Accidentally Dead, Again

by Dakota Cassidy

  “We don’t have any proof she’s my sister, Wanda. So clam up,” Nina growled.

  A rustle of paper caught everyone’s attention when Mark breezed in. He held up the DNA test Phoebe had paid a fortune for in front of Nina’s face, giving it a sharp snap. “Au contraire, Crabby Patty. We do have proof Phoebe’s Joe Blackman’s daughter. So unless you’re claiming Joe wasn’t your father, guess what? Surprise! You have a sister. Though, I struggle to comprehend why she’d want anyone to know the worst thing since Manson was related to her. Either way, she doesn’t just have a DNA test. She has pictures of her with her father and all sorts of things to give to you so you’d know she was telling the truth! So why don’t you clam up? And while you’re at it, lay off Phoebe or it’ll be me and you and a vat of green Jell-O with boxing gloves. Phoebe’s had a really rough time of it lately, and she’s not wel—”

  “Phoebe’s fine!” Phoebe cried, rushing to Mark’s side. She gave his arm a squeeze, prying the paper from his hands and folding it into the neat square she’d left it in on her dresser. “I’m fine, Mark. Swear it. Please. Go back into the living room. Finish accosting poor Sam with your charm,” she teased, hoping to divert his attention away from Nina and back to the prime piece of hunk.

  Mark rolled his eyes, planting a hand on his hip. “Please. Barked up that tree only to find out it was a sturdy oak, not the cherry blossom I’d hoped for. He’s so straight he’s like a flat iron. We had a total moment of man-candor. So forget it. Though, he’s a sparkling conversationalist. Unlike the grunter over here.” Mark shot a finger in Nina’s direction and she promptly snapped her teeth at him. “Did you know he works for O-Tech? He’s a scientist. With a job. I don’t think I need to say any more. Now that he’s up for grabs, I suggest you don’t spend any time lollygagging in here with your evil twin and go get you some manly man.”

  Sam’s head poked around the corner of the kitchen, dark, mussed, uncomfortably delicious. “You rang?” he said with a teasing grin. He’d pulled off his eyelashes and nails and washed his face free of his makeup.

  And it would have taken Phoebe’s breath away if not for the fact that her breathing was on the fritz.

  Sam’s face.

  It was lean and sharply angled along his jaw where stubble darkened it. He had clear eyes the color of melting chocolate that zeroed in on hers with a twinkle. The lashes framing them were thick and dark, making Phoebe green with envy. His mouth was a sensuous line of delicious with a deep dimple in his chin directly beneath it.

  And it caught her off guard. She’d been so convinced he was gay, she hadn’t spent much time dwelling on how ruggedly handsome he truly was.

  “So, are we good in here, ladies?” he inquired. “Because these heels are killing me. I don’t know if I have it in me to break you two up in heels.”

  Nina hopped off the counter, tucking Optimus under her arm and flicking Mark in the shoulder before turning her back on him to face Sam. “Oh, we’re golden, homeslice.” She held two, undoubtedly sarcastic, thumbs up.

  “Good to hear. So what’s next?” he asked, bracing himself against the doorframe.

  Mark cocked his dark shortly cropped head in question and planted his hands on his hips. “Next? And for the record, what exactly is rock-hard man doing with you ladies? In fact, as I recall, pale-face said something about feeding, but I see no napkins and plates. Not that this surprises me. She is a heathen, but I don’t think I have all the pieces of the puzzle here. Something’s just not adding up.” He crossed one arm over his chest, balancing his other elbow on top of it. From behind the fingers of his hand, he said, “So why are you all here so late, and why do you have a man dressed in drag with you?”

  “I call we show Mark why we’re here, Wanda.” Nina slapped Mark on the back, making him jolt forward and cough.

  Sam held up a hand to thwart Nina. He captured her in what would appear to anyone else to be a fond embrace. “I say we don’t do anything rash, Nina.”

  Nina gazed up at him, her eyes peering out from her hoodie. “Are you telling me what to do, Gigantor?” She clucked her tongue, waiting.

  Sam leaned down toward Nina, making Phoebe shiver as though she were the one he was so near. Even in his red dress, with his gel bra peeking over the top, since he’d gotten past the initial shock of this vampire thing, his presence had become commanding. “Never. I’m simply making a suggestion out of love and the idea that Mark probably likes the term sane when referencing his mental state.”

  Wanda pushed her way between the two, placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder. A hand Phoebe found herself wishing was hers. “He’s Phoebe’s roommate, Sam. Under normal circumstances, we have a pretty strict code about this kind of thing in that we hope people won’t ask, and we won’t have to tell. But there are several exceptions. Mark’s going to have to be one of them. Of course, it’s totally up to Phoebe’s discretion.”

  Phoebe winced. She couldn’t even get Mark to keep his eyes open during an episode of Fringe. How would he react to The Exorcist and grown-up Twilight all rolled into one? “Maybe we shouldn’t. I … He’s … Mark’s …”

  Mark jammed his face in hers, rolling his head on his neck, clearly sensing her misgivings. “Mark’s what, girlfriend? And what is Princess Di talking about? What do you hope people won’t ask?” His voice began to rise, much like it had when they were kids and he thought she was keeping a secret from him. Mark loved a good secret. More than he loved What Not to Wear or even the Jonas Brothers.

  “Mark,” Phoebe croaked. “I need you to sit. On a chair. And listen to me. Like really listen without interruption.” She planted a hand on his shoulder and walked him backward to the chair Wanda had abandoned. He plunked down with a confused look, his blue eyes concerned.

  Taking his hand, she placed it over her heart. The plan being to show him her organs no longer worked.

  But a loud crash against their apartment door prevented her from giving him an explanation. Dropping Mark’s hand, she lunged for the door; her feet moved so quickly she stumbled to keep them under her.

  She skidded for the door, peeking through the peephole to see nothing but the top of what appeared to be a woman’s head, slumped against the wall. Flipping open the multiple locks Mark had insisted they have, she stepped back into Sam’s hard chest when she made room to let the door swing wide.

  A heavy thud followed the swish of the opening door and then Sam was kneeling at her feet, muttering under his breath. Words Phoebe clearly heard but didn’t understand the relevance of.

  Nina came up from the rear, stopping short behind Sam, who hovered over an unconscious woman’s body. He rolled her over and hissed when her fangs were revealed.

  Nina let her cheeks puff outward. “For the love of fuck—another one? Jesus Christ in Grand Central Station. How many of them are there? It’s like raining goddamn vampires.”

  Phoebe’s eyes were wide. Yeah. How many of them were there? Surely there were only so many sets of fangs loose in New York City?

  “Vampires?” Mark squeaked, latching on to Wanda’s arm.

  But no one paid any attention to him for the commotion the woman had created.

  Sam scooped her up and carried her to the couch, draping her on it with a gentleness Phoebe couldn’t help but note. The Victorian-era dress she wore was filthy and shredded, covered in streaks of something greasy and black. The lacing on her bodice hung open in gaps, revealing the curve of her generous breasts.

  Her hair, the color of midnight, tangled and matted, splayed across the creamy beige of Phoebe’s couch. Her face was so pale the blue tint of her veins was visible beneath her milky skin. Her cheekbones were gaunt and deeply sunken, making Phoebe wonder if she’d eaten in the last ten years or so. Her lips, ashen and dry, were cracked, and her fangs protruded from her lower lip, pinching the fullness of them.

  Sam lifted her hand, concern on his handsome face. The mystery woman’s exposed flesh was covered in some sort of angry red rash. “What the hell?” />
  At the sound of Sam’s voice, her eyes fluttered open. Glassy and so beautifully violet even Nina grunted her apparent appreciation. “You …” she whispered hoarse and gravelly.

  Sam ran his large hand over her forehead with tender fingers. “How did you find me?”

  Her eyes began drifting downward, but not before she whispered, “Smelled. I smelled … had to find you before …”

  Nina knelt down by the side of the couch and stared at the strange woman for a long, painfully silent moment. Pressing the back of her hand against the woman’s forehead, she shook her head. “Fuck, she’s on fire, and I can’t get anything from inside her head. She just keeps repeating your name over and over in her mind. She knows your name! Who is she, Sammy?”

  Sam paused, the lines of worry on his forehead creasing. “The woman I met at the party.”

  Wanda emitted a small gasp, pulling Mark closer to her protective embrace. Pale and somber, Mark trembled against Wanda. Phoebe might have laughed at the image the pair projected if not for the severity of their situation. Mark, at least a good seven inches taller than Wanda, plastered to her side like she was the raft of life. Wanda, sturdy as any oak, held Mark up.

  Again, the woman’s eyes fluttered open, riveting Phoebe’s stunned gaze back on her. Her stare was a direct connection to Sam’s. “Party. I’m sorry … So sorry. Mistake. Accident … swear …”

  Sam leaned in close to her, letting his ear rest in the vicinity of her mouth. She reached out to him, grabbing fistfuls of the front of his dress, her lips moving without any sound coming from them. The knuckles on her hand strained, pushing against her skin until Phoebe thought they’d burst from her flesh.

  “Who are you?” Sam rasped, the muscles in his neck straining as the effort he made to keep from shaking the information out of her became clear. His free fist clenched into a tight ball. “Why did you do this to me?”

  Her head began to thrash against the couch while she struggled against Sam, her face a wreath of pain, her violet eyes filled with some unseen fear. “I … listen. Please. To me. Help. I want to …” She moved her head back and forth, frowning as though she couldn’t get the words right. “O-Tech … Not long now …” As suddenly as she’d begun to flay about, it was over, and she slipped back to wherever she kept retreating, slumping against the couch with a hard jolt.

  Sam’s hands cupped her face, brushing the hair from her eyes, he lifted her prone upper body. “Not long until what?” he asked, the urgent rise of his voice sending a tremor of more fear skittering up Phoebe’s spine.

  And then there was silence from the woman. So chilling, so still, it left an acrid aftertaste in Phoebe’s mouth. She ran her tongue over her lips in nervous contemplation.

  What the hell was going on? Demons and werewolves, mind reading and teleportation. Vampiric one-night stands gone horribly wrong, and blood drinking and a mystery woman with a rash. All of it began to crash down around her. Phoebe fought to hang on to the here and now, clenching her teeth and willing herself to stay conscious.

  No one moved. Not even Nina, who watched the woman with concerned eyes while she ran soothing circles over her skin. Mark’s labored breathing became the only sound in the room, a harsh but rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

  Sam’s eyes flashed worry. He leaned back in toward her again, his next words filled with the frustration she knew he was experiencing. “Not long until what? I don’t know what you mean!”

  Like a shooting iron ball from a cannon, the woman bolted upright. “Until you diiieeee!” she screamed in an agonizing wail before collapsing.

  Yet, this time when she fell back to the couch, she didn’t lay still. She writhed in an excruciating dance of horrified screams, slapping at her flesh as though her skin had suddenly become an insufferable suit of armor she had to rid herself of.

  Her arms flailed, clapping against Sam’s skin when he attempted to hold her still. She tore at him, rearing up and bucking against his chest. Red welts began to appear on Sam’s ruddy cheeks where she scratched at him like a wild animal.

  But Sam held her firm, refusing to let go, forgetting his own pain in favor of this stranger’s safety.

  Nina came around the arm of the couch in a flash of color, placing her hands on either side of the woman’s head, hovering near her, whispering soothing words. Her eyes sought Wanda’s from over the top of Sam’s head, and they held a frantic question.

  But Mark voiced it when he yelled with a terrified, trembling squeal, “What. The. Hell?”

  “I don’t know how much longer we can hold her, Wanda!” Nina howled. “What the fuck is going on?”

  Wanda shoved Mark behind her with so much force he toppled backward, crashing into their small antique buffet and slamming against the wall. “Stay back!” Wanda ordered over her shoulder at him.

  But all eyes fell to the woman when she roared, her mouth falling open with the force of the howl’s ejection from her throat. It was so much like The Exorcist, Phoebe, even in her heightened state of terror, wondered if Mark wouldn’t pass out from the fear. She rushed to his side, scooping him up like he was nothing more than a dirty sock left lying on the floor. She propped him up against the wall, then flew across the room to aid Nina and Sam.

  Her eyes met Nina’s over the woman’s screams, and in that moment, she saw the tiniest hint of admiration for her. Phoebe wrapped her arms around the woman’s legs, throwing her torso on her to keep her from crashing to the floor.

  Yet keeping her from harm turned out to be the least of their worries.

  She spewed one final scream of agony, long and eerily high, and then there was a crack, brittle and harsh, punctuating the room in an exclamation point, followed by an ear-splitting tear.

  Of flesh.

  And bone.

  Like some weird time-lapse photography you might see on the Discovery Channel, the woman’s hair went from stunningly blue black to gray. The strands became wispy and drifted from her head like cobwebs, floating off and disappearing.

  Horror washed over Phoebe when her flesh began to fall away from her snapping bones, turning to ash, crumbling as though she were made of stone.

  She was withering, Phoebe’s brain screamed, aging and decomposing right before their eyes.

  Mark’s high-pitched scream of fear was the last thing Phoebe heard before the woman turned to dust.

  Phoebe fought the dizzy rushes of panic and sank back on the couch, catching sight of the pile of ashes on her couch.

  Now that would definitely leave a stain.

  CHAPTER

  4

  “Sam?”

  “Phoebe.”

  “Let me clean those scratches,” Phoebe offered from behind him, pushing her eyes downward to the floor to avoid the strange lust his broad back stirred in her. This was without a doubt the most inappropriate of times to find she was physically attracted to a man. “She really got you good.”

  He lifted his dark head from his position over the sink and looked into the mirror; his left eyebrow rose in response to his lack of reflection. “I think that’s taken care of,” he remarked, dry and tired. “At least it feels like it is. I can’t tell for sure because I can’t see myself.”

  Phoebe’s head shot up, her eyes straying over Sam’s shoulder to glimpse his jaw. He had no reflection, but she did. Wow. Sam also had no scratches. Her jaw unhinged much the way it would at a half-off MAC makeup sale.

  “Yay, vampire,” he drawled.

  The left side of her mouth lifted in a smirk in response. “Yeah. Booyah. I’d get my pom-poms and make up a cheer or something, but my thinking cap’s in the shop right now.”

  Sam rubbed a knuckle over his forehead. “I want to be freaked out. I should be freaked out. Yet I find myself not only horrified but amazed that I just self-healed.” He shook his head in bewilderment, turning it from side to side with short jerks.

  Phoebe reached out to run a finger over the place where a deep scratch had cut across his sharp cheekbone in
an angry slash just twenty minutes ago.

  It was gone and in its place, the clear, pale reminder of their new state. She snatched her hand back, tucking it under her arm with a stern mental reminder to her fingers to quit straying where they didn’t belong. “Mark mentioned what you do for a living. That you’re more amazed by something so astounding, so unbelievable rather than drooling and rocking in a corner ranks you high on the Trekkie list of all-time sci-fi geeks. I imagine you’ll be given your own Enterprise as a reward for stoicism.”

  Sam chuckled, deep and resonant in her small, mint green and white bathroom with the mosaic tiled floor and claw-foot antique tub. “I think my own spaceship isn’t as out of the realm of my possibilities after what’s happened tonight.”

  The easy moment between them passed and reality settled back into the pit of her stomach. “I think you’re right. So why do you suppose I can see my reflection but you can’t see yours?”

  “The Great and Powerful Vampire Oz decided it was more likely you’d miss seeing yourself in the mirror than I would?”

  “Follow the yellow brick road,” she murmured.

  Sam ran his wide hand over his hair and turned to face her. “Is Mark all right?”

  Phoebe had changed into a pair of jeans and a long camel-colored pullover sweater. She plucked at the front of it, guilt for exposing Mark to this without even a little warning at a premium. “Define all right. If you mean does he still know who he is and what year we’re in, then, yes. He’s all right. Was picking that information out of all the other babbling he’s doing easy? Then, no. He’s not all right.”

  Sam grimaced, his concern for others warming her from the inside. “Will he be?”

  She managed to smile up at him. “Mark’s not as weak as he appears right now. It takes him about a week to get over even a horror film that’s just a little scary. When we saw A Nightmare on Elm Street for the first time, I thought he’d never sleep again. But he did—it took the lights on and some Prozac, I think, but he did. So I’m guessing with this being a reality, it might take some time for it to sink in.”