How to Wake an Undead City Read online

  Heat flushed his cheeks, sparkling in his eyes. “What was that for?”

  “For being you.” I kissed him again, slower. “For caring.”

  This was my mess, my family’s mess, and I couldn’t thank him enough for helping me clean up after them.

  “As much as I love watching you guys make out,” Amelie said, averting her gaze, “I hear your window of opportunity slamming shut.”

  With a quick nod, I whipped a modified pen out of my pocket and popped in a fresh cartridge that smelled of copper and herbs. Before Linus could protest, I drew what we had nicknamed the impervious sigil on the side of his throat, right below his collar, in a tempting hollow I had learned turned his knees to jelly when I nipped him just hard enough to make him gasp.

  I told myself it was his delicious reaction, not the thin pink scar, that caused me to fixate on that spot. The smell of his skin caused water to pool in my mouth, but the mark was a brutal reminder that I had almost lost him. That Odette, who I had loved as family, almost took him from me.

  Angling away from him while I composed myself, I slid on a backpack stuffed with necromantic paraphernalia before he read the undercurrents of my upset and delayed us longer to soothe me.

  Eager to start referring to this trip in the past tense, I was raring to go…and get back home.

  Leaving Savannah and my friends vulnerable went against every protective instinct I possessed.

  After a final check of its contents, he slung a messenger bag across his shoulders. We were traveling light on the first leg of our journey. All clothes and supplies would be purchased outside Savannah, a cringeworthy expense that left my palm too damp to hold the debit card I would soon be swiping.

  Though the truce with Amelie might still be fragile, I couldn’t stop myself from crossing to her and gathering her in a tight hug. “Be safe.”

  “You too.” She squeezed me hard, tears in her voice. “I’ll protect Woolly until you get back.” Drawing away, she wiped her cheeks dry with the backs of her hands. “I won’t let those fangy bastards touch one shingle on her roof. I promise.”

  Around us, the old house groaned, softening toward Amelie despite her best attempts at keeping her at arm’s—floorboard’s?—length.

  That made two of us.

  While the old girl was paying attention, I stepped into the corner and pitched my voice low. “Tell Oscar we’ll be home soon.” I patted the wall in front of me. “Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

  Ghost boys and full sunlight don’t mix. He and I had already exchanged our goodbyes, but even if he was more than three times my age, he was still a six-year-old boy at heart, and this trip preyed on his abandonment issues.

  As he had pointed out multiple times, I could have brought him along in the dented brass button Linus had anchored his spirit to, but he would be safer here with Woolly than with me.

  The old house rustled my pant leg with a warm gust from the floor registers, a promise she would do her best to direct Oscar’s energy toward positive outlets.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I told Eileen, who slept on her podium beneath a blanket treated to protect her from UV rays.

  I hit the stairs behind Amelie and Linus, and we entered a living room that forced me to squint against the sun pouring through the open curtains.

  Craning my neck, I spotted the Torreses in the kitchen preparing an early dinner that made my stomach rumble. Music poured from Neely’s phone as he enacted his favorite moves from some celebrity dance show while Cruz looked on, amused. Several hours into their day, they had moved past the coffee I so desperately craved and onto sweet iced tea.

  Having humans in the house was so weird. They were so perky before dark. It was unnatural. Even Keet dozed in his cage, uncovered since he had started attacking the sheet I used to cover him during the day the way a dog might shred its bedding. At least, from the growls, that’s what I assumed was going on.

  I really needed to chat with Lethe about how to behave around impressionable parakeets.

  With a coquettish flutter of his lashes, Neely convinced his husband to give him a turn around the room. I didn’t interrupt their moment to tell them goodbye. I left them attempting a tango that promised to send them both crashing to the floor if they didn’t get their legs untangled. But then again, maybe that was the point.

  Since Woolly still enforced her Boaz ban with relish, we had to meet him and his team on the front lawn.

  The sun was so…sunny.

  Ugh.

  Already my skin felt hot, itchy with the promise of a burn, and I was nowhere near as pale as Linus.

  Amelie stayed on the porch, honoring the spirit, if not the letter, of her house arrest, and waved to her brother from there. The casual goodbye told me they had already done their catching up before she fetched us.

  “We need to get moving.” Boaz kept his tone distant, his manner professional, and I was glad for it. “I borrowed six men to get you two out, but we need them elsewhere at dusk.”

  Unsure of my reception, given our last encounter, I stepped lightly. “Trouble downtown?”

  “The looters are at it again,” he said briskly. “Chaos breeds opportunity.”

  The conversation died a quick death after that, and I kicked dirt over its grave.

  “Take one step, Grier Woolworth, and I’ll rip out your throat. You know I will.” Lethe strode from the tree line with her freshly trimmed and dyed-blue hair swinging, sharp green eyes narrowed, and a cheeseburger in each hand. “As soon as I finish this.” She popped the remainder of one in her mouth and gulped without chewing before pocketing the second. “You were going to leave without saying goodbye? Are you serious? Do your donut promises mean nothing?”

  “Do you remember the conversation we had about me telling my nocturnal friends goodbye last night?”

  “Hello?” Palms up, she spun a tight circle. “The sun is up there, and I’m down here.”

  “You’re not half as smart as I thought you were if you believed for one hot minute you were getting past her,” Hood said conversationally as he trailed his mate with a sandwich bag full of her favorite cereal in hand that he shook to get her attention.

  Eyes the tawny brown of crushed pecan shells looked on her with adoration. Hood dwarfed his mate, but Lethe’s attitude put them at the same height. The sandy-blond dreads that once reached the small of his back now brushed his shoulders. She must have given him a trim while they were playing salon in the hall bathroom.

  “I’ll bring you a dozen maple bacon donuts, the cake ones, if you can forgive my oversight.” I crossed to her, and our hug pressed her baby bump, which was getting larger every day, against my abdomen. “I’ll make it a double if you spare me one.”

  “Hmph.” Her breath smelled like pickles when she huffed in my face, but a calculating glint sparkled in her eyes. “I suppose I could forgive you if you also bring me one dozen cherry cordial cream filled donuts. From Clancy’s.” Her nose shot up in the air. “I will accept no substitutions.”

  Thirty-six donuts. In exchange for one. Yep. That was Lethe math for you.

  “Remember.” Hood clamped a big hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let Tisdale intimidate you. She can smell fear. Don’t make eye contact. She’ll view it as a challenge. Don’t lie to her. She’ll rip out your tongue and beat you to death with it if you try.”

  Gulp.

  “You’ll be fine.” Lethe pried Hood off me so he could deal her snacks. “Mom’s not that bad.”

  Hood just stared at her.

  “She hasn’t killed that many…” Abandoning that line, she chose another. “Midas will have your back.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Um, yeah,” she mumbled around a mouthful of cereal Hood provided. “You do.”

  “You didn’t really think we’d let you go alone,” Hood asked, chuckling at my budding scowl.

  “This isn’t pack business,” I said gently. “You don’t have to draft Mida
s to shadow me.”

  “You’re pack,” she said sweetly. “That makes it our business.”

  Lethe held out her hand, and Hood dumped more cereal in her palm.

  “She’s a slow learner.” He clicked his tongue. “That’s what we get for adopting a necromancer.”

  “True.” She crunched thoughtfully. “She is cute, though. And she pays in meat. I’d say we still came out ahead on the deal.”

  “We need to move this along.” Boaz raised his voice over our conversation. “We’re losing the light.”

  “Take care of you.” I stole a marshmallow off Lethe’s palm. “And baby.” I crunched loudly while she snarled. “And Hood.”

  “The first rule of survival in any pack is you don’t steal food from a pregnant gwyllgi,” Hood chided me then topped her off. “She’s not herself when she’s hungry. She would feel terrible for ripping out your throat to reclaim what you stole. Eventually.”

  “Boaz is right.” Linus rested his hand at the small of my back. “You two will have to continue this via text message.”

  Lethe fished out the exact shape and color marshmallow I had stolen then threw it hard enough to leave a dent where it bounced off my forehead. “Bye.”

  Lip curled, I did my best Lethe impersonation. “Grr.”

  “Pups are so cute at this age.” Hood reached over to ruffle my hair. “Keep working on the growl. You’ll be scaring birds out of trees before you know it.”

  Annoyed, I snapped my teeth at him, but it only made him smile wider.

  Applying gentle pressure, Linus guided me away from the Kinases before we started a food fight on the lawn that would end with Lethe trawling the grass for snacks later.

  Boaz grunted what might have passed for thanks, then set out without another word.

  Happy to pretend he and I shared no history, that this was strictly business, I followed him to a nondescript black SUV. If I studied his smooth gait, his easy strides, for longer than was polite, Linus didn’t notice. He was too busy conducting his own visual examination.

  Questions must be itching his brain over how Boaz had regenerated his leg from the knee down. The healing sigils I scribbled over him hadn’t been recorded. There had been no time. For now, they were lost. Along with any answers about what I had done to Lethe and her unborn child.

  “Step up,” Linus said, drawing my attention to the open vehicle door. “Grier?”

  “I’m good.” Shaking off thoughts of Boaz, I took Linus’s hand and let him help me onto the bench seat.

  An SUV wasn’t so different from a van. I could do this. Just a short trip to the barricade. Easy-peasy.

  Slowly, drawing in breath through my nose and blowing it past my lips, I settled into the small space.

  For once, I saw the use in window tinting as the dark interior cut out the harsh daylight. As my vision adjusted, I noticed the four Elite crammed onto a bench seat behind us. Ahead, a woman rode shotgun.

  “Good to see you, Grier.” She pinned on a hesitant smile. “Linus.”

  “Becky?”

  “Don’t tell me the facial prosthetics, ballcap, wig, and contacts have you fooled.”

  “The last time I saw you, you were marching with Lacroix.” Her undercover work with the Elite had saved many lives, mine included, and she would accomplish more good before this was over. “I expected you to be tucked in city hall with him.”

  “I’m safe in my foxhole as far as he’s concerned, waiting on sunset. He asked me to stay on the outside, to keep an eye on things. For once, I was happy to oblige. I pick up my orders from the Elite daily, and nightly I run interference with the vampires.” She adjusted her cap. “That’s why I’m not looking myself these days. We can’t be too careful.”

  Frowning, I wondered, “When do you sleep?”

  “I can get by on an hour here or there.” She rolled up her sleeve to reveal a sigil tattooed on her forearm. “This keeps me alert. I’m sure there’s a technical name, but we call them insomnia tattoos.”

  Wistfulness had me sighing after the design. The next twenty-four hours promised to be brutal.

  “One of yours?” I asked Linus, who studied her arm with a tight mouth.

  “The design is unfamiliar.” His pinched expression made me chuckle. “It must belong to a competitor.”

  Unable to resist teasing him, I leaned in. “You have competitors?”

  “Fiducial tattoos require, as the name suggests, a certain amount of trust. They’re too individualized to be mass-produced, so their margin for profit is slim.” He picked imaginary lint off his pants. “Everyone has an upper limit for stimuli, one you can’t exceed without their body shutting down to preserve itself. With fiducial tattoos, you must learn your clients, their needs, and tailor the design to suit them. The time requirements alone made dismissing that area of study an easy decision.”

  “I had no choice.” Becky shrugged, her spine rigid beneath his censure. “We do what the job requires.”

  “Wearing that, you’ll drop dead on your feet. Without warning.” Pulling back, Linus compressed his lips. “Depending on that design is more dangerous than any field assignment.” Eyes hard on the spot where the inferior work had been done, he frowned. “I’ll think on a solution, in thanks for what you did for Grier. But warn your colleagues, and don’t bet your life on that ink’s ability to keep you lucid.”

  “Thanks,” she grumbled with reluctant appreciation. “I’ll get the word out.”

  The illusion of a leisurely Sunday drive evaporated when we hit the main drag and all the shattered store windows came into view. Groceries had been dumped in the streets to rot, clean water in bottles and jugs dumped and tossed aside, electronics looted, and furniture destroyed in the whirlwind of depravity that swirled around the vampires each night.

  As we passed Madison Square, I noticed the Sergeant William Jasper monument had been knocked off its base to make room for the vampire I had turned to stone while visiting Lacroix’s former manor. As far as statements go, I wasn’t sure what this one said unless they meant to paint their fallen as heroes.

  “This has to stop,” I murmured, exchanging a look with Linus. “We have to stop this.”

  “We will.” Eyes gone black and depthless, it was the potentate who stared back at me when Linus closed his fingers over mine, black mist dancing across his knuckles. “We have a plan, and it will work.”

  Hearing his certainty bolstered my confidence, but I couldn’t dismiss the dread brewing in my gut. Tisdale Kinase wouldn’t be my harshest critic. No, that honor would go to Dame Marchand and her granddaughter, Eloise.

  Eloise would never forgive me for the role I played in her twin sister’s death, but Heloise had intended to present me to her grandmother on a silver platter. Taz was the only reason Heloise hadn’t dished me up, but fear of Marchand retribution had forced her underground to escape the repercussions.

  The sensation of being watched dragged my attention to the rearview mirror, where Boaz stared at me.

  Quirking an eyebrow, I waited on him to tell me what was on his mind, but he switched his attention to the road while muscle bunched in his jaw as he chewed over whatever he had no intention of sharing.

  “What’s your ETA on supplies?” Becky shifted to her left, angling toward us. “How soon should we have transpo in place?”

  “Expect the first convoy to arrive within six hours,” Linus answered when I deferred to him. “Our first priority will be supplying the city in our absence. Our people must come first.”

  “Our?” Boaz tightened his hands on the wheel. “This isn’t Atlanta.” He ground his teeth. “This isn’t your city.”

  “You’re right.” I tapped his shoulder until he flicked his gaze up to the rearview mirror. “It’s ours, all of ours, and we’ll do whatever it takes to keep Savannah safe. That includes accepting aid from a visiting potentate, who was born and raised here, to keep her on her feet until we can knock Lacroix off his.”

  “Think of Adelaide,” B
ecky said with the rhythm of an oft-repeated phrase. “What would she say?”

  “That I’m being an ass.” He sighed through his parted lips. “But she always thinks I’m being an ass.”

  To keep from agreeing with his absent fiancée, I pasted my polite-interest face on. I had honed it to wear during particularly odious speeches given in Maud’s honor, usually at award dinners, which made Linus chuckle as if he remembered the exact expression and its purpose from all those years ago.

  “Goddess, is that Detective Russo?” I pressed my nose against the glass. “The Elite might want to shadow her. She believes there’s something hinky about how Maud died. The city closing for a hurricane that wasn’t is going to ping on her hinkdar. She’s like a dog with a bone. She won’t let go once she sinks her teeth in.”

  “We’ve been wiping the short-term memories of the human first responders and escorting them past the barricade,” Becky informed us. “She must have slipped through the checkpoints.” Pulling out her phone, she punched in a number. “I’ll get her picked up before she ghosts again.”

  A rolling boom sounded in the distance, and I pressed my hand to the glass. “What was that?”

  The noise reminded me of cannon fire during the reenactments held at Old Fort Jackson.

  A second boom hit closer, and a plume of asphalt erupted on our right.

  “Those bastards planted another minefield.” Boaz gritted his teeth. “How did the sweepers miss this?”

  “They didn’t.” Becky scowled out her window. “I checked this route at noon, and it was clear.”

  “Call it in.” Boaz slammed his palms against the wheel. “They’ve got humans doing their dirty work. That means no routes are safe without inspection prior to use.”

  “You want to help the city?” One of the guys from the back leaned forward, swinging his head between Linus and me. “Drop some of your inheritance in these potholes, yeah? These bastards don’t even have to dig. They just drop in a homemade boomer and kick pebbles over the top.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement,” I said dryly, but it got me thinking.

  I hadn’t considered what I might do to improve the city. I never had a reason to involve myself in its maintenance. Until now, when my family, and our feud, was wreaking havoc. Unless I stepped in, checkbook in hand, the city might not recover for years after another few days under siege.