The Sunlight Slayings (3 page)

“How did I die?” Dean asked quietly, staring into space.

“Don't you … remember?” Oliver asked tentatively.

“Not really.” Dean's brow worked. “I remember we were at school. You were there, after chorus practice, I think? Something happened.… Then it's all blank, until I woke up in my—” His voice got quiet. “In my coffin.”

Oliver couldn't help feeling a wave of relief. The truth of how Dean died was still a mystery, but at least Dean didn't think Oliver did it, like Emalie did. And Oliver didn't plan on changing that. “You were killed by a vampire,” Oliver said carefully. “My brother, or maybe one of his friends, I'm pretty sure.… I got knocked out in the craziness. I— I don't know exactly how it happened, either,” Oliver finished.
Nice job
, he thought darkly.
I managed not to lie, sort of
.

“Huh,” said Dean.

Oliver hoped he wouldn't ask
why
he'd been killed. That would be a longer trip around the truth, or would Oliver just say:
You were killed because of me?

Luckily, Dean didn't ask. “I had to dig my way out,” he muttered, looking at his hands again. “I can't get the dirt off.”

Oliver wondered at this. Vampire children didn't have to dig out of graves since they were born in labs. Sired vampires did, but Phlox and Sebastian had probably just buried Oliver lightly somewhere, maybe even in the house, since he had been so small. Still, a vampire would never sound upset about this kind of thing, like Dean did, but zombies didn't have the awareness that vampires had.

Most vampires, once they felt the power of the forces around them, thought of being undead as an improvement. Though zombies could use the forces, too, they didn't have that higher sense of the universe, of the many parallel worlds that mingled with this one. And zombies weren't inhabited by demons. Vampires used these reasons, and zombies' typically awful smell, as excuses to look down on them. They weren't allowed into vampire establishments unless as servants, and even then, as Oliver had seen in the Underground, it was frowned upon. Usually they were used at home, or in war. Some particularly powerful vampires had raised entire armies of zombies, or housekeeping staffs and gardeners and such. They made excellent help because they were mystically bonded to the will of their master—

Wait a minute. “Dean,” Oliver began, “who raised you?”

“What?” Dean looked up quizzically.

“Do you know who your master is?”

Dean just stared at him. “You mean somebody brought me back like this on purpose?”

“Well, yeah.”

Dean looked down at his hands again and chuckled darkly. “I don't know.”

Oliver felt a tremor of worry. He was pretty sure that, normally, a master would have immediately identified himself to his zombie servant. There would be no reason to let a zombie just wander around when he could be getting to work.
Unless
, Oliver thought,
the master didn't want the zombie, or anybody else, to know his identity
. Could a master control a zombie from afar? Oliver would need to find out. Was Dean being controlled right now? Oliver glanced at Dean warily. It didn't seem like it.…

“Who,” said Dean, “would do this?”

“Well, it's probably one of your relatives or something.” Oliver tried to sound upbeat. He wasn't feeling that way inside, but until he could find out more about the master-zombie relationship, it seemed like he should try to help Dean adjust, rather than freak him out more. “I mean, maybe they're waiting for the right time to tell you, so you're not overwhelmed.”

“
Mmm
,” Dean grunted.

Oliver decided to leave the topic. Dean seemed unhappy enough. Telling him that he was likely somebody's servant probably hadn't helped. “You have some supernatural powers now,” Oliver offered, trying to cheer him up. “You can probably jump farther and stuff.” In the brief time Oliver had known the living Dean, he had seemed like a hard-luck kid. Not so coordinated, kind of scared of things—maybe being a zombie would be better for him.

“Guess,” Dean muttered.

“There's other cool zombie stuff, too,” Oliver added. “Um … fire doesn't hurt you, and you'll never die.”

“I just did.”

“Well, yeah, but … you know what I mean. Zombies are even more eternal than vampires.” Oliver stopped there, deciding not to mention that zombies could easily be destroyed by having their heads chopped off or being dropped into a vat of salt, or the more disturbing fact that because of all the skin decay and bacterial problems that zombies usually had, the older ones ended up as merely skeletons.

“I can get you something to clean your hands,” Oliver said instead. Most of what was on Dean's hands wasn't actually dirt but mold and bacterial blooms. Vampires had products for that. And there were creams for hiding skin rot, though nothing truly strong enough for zombies, who got it way worse.

“Thanks,” Dean said.

Oliver tried to think of what else to say. “You've done a good job with the smell.”

“Oh, thanks.” Dean almost smiled. “Yeah, that's my mom. She's
obsessed
with that.”

Oliver was surprised by this. “Your parents know you're back?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I mean, where else was I supposed to go after I dug out?”

“Well …” Oliver was pretty sure that most zombies would have gone straight downtown and found other zombies to live with. Zombies tended to dwell in large pods, usually in abandoned tunnels or warehouses, though Oliver had heard that there was a particularly large pod beneath the Seahawks stadium. Zombies were huge fans of rough sports like American football and pro wrestling, which vampires had little interest in.

“My parents were a little freaked out at first,” Dean said matter-of-factly. “My brother was okay with it, my sister not so much … but my dad tried to kill me with a pitchfork.” He rubbed his shoulder. “That hurt.”

“Ouch,” Oliver agreed.

Dean huffed. “I know, right? My mom just screamed and cried for a couple days, but now they're kind of coming around.”

“That's nice,” said Oliver. “It's nice that you have them.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Mom's been all about helping me mask the smell, and she's done a ton of research, you know, on things like sand baths, so my skin decay doesn't get worse. And she's been trying, with the meals. She buys whole animals now, so I can have the …”

“Brains,” Oliver finished.

“Yeah.” Dean sighed. “And organs, too. Raw. She's getting all into which kinds are the healthiest.”

“My mom's like that about healthy eating, too.”

Dean sighed. “Thing is, she's not very good at preparing them, yet, so …”

“So,” Oliver guessed, “you've been getting food from our place.”

“Sorry.”

“It's fine,” said Oliver.

“On the bright side, I guess we can hang out more.” Dean offered Oliver a hopeful look.

“Yeah,” Oliver agreed.
How's that going to look?
he wondered. From hanging out with humans to hanging out with zombies. Yet he
had
gotten Dean killed—maybe it was the least he could do. And he didn't really have anyone else he wanted to hang out with these days. “But shouldn't you be hanging out with other zombies?” Oliver asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean's face fell. “
Them
. I don't know. I mean, my parents let me go out at night. They want me to make some friends, but …”

“You've been coming to my house instead,” Oliver finished.

“Yeah. I didn't know where else I could go and just, you know, be. Oh …” Dean rummaged in his coat and produced the newspaper clipping. “I'm sorry I took this,” he said, handing it back to Oliver. “I just liked the picture.” It was Dean's obituary, with his smiling school photo above it.

Silence passed over them. Oliver looked up and spied a bat weaving among the bridge rafters.

“Now I guess we just have to get Emalie to quit school and start staying up all night, right?” Dean said, again with that hopeful tone.

Oliver halted. “Um, does she—does she know you're back?”

Dean sighed. “No. I was thinking once I'd talked to you that maybe it would be easier if we went together. That way you could help her understand that I'm not dangerous?”

“Mmm …”
'cause she'd really trust me on that subject
, thought Oliver.

“We should go see her now,” said Dean enthusiastically. “It's almost dawn. We could wake her up and—”

“Ooh, um, let's wait,” Oliver interrupted, his thoughts racing. “I haven't actually seen her since you died.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Well …” Oliver wondered what to say next. “She was pretty upset about losing you. She didn't really want to see anyone. I've been trying to give her space.”

“But now I'm back!” Dean's eyes lit up. “Come on, let's just go spring it on her. She'll probably think it's cool!”

Oliver was so tempted by the idea. “How about,” he said carefully, “we go check in on her first, you know, see how she's doing? And wait until she looks like she's in a really good mood. 'cause, you know, it's a lot to take, meeting a zombie, even if it's you.”

“You mean spy on her?” Dean eyed Oliver sideways.

“W-well—” Oliver stammered. “Not really spying. More just watching—”

But Dean just shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “Sounds like a plan.” The idea might have bothered a human, but not a zombie, even a reluctant one. “How about tomorrow night?”

Oliver felt a surge of excitement and worry at once. “All right.”

They sat for another minute.

“Hey, check it out,” Dean said finally.

Oliver followed his pointing arm toward Capitol Hill, to the east. The sky was shading from black to gray.

“Time for bed, for us nocturnal creatures,” Dean said almost happily, patting Oliver on the back. “Hey, your name: Nocturne. I get that now.”

Oliver nodded, feeling awkward and yet fine. This was fine. Zombie Dean.…

They stood up. “So,” said Dean, “see you tomorrow night?”

“Yeah,” said Oliver. “See ya.” He started home, then turned and watched Dean stalk off into the shadows. Dean was back. The only question was: Why?

Chapter 3

Stalking

EARLY THE NEXT EVENING
, Oliver awoke with a start, a strange dream fresh in his mind. He was with Dean and Emalie, walking down the school halls. Dean was a zombie. It was one of those weird, jumbled dream worlds around them. The spray-painted neon grotesqua was glowing on the walls, but sunlight that seemed too red streamed in through the windows. And the floor was made of grass. Standing on either side of them were Oliver's classmates, leering silently. Despite that, Oliver, Emalie, and Dean were joking around, until they reached the door to the gym.…

Dean reached forward and pushed it open. “
I'm going to find out, you know
,” he said to Oliver with a smile.

Inside, they found everyone else from the night of Dean's death, standing frozen in place. The kids were huddled together. The Emalie and Dean from that night were with them. Bane and his friends Ty and Randall were there, too.

“
Everyone, take your places
,” said the Emalie standing with Oliver. She was dressed in black and seemed to be standing in a shadow. Oliver couldn't tell where it was coming from. It was like the lights had been dimmed, but only around her.

“
Come on, Oliver
,” Dean said, lying down on the floor.

Suddenly the dream blurred and Oliver was about to bite Dean, his face inches away from Dean's neck. Oliver could hear the blood pumping— “
Oliver, no!
” Dean screamed, just like he had that night.

Oliver struggled to look to the door, where Bane's friend Randall was keeping guard. “
No!
” Oliver shouted. “
Just hold on! I don't kill you, that's not what happens!
”

Oliver even heard the echoing, ancient voice of Illisius in his head: “
Oliver, don't fight it, my boy. It's time.
…”

But then Emalie shouted: “
Freeze it right there!
”

Things blurred again, and Oliver found himself suspended in midair above the scene, except his body was also below, still on top of Dean.

“
Where are you going?
” Emalie asked. She was gazing up at him, annoyed.

“
To Nexia
,” Oliver said calmly. He saw that the ceiling had been replaced by a pure black sky with liquid constellations and huge planets.

“
Have a nice trip!
” Dean called, waving, no longer upset.

“
No
,” Emalie said sternly. She had her arms out in front of her, and almost looked like she was pressing against the air. “
It's right here
,” she said, grimacing. “
There's something … but I can't … What are you?
” she shouted into space. As she did so, that dark shadow seemed to wrap around her again, like a cloud or something was clinging to her, but it was like she didn't notice it.

“
Oliver, check it out
,” Dean called. “
You killed me
.” Oliver looked down to find Dean lying on the floor alone. His neck had two red holes. Blood seeped across the floor.

“
No!
” Oliver shouted. “
I didn't do that!
”

Emalie looked up at him darkly. “
Yes you did. You do it every time. We all see it
.”

Oliver looked around to find every other person in the room staring at him coldly. “
No!
” he shouted.

“No!”

Oliver's eyes snapped open. He was in his coffin. There was no starry sky overhead, just the white satin fabric of his lid. He looked down to see that he'd tossed and turned himself out of his sleeping soil, but his shivers weren't coming from the cold …