Dead Of Winter (The Beautiful Dead Book 2)

by Daryl Banner

“Very, very, very nice.” Oreo looks at—whatever the other’s name is. Be-a-tortilla? I can’t even. “Winter, you said your name was?”

  I smile flaccidly. “Yes. That’s me.”

  The two of them exchange a tiny, candy-coated look. Their eyes reflect sugary glee. “Very, very nice. Let’s take them to the hotel. There are plenty of rooms open, yes?”

  “Yes!” The other one beams. I’m not going to say she looks scary when she smiles, but I’d suggest for her to use her current facial expression sparingly. “We’ll put them with their friends, of course. The four who came with the wheeled carriage from Tonton.”

  “Are you the sort of Dead who eat?” asks Oreo. I give a short glance at Ben, then politely shake my head no. “That is quite fine. We’ve both variety in our city. I would recommend a fine restaurant or two, but it seems that will not be necessary. Let us welcome you to After’s Hold! You must be rather weary from your journey, of course. This way, yes, please.” She flashes her eyes and spreads her hands demonstratively, leading the way.

  I follow, giving one last short and troubled glance behind me. Where did Megan go??

  Oreo doesn’t offer much time to think on my missing Human, as she pecks me with all sorts of questions about Trenton. Or as she keeps saying: Tonton. The entire time we approach the city, I’m telling her about the habits of the Trenton people. I explain the two main things our Undead “eat” … namely, wax and who-knows. When I ask about “real food” I am relieved to learn that they, indeed, have plenty of resources for Living occupants. The two ladies even excitedly confess that a portion of their population—albeit a very small portion—are alive.

  “We will be most happy to share with the people of Tonton,” the tortilla lady exclaims. “We have more than we need.”

  “Far, far more than we need,” Oreo lady confesses.

  There are no protective walls surrounding this city, unlike Trenton. When we walk down the main street, which is surprisingly vacant of anyone at all, we find ourselves gawking at the height of the buildings. Just a typical one is twice the size of Trenton’s tallest. Oreo explains that in the center of After’s Hold, there’s a thicket of skyscrapers, in fact. Bank buildings and business towers from the Old World. The Seven Mayors that rule After’s Hold reside in the center tower, which they call Everhold. The Living aren’t allowed there, apparently, because the air becomes so thin near the top that they’re known to pass out from lack of oxygen. It’s quite a changed world.

  “This way!” cries the tortilla merrily, spreading her hands as if to present a magic trick. “In here, yes!”

  I find myself clutching Benjamin, though I can’t say whether it’s protectively or because I’m feeling in need of protection. Call me paranoid, but in my short time on this ruined planet, I’ve learned to trust nothing. And if there’s anything I trust less than nothing … it’s kindness.

  “Here.” The women present the hotel, each pulling open a glass front door. All the buildings in this part of the city are brick, and the interior of the hotel appears in great condition, I must say. Clean-looking carpets. Sturdy walls, nice furniture … It leads me to believe the rest of the city might give just as good a first impression.

  And if there’s anything I trust even less than nothing and kindness, it’s a good first impression.

  “We will let you spend time with your friends, now,” says the Oreo. “The four of them are on the second floor, rooms 201 through 204, just as you get off the stairwell.” She gives us both a wink and a kiss. “If you need a thing at all, simply speak to Esandramelda here at the front desk.”

  I thank her, give a short nod, and watch her leave the building with her tortilla friend. Ben has been pressed so close against me since we’ve entered the city, everyone’s likely to think he’s my conjoined twin.

  “Where’d the little girl go?” Ben whispers into my ear.

  I clench my jaw. I knew I shouldn’t have brought her along. I knew it. I knew it in my unbeating heart, in my stone of a bowel, in my feet. But Megan was acting so stubborn back at the camp … she simply wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “She went back home,” I answer, though I’m in no way certain. Where else could she have gone? It was like she literally just … disappeared.

  “Think John and Helena and the other one are really up there?” Ben goes on, anxious, voice thin as paper. “Or do you think it’s some kind of—”

  “Trap?” The smile I wear is sickly, I’m sure. “Funny, we both think so alike.”

  “We share a certain memory of … being held captive in a c-certain p-place. Megan, too. And Helena. I think it’s rather … understandable, all our levels of … mistrust.”

  For a sudden moment, I consider what my real reason is for bringing Benjamin along. Did I bring him with me because I really wanted to help him overcome his crazed emotions? Or is it because … is it because I don’t trust him among the Humans of Trenton anymore?

  Just the thought makes me feel so, so guilty.

  “Think Helena will be pleased to see me?” asks Ben.

  I am Deathless, I am Deathless. Brains is still haunting me. I genuinely believe she’s still facing a wall of her cell, even now, saying that stupid chant over and over …

  I push open the heavy door to the stairwell. “Only one way to find out,” I tell him, pressing on, and the familiar, unfriendly sound of cement heartbeats swallows us as we slowly ascend.

  C H A P T E R – S E V E N

  C O E X I S T

  With every step, I’m telling myself over and over that Megan is just fine. She simply slipped off my back and made a quick run for Trenton. She was scared away by the approaching ladies. Considering one of them was basically purple and her eyes looked like soap bubbles, I don’t blame her. I’m guessing the ladies must’ve seen us coming from far off or were somehow expecting us. I’m trying to justify why they came out to greet us and bring us in. Hopefully there is no … ulterior reason. Hopefully there is still such a thing as true hospitality in this world.

  When we push the stairwell door open on the second floor, the four rooms, side by side, are spread before us. I quickly rush up to Room 201, unsure which one houses John—assuming the rooms house who they were said to house at all. I bring my knuckles to the door and knock.

  The door to Room 204 opens instead, and Jasmine’s head pokes out. “Winter??”

  If I were alive, I might gulp. I’m suddenly nervous about what their reaction is going to be. I’m, after all, not supposed to have followed them here. “Hey, Jazz! I, um, hey, here’s Benjamin. You remember him, of course.”

  “Hi,” he says, giggling with relief.

  I have to agree with feeling slightly relieved. The sight of Jasmine confirms that they, indeed, made it safely here, and that no harm has come to them.

  Yet. “Where are the others?” I ask quietly, as if I might disturb someone’s sleep, as if all the rooms in this hall hold irritable families on vacation or scandalous, raunchy love affairs in progress. Listen to me, I’m so jaded.

  “Gunner and Helena have gone downtown,” Jasmine explains with a shrug. “Business with the Mayors. I heard some paperwork is in order, something that needs be done before we can trade resources.”

  I wrinkle my brow. “Trade?”

  “Yes. Well, see, we brought a very large supply of our steel. It’s one of the only commodities Trenton has. And they’re willing to give us a very, very generous helping of their foodstuffs. Enough to feed our people properly for many months.” Her face lights up. “Winter, I don’t know why we didn’t think to do this sooner. We have such great neighbors here in After’s Hold!”

  I’m listening to what she just said. I’m listening again. “But, but Jazz … that means …”

  “Yes, yes. They’re basically accepting all of our steel as part of the trade.” She laughs, pulling on a long strand of green-grey hair. I realize she’s in the middle of fixing a braid that had come undone. “They’ll make much better use of it, in such
a big city as this. Without the Deathless, sweetheart, we have no need for it. What we do need is food for our precious Living, and the kind After’s Hold is generously providing.”

  I don’t trust this at all. “Jasmine … that’s our steel.”

  Her face hardens, puzzled. “Yes, I know. Steel we don’t need anymore.”

  “Says who?” I find myself angry in an instant. Angry, panicked, suspicious. My Raise … Helen, Brains … she keeps saying she is Deathless—and isn’t the last. She even pointed north. “Jasmine. Something isn’t right. My Raise, she said to me she wasn’t the last of them. She pointed north—here, most likely. I can’t be sure, but … Jasmine, I think she was trying to tell me there’s Deathless here.”

  “Oh, Winter, rabbit. Really, you can’t fear the world your whole life. Winter, please, you can’t live like that.”

  “I can’t live like anything, Jazz. I’m dead. So are you, by the way. So’s he, and her, and them, and—”

  Jasmine crosses the hallway at once, places her hands on mine. Her face comes really close, her gaze intense and uncompromising. “Winter, listen to me. Your dear Raise is going to sense the presence of Deathless all her Second Life, and she will sense their presence everywhere, no matter if they’re nearby or not. She cannot be relied on. Her mind is simply gone. For now, and for good. I feel terrible to say this, but I never had hope for her from the moment we started trying to rehabilitate her. Once a Deathless, always, I’m afraid.”

  I close my eyes. I don’t know what to believe, or who. Jasmine has always been so wise, a person I could turn to for answers, but … but this time, I feel so convicted. I feel like she’s the one with the blinders on. She’s the one who doesn’t see it …

  “Once a Deathless,” I hear Ben repeating, his voice heavy and detached, “always. Deathless she is, Deathless forever be—”

  “Alright,” I say, cutting him off, opening my eyes and feeling plenty is not all right. “Alright. I … I won’t bring it up again. I’m sorry.” I’m not sorry. And no matter her words of comfort, I will keep looking over my shoulder until we’re far gone from this city I don’t trust.

  “By the way, that’s Helena’s room,” Jasmine points out, nodding at 201, “and as I said, she’s stepped out to manage the trade. 202 is the archer’s, and 203 is John’s. I believe he’s napping right now. If you like, I’m certain that 205 and 206 are unoccupied. Don’t even need keys.”

  “Thank you, Jasmine.”

  She puts a hand to my cheek, likely sensing I’m not yet at ease. “Why don’t the two of you rabbits get some rest? It was a long journey, I do know.”

  “You can go ahead,” I tell Benjamin. “Take 205, if you like. I’m …” I’m at a loss. “… gonna check on John.”

  Benjamin seems nervous to part from me, but he agrees and, with only slight hesitation, slips into his room, gently shutting the door behind him. Jasmine smiles at me one last time before disappearing into her own.

  Quietly, I put a hand on the doorknob to John’s room. I open the door, surprised it isn’t locked, and let myself in. With a rush of relief, I find him sitting on the edge of the bed. His elbows are resting on his knees, hands hanging and limp, and the second I enter the room, he’s lifted his eyes and his body goes rigid. His eyes brighten, and I can’t tell if it’s more from surprise or relief.

  I, for one, feel deep relief. I smile. “Hi, John.”

  He doesn’t smile just yet. Instead his brow furrows and he asks: “What’s wrong?”

  That’s so John. “Nothing’s wrong.” For some reason, I don’t want to lay all my issues on him just yet. I have a sudden and selfish desire to just … enjoy some time with him. “Can I come in?”

  “You already are.”

  “True.” I’m inside, sure, but I’m standing by the door. Please, John. Don’t be awful today. Not now. “What time is it?” I ask him, peeking at the totally untelling window.

  “Sun’s got at least an hour or two before it sets.” He’s studying me with his every word, suspicious. John isn’t dumb; he knows I’m here for a reason, and it’s likely not a good one. “Want to take a seat, then?”

  Ah, some hospitality. “Yes, I do.” I lower myself into a chair by the window, surprised by its cushiness. Really, even hotel rooms here are better-kept than the houses and businesses of Trenton. We could really take a lesson or two from this place. “Nice to get off my feet.”

  “We’re trading our steel,” he says.

  The tone of his voice suggests he isn’t thrilled about the idea either. “Jasmine told me. I … I didn’t know that was part of the plan.”

  “Neither did I. Helena was the only one aware of it. Even Gunner protested when he learned. Feels a bit odd, doesn’t it?” He bites his lip, scrunching his face up in thought. I see his dimple peeking out the side of his face. I’d really rather be sitting next to him on the bed, my arm against his rough ones, than over here in this cushy chair. “Feels a bit like we’re giving up the only thing that’s made us feel safe. Do you really think the Deathless are gone?”

  “Well …” I find myself trying to think of things to comfort John with. “In all fairness, it isn’t all of our steel. Nearly every citizen in Trenton has steel jewelry, so …”

  “We can’t win a Deathless war with earrings, Winter.”

  I lift my hand. The dull steel ring John gave me long ago still lives there. “I’ll kindly remind you that I was able to incapacitate a humungous, ugly Deathless monster with this little thing.”

  “Oh. You still wear it,” he remarks with half a smile, as if just now noticing.

  His coy little smile is the best thing I’ve seen here yet.

  “Never removed it since that day.” I won’t mention that I took it off for ten minutes while consoling Benjamin in his house this very morning. Tiny unimportant details, I figure. “Do you think we’re safe here?”

  “We complete the trade tonight. It’s in and out. Swap a wagon full of steel for a wagon full of food. We leave first thing in the morning, giving Gunner and I time to rest. And … well, I guess it’s to show our appreciation, too. Don’t wanna seem ungrateful for their generosity.”

  “Of course not,” I agree.

  I get up from the annoyingly comfortable chair, pace around the room, poking at things. John’s eyes follow me. He’s still trying to work out why I’m here, I can feel it. Though I’m proud to note that he does not seem to be at all unhappy that I’ve come. In fact, I’d rather prefer to say he seems comforted by my presence.

  When I stroll by the window, I watch a pair of ladies walking by, each one weirder-looking than the other. It’s not soap-bubble Oreo or her sweet companion. These are two other, stranger-looking women.

  What is up with the fools in this town?

  “Don’t you find them a bit …” I search for the word. “… too nice?”

  I hear the bedsprings, then suddenly John’s come up to the window next to me, peering down. “Since we’re here for a night, maybe we should …”

  “Poke around,” I finish for him.

  He shrugs. “I was gonna say snoop and investigate and figure what the deal is with these people, but okay. ‘Poke around’ works. Let’s go poking.” He pouts his lips at me and squints.

  I think I’m supposed to interpret that as humor.

  Assuming Jasmine and Benjamin will do fine relaxing in their own respective rooms, we make our way down the stairwell and cross the lobby. When the desk clerk lifts her eyes from a book, she seems instantly concerned.

  “Is something the matter, Miss Winter?” she asks.

  Startled by her remembering my name, as I hadn’t been directly introduced just yet, I smile politely at her, reflecting her kindness like sunshine. “Oh, not at all, you sweet thing. We’re just getting a little dinner.”

  She smiles bright, showing all her teeth. Her lips are the yellow of lemons, her white hair greased flat to her head, and ill-fitting oversized reading glasses rest on her nose. “I might recommend J
eremy’s Diner. Just around the corner on King’s and 4th Street!” When she smiles big, her eyes are gone. May she never smile again.

  “Thank you.” I take John’s hand and briskly make our way out of the hotel.

  Strangely, it isn’t until we’re on the street that I realize I’m even holding John’s hand. Like I’m his little lady-thing. I let go, embarrassed. “Sorry, it was just—”

  “A good idea,” he agrees, taking my hand again. When I give him a look of surprise, he adds, “We’ll look stronger if we’re—y’know. If we look like a thing. People won’t mess with us.”

  “Oh.”

  “Maybe they think I’m one of you.” He shrugs his big shoulders, pouts his lips again. “We didn’t tell them one way or another.”

  “Trust me. If they get you in a quiet room, they will know.” I think fondly of the day I first noticed the gentle drumming in his chest. It’s still my favorite pastime.

  Though now, I might consider holding John’s hand my new favorite pastime.

  The streets are not quite devoid of people. We see a person here, a person there, a couple here and there, but no bustling crowds like that of Trenton. It seems the size of the city is deceiving; it could conceivably have less of a population than Trenton, in fact. Also, these Undead seem to take a certain pride in their appearance, just like us, though clearly their aim isn’t to look “Human” but rather like afterschool craft projects.

  We opt not to visit the suggested Diner, and instead take a seat on a pretty wrought-iron bench in the center of a small courtyard sandwiched by four short buildings that may have been, at some point in their history, libraries or banks or trendy fashion stores. I’m sure one of them is a famous fast food chain. I recognize the drive-through.

  “The quietness is … eerie,” I whisper.

  John grunts for agreement.

  We’re still holding hands. I’m so, so, so very aware of this fact. Way too aware. He’s made no effort to let go.

  I lean into him slightly and whisper, “Let me know when you want your hand back.”