder.

“It was an accident.” I’m loath to name the hell hound, though I’m not sure why. Nacelles likes him, and I’m pretty sure Maxx wasn’t lying when he said he chose to stay with the lich.

He looks at me. “Maxx doesn’t always remember his own strength.”

So much for keeping the cause of my accident a secret. “It really was an accident,” I repeat. “He saw a kitten.”

“I never did get around to introducing him to kittens,” Nacelles muses. “Take off your shirt.”

“Ummm…
excuse
me?”

“I have no designs on your zombiefied body, Isis,” the lich says. “I need to see the wound itself and your long sleeved blouse, while beautiful, won’t allow me to do that.”

“Turn around,” I demand. “This is embarrassing enough.”

“Here, wear this.” Nacelles reaches into thin air and pulls out a sleeveless, zipper up top. It matches the couch. What an awesome color. I’ll look like an eggplant, but I guess it’s better than the alternative. I catch the top and wait until the lich turns his back. It doesn’t take me long to undo the buttons on the shirt I’m currently wearing, shed it, and put the new one on.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Nacelles turns around. “The color suits you.”

Right now, I don’t much care. I just want my arm back on. “So how do you plan on fixing me, anyway?”

“I don’t,” Nacelles says. “I can’t heal you, Isis.”

The bluntness of it hurts.

“Then what am I even
doing
here?”

“Good question,” the lich replies. He strolls over to me and peers at my empty socket. It’s weird.

“I thought we could experiment on you, but I wouldn’t know where to begin. You’re an unusual case-study. Are you sure you don’t just want to use crazy glue or screws?”

“I’m positive,” I say. “I’ve glued myself and screwed...ummm...enough, thanks.”

“The only thing I can think of is to self-heal,” Nacelles says. “You said you’ve never tried it before. Do you feel comfortable enough to try it now?”

I shrug. “Sure, why not?” I grimace. “It can’t hurt, right? What do I do?”

“Vampires don’t need to do anything,” the lich muses. “But you are only half-vampire in spirit. Try putting the arm up to your empty socket. Maybe the muscles will knit together of their own accord.”

I take my arm back and do what he says. I can’t help but picture tendrils of ligaments, reaching out like vines to grab the arm and pull it close.

“Is it working?” I drop my arm and it falls with a thump to the ground. Nope.

Nacelles is nice enough to retrieve it and hand it back to me. “Hmmm…let’s try this instead. Close your eyes and visualize the arm adhering to your shoulder, looking exactly like it used to be.”

It sounds simple enough. I give it a shot. And the world turns purple. My insides are doing their level best to crawl out through my belly button. I can barely breathe. I curl into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest and moaning low in my throat. I’m pretty sure Nacelles is trying to talk to me, but I can’t hear anything beyond the roaring in my ears. It feels like hours before I can unkink and open my eyes. A black fuzzy blur greets me. A
huge
black fuzzy blur, which means Maxx is back to his normal size.

“Isisss,” The familiar voice makes me smile. Well, grimace. I want it to be a smile, but I can’t quite manage it.

“Did—” I growl the first word so I clear my throat and try again. “Did it work?”

“You have an arm,” Nacelles says.