Undead Much

  “Shut up. Don’t you da­re say a word abo­ut my mot­her.”

  “How do­es that fe­el, Jess? To know you de­di­ca­ted yo­ur li­fe to aven­ging so­me wo­man who co­uldn’t even be bot­he­red to let you know she wasn’t de­ad?”

  “Shut up! My mot­her lo­ves me. She wo­uld be he­re if she co­uld.” Jess in Aaron’s body to­ok anot­her step for­ward and grip­ped her mac­he­te even mo­re tightly. “I know she’ll wish she was he­re to watch the per­son who sent her da­ugh­ter to pri­son fi­nal­ly get what she de­ser­ves.”

  “That’s what I don’t get,” I sa­id, pra­ying Cliff was wor­king on that who­le get­ting-into-the-circ­le-to-cle­ar-the-altar thing. “Why do you still want to kill me when you know I didn’t kill yo­ur mot­her?”

  “You ru­ined my li­fe, and now you kil­led my fi­ancй!”

  “I did not ru­in yo­ur li­fe, and I tho­ught you we­re gay!”

  “You kil­led him and trap­ped me in his de­ad body,” Jess yel­led, ig­no­ring my very lo­gi­cal ar­gu­ments. “Ha­ve you no­ti­ced that, Me­gan? That my he­ad is le­aking bra­ins?” Jess/Aaron swi­ped a hand ac­ross the back of Aaron’s he­ad and hur­led a bit of the sticky mess in my di­rec­ti­on, get­ting clo­se eno­ugh to ma­ke me flinch.

  “Okay, fi­ne!” I yel­led, matc­hing her vo­lu­me. “Then what the heck is with the army of the de­ad and the zom­bie epi­de­mic and-”

  “The Set­tlers we­re ne­ver go­ing to let me out of pri­son, so I fi­gu­red I’d get rid of the Set­tlers.” Jess grin­ned as she tra­ced a few ru­nes in the air. I tri­ed to back away, but it was li­ke mo­ving thro­ugh mo­las­ses. It was sud­denly im­pos­sib­le to for­ce my musc­les to func­ti­on. Jess had evi­dently le­ar­ned a few new tricks whi­le she was sup­po­sed to be rot­ting in pri­son. “As so­on as the bor­ders clo­se, I’ve got it on very go­od aut­ho­rity that no one is ever go­ing to mess with me aga­in. I’ll walk free and be prin­cess of the very scary land of qu­aran­ti­ned Ar­kan­sas.”

  “Me­gan, don’t lo­ok at her hands!” Cliff yel­led from so­mew­he­re be­hind me.

  “Grab him, girls!” Jess or­de­red, not stop­ping her mes­me­ri­zing lit­tle fin­ger dan­ce for a se­cond. No mat­ter how hard I tri­ed, I co­uldn’t se­em to lo­ok away. “You re­mem­ber how we wan­ted to be prin­ces­ses when we we­re lit­tle, Megs? How we’d dress up in all my old Hal­lo­we­en cos­tu­mes and ste­al Cla­ra’s jewelry from the sa­fe in Dad’s ro­om? Now I’m re­al­ly go­ing to be one. Isn’t that awe­so­me?”

  She was nuts. Comp­le­tely nuts. I me­an, she’d ob­vi­o­usly ne­ver be­en all the­re, but now black ma­gic had truly rot­ted what was left of her bra­in. The­re wo­uld be no re­aso­ning with her. Which me­ant I was pro­bably go­ing to ha­ve to kill Aaron a se­cond ti­me.

  The re­ali­za­ti­on si­mul­ta­ne­o­usly tur­ned my sto­mach and ma­de the dark­ness wit­hin me do the happy dan­ce. Which ma­de me even sic­ker.

  “What do we do with him?” Lee Chin as­ked from be­hind me, whe­re I co­uld he­ar her and se­ve­ral of the ot­her girls grun­ting as they fo­ught to hold on to a strug­gling Cliff.

  “Throw him on the fi­re. De­ad vir­gin blo­od will pro­bably work as go­od as the li­ving stuff. Did you know yo­ur lit­tle lo­ver zom­bie was a vir­gin, Me­gan? That he di­ed wit­ho­ut-”

  “Fight her, Me­gan!” Cliff cri­ed, very re­al fe­ar in his vo­ice for the first ti­me.

  “No!” I scre­amed, figh­ting to mo­ve as my he­art ra­ced with fe­ar. “Lee, Jes­si­ca can’t ma­ke you yo­ung and be­a­uti­ful fo­re­ver. She’s be­en lying to you just to-”

  “They’ll ne­ver be­li­eve you, Megs,” Jess/Aaron sa­id. “They’ve se­en what I can do. They’re too af­ra­id to do­ubt me. You sho­uld be af­ra­id too.”

  “Put him in the gro­und!” Cliff yel­led. “Hurry, be­fo­re-”

  The mac­he­te flew at me be­fo­re I co­uld think to mo­ve. It was simply clenc­hed in Aaron/Jess’s hands one se­cond and hurt­ling to­ward me the next. If Cliff hadn’t twis­ted free from the che­er­le­aders and thrown him­self bet­we­en me and the kni­fe at that exact se­cond, I wo­uld ha­ve ta­ken the bla­de right in the chest.

  “Cliff!” I fell down be­si­de him, the sight of the kni­fe bu­ri­ed to the hilt in his neck fi­nal­ly bre­aking the hold Jess had on me.

  “Don’t! Just watch yo­ur­self,” he sa­id, his eyes ple­ading with me from his pa­le fa­ce. He was so badly hurt he co­uld ba­rely mo­ve his lips, but his first tho­ught was still for my sa­fety. He was just so go­od. Too go­od. “Put him in the gro­und, Me­gan. Put them both in the gro­und.”

  I sur­ged to my fe­et, fa­cing Jess/Aaron ac­ross what was left of Cliff, my ra­ge so thick I co­uld fe­el it craw­ling ac­ross my skin.

  She’d dest­ro­yed him. Even a de­ad guy co­uldn’t sur­vi­ve the kind of wo­und Cliff had sus­ta­ined. The bla­de had al­most comp­le­tely se­ve­red his he­ad from his body, and de­ca­pi­ta­ti­on was one of the only ways to ta­ke down a zom­bie wit­ho­ut ma­gic.

  That me­ant a won­der­ful per­son wasn’t go­ing to be aro­und any­mo­re be­ca­use of this evil fre­ak. This wic­ked was­te of flesh who was al­re­ady res­pon­sib­le for the de­aths of an in­no­cent Set­tler, and a po­or man who­se only mis­ta­ke had be­en be­ing in a co­ma at a hos­pi­tal with lo­usy se­cu­rity.

  Jes­si­ca Thomp­son was a di­se­ase, a pes­ti­len­ce that de­ser­ved to be wi­ped off the fa­ce of the earth. And it lo­oked li­ke I was the one who was go­ing to do the wi­ping.

  “Drag the de­ad guy on­to the al­tar, girls. We’ve got so­me zom­bi­es to ra­ise,” Jess sa­id.

  “Mo­ve a musc­le and I’ll ma­ke you ble­ed,” I sa­id, fre­ezing Lee Chin and Fe­li­city whe­re they sto­od.

  “Get back in po­si­ti­on or I’ll ma­ke su­re that the ri­ver bar­ge le­aves wit­ho­ut you. Then you can stay he­re with the de­ad pe­op­le ins­te­ad of be­ing yo­ung and be­a­uti­ful fo­re­ver,” Jess co­un­te­red, sen­ding the girls scur­rying to do her bid­ding. The smug lo­ok on her/Aaron’s fa­ce as she tur­ned back to me sent my an­ger spi­ra­ling im­pos­sibly hig­her. “Lo­oks li­ke I win. Aga­in.”

  “You’ve ne­ver won shit, Jes­si­ca. And you’re not go­ing to win now.”

  “Oo­oo, cus­sing. Aren’t you a bad, bad girl?”

  “You ha­ve no idea,” I sa­id, and then I was run­ning stra­ight for her, drop­ping every wall I’d ever used to cont­rol my Set­tler po­wer, hur­ling every oun­ce of ra­ge in my body stra­ight at the witch in front of me.

  CHAPTER 23

  I didn’t know any witch-type spel­ls-I de­alt with ma­gic for the de­ad, not the li­ving-and I didn’t want to call upon the dar­ker po­wer wit­hin me un­less the­re was no ot­her op­ti­on. Set­tler po­wer was what I knew, what I was best at. So I did the only thing I co­uld think of in the ten se­conds it to­ok me to re­ach Aaron/Jess. I in­vo­ked the “re­turn to earth” com­mand, de­ter­mi­ned to put them in the gro­und just li­ke Cliff had told me to.

  “Re­ver­to ter­ra!” I hit Aaron’s chest with both fists, sho­ving with all my physi­cal strength and every oun­ce of my po­wer.

  Still, I ne­ver ex­pec­ted him to fly ten fe­et in­to the air, or for the earth be­ne­ath him to open li­ke so­me to­oth­less mo­uth and suck him be­ne­ath the so­il. It all hap­pe­ned so fast, I ba­rely had ti­me to re­co­ver my ba­lan­ce be­fo­re Aaron/Jess had di­sap­pe­ared.

  “Oh my God. She kil­led Aaron aga­in.” Kim­berly bril­li­antly sta­ted the ob­vi­o­us whi­le Da­na ran to the pla­ce whe­re Aaron had va­nis­hed.

  “Go­od, let’s get out of he­re whi­le we still can,” Fe­li­city sa­id. “I don’t ca­re if I’m go­ing to be fat any­mo­re!”

  “No
,” Da­na sho­uted. “Get back in po­si­ti­on.”

  “But we-”

  “Now!” Da­na scre­amed, tur­ning to run back to her pla­ce bet­we­en Kim­berly and Ka­te as the earth be­ne­ath us be­gan to rumb­le.

  Lo­oked li­ke Aaron/Jess wasn’t qu­ite re­ady to lie down and die. Fi­ne with me-I had plenty mo­re kick-ass in my ar­se­nal. I wasn’t fe­eling the le­ast bit dra­ined. In fact, I was prac­ti­cal­ly itc­hing to in­vo­ke the exu­ro com­mand and gi­ve Jess a tas­te of what it was li­ke to be bur­ned ali­ve.

  “Me­gan, you’ve got to-” Cliff’s words en­ded in a gro­an of agony as the gro­und be­ne­ath him buck­led and a very angry li­ving-inha­bi­ted corp­se burst from the earth.

  “Ter­gum!” Be­fo­re Aaron/Jess had even fi­nis­hed spe­aking the word, I was flying back­wards on a col­li­si­on co­ur­se with the sto­ne al­tar.

  I cri­ed out as my lo­wer back con­nec­ted with the rock, ma­king what I gu­es­sed was my right kid­ney exp­lo­de in a su­per­no­va of pa­in. The sen­sa­ti­on was so in­ten­se, I was prac­ti­cal­ly blin­ded by it for a few se­conds. By the ti­me I pul­led myself to­get­her eno­ugh to even think abo­ut stan­ding up, the circ­le had clo­sed and Aaron/Jess was half­way thro­ugh the spell to ra­ise the de­ad. The che­er­le­aders didn’t se­em to be hel­ping much-most of them we­re baw­ling the­ir eyes out, in fact-but it didn’t se­em to mat­ter.

  “Thanks for the po­wer, Me­gan,” Aaron/Jess sa­id, yel­ling to be he­ard over the rumb­ling of the earth. “I ap­pre­ci­ate the gift.”

  Oh God, what had I do­ne? Set­tler ma­gic ma­de a corp­se chan­ne­ling a li­ving so­ul stron­ger. We’d only stu­di­ed that par­ti­cu­lar phe­no­me­non for abo­ut ten se­conds in En­for­cer tra­ining, but I sho­uld ha­ve re­mem­be­red.

  That was what was we­ird abo­ut this cir­c­le-that was what Cliff had felt from the start. The­re was a li­ving per­son in­si­de a de­ad body, which me­ant the only way to ta­ke down Aaron/Jess was with a mix­tu­re of ma­gic for the li­ving and the de­ad. A Set­tler with witch blo­od was Ar­kan­sas’s only ho­pe. I was Ar­kan­sas’s only ho­pe, and I’d go­ne and scre­wed it up and gi­ven Jess exactly what she ne­eded.

  Now all they ne­eded was blo­od-the blo­od of an in­no­cent, to be pre­ci­se.

  “Ha­us­tum,” Aaron/Jess gurg­led, a smi­le stretc­hing ac­ross Aaron’s ra­va­ged lips as Jess watc­hed re­ali­za­ti­on dawn in my eyes.

  The zom­bie bi­te on my sho­ul­der sud­denly bro­ke open and blo­od gus­hed, hot and wet, ac­ross the al­tar be­hind me. I scre­amed, do­ing my best to pull away, but it was as if I’d be­en glu­ed to the sto­ne. The pa­in rip­ped thro­ugh me with eno­ugh for­ce to ma­ke my bo­nes ac­he, and I co­uld fe­el my po­wer dra­ining away even as the blo­od dra­ined from my body.

  Ne­ver had I wis­hed so des­pe­ra­tely that I was is­sue-free when it ca­me to sex. If Et­han and I had just go­ne ahe­ad and do­ne it al­re­ady, Jess wo­uldn’t ha­ve be­en ab­le to use my blo­od to ra­ise her army of the de­ad. Now it was too la­te. I co­uld fe­el the de­ad co­ming, squ­ir­ming thro­ugh the gro­und be­low, ye­ar­ning to­ward the sur­fa­ce and the blo­od they cra­ved. I’d fa­iled. Jess had won, and the­re was not­hing to do but lie he­re and wa­it for-

  No! My in­ner vo­ice had ne­ver be­en so lo­ud. It was so ada­mant, in fact, that it ac­tu­al­ly ma­de me flinch. You’ve got the sa­me po­wer she do­es, and every word she says is a we­apon.

  The in­ner vo­ice was right. I might not ha­ve spent ye­ars stud­ying black ma­gic, but I had ears and a mo­uth, and so far both we­re wor­king just fi­ne. I al­so had a gre­at me­mory, at le­ast go­od eno­ugh to re­call the word she’d used to ma­ke me ble­ed, and I was sud­denly ha­ving a lot fe­wer is­su­es with dab­bling in the dark arts.

  “Ha­us­tum,” I yel­led, sum­mo­ning both my Set­tler po­wer and the dar­ker po­wer lur­king be­ne­ath it. I aimed my palms in Aaron/Jess’s di­rec­ti­on just as ske­le­tal hands thrust up from the gro­und all aro­und me.

  The ob­vi­o­us wo­unds on Aaron’s neck and he­ad and what I was gu­es­sing we­re in­ter­nal inj­uri­es be­gan to gush blo­od. At first, Aaron/ Jess didn’t even se­em to no­ti­ce, sin­ce the de­ad can’t fe­el pa­in, but then Aaron’s kne­es buck­led and his blo­ods­hot eyes wi­de­ned in alarm.

  “No. No fre­aking… way… ” Jess’s words fa­ded away, and, wit­hin a few se­conds, the body that had be­en Aaron crump­led to the gro­und, fi­nal­ly as li­fe­less as it sho­uld ha­ve be­en an ho­ur ago.

  “Oh crap,” Da­na sa­id. “I don’t think that’s sup­po­sed to hap­pen.”

  “What do you me­an you don’t think-Ah!” Fe­li­city’s words en­ded in a scre­am as a rot­ted fa­ce burst from the gro­und and a zom­bie mo­uth latc­hed aro­und her ank­le. “They’re go­ing to eat us! Jess and Aaron we­re wrong!”

  “Run, ever­yo­ne! Get to the bar­ge!” Da­na and the ot­her girls tur­ned and ran for it whi­le Fe­li­city kic­ked at the zom­bie that had her in its jaws, ma­king her es­ca­pe in ti­me to catch up with the ot­hers as they fled to­ward the ri­ver.

  I jum­ped to my fe­et, wa­ve­ring uns­te­adily. I’d lost a lot of blo­od and used up a lot of po­wer. The­re was no way I’d be ab­le to ta­ke down all the zom­bi­es burs­ting from the gro­und by myself. I ne­eded help.

  I tur­ned to­ward the bur­ning cand­les un­der the brid­ge, de­ter­mi­ned to find a way to free Et­han, Cruz, and Mo­ni­ca, when I trip­ped over Cliff and went down hard.

  “Be­hind you,” he sa­id, the open wo­und at his neck gurg­ling sickly. He’d ma­na­ged to pull out the mac­he­te and was clutc­hing it bet­we­en his hands, but lac­ked the strength to put it to use-as evi­den­ced by the fact that all he co­uld do was lie the­re as the now-blo­od­less Aaron hur­led him­self on top of me.

  “You suck! So hard!” he scre­amed, Jess’s vo­ice co­ming thro­ugh cle­arer than ever, hands cla­wing in­to my cal­ves when I tri­ed to scramb­le away.

  I suc­ked? Re­al­ly, that was what she ca­me up with? Af­ter she’d kil­led and li­ed and pretty much do­omed our sta­te to zom­bie pla­gue un­less we stop­ped the RCs craw­ling out of the gro­und? I suc­ked?

  “Let go!” I kic­ked Aaron’s body in the fa­ce, but Jess clung tight, hol­ding me still as two zom­bi­es with glo­wing red eyes emer­ged from the earth right in front of me. “Pax fra­ter cor­pus pos­tes­ta­tum.” I smac­ked each of them in the he­ad and they fro­ze, which was a re­li­ef af­ter the we­ek of zom­bi­es who wo­uldn’t say die. The­se we­re just nor­mal RCs, af­ter all, just-

  “Ahh!” I scre­amed as the two du­des I’d just pax fra­ter-ed sur­ged back to li­fe and star­ted snap­ping at my yummy flesh.

  “They we­re ra­ised partly with yo­ur po­wer, you idi­ot. You can’t stop them!”

  “Then you stop them, or I’ll-Absis­to!” I fro­ze the Munch Brot­hers in pla­ce, but knew the fre­ezing com­mand wo­uldn’t hold for long.

  “I wo­uldn’t even if I co­uld. No one he­re has the po­wer to ma­ke them go back to the­ir gra­ves.” Aaron/Jess go­uged cold, corp­se­li­ke fin­gers even de­eper in­to my leg. “You’re fi­nal­ly go­ing to pay for everyt­hing you’ve do­ne.”

  I sur­ged in­to a se­ated po­si­ti­on away from zom­bie mo­uths, grab­bed what was left of Aaron’s ha­ir, and tug­ged-hard, dist­rac­ting him/her just long eno­ugh to twist my leg free.

  “Me­gan! Put out the fi­re!” Kitty scre­amed. I lo­oked up to see Et­han, Mo­ni­ca, Cruz, and Kitty at the ed­ge of the circ­le, which un­for­tu­na­tely lo­oked li­ke it hadn’t be­en bro­ken when the che­er­le­aders ma­de a mad dash for the ri­ver. Et­han, Cruz, and Mo­ni­ca we­re kic­king the ta­ils of the zom­bi­es who ma­de it out of the circ­le, but
when they tri­ed to get too clo­se to the al­tar, they we­re re­pel­led by the in­vi­sib­le walls of the spell. “Put out the fi­re so we can help you.”

  I scramb­led to my fe­et and lun­ged for the al­tar, wil­ling to throw my body on the­re to smot­her the fla­mes if that was what I had to do, but Aaron/Jess trip­ped me, flip­ping me on­to my back. She le­apt on top of me a se­cond la­ter, pin­ning me to the gro­und and sli­ding her lar­ge, Aaron hands aro­und my neck for the se­cond ti­me that night.

  Argh! No way was I blac­king out aga­in.

  “Get off!” I tri­ed to buck Jess off, but Aaron’s body was too he­avy and his hands too strong. Spots dan­ced in front of my eyes whi­le zom­bi­es con­ti­nu­ed to po­ur from the earth.

  Two do­zen or mo­re we­re out of the gro­und now, shuf­fling to­ward me and Aaron/Jess with eyes glo­wing red in the le­at­hery re­ma­ins of the­ir fa­ces. Scraps of we­at­he­red blue and gray uni­forms hung on the­ir ble­ac­hed bo­nes, blo­wing li­ke mi­ni­atu­re flags in the cold wind swe­eping in from the ri­ver.

  “They won’t stay down!” I he­ard so­me­one scre­am from out­si­de the circ­le.

  “Stop them be­fo­re they cross the stre­et. Con­ta­in the area!” Kitty yel­led.

  God, no. Jess wasn‘t lying. Not­hing co­uld stop the­se things. We we­re figh­ting a lo­sing bat­tle, sho­ve­ling shit aga­inst the ti­de, as my grand­mot­her wo­uld say. Cliff’s hor­rib­le vi­si­on was go­ing to co­me to pass, des­pi­te all his ef­forts to stop it.

  My eyes drif­ted to what re­ma­ined of Cliff, and I was shoc­ked to see his eyes we­re still open. Open and latc­hed on­to me.

  “Ha­beo are tran­sit,” he whis­pe­red, his vo­ice so soft I co­uld ba­rely he­ar it over the gro­ans of the Un­de­ad and the sho­uts of the Set­tlers.