Unchosen

by Vail, Michele

  I looked at the man.

  Then I blinked.

  “Jon Lemons?”

  Jon Lemons was Barbie’s zombie. He was funny in the sense that he understood his name, and got upset if anyone tried to call him anything other than “Jon Lemons.”

  What was he doing out here alone?

  The zombie’s gaze met mine, and I shuddered at the intensity of his unblinking stare. He lifted a gray finger to his lips and whispered, “Shhh.”

  I worked on deepening my exhalations as I slowed my breathing. My senses were on high alert, and I gripped the scythe. Above me, my shadow raven kept circling.

  Jon Lemons stretched out his arm. The finger he’d put to his lips now pointed to the pathway that led to the school.

  He shook his head slowly.

  Okay. So he didn’t want me to go that way.

  Up ahead, zombies shuffled out from the clusters of trees. There had to be a dozen of them, maybe more. Their clothes hung off their emancipated bodies in stained scraps. Dirt smeared their hair, their faces. They were in varying states of decay. Most had greenish purple skin and filmy, vacant gazes.

  I’d seen enough zombies to know these were fresh from their graves.

  Someone had raised them.

  My stomach pitched. Holy Anubis! It took powerful necro magic to animate corpses still six feet under—especially so many. These walking dead would not have their kas intact. Only their master’s necromancy would keep them upright and moving.

  They formed a two-by-two column, blocking the path. The zombies began to move forward as one unit; unearthly moans mingled with the shuffle of bare feet against packed dirt.

  Okay. Okay. Take out the puppeteer, and the puppets would fall.

  Except I didn’t see a puppeteer.

  I backed up a couple of steps, and Jon did the same, staying even with me. The zombies picked up their pace, and they were coming … coming right for me.

  They sniffed, and low, creepy moans rippled through the undead crowd. I heard jaws cracking, mouths opening impossibly wide.

  Shit. Oh, shit.

  The Hunger. They all had the Hunger.

  Fear chilled me to the bone. I gripped my scythe, holding it at the ready. I didn’t have my cell phone to call anyone. I was reluctant to summon Henry and ask him to risk his unlife for me again. Yelling at the top of my lungs might bring innocent students and teachers into the maws of starving zombies.

  Damn it. I couldn’t leave a pack of wild brain-munching zombies running around outside the school.

  “Hey, uh, Anubis? Anput? Got a minute to help me?” I prayed out loud. “Hello! Kebechet in danger of becoming zombie chow!”

  The zombies marched closer, and desperation soared through me.

  “Go find help,” I told Jon. “I’ll hold them off.”

  Jon didn’t move. Instead, he stood by my side, seemingly willing to face the zombie horde with me.

  “Jon,” I said, this time adding a little ka heka command to my words. “Go to Nekyia. Get help.”

  “Noooooo. Pro-tect. Ke-be-chet.”

  For a moment, I was stunned by his refusal, especially since I’d never heard a zombie speak—much less show a force of will.

  The two zombies leapt into the air, issuing howls that drove fear like a spike into my stomach.

  Then they were on us.

  Jon grabbed the woman who tried to claw out my eyes and twisted off her neck with a sickly crack. He threw her head into the forest, and then proceeded to rip off the limbs of her still fighting body.

  The other zombie, this one a man, grabbed the sides of my head. His mouth, filled with decayed teeth and blackened tongue, aimed for my face. His breath smelled like a sewer, and made me gag and cough.

  I head-butted him. The impact to my skull hurt and made my ears ring, but the move popped his hands free of my face.

  He snarled, his glassy gray eyes narrowing as he tried to grab me again.

  I brought my scythe up. The metal glowed silver as it sliced the zombie from hip to shoulder.

  He flopped to the ground in two pieces and lay still.

  Jon Lemons had wadded into the zombies who’d now lost their military precision. They attacked Jon, but he fought with animal ferocity, punching, kicking, and yanking.

  Zombies fell upon the decimated corpses, gnawing and mewling as they chomped on the dead, ripping off skin, chewing through organs, feasting on faces.

  Not all were distracted by the carcasses.

  Three zombies managed to escape the carnage wrought by Jon, and surrounded me in a circle of hungry, terrifying death.

  All three were women, and they seemed to understand the power of my scythe. If they did not fear it, at least they knew to avoid it.

  The tallest of the three, once a blonde if the scraggly hair left on her scalp were any indication, came at me first.

  I hit her in the face with the blunt end of the scythe, she reared back and screamed. I twirled the scythe around and the blade cut through her neck.

  Her head sailed off into the woods.

  Her body fell sideways, knocking down one of the smaller zombie women. I wasted no time piercing that one’s neck, too.

  The third zombie shuffled back. Her face had half rotted away, revealing a monstrous smile of teeth and ligaments.

  She slashed at me with her arms, made grisly by worms and time. Her once pink blouse was filthy and torn. Her skeletal fingers clawed at my shoulders, her teeth clacking as she tried bite off a chunk of my cheek.

  “Brown eyes!”

  Rath’s voice heralded my rescue. Before I could take another breath, he’d pulled the ravenous corpse away from me and used his own scythe to behead her. He kicked her twitching body off the path, and the body slid into a bank of leaves.

  “How did you know to find me?”

  “Your raven.” He cupped my face, studied me carefully. “You okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Good.” He leaned forward and gave me a hard kiss. “Let’s finish this.”

  I’ve never been in battle. I’ve never killed unless you count removing a ka from a legally made zombie (and I didn’t). Zombies weren’t alive, not really, but desecrating their corpses was another form of killing, of death.

  By the time Rath and I joined Jon, there were few enemies left. We dispatched them until only the three of us were left standing—amid scattered limbs and headless corpses.

  “Who the hell did this?” asked Rath. “These poor bastards didn’t even have kas attached.”

  I was exhausted. Every muscle ached, and sweat soaked my shirt and running shorts. Gore spattered my arms and legs. I looked down at my sneakers and realized they had been ruined with zombie ick.

  “My aunt warned me right before this happened,” I said. “And this is Barbie’s Zombie, Jon Lemons. He warned me, too.”

  “I’ve never seen a zombie like him before,” said Rath.

  “He talks.” I explained everything that happened.

  Rath grimaced. “We need to go. Whoever controlled the zombies is probably still around.”

  “What do we do about all this?” I waved my hands at the dead zombies.

  “Nothing,” said Rath.

  “How about an anonymous report through the peer-to-peer program?” I asked.

  “Yeah. That’s good.”

  Rath took me by the shoulders. “Get to the school, to your room. I’m going to check around here, see if I can find anything.”

  “I should go with you.”

  “No, Mol. You’re the target. You’re safe at Nekyia. I’ll touch base with you later, okay?” He tapped the end of my nose. He kept his scythe close as he turned and walked off the path, into the darkening woods. My heart jumped in my throat.

  “Be careful!” I called out.

  But Rath had already disappeared.

  “Jon,” I said.

  “Uuuuuh.”

  “Oh, sorry. Jon Lemons. We need to go.”

  The zombie followed me, and soon,
I saw the outer gray stone wall that surrounded the school. On the back side of the ornate castle was a landscaped outdoor area that students used to study and hang out. The last meal of the day was served at 6 p.m., so I knew the courtyard would be full of kids waiting for the dinner bell to ring.

  The gate to the courtyard entrance was left open until our 10 p.m. curfew. All I had to do was make it through, and I would be safe.

  My raven cawed a warning, and I realized I couldn’t go barreling through the gate holding my scythe. I skidded to a stop, and looked up.

  “Time to return,” I said.

  The raven’s spread wings cast me in darkness as it swirled down, grasping the scythe before making itself smaller and smaller. Finally, the bird returned to the silver ring.

  I ached from head to toe, and my heart pounded so hard, the thumping sounds clogged my ears.

  At a nearby bench, a couple kissing were startled apart. They stared at me and the zombie as I limped past them. I smiled and gave them a little wave.

  I noticed the wide-eyed stares of the kids hanging out in the courtyard. Conversations ceased as Jon Lemons and I trudged by, but no one said anything.

  I didn’t relax until I got to my room.

  I shut and locked the door, and Jon Lemons stationed himself in front of it.

  I wanted to collapse onto my bed, but I was filthy, so I dropped to the floor, rolled onto my back, and shut my eyes.

  It took a while for me to calm down. My heart eventually found a steady rhythm, and my breathing regulated.

  “Miss?”

  I screamed. My eyes flew open and I scrambled off the floor as if it were on fire. All my calm evaporated and I slapped a hand against my chest as if to keep my heart from leaping out of my ribcage.

  Henry gazed at me with his usual stoic expression. “Forgive me, miss. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you all right?”

  “Henry, you scared the crap outta me.”

  “How unfortunate. Do you require a change of underwear?”

  I stared at Henry, but his expression never wavered. I grinned. “Did you just make a joke?” I lifted my fist. “Way to go, Henry.”

  Henry stared at my fist. One gray eyebrow lifted.

  I patted my fist. “Come on, give me a fist bump.”

  Henry stepped forward. He curled his fingers and lifted his arm. Then he gave me the slowest fist bump in the history of fist bumps. Still, I laughed. “You really do rock, Henry.”

  “So do you, miss.” The corners of Henry’s mouth tilted up very slightly. I assumed that was his version of a smile. “I see we have a guest.”

  “You remember Jon Lemons, right? He saved me, Henry. We got attacked by zombies … Rath’s trying to find out who sent them.”

  “You were attacked? And you did not call me?” Henry sounded … well, hurt.

  “You’ve risked yourself too much for me. I can’t keep asking you to do that.”

  “I am your ghoul. And I am your friend. I must insist you call me whenever you need me—no matter the perceived risk.”

  I blinked. “Okay, Henry. I will.”

  He sniffed delicately. “Perhaps a shower is in order?”

  “Yeah. Definitely. And maybe you can make sure Jon Lemons gets cleaned up and back to Barbie?”

  “I will take care of the zombie. What about dinner, miss?”

  I’d learned to trust Henry about food. “Whatever you think is best,” I said.

  “Very well.” Henry continued to stare at me, and I realized he was exuding a sense of urgency. Well, as urgent as Henry could appear.

  “Is there something else?” I asked.

  “Have you made much progress in finding the book?”

  At first, I thought he was talking about Keep Thy Soul. But Henry never really bothered me about homework. Then I remembered. “You mean Anubis and The Seventh Warrior?” I shrugged. “I told you, it’s been missing since like forever. Someone took it from the library and never gave it back.”

  “I believe it is still on the campus.”

  How would Henry know that? And why was he so insistent that I find the book? I trusted Henry. He seemed to think that I could find answers in Anubis and The Seventh Warrior. “Okay. I’ll put it on top of my to-do list. Is there anywhere in particular you think I should look?”

  “This school has many mysteries,” said Henry. “Even the walls contain secrets.”

  I knew Henry was unable to give me direct information. So, I would try to decipher what he was really trying to say, and work harder to find the book.

  You know, on top of training for the Kebechet challenge, writing a book report, worrying about Rath, and trying to avoid whoever was trying to kill me.

  AFTER MY SHOWER and a nice dinner, I crawled into my bed. I’ve been thinking about my Aunt Lelia. She had warned me about “she.” So, was that the woman I’d seen in the temple? Was Mr. Jacobs in on it with her? I didn’t know. I was having doubts about my own accusations against Mr. Jacobs. I couldn’t ignore the fact he gotten help for me, instead of dragging me off somewhere to finish the job.

  Trying to figure out motives—and pin down who had out for me—was frying my brain.

  Maybe it was time to think more about this mysterious book that Henry wanted me to find. Maybe I couldn’t tell my friends what was going on with the Nekros Society, being the daughter of Anubis, and that I had serious reaper skills, but I could ask for their help. With all of us searching for information about my aunt’s death and tracking down Anubis and The Seventh Warrior, I had a better shot at success.

  I retrieved my phone from the nightstand.

  Molly: Need help. Can’t find 411 on Aunt Lelia’s death. Need 2 find book: Anubis and The 7th Warrior.

  Barbie: Research queen here. On it.

  Trina: Daddy loves rare books. Will check with his contacts.

  Daniel: Allergic to libraries. Uncle is cop. Will ask him about aunt.

  Autumn: Sending ghosts on treasure hunt for 411 and book. BTW, what do u think about pink zombies serving cake?

  Molly: Ugh! Poor zombies.

  Barbie: NO.

  Trina: Love!

  Daniel: I cannot accept any kind of dessert from a pink zombie.

  Autumn: C’mon y’all! It’s a food-based dye. It’ll wash right off.

  Molly: Still voting no.

  Barbie: HELL NO.

  Trina: Love + infinity!

  Daniel: Exiting debate. Going to bed.

  The rest of us signed off, too. I put my phone on its charger, and turned off my lamp. I snuggled in my bed covers, readjusted my pillow to a more comfortable position, and closed my eyes.

  Despite my exhaustion, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about what it happened in the woods. Who would send zombies after me? If Jon Lemons and Rath hadn’t shown up—I might well be dead.

  I shivered.

  I shifted my thoughts to my Aunt Lelia. She was in real trouble. I wanted to help her so much. I worried about her warning, too. Who was she warning me about? The only person, or rather god, I could think of as a she was Anput. But I was almost certain it hadn’t been Anput in the temple. Still, I didn’t know. And that was the scariest part of all. Did I need to be concerned about Anput betraying her bloodline again?

  Or was this “she” a new enemy?

  Molly’s Reaper Diary

  Family is Everything

  EVEN WHEN THE whole world is counting on you to save it from an angry god, you gotta be there for your family. I know it’s tough. That whole 1 billion people versus the twelve that love you. Still, is the world worth saving if you don’t have anyone that trusts you?

  Loyalty is important. You gotta have your family’s back. And your family includes your friends and your relatives. Look, I know sometimes you’re dealing with circumstances you can’t control. But if your family needs you, then it’s go time.

  At least, that’s how I feel about it. Being a reaper can really mess with your heart and your head. That’s why you need family. Th
ey keep you on track; they keep you solid.

  Capiche?

  “Reapers know the true meaning of sacrifice.”

  ~Secret History of Reapers, Author Unknown

  “Come for my soul, O you wardens of the sky! If you delay letting my soul see my corpse, you will find the eye of Horus standing up thus against you … the great god will proceed in peace when you allow this soul of mine to ascend vindicated to the gods…”

  ~From spell 89 in The Book of the Dead

  Chapter 7

  THE LAST TWO weeks had taken suckitude to a whole new level.

  When I was at school, all I did was study and train. In fact, training with the Nekros Society had kicked into super high gear. Then there were extra sessions with Rath as I prepared for the competition to officially win the title of Kebechet.

  But at least no one else had tried to kill me.

  I’d blown off so many study groups, movie nights, and lunch hours with my friends, that Barbie, Trina, Autumn, and Daniel had stopped inviting me. Autumn had also quit including me on the texts to discuss the final preparations for Trina’s going away party. Or so I assumed since she seemed to send 100 texts on the subject every day, and now I was getting nada.

  On the weekends, Henry and I had been shuttled off to the massive house of my grandparents. I couldn’t exactly say spending extra time with Grandma and Grandpa Briarstock was a complete bust, especially after we taught Henry how to play Jenga. He bested my grandmother every single time. Sandra nearly busted a vein trying to outdo my ghoul, and Derek and I did a mostly okay job of hiding our laughter.

  Sad, but true—being with my grandparents had been the bright spots of my time lately.

  Rath had been pushing me hard during our training sessions. He said he was working on a solution to help my Aunt Lelia, but he didn’t really have much to tell me yet. He hadn’t found anything—or anyone—in the woods to explain the attacking zombies. He popped up a lot more lately, just to say “hi,” but since Henry had been doing the same thing, I knew the truth: They were checking on me.

  It was sweet.