One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie Tale (19 page)

“But did it work? Is it attached?” I’m still shaky; definitely not strong enough to stand upright, so I just focus on, well, focusing.

“It is as it was,” Maxx replies. “Though I disapprove of what you had to do.”

I laugh at the hell hound’s indignation. “Yeah, I do, too.” His face comes more into focus. “Did you enjoy your chicken?”

His tail starts to wag, which is answer enough, but he speaks anyway. “Yes, it was good. I think it is now my favorite food.”

I’m not sure I want to know how much chicken a dog the size of a full grown brahma bull has to eat. Instead I rotate my left shoulder. It feels…tender…but not sore. I hope I never have to go through something like that healing again. I smile and flex my wrist.

“Does this mean I can heal all the time?” Not that I want to, because, seriously, owww. But if my leg decides it needs to be unattached or something, it’ll be a handy skill to have. Once I sound proof the apartment, that is. I’m pretty sure the old ladies would call the police in a New York minute if they heard me screaming and moaning. Plus there’s my mom. She might have something to say about it, too.

“It should,” the lich says. “But I wouldn’t try it unless it was crucial. Screws and glue should work just fine for the little things.”

I agree. The less I have to deal with, the better. Life’s getting complicated enough without adding ‘voluntary pain’ to the list. “So why didn’t I feel anything when Maxx pulled my arm off?”

Nacelles shrugs. “I have no idea. I hate to tell you, Isis, but you’re a giant ‘who knows’. You’d probably have to travel to Louisiana and speak to some of the voodoo queens to get all the answers you’re looking for.”

Yeah. That’s not going to happen. I’m not that committed to knowing, honestly.

I take a cab home. I’m just plain worn out. My body’s sure it’s been running on fumes for miles and all the brains in the world aren’t helping me stay full. I need a break. Honestly, I’d rather be at the church’s cemetery. There’s something soothing about being surrounded by dead people who don’t want anything from me, but I’m not sure Father Moss knows I helped Ra’kul yet. I’m not ready to face his possible wrath. Honestly, I feel totally overwhelmed. So of course there’s just one person I feel even remotely like talking to.

“Isis, can I come in?”

Before I can answer, the doorknob to my bedroom turns and just like that my mom’s here.

“Oh, Isis, really? Purple? You look like an eggplant,” are the first words out of her mouth once she actually sees me.

I guess that’s what I get for letting a lich dress me.

“What’s wrong?” She kicks off her shoes and joins me on the bed, legs curled under her.

“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know. I can’t find Andrew and it all just sucks.”

“Mama Llama likes no drama,” she winks at me, and then laughs.

Good grief, she must’ve just come from her reading stint at the library.

“Mom, seriously? You’ve been reading the kids those Llama books again, haven’t you?”

“Yes, they’re adorable. Now hush, and tell me whose rear I need to kick.”

And that pretty much sums up the relationship with my mom. All practicality and business under that ‘Look at me, I’m going to name my kid ‘Isis’ because it’s the name of a goddess, and oh! Let’s all make daisy chains and look for Little Bunny Foo-Foo!’ exterior. I love her, though. After all, she crazy glued my mouth. You can’t get much more supportive than that.

“It’s everything,” I sigh. “The date with Daniel was a disaster, kind of, even though I met a really nice vampire and a lich who’s not so bad, really. And I still have no idea where Andrew is, but I met Maxx, and he helped me see a really messed up half Komodo dragon under the church who wanted to eat me, but that turned out okay, too, because I’m still alive.” Yeah. I just open my mouth and it all comes gushing out, like a flood I can’t control.

She holds up one hand to stop me. “Wait. Just…wait. I’m not even sure where to start asking all the questions I have.”

I snicker first, then sigh one of those sighs that comes up from the depths of my soul. “That’s okay. I’d have no idea where to start answering them. I don’t even know if I
can
. Honestly, Mom, everything has been so messed up lately. I mean, I thought Andrew would be able to cure me, but what if he can’t? Everyone keeps telling me there’s no way. What if I’m stuck like this forever?”

“From what you’ve told me, you’re not the only one, Isis. Besides, what’s really different about your life now, other than eating brains?”

Huh. That’s the one question I haven’t really considered.
Is
my life so different from what it used to be? I actually have more friends…well…acquaintances, really, but they
could
be friends if I tried. Even Noelle might someday fall into that category.

“Nothing, I guess,” I admit. “But it’s
weird
, Mom.”

It’s her turn to laugh. “Weirder than being raised in a commune, or learning how to grow your own food and sew your own clothing? Honey, you were
made
for weird. Out of all the people in this world, you can handle this.”

I nod, actually starting to believe it at least a little bit.

“So now that we’ve established that much, tell me everything else. I’m here for you, Isis.”

“Albin’s pretty cool,” I say. “He’s the half werewolf whose dad is a vet; he gets along really well with Maxx. And there’s Lydia, the Salem witch. You met her already, remember? She’s the mentor of us all.”

“That doesn’t sound like so bad a life.” She shifts so she’s no longer sitting on her feet. They must be falling asleep.

“I’ve messed up,” I say. “I went and saw the half-Komodo and she got injured. It was totally my fault.”

“Do no harm, Isis.”

“That’s a Wiccan belief.” And even then, she kind of mangled it. She raises one thin eyebrow at me. My mom may be hippie in spirit and dress, but she grooms herself immaculately. “That doesn’t make it untrue.”

I’m not going to argue it. There’s really no point. Besides, she’s right. Luckily, I
did
try to make it right. I just hope Father Moss sees that.

Mom glances at her watch, shaking her bangles away from the face so she can read it. “I hate to cut and run, baby, but I have an appointment with some farmers. They’re conducting a seminar on upside down growing, and I don’t want to be late.”

I’m sure there’s a huge market for growing food upside down, but I don’t know where. Or why. I stifle my laughter and pull her close for a hug. “Thanks, Mom. I guess I just needed a dose of common sense.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” She slips her sandals back on and waves at me.

The door shuts behind her with a click and I realize I actually
do
feel better. A lot better. My mom is awesome. Now I’m ready for a day of watching Netflix and munching on brains. Eh. It might not be the life I envisioned, but at least I’m not a half-Komodo dragon who lives in the basement of a church, right?

Thirty-Three:

Help! I Need Somebody.

My landline rings early the next morning, and I mean early. I think even the birds are still asleep. I know I am as I scramble for the stupid thing, miss the end table and wind up on the floor, the phone lying next to me. Ugh. I grab it and bring it up to my ear.

“Hrug?” It’s definitely not English and the voice on the other end sounds confused.

“Isis, is that you? It’s Andrew.”

I swipe my hand across my face in a vain attempt to clear away the nighttime cobwebs, not sure I heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Andrew.” His voice is both rushed
and
hushed. “I really need to talk to you, Isis.”

“You’re out of your mind. There’s no way I’m talking to you.” I hang up.

The phone immediately begins to ring again. I snatch it up out of the cradle. “Seriously? Quit calling! You’re going to wake up my mom.”

“Then don’t hang up on—”

I click the receiver down and unplug the cord attaching it to the wall. Unfortunately, my cell starts buzzing. I snatch it up and press the green ‘talk’ button. “Andrew,” I growl, “I mean it. Stop. Calling. Me.”

“Isis, you don’t understand. They’re hunting me.”

That
gets my attention. “Who’re hunting you?”

“I don’t
know
,” he whispers. “But I think they want to kill me. Isis, please…didn’t you get my letter?”

He sounds absolutely panicked, and my sluggishly beating heart melts just a tiny bit. “I did,” I admit. “But you’re still a jerk.” My words don’t have as much heat behind them as I might wish.

“I just loved you,” he whispers.

“I’m half a zombie,” I whisper back, mindful of my mom, sleeping soundly in the bed across the hall. “I had a
life
, Andrew. And you totally screwed that up.”

“Look, I really need to talk to you. In person. Will you meet me?”

I tap my index finger on the bedspread. “Not alone,” I finally say.

“Come to the church.”

“The
church
? What’re
you
doing at the church?”

“Hiding. Please, Isis.”

I haul myself up off the floor and run my free hand through my hair. “I’ll be there within the hour, Andrew.” I click the phone off. I have no idea why I’m willing to help Andrew, but I am. It doesn’t take me long to stagger to the bathroom, splash cold water on my face and cram myself into a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt. I roll my healed shoulder forward to make sure it won’t fall off. Nope, I’m good to go. I grab my apartment keys and hurry out the front door, stuffing my cell into my front pocket. The faster I reach the church, the better I’ll feel. I press the button for the elevator, grateful beyond belief that I’m alone. Thankfully, the elevator arrives on time, the door swooshes open and I step inside.

And stagger as my feet sink into damp soil. Where the heck did the dirt come from? In the split second it takes for the thought to form, the blue black of an early morning hits me full in the face. I blink my bone dry eyes, wishing once again for some blasted tears. My vision finally clears and I know where I am. Callie mews at me from her perch atop a stone angel’s head. Yeah. I’m in the church cemetery. I just have no idea how I got here.

“Isisss, I did not know you could move through reality.”

I’m surprised, but happy, to see Maxx. “I thought you were staying with Nacelles.”

“I enjoy it here,” the hell hound says. “And this is a solution which works for all of us, as I cannot stay at your apartment. Besides, Father Moss has chicken.”

Of course he does. “Maxx, how did I get here?”

The big dog sneezes and my hair blows back in the wind he creates. “I already told you, Isis. You moved through reality.”

“What do you mean?”

“What were you thinking about before you arrived?” He asks.

“That the faster I got to church, the…” my voice trails off. “Are you telling me I can teleport at will?” I have brief images of just appearing wherever I want, whenever I want. It would make sitting in traffic on Spaghetti Junction a thing of the past. How cool is that?

“Not exactly,” Maxx says. “But the idea is similar. For instance, if you tried to teleport now, I doubt you would succeed. I believe it is based on the strength of your need, rather than the strength of your desire.”

I frown. “I didn’t know vampires could do that.”

“In ancient times vampires were thought to be able to transform into bats,” the hell-hound replies. “In reality, they simply relocated from one place to another. Since in those times, vampires chose to inhabit the same areas as bats, the assumption was a logical one.”

Interesting. “So Ink gave me this ability?”

“Very likely,” Maxx says. “She
is
quite old.”

“But I can teleport?”

“Only when the need is great, it appears.”

Well, darn, so much for no traffic travelling. “I’m here to – to speak to someone, Maxx.”

“Ah, yes. Your errant boyfriend. The kitten you left here found him.” Father Moss lands with a significant thump on the ground next to the hell hound.

“Hello, Isis.” I hear Andrew from behind the stone angel Callie is perched on. “I’m glad you came.”

Thirty-Four:

Rut-Roh.

Hearing him is like pouring salt on an open wound. I lose my ever-lovin’ mind and try to claw my way past Maxx, but the stupid hell hound refuses to budge and pushing on him is like trying to move a mountain. “Maxx, move your carcass!”

“I cannot do that,” Maxx replies. “That would not be a wise course of action for either of us.”

“I’m not going to kill him,” I growl. I attempt to get around Maxx, but he stands his ground. Who decided hell hounds need to be the size of ginormous cows, anyway?

“Your actions tell me otherwise.” The hell hound refuses to move.

The vampire peers around the angel’s head. “You said you’d talk to me.”

“Look, I don’t even know why you’re
here
. Say what you have to say. Oh, and Andrew? Keep it short.”

“I needed somewhere to go,” my ex admits. “I’m not old enough for anyone to take me seriously and too old to be someone’s protégé.”

I know I shouldn’t feel sorry for him, I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I guess I’m not all that hard-hearted, after all. And he looks like crap. Those gorgeous black ringlets I love so much are dull and lifeless and his teeth are no longer white, but starting to yellow. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m being hunted, like I said. I haven’t been able to eat properly.”

I blink. “You mean you have to drink blood to look good?”

“And from what I’ve heard, you have to eat raw brains,” he snaps. “What’s your point, Isis?”

“You
changed
me.” I finally say it out loud, and the unspoken accusation that’s been lodged in my chest just dissolves like magic.

“You’re right. I changed you. But the monsters changed me, too; they changed
both
of us.”

My anger at him kind of goes away at that point. I mean, how can I stay mad at a guy who’s just as messed up as I am? We are what we are. I guess it shows on my face because he comes out from behind the angel and sits, cross-legged, in front of Maxx. The hell hound sinks to the ground and closes his eyes. I guess as far as he’s concerned, the danger’s over.