by T. A. Brock
Grayson ran to the door and pounded on it with his fist. Fear pounded his temples with each second she didn’t answer. He pounded more, harder, he even tried the handle, but it was actually locked.
Just when he’d decided to kick the door in, the faint click of the lock turning stopped him. And then she was there in front of him, yawning and looking sleepy…but alive.
Grayson couldn’t stop the progression of panic that had started deep inside him, though. He stepped forward and caught her by the arms, yanking up the sleeves of her sweatshirt and checking for needle marks.
“Grayson? What are you doing?”
“I…I…”
He took her face in hands, inspecting everywhere he could see. She seemed fine but he still couldn’t make his chest stop pounding.
“Hey,” she said, seeming to wake up. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Are you okay?” he asked fervently.
“Yeah, of course. Why?”
He shook his head because there was no way he could explain it to her. Instead, he wrapped her in a hug, squeezing too tight, but he couldn’t help it.
“Are you okay?” she squeaked out.
No. No, he was not okay. He’d dreamed of her dying. Dying without knowing how he felt about her. Without knowing that she was his everything, that he needed her more than air to breathe. Even on her deathbed he hadn’t been able to say it.
He had to say it now. She had to know.
“I have to tell you something,” he said as he rubbed his cheek over the top of her head.
She was here. She was safe. She was his. Everything else was just details.
“What is it?”
He pulled away, just enough to look in her eyes, eyes that held him to the ground.
“I love you.” It came out more easily than he’d anticipated. So he kept going. “I love you so much it scares me sometimes. I just wanted you to know.”
Slowly, she smiled a sweet little smile. “I think love is supposed to be a bit scary.”
Grayson relaxed. “You think so?”
Cori nodded. “Are you okay? After last night, I mean?”
“I’m fine.”
She gazed at him, her eyes searching. “I’m so sorry about your brother. And your sister.”
“I don’t want to talk about them.”
Her fingers traced his jaw. “Okay. For now.” She laid her head against his chest and he wondered at how right it felt. “What do you think will happen with Peg? Will she be all right?”
He nodded and tamped down the shame that crept over him. “She’s strong. It will take her some time to adjust, but she has her friends to help. It’s lucky that she remembers so much.”
“And what about Aiken? Will he be okay?”
Grayson fought a shiver. “They will work things out,” he said with faith.
Huh. Faith. Another thing for him to wonder over.
Cori nodded. “Yeah. I suppose they will.”
“We are okay though, right?” He hated having to ask, but he needed to know for sure.
Cori reached up and touched his face. Her gaze sparkled with emotion that made him warm inside. “Better than okay, I think.”
He breathed a sigh of pure relief. He knew they still had so many things to sort out, but for now they were okay. She was alive. And human. And she loved him.
Better than okay.
He kissed her lips and realized that even though the worst had happened a mere twenty-four hours ago, right here, right now, with her…things really were better than okay.
Epilogue
HE RAN.
It was all he could think to do—to run. Just run.
Everything hurt. His whole body. His head. His eyes. His throat.
She was dead. No, she was one of the Dead. He knew the difference.
It was his fault. He hadn’t protected her. He would have died to prevent what had happened, but in the end, he hadn’t. He should die now, again. Yes, a life for a life. Seemed right.
The worst part was he’d almost been relieved. Almost. Because he wouldn’t have to fight the pull anymore. While waiting for her to rise he’d envisioned their future. The future that only a few hours ago had seemed non-existent, was suddenly within reach. Even if it was at a ghastly expense. Things wouldn’t have been easy for either of them, but none of that would matter because they could be together. They would’ve gotten through things together.
Peg hadn’t woken the way he’d expected. She remembered more. But not him. She didn’t remember him. which meant she didn’t remember the time they’d shared. And she didn’t remember the things he’d told her. She didn’t remember the promises she’d made. What little they’d had together was wiped away as though it had never even existed.
Aiken remembered it all. Every little detail.
How would he get through this?
A horrid surge of physical pain broke through all the throbbing he was feeling on the inside and he realized he’d run too far. With no water. And the sun was shining.
He stopped. Had to. His joints were locking up like the Tin Man without oil. Glancing down at his hands he noticed his thin shriveled skin but couldn’t find the will to care much.
Apparently he wouldn’t have to wonder how he would get through anything. Peg’s death, resurrection, and amnesia wouldn’t affect him much longer.
In a lame last ditch effort to live, he raised his nose to the air, sniffing for a water source. There was nothing close enough.
Shame blanketed him anew. Not only had he failed to protect his Save in her first life, now he wouldn’t be there for her second one either. But she had Rex. And Cori. She wasn’t alone. And the way she’d looked at him when she woke…
When she found out what had happened to her, she wouldn’t want him around anyway.
Yes, it was okay to go. Better, probably. For her. For him.
Over. It was finally over. This half-life, half-death he’d been living was finally finished.
He sank to the ground. Not even the leaves there were wet. The sun had stolen all their liquid too. Another cramp wracked him and he curled into a ball.
He thought of Peg, but it made the pain worse. No matter. She was the final thing he wanted on his mind when the end came. Green emerald eyes. Red bouncing curls. Chipped front tooth. But her smile…oh, her smile.
As he lay gazing at the fractured sunlight through the tree limbs he was suddenly doused with liquid. The force of the splash hit his tissue-paper fragile body like a wall of bricks. Then, just as quickly, his cells began absorbing, plumping, and reliving.
He glanced around but couldn’t find the source of the water before another wall of liquid hit him in the face. Sitting up, he searched for the source and found a familiar face gazing passively at him.
“Get up,” she said. Two now-empty buckets were at her feet.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Because. You have work to do. Now get up.”
He just stared at her. Brown eyes that he knew weren’t really brown narrowed into a glare. “I told you this would happen, fool.”
Siam wasn’t a patient Oracle. However, Aiken didn’t care about that—or anything else—at the moment.
“You never told me this,” he yelled.
Her rusty blond head cocked to the side. “Didn’t I? ‘If you refuse this information, you will be sorry, Reaper. More sorry than you can imagine.’ I believe those were my exact words to you.” She dug in her backpack and came out with a bottle of water.
Aiken shakily stood, glaring down at her and the water she was offering. “That was a threat, not a warning.”
She shook her head in disagreement. “I also told you the best way to protect her was to know about her.”
He scoffed. “What could I have known that would’ve prevented her from being bitten?”
Shrewd eyes bore into him and he swore he could almost feel the burn of the nearly white irises that were so expertly hidden behind contacts. “You could have known the
extent of her inquisitive nature.” She took a threatening step toward him. “You could have known how protective she is when it comes to those she cares for. You could have known and predicted how those two traits would’ve coupled together as she witnessed Grayson taking Cori into the woods. Then,” the word snapped from her mouth, “maybe you could have prevented the turning of your mate.”
Aiken swallowed hard. She was right. The Oracles were always right.
“There’s nothing I can do now,” he whispered, grief swamping him anew.
“Wrong,” she huffed, shaking the bottled water at him. “There is plenty for you to do.”
He finally took it but couldn’t make himself drink. “Don’t toy with me, Siam. There is no way to undo what has been done.”
She crossed her gloved arms over her chest. He only just realized what she was wearing: black and pink striped leggings under jean shorts, a black T-shirt, and elbow length leather gloves. She had to be the only seven-thousand-year-old who could get away with dressing like that. Seriously.
“True,” she agreed. “On both accounts.”
He scowled at her. “Quit reading my mind and get to the point.”
“You can’t change what has happened to Peg. But there is still work for you to do.”
Aiken shook his head. “I’m done. I don’t want to be a Reaper any more.”
“Why? Because you failed the one most important to you?” It was something he’d been thinking since Peg was first bitten, but to hear it out loud made it real, made it sting. “Well, too bad. She’s still yours, Aiken. Still your responsibility. And besides, there’s a bigger problem.”
Her tone was enough to make him pay attention.
“Grayson and Cori,” she said. “You know the law. They can’t be together unless she is turned.”
Aiken’s heart sank even lower. Yeah, his plan to turn a blind eye on Cori and Grayson’s relationship until he could leave town went out the window when Peg got bit.
“Grayson is like me,” he told her. “He’ll never turn her.”
She nodded, gravely. “I know.”
“There has to be a way, Si.” He didn’t even try to mask the desperation in his voice.
“There is no way around the law, Reaper. You know that.” Even she couldn’t keep the sadness from her tone.
“That’s one rule I’ve never understood. Why? Why can’t they be together?” he demanded.
Her face took on a frosty demeanor, her eyes becoming haunted, and was she trembling? One of the great Oracles, trembling?
“They simply can’t,” she said in a hard way that told him that was all she’d say on the subject. He should care more about what she was telling him, but all he could think about was what had happened to his Save.
“Why doesn’t she remember me?” he croaked, not caring what she thought of his jumbled emotions.
“She does.”
He almost laughed. Except it really, really wasn’t funny. “No, she doesn’t.”
Siam let out an exasperated sigh. “She does. She just doesn’t right now.”
A tiny flutter of hope bloomed in his chest. “So, she will? Remember me?”
Siam nodded. “Yes. But it may not be to your advantage, Reaper.”
“What? Why not?” If only Peg could remember, he knew everything would be all right. Knew it deep down.
“That is all I can say on the matter,” she said, cryptically.
He stepped closer to her. “Si, tell me. What do you mean?”
Her lips parted to speak but then slammed shut, seemingly of their own accord. She appeared frustrated but finally she said, “Your instructions are to return to your mate, to help her as much as you can, as much as she will allow you. And one more thing, beware of the carrier.”
Carrier? There was a carrier in Asher?
“Who?” he rushed out. He must know who the carrier was. He needed to know.
She shook her head. “You will know soon enough.”
And then, like an apparition, she was gone.
Acknowledgments
There are too many people whose influence culminated in the creation of, as a dear friend put it, “One of the strangest zombie stories I’ve ever read.” Though I’ll never be able to express my gratitude to all, I’d like to say thanks to some, without whom, Fatal would never have been published.
To my seventh grade English teacher, Mrs. Geneva, for being so infectious and making reading fun by playing the best of the seventies CDs during class. And for introducing me to The Giver and The Outsiders.
To my many writer friends on Twitter (yes, I’m talking about you!) for making me realize I’m not crazy, I’m just a writer.
To my critique partners and beta readers: Jennifer Brown, Maria Cope, Summer Wier, and Drew Hayes, for talking me down off the ledge when I was riddled with self-doubt, and for lending a virtual slap when my weirdness started to take over the manuscript.
To the wonderful team at Omnific for taking a chance on me. Jennifer Haren, Elizabeth Harper, Lisa O’Hara, Colleen Keough Wagner, Sean Riley, and Traci Olsen. I couldn’t have asked for better people to work with.
To my mama, who always told me I could do anything I put my mind to. For reading my work over and over and over. For feeding me. For everything.
To my littles, Courtlyn and Ronan, for making me laugh when I wanted to cry. Love!
And last but definitely not least, to my husband, Johnathan. For reminding me that true love is nothing like fiction. But mostly for knowing how to make a really good cup of coffee and being willing to wash dishes.
About the Author
T.A. Brock lives in Oklahoma, where zombies do not thrive. When not immersed in the world of fantasy writing, she enjoys spending time with her big girl, baby boy, and hubs. Some of her favorite things are coffee (specifically with cream, sugar, and chocolate), music (especially something with a good beat), books (especially paranormal), and tennis. She despises raw meat and therefore is exceedingly glad she’s human.
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