Death 07 - For the Love of Death (18 page)

Pax

I’ve practiced before, but never with this many. Or this powerful.

Tiff is at my left and Dad my right.

My hands are on Dee’s shoulders as she stands in front of me, and I gaze toward Gramps’ gate. Tiff and Dad each have a hold of my belt loops.

“I don’t like this, Caleb. Nobody can control Deegan’s zombies but her,” Mom says.

Solid.

“Jade,” Gramps says, “we agreed to let Deedie release the psychos from the institution. That’ll keep all the Randoms busy playing grab-ass.”

I smirk, thinking about everyone without hands, their appendages floating God knows where Dee shot them to.

It sounds so reasonable, using the dead from the insane asylum. Until you factor in the part about the wackos being
criminally
insane.

Mom rolls her lip into her teeth, obviously having a fret attack. “She’s just seventeen.”

“Tomorrow,” I correct.

Birthdays are the shit in our house, national holiday time. I could no sooner forget Dee is turning seventeen tomorrow than the fact I’m a guy.

Mitch turns to Dee, and she blushes
. What’s that about?

It's the first look she's given him since his revelation about obligation versus emotion.

Dude came through on making Dee believe he’s just following orders
.

I know guys and he’s gone on her, but Dee doesn’t see. Thank everything that’s holy. I guess I have to give Mitch the nod there. He must really care about Dee to lie.
And leave her
.
Unheard of for a zombie. They’re an effing devoted group.

Mitch is a murderer, too. Even if the killings were justifiable, having someone as violent and musclebound hanging with my sister makes me nervous as hell.

I look back to the gate, my every nerve ending open and raw. The air’s heavy around me. The hands linking to me are full of death.

It’s time.

The energy swirls through the four of us, and I use it to call whatever is dead. My sister’s unique signature moves in the direction we gave her.

The psych institution’s been closed down forever. Cruelty to patients or some shit. Worked out for the corrupt staff that there’s a cemetery on the property.

I can only imagine all the stuff they hid.

It’ll work for us now.

I feel Dee seeking, coaxing them out of their graves
.

I sigh when they rise, moving in our direction.

“Hurry,” Gramps says.

“Security breach,” Archer adds, hooking his mind-to-pulse frequency to the code Gramps gave him.

I center myself like Dad taught me, giving him a sideways look.

He nods, and his power seamlessly clicks with mine.

We focus together as we did when I was young and he spent hours training me. Teaching me control, finesse, stealth. 

Like a living thing, death seeks.

Finds.

Hundreds of answering pings tap the net of our death energy as it descends like a huge spider web on the radius we control, several kilometers out, with the combination of Dad and Tiff it's even further.

“There goes the driveway!” Jonesy chortles, and Bry skips off fissures as they appear, running in all directions like shattered glass.

Gramps groans at the destruction of his perfect cement, and I chuckle.

Tiff moans in relief as we use our talent. Letting it out always feels good, like a release.

The Skopamish rise like the totem poles of legend. Erect, regal.

Ready.

A huge battering ram sends the solid wood gate flying into splinters, scattering the length of the cracking driveway.

“That’ll be such a GD hassle to get repaired,” Gramps laments.

His voice comes to me distantly, as if through water. When I burst the bubble of my power further, it hits a wall.

Nulls.

Dad flexes harder, a rubber band strung taut with a target, and I suck from Tiff’s energy in an epic scoop-out.

“Hurts, Pax,” she says.

I even out the siphon.

“Paxton,” Uncle John warns.

“Sick ’em, John,” I say.

John steps away from his wife, moving into the charge of Randoms who come through the gate.

My power ripples. I punch through the hole John makes in the other Nullsʼ negation of our combined power.

I can feel Dee’s heat. I know when the insane draw nearer.

I feel their minds and cringe.

Dee doesn’t. What they raise never bothers the raiser.

The first landmine explodes. Chunks of cement like little missiles come straight at us then disappear.

A leg lands with a bloody thunk at a Skopamish’s feet. He kicks it out of the way as his tomahawk clears its holder.

“Dee,” I whisper.

“It’s okay, Pax,” she says. “It’s just concrete.”

“Don’t kill them. You might not survive.”

Emotionally, sis.

“They don't die.”

I waste a look at her. Deep liquid blue eyes meet mine over her shoulder.

Don't.

“Can't stop,” she replies aloud.

My eyes widen.

“They have someone…”

I look into the growing crowd.

SPs show pulse-activated flamethrowers at the ready. Contraband flamethrowers, of course.

Fuck.

Mitch growls beside us.

That guy.

“They’re coming.” Dee’s tone gets my full attention.

Scared.

Mitch glances at her. Worry etches his face.

The insane roll through the gate, flanking the Randoms and SPs.

“Did you tell them?” I ask.

Dad gives me a sharp look.
Just following through
, I
look
back at him.

Mitch moves in front of Dee, blocking my view. The dick.

It’s okay, Dee—I got this.

I’m scared.

I turn her around. “You’re scared of who?” I ask, my fingertips biting into her shoulders.

“Them,” she says.

The insane zombies.

I shake my head, puzzling her words out. “They’re
yours
.”

She shakes her head in return. “No—I don’t think so.”

What?

Whose are they then?

Our gazes lock, minds tethering hard.

Their own.

“Tell me that isn’t true!” I shake her a little.
We can’t contain these guys?
My eyes search hers.

“What’s going on?” Dad asks, sweat staining his shirt’s armpits, waistband and rolling down his temples.

Tiff flicks a glance my way. “We coming apart, bud?”

I can't answer.  I do anyway. “Maybe.”

“Gawd, terrific.” Tiff pops a bubble.

The Skopamish move in. The power of the Nulls wash over us, three—no
four
Nulls.

It's too much, even with John countering.

Uncle John turns, shaking his head.

Great.

He backs up, his large body standing guard in front of his wife.

“I can't see, goofball,” she squeaks behind him.

“Sorry, I'm staying put, tiger.”

The criminally insane are armed. They come at the Randoms with a variety of illegal weapons.

Shanks and broom handles sharpened to spear points. Chains and barbed wire stand naked in every hand.

The eyes are all the same. Crazy as loons, evil as the devil.

“God—Dee,” I say.

“I know,” she agrees, voice shaky.

Every eye is on her.

“Protect,” she whispers.

They move in, and the slaughter of the Randoms and SPs begin.

*

It's not the fire that's dangerous, but the smoke; the horrible smell of dead flesh melting away.

Scalps litter the torn wounds of the driveway, some stuck between the gaps like raw meat caught in teeth of cement.

It's gruesome even by AFTD standards.

A flame flickers from an empty thrower. The SP tosses the useless weapon and two nutjobs land on him. One twirls a strand of barb wire around the guy's neck, jerking him straight up while his buddy shanks him in the gut.

They drop him to let him bleed out, smoothly moving on.

Their stares find my sister as the dead criminals mow through the Randoms.

Some splatter against the concrete as clever telekinetics get after them. A few explode heads like pumpkins.

They all advance toward us.

“Mitch,” I say.

He’s already in front of Dee.

Good boy. Stay, roll over, play dead.

Ten meters.

Too many Randoms and SPs.

Adrenaline surges in a breath-stealing tide.

Five.

I tense.
Plenty of the crazy dead.

Two.

Mitch and I sandwich Dee, and I check out the parents. Clyde covers them.

I turn back to the front line and swing my mouth open in relief and shock.

Jeff Parker breezes through the wreckage with a wave. He appears like a mirage through the smoke and wreckage, stepping over the bodies and gore as if skipping through tulips.

Thank God
,
the cavalry’s arrived.

Caleb

I don’t try to hide my relief when I see Parker. He’s the thing we need to tip the balance and get out of this tight jam.

The dead turn to him with an expression of awe.

Deegan’s dead ignore him.

The Skopamish back away as the remaining Randoms move in for the kill.

Two telekinetics uproot twenty-year-old cherry trees in the height of their growing season and chase him with the root balls. Parker hiccups in my mind, and the banshee wail of six tribesmen lands on the Randoms. The Indians unceremoniously ride rare paranormals to the ground, forearms bracing against throats in a maneuver to pin.

Eyes bulge as scalps tear off their heads. I cringe a little with the Skopamish’s enthusiasm but don’t have time for introspective bullshit.

I wonder where Nevaeh is.
Parker's wife is usually where he is.

“What the hell is going on?” Jeffrey ducks his head as a body part flies overhead. “You sent out a wave of energy felt round the world!”

Probably.
“Dee’s been outed for her ability, and now the world is coming.”

Jeff looks at me oddly, and I briefly wonder why, as he’s known for some time about the black hole nightmare. Hell, how many times had I phoned him during the witching hour to run shit by him?

He’d had a barrel of monkeys with his own twin girls. He definitely felt my pain.

“Right,
right
.” He snaps his fingers as though suddenly remembering.

We stare out over the bodies and the fighting.

I shift my gaze to Deegan. “Can you—would you get her somewhere safe? This is only the beginning. They’ll get to her through us. But you have places, safe houses…”

Jeff, still looking fit for almost fifty, holds his hands up. Of course, he might be rejuvenating already if he is receptive.

Another mine explodes, and we instantly sink to a crouch.

It puts Parker and me uncomfortably close. He grabs my shoulder. “Whatever you need, you know I’d do anything for the kids.”

I nod.
I know it.

“Deegan,” I say quietly.

My stomach lurches as more SPs flow through Grampsʼ gate.

“Damn, damn, double-damn,” Gramps mutters behind me.

“Not now, Daddy,” she says all in the zone.

Brother.

“Honey, you need to go with Jeff—he'll take you somewhere safe.”

Jeff smiles at her.

“I don't want to go.”

Mitch gives Parker a hard look. Parker stares back.

“Wow, not good. Zero control,” Parker says, eyeing Mitch head to toe.

“Yeah, weird, isn’t it?”

Jeff gives a slow nod.

Zombie rebels, bad news.

A shotgun blast booms over our heads, and an SP that’s tearing at Sophie goes bye-bye.

“Still an American, chaps!” Gramps bellows from the background. “You're on my property and have been warned! Due diligence, suckers!”

I look at the convulsing SP on the ground.

The warning’s pretty fair.

I turn back to Parker, and his lips twitch.

“Okay, I’ll get Deegan out of here, and you clean up the rest of the mess.”

“No! Dad!”

“Deegan, go with Jeff. He or Nevaeh will get a hold of us when you land somewhere safe.”

Parker cocks a brow. I dismiss his hesitation when Deegan melts down.

“No—what about Mitch? He'll
die
without me.”

I look at Mitch and he stares back.

“He
is
dead, sweetheart.”

Another bomb goes off. I grab her shoulders and give a solid shake. “Let me protect you Deegan!”

Deegan glances at Pax and Jade, her lip quivering.

“Now go.”

Deegan sighs, the insane following her movements like birds of prey.

“What about them?” Parker asks, his hand on her elbow.

Yeah, the undead ward.

“I don't know.”

“Good call, Hart,” Parker quips.

I scowl at him, rolling my eyes. “It's what I could do.”

Mitch steps forward, eyes only for Deegan. Then they shift to Parker. “You trust him?”

“Dad trusts him. He’s been around forever.”

Mitch nods reluctantly.

A tomahawk clatters to the concrete, and blood splatters a half meter from our feet. Regular police show up and begin to clean up the Skopamish.

We can’t be killing cops. They’re here to serve and protect and all that jazz.

Plus, I have a soft spot for one in particular.

Mitch bends his body almost in half over my daughter, shadowing her in the late afternoon light.

I breathe in the metallic air filled with people’s blood, dead and alive.

He kisses Deegan’s forehead, a finger trailing down her cheek. Mitch straightens, and his deep blue eyes regard Parker’s hazel flint bits.

“Take care of her.”

“I will,” Parker says, then he is moving through the melee. My daughter is in the shadow of his body, and a deep relief fills me.

Randoms, SPs, and cops come from all sides.

Pax and I tighten the lasso of our power. Tiff’s does a chaser like a shot glass behind us.

Birds, bees and all forms of insects descend, blinding our adversaries. They clear a path of escape for my daughter.

The eyes of the criminally insane watch her go. Several lick their lips, clenching their hands around weapons I’ve never seen in the flesh.

Just as Parker takes Deegan outside the gate, he turns and waves like a salute.

Sudden disquiet envelopes me.

I hate to have her out of my sight. I hate even more for her to be here if she might be physically taken from us.

So why do I feel so uneasy when Deegan winks away as the lengthening shadows of night overcomes the day?

*

Garcia’s pen is poised above the tablet. “You know, Caleb, I was
this
close to retirement.” He holds his index finger and thumb a hairsbreadth from meeting. “Then the shit had to hit the fan again.”

“The fan?”

He waves away my confusion. “Listen, the SPs have a legit complaint here. You have several illegal zombies…” He laughs, running a hand through inky hair threaded with silver like Christmas tinsel. “A posse of undead.”

“Tell me again what happened, and for the record”—he points an obsolete writing device, whose name escapes me, at my chest—“the only reason you’re still here instead of at the station is your Grandpa’s place is grandfathered.”

Gramps had put in every piece of paperwork against every contingency he could think of.

None of our constitution’s amendments past the late 1990s of the twentieth could be used against him.

Seizure of property? Nope—had that covered.

So, unfortunately for the SPs and Randoms, his
right to defend
his property by any means holds.

But the cops were involved, and there’d been lots o’ murders.

Lots.

What’s really cool is watching Tiff walk to each of the undead, repair them, and put them to rest as I stand there.

Nice follow-through.

“Fuck this! Those are goddamned witnesses! They can be stationed,” an SP shouts as the cops contain the line of both Random and SP.

Tiff sticks a stiff arm up in the middle of our corpses, flipping him the bird.

Gramps snorts a laugh.

“You’re a class act, girl,” he says with a touch of pride.

“You know it, Mac.”

He rocks back on his heels, grinning. Gramps always had a soft spot for Tiff. Hard love for us all, but real.

Garcia sighs. Given our history, he’s done a lot of sighing. He looks to Bobbi and Clyde.

“What happened?”

Bobbi saunters up. A couple of other cops give her a dirty look, and Clyde balls his hands into fists.

They flick nervous gazes at him.

Many modern men can’t fight. If they can’t draw their weapons, they’re useless with nothing but their body as defense.

Gramps watches the interchange in smug silence.

Clyde’s glittering eyes deliver the message of my thoughts. They know he could beat their asses. Clyde doesn’t abide disrespect, especially where Bobbi is concerned.

“They want Deegan.”

“Why?” Garcia hikes his eyebrows.

Bobbi glances down. When she looks up, her eyes meet mine and I nod.

Hell, who doesn’t know at this point. Bobbi maintains a level of discretion regardless. She grips his shoulder, stands on tiptoe, and whispers in his ear.

Garcia’s eyes widen, his face a cascade of emotions.

She slowly drops to her heels.

Garcia whistles low in his throat. “That’ll do it.”

“Right?” I hold my palms out inoffensively.

His face blanks. Bobbi and I glance at each other.

“Shit—I’m sorry, Caleb.” Garcia wakes up from his mind-to-pulse com and pulls his weapon. “Where’s Deegan?”

Holy crow.

Bobbi backs up. “Raul? What. The. Fuck?”

Clyde moves behind her. “What’s the meaning of this, Garcia?”

“The meaning is, they’ve got my family, and there’s a gun to my wife’s head.”

His eyes hold mine prisoner.

The breath leaks out of my body like a popped balloon as Jade’s hand falls on my back.

I don’t have the answer he so badly needs.

The one filling my brain is that maybe there are worse things than the HC.