Reckless Revenge: Book Four (Spellbound 4) (9 page)

“Shut up and take off your shirt.”

With a slight smile, he tugged off his ribbed tank-top and dropped it on the floor between us. I stepped closer. I hadn’t seen any visible scars before, but I’d never really looked closely either. Pale smooth skin. No marks. No blemishes. Only a scatter of freckles along his shoulder blades.

“What were you looking for?” He stooped to grab his tank and pulled it back on over his head.

“I-I’m not sure. Something. A mark. I thought...it’s nothing. Never mind.” A sad smile touched my lips. “Didn’t mean to mention past stuff and upset you. I know you don’t get along with your dad.”

“Understatement,” he muttered.

Silence occupied the space between our bodies, heaved against the walls, and made the room seem dimmer. The small dirty windows hindered the bruised, splintered light.

“I should go.” Trent moved to the stairwell, then paused. “Would you prefer to train alone next time?”

“Nah. It wouldn’t be the same without the snarky verbal abuse,” I said lightly, but he didn’t smile.

I walked him to the door, and then he kissed me so fervently that I forgot about vengeance, forgot lycans, and forgot about training. He kissed me until all that mattered was
us
. All I wanted was to be free of the heartache, and just be a normal girl.

But that wasn’t going to happen while coldhearted revenge was still a bitter taste in my mouth, coating my tongue like sour candy.

Once I finally got Trent out the door, I went back to my room and gathered the items I would need for the spell and tossed them in my backpack. To kill some time, I studied the grimoires and practiced a few spells. When Darrah finally came home, the red eyes on the clock read: eleven-thirty.

Where had she been? With Trent’s dad or hanging with members of her coven? It would be simple to just ask her, but I wasn’t entirely sure she’d give me an honest answer. She wanted me to respect her privacy. So I did.

A knock on my door. Speak of the devil.

“Come in.” I plopped on the bed with a textbook, pretending to do homework.

Darrah poked her head in the door. “You’re up late.”

“Studying. Big test in World History tomorrow.” Which wasn’t a total lie. I did have a test. I just wasn’t studying for it. “Where have you been hiding?”

“Oh…just out and about.” She mysteriously smiled.

“Spending a lot of time with Maxwell?” I prodded, flipping a page on the textbook as if I wasn’t really interested in her whereabouts.

“Uh-huh.” She drifted over to the dresser and read the titles on a stack of books dusting the surface, with that weird smile still playing on her red lips. “He’s such a darling. But I’m gonna get fat if he keeps taking me to dinner.”

Ewww
. Just ew. Imagining the two of them together romantically made me want to claw my eyes out.

I glared at my aunt. “So…is he like your boyfriend now? Because dad hasn’t been dead that long.”

“Don’t be childish. He’s an old friend of the family, helping me through a rough time.”

Ha!
I held back a snort-laugh. “You mourned, for what? Like a week?”

“We all grieve in different ways, Shiloh.” Darrah scanned me from head-to-toe with a repulsed expression. “You look like crap. Get some rest.”

Done with this conversation, my aunt—the ice-cold bitch—stalked out of the room. I waited a minute, and then got up to shut and lock my bedroom door.

Changing out of my workout clothes, I threw on tattered jeans and a magenta tee, and then slipped on a hoodie and my trusty Doc Martens. With Darrah home, I had to sneak out now to meet Brittany. Super.

Hauling the straps of my backpack over my shoulders, I climbed out my bedroom window, and shimmied down the drainpipe. I landed with a soft thud onto the grass and jogged across the lawn. I put the Jeep in neutral and rolled downhill, hoping Darrah wouldn’t hear me start the engine.

Fifteen minutes later, I parked near the arched entrance of Silent Hollows Cemetery. From the glove compartment, I grabbed a flashlight and a squirt gun loaded with holy water. I left the backpack on the seat while I scouted out a location for the spell. Moving toward the cemetery gates, a chill raced down my back.

Do not panic. It’s only a graveyard.

Yeah, right. A
super
dark and spooky graveyard.

The gate gave a rusty moan when I forced it open. From the streetlights around the edge of the fence, deep pockets of shadows fell across the pathway.

Every noise made me flinch and peer over my shoulder. Even with the flashlight on, every shadow moved. At least I didn’t have to stress about any lycans showing up—that had to be a good thing.

My gaze darted across the terrain. Cold winds shivered through the trees. My teeth ground and my body shuddered. The darkness seemed to wrap itself around me quickly and surreptitiously.

Squelching my phobia, I shoved the squirt gun into my pocket and swung the beam of light throughout the shadowy cemetery that was dripping with unseen dangers. The fog heaved like some miasma from hell. Headstones gleamed silver like bony specters.

Shades raced ahead, scampering like puppies on a walk. They separated and morphed. Bakaz, Kasha, and Zrekam squatted before me. The shades tilted their heads, eager as dogs, their paws clasped, with impatient faces and big crimson eyes. Kasha tilted her head, her dreadlocks bouncing off little shoulders.

The shades froze. Listened to the night. I stopped, too. Trees rustled, leaves fell. Something advanced in the rolling fog.

Forget overcoming my phobia. I needed to get the hell outta here! And fast!

I swung the flashlight at the iron gate, which separated the graveyard from the mortuary. Distracted, I tripped and teetered on the edge of an opening. My hands flailed and I tumbled downward. The flashlight slipped from my fingers. My shoulder hit something hard.

The fall knocked the breath from me. Moist dirt coated my arms and hands. Worms squished on my hoodie.

“Ewww!” I squealed, brushing them off.

On hands and knees, I felt around for the flashlight. My fingers curled around the base and I flicked the power button with my thumb, but it wouldn’t turn on. Damn. The impact must’ve jostled it. I stuck the flashlight into the pocket of my hoodie and glanced upward. I’d fallen into a friggin’ grave and onto a coffin. Just super.

Panting, I grasped at jutting roots and struggled to get a foothold with my boots, which sank into the soft earth.

Demonic heads peeked over the edge. Kasha extended a claw to grasp my hand. Bakaz tugged on my other arm. Struggling and grunting, they hauled me free.

“Thanks, guys. Do you think anyone saw that?” I asked.

Bakaz blinked. Head tilted.

Pools of blackness doused the terrain. My legs trembled. I banged the flashlight on my palm, trying to get it to turn on.

Ugh!
Stupid phobia.

“Another perfectly nice stroll through the cemetery ruined,” I said, and thumped the flashlight against my hand again. This time it turned on.
Whew.

Three things were immediately apparent. One, someone had purposely disturbed this grave, because the dirt was still moist and fresh. Two, the mahogany coffin had been broken and splintered from within, and
something
had obviously clawed its way out. Three, the flashlight revealed muddy footprints leading away from the grave. Whatever had emerged from the coffin hadn’t ventured too far from its bed.

At least I had fallen on the silky interior of the coffin and not on the part that resembled firewood. I could’ve been impaled like a vampire by the sharp stakes.

Shades stiffened. Red eyes glowing.

“Something comes,” Kasha whispered.

Thin swords of pale light shifted position as I moved the flashlight over the graveyard. My heart banged in my chest. My witchy senses sharpened. Not a ghost, but something else.

Shades stood near my legs. Kasha clutched my trembling hand. The night seemed to wrap around me tightly. Tremors racked my body.

Where the hell was Brittany?

Traces of smoke billowing from the chimneys of the nearby homes offered little comfort. Especially when the thick aroma of embalming fluid and the disgusting odor of decaying flesh stung my nostrils. Laboring footsteps shuffled in the grass. The footfalls grew closer. Louder.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. As I turned, I smacked into something. Grunting, I stumbled backward, smacking my hip on a tombstone. It just wasn’t my day. I squinted at what I’d bumped into, then blinked.

No freakin’ way.

With sluggish, jerking movements, a teenage girl emerged from the fog. Thick blue veins swelled through her waxed paper skin. Her ragged cheerleading outfit was grimy and her aura glimmered like a dying fire. A sickly sweet stench rose from the blond brain-muncher. She licked her dry, cracked lips.

Zombies.
Seriously? Not bad enough I had to battle lycans, but now the walking dead?

She shambled forward with outstretched arms—full
Thriller
-style. “Aaarrgghh!”

I shrieked and pointed the squirt gun at zombie girl, then squeezed the trigger. A stream of holy water struck
corpse-a-licious
in the face.

She thrashed her head and shook off beads of water from her short blondish hair. She charged and hit me hard. The force of my landing knocked the wind out of me. I scrambled to my feet and kicked her in the stomach. She stumbled into a tombstone.

I glanced at the shades. “Could use some help here, guys!”

Nothing. Only stares. Weird smiles. Kasha shrugged. Friggin’ great.

I almost laughed. A nice, big, bitter laugh. Guess I was on my own. Grumbling under my breath, I cast the shades a menacing glare, then faced my undead opponent.

Using my new ninja moves, I crouched to sweep one outstretched leg behind zombie girl’s ankles, yanking her feet out from under her. She hit the ground, but stood up faster than I would’ve thought possible for a dead chick and took two staggering steps back, then lunged again. I headbutted her crazy hard. Even I glimpsed stars for a second. I swayed, but managed to stay upright.

Guess my kickboxing lessons with Trent had finally paid off!

Before she could attack, I created a magickal fireball between my palms. I raised my hand to throw the ball of flames, but froze. The fire illuminated her cherub face. That’s when I recognized her. Kayla Bishop, an undead cheerleader. Imagine that.

Quickly extinguishing the fireball, I lifted my hands in a truce gesture. “Kayla? Is that you?”

A slobbering Kayla nodded.

“Why did you attack me?”

She pouted. “
Hangrah.”

“Humph. Well, I’m
not
food, got it?”

Kayla’s shoulders drooped. “Uh-huh.”

Profanities came shrieking from the far side of the cemetery. The echo startled me until I recognized the source of the cursing was Brittany.

I ordered the shades to hide, and they scampered away, vanishing in the fog.

Brittany’s flashlight bobbed wildly as she crossed the lawn. “Dammit to hell! Got mud on my new Sketchers.” She’d worn black clothes with white sneakers. Correction: muddy white sneakers
.
She stopped near us and demanded, “Where do you want to do this?”

“Uh, Brittany.” I pointed at the formerly dead Kayla. “I think we have bigger problems.”

Brittany stared. Mouth open. She glanced from me to her ghoulish looking dead friend. Her face winter white. She sucked in a breath. Shaking her head with jerky movements, her mouth opened, then shut.

“Kayla? I thought you were dead,” Brittany said.

I rolled my eyes and was tempted to blurt,
Open your eyes. She’s a freakin’ zombie! Hands on hips and frowny. All blue-veiny and insipid.
Just your friendly neighborhood flesh-eater.

Kayla’s head tilted. Her chapped lips lifted in an uneven smile. Sheesh, she was a hot mess.

“Oh, god.” Clutching her stomach, Brittany bent over and vomited. I moved closer and held her hair. She retched again before straightening, then muttered, “Thank you.”

“You okay now?” I asked.

Brittany wiped a shaky hand across her mouth, her eyes shiny with tears. “No. Confused…” She broke off, her cheeks puffing.

Kayla raised her arms. “Brittany—
hag
!”

Brittany’s eyes grew wide and she glanced at me. “What? Did that corpse just call me a hag?” Now she seemed more like her usual bitchy self.

“No, I think she means
hug.
It’s zombie lingo. I’ve read online that zombies can be affectionate, but hugging one often leads to, well, having your brains eaten.”

“Yuk!” Brittany backed away, scrunching up her thin face. “Beyond gross.”

Kayla giggled, but it was more like a twisted, gurgling rumble in her throat. She had bloody scrapes on her arms and legs. Her neck and right calf had deep teeth marks. Her feet were dirty and bare, her movements jaunty and slow.

I wanted nothing more than to hug Brittany and tell her that everything would be okay, but I wasn’t sure it would be. I blinked several times. Didn’t help. Yup, Kayla was really there.

“Nobody panic.” I tugged the cell phone from my back pocket and dialed Evans. He answered on the second ring. “We have a situation.” He spouted about the lycans and I cut him off. “Let me clarify—more like an
undead
situation,” I said, then listened to him bark orders. I hung up and faced the girls. “We need to sneak outta here without being seen. Because I’m not sure how we’ll explain Kayla being back from the dead.”

“Ya think?” Brittany snapped.

“I’m
hangrah
.” Kayla patted her stomach. She had this whole pale Goth look going for her now. Girl needed a fresh spray tan—and quick!

“I bet she’s hungry. Zombies eat, um, brains, right?” I said. “God, I hope she wasn’t a vegetarian.”

Brittany’s eyebrows pulled downward and her mouth puckered. “Morbid much?”

I put a hand on Kayla’s gray, cold arm. “Let’s get moving. We can find something for you to munch on later.”

“Why you staring?” Kayla’s voice was garbled.

I rolled my eyes. “Because you’re back from the dead and seriously freaking us out. This is getting weird, even for me.”

Brittany shuddered. I rubbed her back.

“It’s gonna be okay,” I said. “We just need to get to Evans.” I didn’t add that my mentor was thrilled with the chance to see a real live zombie, except he’d change his mind once he got a whiff of her. I covered my mouth, trying not to breathe too deeply. Or gag.

Brittany lifted her tweezed brows. “Evans? Who’s that?”

I
so
did not have time for this.

But I gave them the short version. “Trent’s uncle is an occult expert. Paranormal investigator—whatever. He can help. If we can reach Craven Manor—”

“Are you nuts?” Brittany clutched her flashlight like a weapon. “I’m not going
there.
No way. That place is right out of Amityville Horror!”

“Suck it up, Brittany,” I said, then glanced at Kayla. “You need to come with us.” Placing a hand on each of their backs, I guided them forward. “Let’s go.”

Kayla shuffled with an odd limp and Brittany marched ahead, clearly wanting to put some space between herself and her undead best friend.

When we reached the entrance, an SUV drove past and we ducked behind a headstone. I peeked around the slab. The street was quiet and deserted. I signaled for them to follow and we ran under the arch. Well, Brittany and I ran, Kayla just sorta shambled.

I unlocked the Jeep and Kayla crawled into the backseat, Brittany in front. I put the window down—Kayla
seriously
stunk—and started the engine. I half-expected it to stall, like in horror movies, but the engine caught on the first try.

It felt like the longest drive of my life. I put the fog lights on to see through the haze, thick as a sea of coagulated milk. Occasionally, Kayla made weird guttural noises. I veered right on Pine Street, and then turned onto the driveway of the manor.

We got out of the car, walked up the porch steps, and knocked on the backdoor. A few seconds later, Evans opened it. He had waited in the kitchen, wearing a rumpled, light-blue collared shirt with the sleeves folded to his elbows, suit vest, and wrinkled slacks. His hair was mussed, as if he’d fallen asleep in his clothes again.

We stepped inside the kitchen and Evans’s eyes grew huge when he spotted Kayla.

“Please come in, girls. And do try to be quiet. Trent and Mrs. Baylock are asleep,” Evans said. “Follow me.” He closed the backdoor.

As we crossed the linoleum, my boots made loud slaps, but quieted when I hit the carpeted hallway. Moonlight spilled through stained glass, illuminating bulky furniture and gold-framed paintings.

Evans opened the library door, and we treaded past him inside. I slumped onto the leather couch beside Trent’s sleeping cat. I lifted her, nuzzled her furry face with my cheek, and kissed her head. Charm settled on my lap.

Brittany stood near the doorway, digging her teeth into her lower lip. Kayla lumbered to the desk, dragging her wounded leg, which was seriously gross looking.

“This is absolutely fascinating!” Evans walked in a slow circle around Kayla. “Please tell me what you recall from the day you were murdered. Can you speak?”

Kayla ungracefully plopped onto an armchair by the desk and bones loudly cracked when she shrugged. “Sort of.”

“Can you write down what happened?” I asked.

Kayla nodded, drool seeping from her cracked lips. Evans handed her a pencil and paper. She moaned, struggling to hold the pencil and write. After a few minutes, she handed the paper to me.

Oh goody.

I cleared my throat and read the text. “Remember walking home through woods. Saw two guys from school jogging on a trail and this…um, what’s this word?” I glanced at Kayla with raised brows.

“Uh,
wolf
.” Her voice was thick and guttural. In the light of the chandelier, there were visible signs of deterioration on her skin.

“Oh!” I scanned the page. “The, uh, huge wolf came. Everything happened so fast. It bit one boy on his arm. It had gold eyes. Dragged him into the bushes. Heard him screaming. I started to run. Before I got too far, the wolf jumped on me and took a bite out of my leg. I fell and it punctured my throat with sharp teeth. Then I died.”

“You said it was dogs,” Brittany accused, staring in my direction. “You lied. It’s a werewolf.”

“Actually, it’s a lycan. Or rather,
lycans
. I couldn’t tell you before. Sorry.”

Brittany’s waxed eyebrows wrinkled. “What the hell are lycans?”

Evans explained to the girls what lycans were and how they were related to the recent attacks on the football players.

When he finished, I twisted in my seat to glance at him. “If Kayla and my dad were bitten by a lycan, why didn’t they
shift
into one?” And why was I the only witness still breathing?

Brittany staggered to the sofa and slumped down onto the seat beside me. I grasped her cold, quivering hand in mine. I snatched a blanket off the back of the sofa and wrapped it over her shoulders.

Closing my eyes, I summoned the element of fire. The blast of hot air was immediate. Heat draped over us. Brittany’s skin warmed and she stopped shaking.
Thank you
, I said silently to the fire element, then dismissed it with a flick of my wrist.

“But they weren’t just bitten once, they were murdered. They would’ve survived one bite like the boys, but not numerous wounds.” Evans rested his elbows on the desktop and shifted in his seat to study Kayla. “When did you become conscious?”

Her head fell to one side. “Not sure. Awaken in coffin. Then I
zmash
through the wood. Climb to surface. Stay near grave. At night, I hunt for things to chew.”

Evans turned in my direction “Which cemetery did you say you were at?”

“Silent Hollows. I met Brittany there to do—” Brittany coughed loudly and elbowed me in the ribs. My mouth dropped open stupidly, then I shut it for a second before blurting, “Uh, I meant we were there to, um, pay our respects. Yeah.”

Evans’s eyebrows rose. “In the middle of the night?”

Brittany spoke up. “I like to visit my BFF’s grave when it’s not crowded. Mourn in private.”

Evans shook his head. “I believe that’s the same graveyard where the groundskeeper was killed. Hmm, I wonder if there’s a connection to his death and Kayla’s reanimation.” His stare bore into me. “Did you notice anything incongruous near her grave?”

“Like what?”

“Greek symbols and branches of burnt
Taxus brevifolia
? Any sign of a blasphemous occult ritual?”

Brittany gaped at my mentor. “Huh?”

“
Taxus brevifolia
is also known as yew, which can be dried and used as incense in a traditional means of raising the dead. Before Christianity was introduced, the yew was a sacred tree favored by the Druids, who built their temples near them. Someone with necromantic talents might have done this to Kayla. The reason I ask is that the dead can be resurrected by a ritual
or
they can become reanimated by a virus. Now, if it’s the latter, then every morgue and cemetery in town could be infected.”

“Or it’s a case of
Pet Sematary
,” I said.

Evans raised his brows. “Come again?”

“A novel by Stephen King.” He kept staring. I frowned. “Don’t you read anything except occult books?”

Evans pinched the bridge of his nose. “Once more, thank you for the idiosyncratic observation, Shiloh.”

Brittany stiffened. “How did Kayla get this way?”

“Well…” Evans stood, clasped his hands behind his back, and rocked on his heels, clearly happy to have a captive audience. “What we have in this particular case is a situation of
Homo coprophagus somnambulus
.” At our “huh” expressions, he explained. “That’s the scientific name for the walking dead.”

“When there’s no more room in hell, the dead shall walk the Earth,” I quoted.

Everyone stared.

“
Dawn of the Dead
, a George Romero film? What’s with you people? It’s one the best zombie movies ever!”

Brittany grunted and Evans shook his head again. Kayla just stared. Hungrily. Uh-oh.

Following a moment of silence, Evans studied Kayla, one finger tapping his chin. “As a functional teenage zombie, it appears you remain rational and agile. Even retaining use of your basic motor skills.”

“Yeah, me
zambah
.”

I nodded. “That’s right, Kayla, you’re not alive or actually dead.”

Brittany rested both hands on her thighs and stared at me. “What? You’re like a zombie linguist now?”

“
No.
I just seem to understand her undead babble for some reason. And I watch Trent play those creepy zombie games.”

The grandfather clock bonged, and I yawned loudly.

Evans still stared intently at Kayla. “Your lineage follows the founding families, correct? Your mother is a member of the local coven?”

Kayla nodded in response.

“Do you think the coven and Kayla’s death are connected somehow?” I asked. “That one of the witches resurrected her?”

“Not necessarily. But she’s…
different
.” Evans nodded thoughtfully, then added, “I’m more curious with regard to who might actually possess enough dark power to raise her from the dead.” He slid off his glasses, cleaning them on his untucked shirt. “Or a case of synchronicity. The convergences of events that appear linked, but in fact have no discernible underlying relationship.”

Brittany frowned. “Um, Mr. Evans? Some of us are still in high school.”

We obviously needed an “Evans’s translator” whenever the paranormal investigator forgot he was speaking to teens, who hadn’t spent their lives locked up in some demon library.

“I suppose you could call it an inexplicable coincidence, Brittany,” Evans said, then squinted in my direction as if in deep thought.

“What?” I swallowed. Our eyes locked for a moment. “
Ah, hell
. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Because if you are, then we’ve got a major problem, right?”

Brittany frowned. “Was that English?”

“Shut up,” I said.

“Perhaps it was necromancy, a form of voodoo ritual. Remind me to incorporate that subject into your lessons,” Evans said.

“
Hel-lo.
Still a teenager with a teenage brain here. Explain, please,” I said.

Evans pushed up his glasses. “Necromancy is the term used for raising the dead.” He scratched his head. “Only one way to be sure. I’ll have to return to the cemetery tomorrow and examine her grave.”

I clapped my hands. “Finally! A field trip.”

Evans groaned. “Try to contain your enthusiasm. A positive attitude coming from
you
is disturbing enough.”

“If I had a guess, I figure Kayla’s mother was the one who resurrected her,” I said. “Maybe she practices black magic like my aunt. Hell, Darrah might’ve even assisted.”

Brittany paled. “Are you serious? Voodoo and black magic? Who
are
you people?”

Evans turned to Brittany and said, “Don’t worry. It isn’t as bad as it sounds, or it seems for that matter.”

“Are you nuts?” I blurted. “It
is
as bad as it seems.”

“You’re not helping, Shiloh,” Evans said through gritted teeth.

“Neither are you! She needs to know. It’s not like you’ve got one of those
Men in Black
mind erasers to use on her. Wait. Do you? Because if you did, that would be super cool.”

Evans emitted his why-do-I-always-have-to-deal-with-these-type-of-things sigh. “Of course not. That’s only in the movies.”