Forsaken by the Others (15 page)

“Get out of the car! Go, go, go!”

We didn’t need any more prompting from Devon. Everyone piled out and followed Tiny,
who was leading the way around the maze of stopped cars and trucks to the nearest
exit. Some of the other White Hats were joining us, too, getting out of their cars
as soon as they saw what we were doing.

I glimpsed some zombies milling around the other side of the freeway, stopping traffic.
There were more marching up an on-ramp on that side, moving in our direction. I had
no doubt they were coming for me and Sara.

It was still a heck of a run, but we had to get off the freeway and away from the
zombies doing their slow shuffle in our direction. When I glanced over my shoulder,
even more of them were already over the fences surrounding the cemetery and what looked
like a wide, man-made river past the road that ran between the park and the freeway.
Despite all the obstacles in their way, most of the zombies were moving straight for
us, even altering their path a little bit to adjust to our change in position.

How the hell did they know where we were? Why were they after—?

No. Stupid question. I knew why they were after us.

Rather than focus on the monsters coming toward us from the south, I put my attention
on what lay ahead. People were rolling down their windows, sticking their heads out
to see what was stopping traffic or watch us, though no one attempted to stop us.
A passing cop on a motorcycle hollered at us to get back in our cars, but he kept
going—probably on his way to face whatever was holding things up ahead.

The nearest off-ramp on our side was about a quarter of a mile away, and the traffic
there was completely backed up, too. We dodged around the cars, working our way over
to the side of the road, some of the White Hats pulling their guns or knives and holding
them ready. It made me wish desperately for my own gear, but nobody had offered to
outfit me with anything, and I hadn’t thought to ask for any weapons before we left
Devon’s place.

I almost smacked into Tiny’s broad back on the downslope of the off-ramp. I sensed
something was wrong long before I saw it. Or smelled it.

The sick-sweet charnel reek of decaying bodies hit me like a smack in the face. The
other White Hats were gagging, one of them on his knees at the side of the road, puking
his guts out. Tiny’s hand groped behind him, making contact with my shoulder, shoving
me back.

I skidded on the dry, brown dirt and gravel, grabbing at a nearby side-view mirror
to catch my balance. The cheap piece of crap came off in my hand when I put my weight
on it, and I ignored the “Hey!” from the driver as I twisted around and ran back the
way we had come.

The rest of the White Hats had stopped at the top of the ramp, their eyes wide and
mouths open as they stared at what was behind us. So far I hadn’t seen, but I was
sure it would probably be a great deal like what Sara and I had witnessed outside
of Jimmy Thrane’s hideout.

One of the guys slapped a pistol into my hand when I hit the top. I spun around to
see how close the zombies might be and to make sure the rest of the White Hats were
out of harm’s way.

Sara was lagging a little behind, but Devon had her around the waist and was dragging
her up the incline. The other White Hats had their guns out and aimed at the zombies,
but no one had fired any rounds yet. There was another gaggle of zombies at the bottom
of the ramp, marching toward us in a loose formation. They weren’t moving very fast,
and some of the people in the cars were screaming or leaning on their horns, drowning
out the sounds of radios and hush of commands being bantered between the hunters.
One of the panicked drivers tried reversing, and the crunch of breaking glass and
metal followed the squeal of tires on the asphalt.

Distant gunfire rang out from the direction the cops had been headed, echoing against
the hillsides. A sharp crack, followed by a more full-throated boom, like a shotgun.
More screams.

We had to get the hell out of there. The only way left to go was down the hillside
along the off-ramp, opposite the cemetery, unless we wanted to risk running back the
way we’d come. It was the only way we could go that wasn’t being cut off by a swarm
of walking dead. There was no way we could keep going forward. Whatever was up ahead
was enough to keep a cop from stopping to question us when we left our cars—and from
the look of all the lights flashing out of the corner of my eye and the thunder of
a helicopter approaching, there were plenty more police on the way.

Cripes, was I wrong about Gideon and Fabian’s plan? Were they trying to start the
zombie apocalypse? This was a
much
bigger horde than we had encountered outside of Thrane’s hideout.

A nearby cry from behind whipped my attention onto the White Hats at my back. There
was a large group of animated corpses behind us, another group crossing the freeway,
and a third coming from where all of the gunfire was originating, all moving to converge
on our location. The screams from the cars around us were getting louder as the zombies
approached, and more people were panicking and backing their cars into the ones behind
them as they tried to escape the solid gridlock. Couldn’t blame them for that, though
escape at this point was a hopeless cause. There were too many monsters, and they
were coming from multiple directions.

The White Hats had yet to open fire. I thought it might have been because of all of
the innocent bystanders, but it might have been because of the police and witnesses,
too.

Then I heard a roar. Not mechanical. The sound drowned out everything else, even the
screams of terrified people around us.

Tiny gave me a not-so-gentle shove in Sara’s direction, most of the White Hats and
even the zombies turning in the direction the sound had come from. I couldn’t be sure,
but I thought the ground was shaking in rhythmic thumps.

I’m not sure if I screamed or not when I saw what had made that sound—what was causing
the ground to shake. I was a bit too terrified at the time to tell.

Now, I’ve spent more than my fair share of time around werewolves. Their half-man,
half-wolf form was nothing new to me. When shifted, they usually stood on their hind
legs, upright like a man, with the head and tail of a wolf, complete with clawed hands
and furred bodies. They’re bigger than people in that form—unquestionably. Since I
had dated one for a while, you would think I would have been fairly inured to what
they were, what they looked like, and what they could do.

Then again, I’d never seen a shifted Goliath before.

Rohrik Donovan was the largest shifted Were I had previously run into, and he had
easily been the size of a particularly beefy Bengal tiger.

What stood before me was something completely different.

Imagine a school bus. Now imagine a werewolf that, from the tip of its snout to the
end of its long, swishy tail, was half the length of that bus.

You’d have a Goliath.

It galloped down the empty stretch of freeway until it reached the nearest clump of
zombies, tearing into them with all the aplomb of a chainsaw. Rotted people parts
flew every which way, gore spattering its mottled gray coat, and the screams of people
in nearby cars were deafening. Most of them stayed in their vehicles, but a couple
tried making a run for it. I couldn’t tell if they got away or not. There were too
many zombies blocking the view on the street for me to be sure.

The White Hats started shouting orders, and some of them aimed their weapons at the
Were. I barely had time to scream, “No!” at them before a few of them unloaded on
the creature.

It yowled and looked our way, liquid golden eyes swimming with hatred. Some of the
teeth it bared at us looked like they might be close to a foot long.

Real smart. That’s right, go ahead and piss off the gigantic, oversized, murderous
werewolf.

The stupidity of the White Hats was going to be their undoing, not mine. I tucked
the gun into the waistband of my jeans and made a grab for Devon, who was still holding
on to Sara, and for Tiny, tugging them after me. They all looked petrified, the White
Hats’ guns aimed at the gigantic werewolf stalking in our direction.

Its broad head swiveled toward us, and the teeth it had been baring at the hunters
parted as it made some sound that was half growl, half whine. It made an annoyed gesture,
that clawed hand sweeping in a negative motion, before it ducked its head and took
a chunk out of a zombie that was still moving toward us.

Thank God it was only annoyed by the bullets instead of enraged. If it hadn’t been
so intent on tearing apart the walking dead, I’m sure it would have been White Hats
spattered across the concrete instead. Hell, judging by the size of the thing, it
probably could have thrown a car at us without breaking a sweat if it had been so
inclined.

Gideon must have noticed something was wrong with the zombies. Maybe that they were
being mowed down faster than they should have been, or possibly he sensed the way
they were dying. I had no way of knowing how his tie to them worked other than through
his ability to command them. Whatever clued him in, the bulk of the zombies shifted
their focus from Sara and me to the Goliath that was tearing them apart.

I winced in sympathy when a few of them dug their rotted fingers into the Were’s fur,
some latching on with their teeth. We didn’t have enough time to see what else the
zombies or werewolf were about to do. Or if the bites made the Goliath turn into a
zombie-werewolf. The thought alone was enough to make my blood run cold.

Devon, Sara, and Tiny didn’t need much additional prompting to follow me. We rushed
down the hillside, past some bushes and trees, and straight to the ivy-covered chain-link
fence surrounding the blacktop of a parking lot behind an office building.

Tiny gave Sara a boost, while Devon and I scrambled to get over the top of the fence.

A womanly screech nearly shattered my eardrums and startled me so badly that I lost
my grip on the top and landed so painfully on my back on the other side that all of
the air was knocked out of my lungs. I stared up, gasping for air, as Tiny spun around
to deck the zombie that had grabbed him. I could hardly believe the big guy had made
such a high-pitched noise.

His fist went right through its rotted ribcage. I had to swallow back the urge to
throw up, scrambling to my feet so I could help Sara over the fence while Tiny and
Devon shoved at the creatures grabbing at them and reaching for us.

One of the zombies had Devon pinned against the fence, pulling him down before he
could get onto the other side. His arm under its jaw kept the snapping teeth from
latching onto him, but its long, dirty fingernails were clawing at his ribs, tearing
up his shirt and leaving bloody streaks behind. Sara placed a piece of wood into my
hand. A thick gardening stake or something. It didn’t feel very sturdy, but I would
make whatever use I got out of it count.

Hastening back to the top, I braced myself with one hand, hefting the piece of wood
with the other. “Devon, down,” I ordered, swinging up and over with as much strength
as I could muster. He slid down, his thin wifebeater catching on the chain-link fence
as he pushed the zombie toward me.

It was awkward, but it worked. The wood shattered but did an adequate job of staving
the thing’s skull in. We both got spattered with stinky gobs of some kind of pink
and brownish fluid that had a mixed stench of chemicals and rot strong enough to make
my eyes burn. Though my vision was blurred, I saw Devon shove the now limp body off
of him and step in to help Tiny. He kicked at the corpse that was latched onto the
other hunter’s shoulders, gnawing at his upraised arm. I was amazed Tiny wasn’t making
a sound, other than a few pained grunts as he pushed at it with his good arm.

The thing didn’t seem to notice Devon’s attacks. Not even when tendons snapped as
its knee buckled. I still had the gun, but I was afraid to use it for fear I might
accidentally hurt Devon or Tiny in the process.

“Head shot! Go for the head,” Sara called.

Devon backed up a step and kicked at the exposed jawbone poking through a hole in
its cheek. I didn’t remember much about the specifics in my self-defense classes,
but to my relatively untrained eye, it looked like he had pretty good form for a thrust
kick. The blow was powerful enough to stun the zombie, sending it crumpling to the
side, yellowed teeth scattering across the ground like marbles. Its fingers clawed
weakly at the patch of ivy it had fallen into, but it looked like it might be down
for the count.

The two hunters scrambled over the fence, though Tiny had a hard time with his injured
arm cradled against his chest. His dark skin was tinged a bit gray, and he was sweating
profusely, but I hoped that was from the exertion and not because the zombie had infected
him.

The four of us left the other White Hats behind, dashing across the parking lot. If
we could get to the main drag, we might be able to flag a cab or catch a bus away
from this crazy part of town.

Of course, Gideon had to be waiting for us at the entrance to the lot, hands on his
jean-clad hips. His glowing eyes watched us over the lenses of rectangular, greenish
sunglasses that should have looked ridiculous, but somehow fit perfectly on the guy.
There had to be fifty zombies crowded around him, blocking the way out, waiting for
us.

The way this trip had been going so far, why was I even surprised?

“You two are really starting to get on my nerves,” Gideon said, glaring at Sara and
me over the tops of his sunglasses.

That startled a laugh out of me.
“We’re
getting on
your
nerves? What the hell are you doing here? Starting the zombie apocalypse?”

Sara gave a slight start, and my gaze flicked over to her. Her brows had shot up,
lending her an expression of mixed confusion and recognition.

It only then occurred to me that Gideon’s “fade” spell might have been in effect in
that alley outside Thrane’s place. Sara must not have remembered what the necromancer
looked like, though I certainly hadn’t forgotten. Maybe that meant the charm on my
necklace was working after all. It could cut through illusions and spells that were
meant to affect a broad area, but wasn’t powerful enough to resist a direct attack,
like his command to make me sleep. Good to know the charm had its limits, though I
wished Arnold had said something so I didn’t have to learn through experience.

For his part, Gideon didn’t appear very thrilled with us, either. “What? Of course
not!” His lips pressed together, spots of color appearing high on his cheeks. Stalking
forward, he stabbed a finger in my direction. “You need to stay the hell away from
Clyde. What are
you
doing here with a bunch of hunters, hmm?” he demanded, waving a hand at Devon and
Tiny, then in the direction of the other White Hats fighting in a clump just up the
hill.

“She’s a friend,” Devon snarled, leveling a gun at the necromancer’s head.

Gideon was not impressed. He rolled his eyes, waving a hand airily in Devon’s direction.
“Oh, please. Spare me the theatrics. Put the gun down.”

“Get out of our way, and I’ll put it down.”

“Mmmm . . . no.”

Gideon’s gaze met Devon’s, and his lips moved as if he were whispering something to
the hunter.

Devon lowered the gun. His eyes glazed, his jaw going slack. Gideon was doing something
similar to whatever he had done to Sara and me before when he had commanded us to
sleep. A black enchant—the worst kind of way to mess with the mind. Stealing away
a person’s will.

There wasn’t anything I could do about it. By the time I recognized what the necromancer
was doing, he had finished toying with Devon’s mind. Devon was clutching at his temples,
the barrel of the gun pointed at the sky. Gideon grinned, pleased with himself, and
was now looking at me.

Fuck.

“What did you do to him?” I asked, hating how my voice shook. I wondered if I could
get off a shot before Gideon could pull the same trick on me.

“Oh, nothing much. Just kept him from getting any ideas about pulling that trigger
when he’s pointing that gun at me. And I won’t hesitate to do the same to you.” The
necromancer’s gaze flicked from Devon to me and back, his lips pursing. The hand he
had been waving at Devon stilled, then clenched, one finger ticking back and forth
between us. “You two . . . ?” One brow cocked in question.

“No,” I said, imitating his earlier stance, hands on my hips. This guy was so obviously
full of himself and what he was capable of that it made me briefly regret I hadn’t
turned Were. There was no way that I could see to hurt him back for what he had done.
The best I could do was to hurl sarcasm at him. “What’s it to you, anyway? We weren’t
coming after you
or
Fabian
or
Clyde.” Not yet, anyway. Hoped he couldn’t detect the little white lie. “We were
going to meet some friends. How the hell did you know where we were?”

“Girlfriend, do not try me. You have no idea what kind of headache I have from raising
enough zombies to make a bridge across the LA River and block the freeway, then simultaneously
hold off police, a pissed off werewolf,
and
a bunch of vigilante hunters with
far
too high an opinion of their fighting abilities. Not to mention while holding a rational
conversation with you. Cut the crap and give me the skinny. Why are you headed into
town, and what the hell are you doing with a bunch of White Hats?”

A pained noise made me look over at Tiny. He had fallen to one knee, still clutching
at his injured arm with his good one. Devon and Sara both rushed over to his side.
The necromancer didn’t try to stop them, but the zombies started inching forward.
We had to get out of there.

“Please,” I said, the words spilling out in a rush as I gestured frantically at Tiny
who was now flat on his back, “we don’t care what you and Fabian are up to. You want
to kill Clyde? By all means, be my guest. Just let us go so we can take my friend
to the hospital. I swear, we’re just friends. I originally met them in New York. They
helped me and Alec Royce out when another vampire tried to take over—”

“Max Carlyle?”

“Yes, him. He was attacking a bunch of the vampires in the city, and these guys helped
us out. Royce sent Sara and me here to lie low with Clyde while he sorts out a mess
I made back home. It’s my fault we’re here, not the White Hats’. Fabian said you guys
were going to do something awful to Clyde, so we thought we’d be safer with the White
Hats. That’s all. Okay?”

Gideon considered this, one hand stroking his chin as he regarded me. The intense
glow in his eyes faded a little. “Fabian informed me that you two had run off. He
thought you were getting reinforcements to stop us. Stay out of our business,
capiche
?”

“Yeah, whatever—can we go now?”

He shook his head, stalking forward. Some of the zombies inched closer, though for
the most part they hung back, still blocking the way out of the lot.

Gideon—unnecessarily, I might add—made sure he took a path that gave him a reason
to give me a little shove on the shoulder, then bent to slide one hand in a very provocative
way up Devon’s back. “Out of the way, lover boy.”

The hunter wasn’t expecting the touch and fell on his side, scrambling away on hands
and knees, before he remembered his gun and held it at the necromancer with both trembling
hands. His finger tightened on the trigger, but not enough for the gun to go off.
He cursed, the muscles and tendons in his arms and hands standing out in stark relief
as he fought the mental suggestion preventing him from shooting.

All Sara did was lean back, but she didn’t leave Tiny’s side.

Tiny had closed his eyes, one huge hand engulfing Sara’s. She glared over Tiny’s prone
form at Gideon, who wasn’t paying any of us much mind, muttering to himself as he
examined the bite marks.

The glow in the necromancer’s eyes brightened before he shut them, resting both of
his hands on Tiny’s injured arm. He didn’t say or do anything that I could see to
cast his spell, but the bite marks were knitting themselves shut, and color was coming
back to Tiny’s normally dark skin. His breathing evened out; his eyelids were fluttering.

Of all the things I was expecting the necromancer might do, healing Tiny’s injury
was one of the last on the list.

Blowing out a breath as the last of the gray tinge left his patient’s skin, Gideon
withdrew, falling back a bit ungracefully on his ass. A couple of the zombies fell
over, completely still.

Tiny groaned, one hand lifting to his forehead, though he remained on his back. “What
the hell happened?”

“You had a close call,” Gideon replied. He lifted his glasses and rubbed under his
eyes, making no effort to hide the strain in his voice. “And now I’m exhausted. Perfect.”

Devon still hadn’t lowered his gun. One hand fumbled at Tiny’s shoulder, then pulled
him away from where Gideon was seated. The mage watched with dull interest for a moment,
then turned his attention on Sara.

“You might want to do something about those runes, sweets.”

She paled, withdrawing to cross her arms, fingertips curling around her forearms.
“What? How . . . how did you know?”

“How did you think I found you? Makes it easy for anyone like me to tap in and take
a taste. You’re lucky I have some scruples, unlike whoever branded you.”

My brows furrowed, and I took a step forward to put my hand on Sara’s shoulder. She
looked like she was about to be sick; her breathing sped up to the point I was concerned
she might hyperventilate. “Hey, someone want to hit me with a clue-bat over here?
What the hell are you two talking about?”

Gideon smirked, reaching over Tiny to snag one of Sara’s arms and pull it out straight.
She didn’t resist, though she made a little sound in her throat like a wounded puppy.
One hand held her wrist while the other tugged on the cuff of her sleeve, pulling
it up to reveal the inside of her forearm.

My eyes bugged. I had to sit down, my palms scraping on the concrete and the gun digging
into my hip.

Why the hell hadn’t she told me about the scars from marks that had been obviously,
deliberately carved into her? They were an angry red against her otherwise pale skin,
not the smooth, shiny gleam of normal scar tissue. Like there was blood pooled just
under the surface, making them appear even more unnatural.

“Someone’s been naughty. This is the darkest of the dark stuff, my dear. Believe me,
I should know. Care to tell me how it happened?”

Sara didn’t answer, tears pooling in her eyes. She yanked her arm out of his grip
and cradled it to her chest, pulling her sleeve back down and ducking her head. I
leaned over to pull her into a hug, though I was so tempted to throttle her to get
answers out of her about how it had happened and why she had hidden something so important
from me that I was shaking almost as badly as she was.

Gideon slowly rose to his feet, though he staggered before catching his balance. A
couple more of the zombies fell where they stood—leading me to believe he was even
more exhausted than he had let on.

His smile aimed at Sara was dark and sly, disarmingly charming. “I don’t suppose you’d
let me take a bit to freshen up, would you? Just a smidge?”

“Stay away from me!”

She practically hollered her demand, though it was muffled against my chest since
she refused to look at the guy. My grip on her tightened, and I turned a death glare
on him.

“I bet whoever did it made it hurt. Made you think you were dying. Right?”

“Stop it! Can’t you see you’re upsetting her?” I snapped at him.

“Did he or she make it feel like you were turning inside out? Like every scrap of
energy was being burned out of your blood with every breath you took?” His voice lowered
to a seductive whisper. “Like he or she was inside you, feeling it all, knowing everything
about you—leaving no part of you untouched?”

Sara shoved back from me, her hands on my shoulders, twisting to look up at Gideon.
His lips twitched, curving into a self-satisfied smirk as she screamed at him.

“Yes! Yes, you fucking asshole! He carved me up and burned me out, and now I can’t
fucking stand it because I will never be able to forget what it was like having him
in my head and everywhere else! It’s like he never left, you insensitive prick!”

“There, that’s good. Savor that anger. Don’t you feel better already?”

She twisted away from me, putting her head in her hands and not answering him. He
reached out to touch her shoulder—I thought maybe to comfort her, showing just how
damned naive I can be—but the scream that came from her and brief flash of light from
the runes even through the fabric of her sleeves made it clear that wasn’t it.

I’d never heard her make a sound like that before. It curdled my blood, shocking me
so badly I nearly screamed myself.

Tiny and Devon both shot to their feet, I hoped to defend her, but Tiny couldn’t keep
his balance. Devon had to catch Tiny before he collapsed.

As he pulled away, Gideon looked much better—but Sara was now choking for every breath,
the angry flush in her cheeks having faded until she was ghostly pale. Straightening
his cuffs, Gideon turned that dazzling smile on me as I gaped up at him, grabbing
at Sara so she wouldn’t fall over.

“Sorry, lovey. Needed to get her revved up before I took a taste. She was looking
a bit too peaked to be much use. Give her a couple days of bed rest, and she’ll be
good as new.”

I pulled her limp form into my lap, still staring up at the necromancer, unable to
believe this vicious turnaround. She felt so cold, like all the warmth and life had
been drained out of her by that brief touch.

Gideon spread his arms and breathed deep, like he was totally invigorated. I don’t
know how he could stand to breathe in that stink—not with the zombies so close—but
he soon turned his attention and that sunny smile back to me, like nothing at all
had happened.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, things to do and all that. Speaking of . . .”

He turned and gestured at the zombies that had fallen. They started clambering back
to their feet, and he headed toward them, giving us a little finger wave over his
shoulder without looking back. By the time I thought to reach for my gun again, he
was already surrounded by a protective wall of zombies, his voice fading fast.

“Remember, stay away from Clyde. If you ask nice, when I’m done dealing with him maybe
I’ll get rid of those pesky blood runes. Ta, ladies!”