One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie Tale (9 page)

“Follow me,” the vampire says.

I follow Ink across the floor. “Where’re you taking me?” And why am I not worried about going somewhere with a vampire I never met? It’s not like my track record is great, but then again, neither are most of my ideas, honestly. So this is nothing new.

“I told you, the owner. He frightens Tucker, so he tends to stay out of sight when the club is open. It makes things easier on everyone.”

I really don’t want to meet the creature that can frighten the revenant at the door, but I’ve already committed myself to whatever Ink has in mind.

“Come on,” Ink says. “It’s just on the other side of those lights.”

Apparitions appear in front of us, drifting in and out of the lit circles we walk through.

“Are those ghosts?” I ask, though I’m sure I know the answer. At least they’re not more ghouls.

“Yes. They like it down here. It makes them feel…alive.” One brushes against Ink’s face and she brushes it away. We continue across the floor to a blank wall that’s clear of everything. It’s like a space in time that everyone, and everything, avoids. Ink places her hand on the wall and it slides open.

Fourteen:

Cap’n, There be Monsters Here.

“Cool!”

The vampire smiles at my enthusiasm. “You’re quite young.” She raises her voice. “Nacelles, I’ve brought you a visitor.”

A deep voice climbs above a host of moans and growls. “Did you bring my ghouls a treat?”

What
is
it with the undead and their obsession with eating people? Oh yeah. They need blood.

Ink gestures at me.

“I—Ummm…Hi.” Great. I sound like a blithering idiot. Not for the first time. “I’m Isis, and Ink told me I should meet you?” That’s sort of better.

“And why would she do that?”

I still can’t see what’s speaking to me, but it sounds like a Mack truck drove over its throat once, then backed up and did it again. Multiple times.

My eyes flick to the expressionless vampire standing next to me. “A ghoul tried to eat me in the club.”

“My ghouls get peckish from time to time. It’s the nature of ghouls to eat.”

“It’s the nature of me to live,” I snap. “I’d really like to keep it that way.”

“Isis,” Ink hisses. “Watch your tone.”

“You’re bold to come into my club, tempt my pets’ appetites, then take umbrage when I point out the obvious,” the faceless voice says. “Come closer.”

“I’d rather not. No offense, but how do I know
you’re
not going to try and eat me?”

“I don’t eat.”

“Everyone eats,” I scoff. “Ink told me even the undead eat.”

“Ah, but I am so undead that I no longer require food.”

How is that even possible? I take a step forward, curious to see the creature. “Are you sure the ghouls won’t eat me?”

The creature laughs. “Don’t worry. My ghouls are under my control. They won’t eat anything I don’t allow. Ink, bring her closer.” The vampire gestures at me.

The growls grow louder as I trail Ink through the open doorway. The door slides shut behind me. I bite the inside of my cheek. And immediately spit out a gob of flesh. Gross.

“Did you just spit on my floor?” The creature asks.

“I…uhhh…yeah, sorry.” I bend over and pick up the soggy mass. Blech. Now what? I stuff the bit into one of my pockets.

“I’m looking forward to meeting you face to face.”

Well, gee, doesn’t that just make me feel all warm and tingly. I continue walking down the hall, which is beginning to feel like it goes on forever. Just as that thought crosses my mind, a shape forms a few feet in front of me. I squeak and take a step backward.

The figure laughs and stretches out a hand. It’s skin, stretching taut over bone. Like in the movie ‘The Mummy’. I reach out and take it. It’s cool to the touch, but I guess that makes sense since the guy’s practically a skeleton.

“What are you?” I know I’m asking that a lot, but it doesn’t make sense to stop.

“Why, Ink, did you not tell our young guest what to expect? Nacelles Caldmer, lich, at your service.” His voice is more gravelly than Father Moss’. I wish the old gargoyle was with me. I don’t know what good he’d be in this situation, but then again, I don’t know what good I am, either. His fingers scrape over the screws in my wrist. The lich hisses.

“Interesting. Why do you have screws in your wrist, Isis?”

“I’m half a zombie. My hand fell off.”

“How inconvenient for you,” Nacelles says. He steps closer. I force myself to stand still. His eyes are almost nothing more than hollow sockets in a long since rotted skull, but I can feel them boring into me. “Is that why you’ve come to my club?”

“No disrespect meant, but I don’t know what a lich is.”

“Is that all? Why, that’s a simple answer.” He bows in my direction and I find myself staring at actual holes in his skull. I’m pretty sure those didn’t appear overnight. “I’m a magician,” he straightens up. “When I was quite young…well, much younger than I am now, I recreated myself in this form.”

“But why would you do that?” I stare at him, at the almost mummy-like leathery skin. What possesses someone to do that to themselves?

“I craved more power than being a simple magician gave me,” he says.

I’m pretty sure ‘magician’ signifies something completely different than David Copperfield, but I state the obvious anyway. “So you’re an undead magician.”

“I am an undead researcher,” the lich corrects. “I do not perform children’s parlor tricks. Now, back to my original question; what brings you into my club?”

“Actually, I’m looking for someone.”

Nacelles cocks his head to one side. “Does this mysterious someone have a name?”

“His name is Andrew.”

“I’m not familiar with him. Ink, could he be one of your kind?”

The vampire shrugs gracefully. “He could be. There are always more vampires being created. But he could also be one of the were-breed. They are even less discriminating than we are.”

I shake my head. “Oh, no. He’s a vampire. He’s
definitely
a vampire. He even tried to bite me. So now it’s my turn.”

Ink’s eyebrows raise and I can feel Nacelles’ intense interest. “You plan on biting the vampire back?”

“No. I plan on killing him.”

“To what end?” Ink asks. “Nacelles, can I
please
have a chair?”

The lich waves his hand and an honest-to-gosh office chair appears. The vampire sits down, crossing her legs at the ankles, like I’ve seen pictures of supermodels do. “Now, as I was saying, why on earth would you want to kill Andrew?”

“You mean other than the fact that he tried to chew on me? Because I want to be human again, and killing him will accomplish that.”

“Whoever told you that lied,” Ink says flatly.

I’ve never believed in the term ‘boiling blood’ until now. She lied to me. The half-fae actually
lied
. For a split second, everything around me gains a reddish tint. “I’ve got to go. How do I get out of here?” I have to go back to the church. I don’t particularly want to, but I don’t know where else to find Noelle. And finding her is my top priority.

“The same way you came in, I’d imagine,” Ink replies.

“What about the ghouls. Will they attack?”

The lich shakes his skull. “They know not to touch you. You’ll be safe.”

That’s a relief. “Ummm…thanks for…” I’m not sure what to say to either of them, quite frankly. Thanks for not letting flesh eating monsters devour me? Thanks for introducing me to the oddest club in the history of clubs? “Everything,” I finally finish.

“Come back anytime,” Nacelles says. “You’re an interesting mix and I’d love to chat more in depth.”

“I’ll think about it,” I promise, more out of polite habit than any real commitment to any reoccurring conversations with the lich.

“I’ll find your…friend…and give him your best,” Ink promises.

Daniel hasn’t even crossed my radar, so I’m glad she remembers him.

“It has been millennia since I have seen a half-zombie,” I hear Nacelles say to Ink as I walk away. Her reply is muffled by a sudden influx of growls.

Terrific. I have a gauntlet of ghouls to run. And run I do. Past rows upon rows of human-like monsters with rows upon rows of bared, razor sharp teeth, dressed in identical gray suits with identical red silk ties. The growls increase as I race by. I catch flickers of red eyes glaring at me and one pair of golden eyes that wink out of existence almost as soon as my brain can register it.

Fifteen:

Tuesday Night’s Alright for Fightin’.

It doesn’t take me long to reach the church. I gun the Bug all the way there, praying I’m not stopped by some overeager officer of the law. The doors are shut, but it’s Tuesday. I know for a fact that the church is open for business. I pull the Bug over to the curb and hop out. Closed doors aren’t going to stop me. Not today. Not when Noelle lied.

My fists slam into the doors. “Open up! Noelle, if you’re in there, open the doors! Right freakin’ now!”

The doors fly open. “What on God’s green earth…” Noelle stands there and it’s all I can do not to punch her in the mouth.

“You
wanted
me to kill him,” I snarl. “Why? What was the point?”

“Oh, that.”

“That,” I stalk toward her, “was a crappy thing to do.”

“Don’t pretend you never considered it,” she replies, her arms folded.

“Of
course
I considered it!” I snap. “That’s not the point!” By this time, I’m in the sanctuary.

“That’s
entirely
the point! You
want
to kill him. I gave you the perfect excuse. It’s not my fault that you don’t have the guts to see it through!”

“You’ve been after me since I walked in the doors of this church, Noelle. What, exactly, is your problem?”

The half-fae steps into my personal bubble and it takes just about all I have not to step back. I know where this is heading. I was a kid once. “I want you to stay away from Daniel, but that’s not happening.”

I guess that means she heard about our date. I don’t want to deal with her and her obsession with the half-vampire, but it looks like I’m not going to have much choice in the matter. “Look,” I say,” I don’t want to fight with you. I’m really not interested in Daniel. This is about Andrew.”

“Screw Andrew. Every time I turn around, you’re right there, next to Daniel.”

This isn’t going to end well. I just know it. “He’s helping me out with something, Noelle. That’s it.”

“Yeah, yeah. We all know about your little quest for your boy toy, or healing or whatever.” She smirks. “Didn’t anyone bother telling you that we’re unfixable? What makes you so special?”

Wow. “We’re all special, Noelle.” Even to my own ears, I sound pretentious and stuck-up. And what Noelle says next just confirms it.

“Where’d you get that little gem of wisdom? Out of a Cracker Jack box?” She snorts a laugh. “Do you actually
believe
the tripe you’re spewing?”

She’s being ugly. I’m over it. I take two steps toward her. She doesn’t back down. “I don’t know what bug crawled up your…backside…and died, but get over yourself, Noelle. I’m not here to steal Daniel. He’s so not my type.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” she growls. Her eyes start to glow and I swallow. Hard. I think I just made a colossal error in judgment. I raise my hand in a ‘stop’ kind of gesture. And I’m pretty sure my heart doesn’t just skip some beats, like normal, but stops altogether, because my fingers aren’t fingers anymore. They’re freakin’
copperheads
. As in the snakes just about every Georgian is familiar with. As in venomous snakes that are doing their best to gnaw on me. I do what any self-respecting person would do. I scream. And shriek. And shake my hand hard enough that my wrist pops, hoping my fingers will fly off and slither far, far away.

Noelle laughs. I look down. My fingers are fingers again. They’re flesh colored, with no forked tongues where my nails should be. Just five fingers, like God intended. I narrow my eyes and shove the half-fae backward. She flies through the air and slams into the far wall before sliding down to sit, stunned, on the floor. Guess I’m stronger than I thought. When did
that
happen?

“Children, that’s enough!” Father Moss’s voice is loud enough to wake the dead.

I’m rooted to the ground. I’ve never been strong before. Like, ever. I’m so busy wondering about it, I don’t even realize Lydia is standing in front of me until she says “Blessed be.” I sag immediately, wanting nothing more than sleep. What did she do to me?

“Lydia?” Father Moss calls. “Is everything all right?”

“We’re fine here.” Lydia gazes into my eyes. “Aren’t we, Isis?”

I nod. “What happened? Is Noelle okay?”

“She’s fine. Want to tell me what started the fight?” The witch’s voice is soothing and close to hypnotic. I wonder why she cares.

“She thinks I’m dating Daniel.” Lydia’s eyes are an astonishing shade of green. They remind me of these plants I saw once at the Botanical Gardens in Atlanta: a green so vibrant it almost doesn’t look real. Bottle green; that’s the color.

“Did you try telling her you’re not?”

I frown. Wait. Why am I so fixated on her eyes? I shake my head, but the feeling doesn’t go away. I rub at my eyes, but answer her anyway. “All she wants to do is argue.” Then I remember the snakes. “And turn my hands into snakes.” My head clears. “She turned my hands into
snakes
!”

“Isis, calm down,” Lydia says, but I’m having none of it. Now that I’m not staring straight at her, I recognize the feeling.

“You mesmerized me!” I accuse.

She shakes her head. “That’s a vampire’s ability, not mine.”

“Then what’d you do?” I cross my arms.

“It’s a simple spell,” the witch answers. “But not one you should have been able to break.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see Noelle get to her feet. “Is she going to attack me again?” And speaking of which… “What’s up with the snakes?”

“Noelle can bend reality,” Lydia replies. At my blank look, she elaborates. “Your fingers weren’t actual snakes. My daughter is a mistress of illusions.”

Noelle is Lydia’s daughter? That explains the illusions. Or, who knows, that particular parlor trick could come from her father. I have no idea what kind of power a witch/fae hybrid might have. And, lucky me, she hates me. I’m so screwed.