Undeadly. Michele Vail
care center, but she’d deal.
Vegas didn’t have seasons. It was hot most of the time, though it cooled down in the winter months. It had snowed only once in my whole life, and that lasted all of two days. September had brought lower temperatures, but it wasn’t jacket weather. I had nothing to cover my ruined shirt or messed-up shoulder.
I strode out of the parking lot to the stoplight. It took forever to cross Warm Springs Road. If I’d been wearing sneakers instead of my fabulous black ankle boots, I would’ve jogged.
I walked past a shopping center and then I was clipping down the sidewalk that ran in front of the school grounds. The school was set on the other side of a large parking area. The sports arena was up on the left. I was almost to the edge of the structure when I heard my name being called.
“Hey, Molly!”
I looked over my shoulder. I’d just crossed the entrance to the school parking lot, and Rick’s Mustang had just rolled up to exit the lot. He leaned over the center console and peered at me through the open passenger-side window.
“Wanna ride home?”
My heart skipped a beat. I sniffed and grimaced. The salve’s awful smell was still evident, though its stench had lessened. And there was the matter of my ripped shirt. Still, there was no way I was giving up a ride in Rick’s Mustang. Or—and here’s my shallowness showing again—the potential to be seen in Rick’s Mustang.
I opened the door and slid inside. Oh. My. God. New car smell was so delicious. Everything was clean and shiny. I glanced at Rick and saw him check me out. Then his nose wrinkled.
Heat surged to my cheeks. “Sorry,” I said. “I had an accident at work.”
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yeah. It’s just that the medicine is kinda...fragrant.”
Wouldn’t my English teacher, Mrs. Dawson, be proud? Rick grinned, which made me feel warm and squirmy. His blond hair was cut short, his face all angular like a movie star’s. He even had a little dimple in his chin. “No big. I just finished football practice and the showers are under maintenance or something. So I don’t exactly smell like a petunia.”
“Petunia?”
He grinned. “My mother runs a flower shop. It’s almost enough to get my dude card revoked.”
I laughed.
He seemed pleased that he made me giggle and offered another melt-alicious grin. “You live on Grimsby, right?”
I nodded. He looked at me with one eyebrow cocked. “Seat belt.”
I put it on, embarrassed that he’d had to remind me. “It’s the ’rents,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe all the rules I have to follow to keep my ride.”
“Was blood sacrifice involved?”
He laughed as he flipped on the signal and made a right onto Arroyo Grand Boulevard. “Almost.” He glanced at me. “You have to deal with any of that...you know with your powers?”
“Nah. We drink blood only on Thursdays.” Rick’s eyes widened and I smiled. “Joking.”
He chuckled, but I was aware of the tension in his body. I’m a necro, and part of the gig is an über awareness of people’s body language and emotions. I think Rick was a little weirded out by my gift.
It wasn’t like there was a shortage of necromancers in the world, but most people were born without any reaper gifts. Being a necro doesn’t make anyone really special, though. Everyone has to learn about necromancy, about zombies and SEER machines, and even Ancient Egyptian history (required course, like math and science). But it’s not exactly a big deal these days, not like it was waaaaay back. So, reading about necromancy is like reading about the Titanic and World War I. The necros on board that Titanic couldn’t stop it from sinking, but they used their zombies and death magic to help people. And World War I? The American zombies were the reason we saved so many lives on the frontlines.
Anyway. Some necros take themselves too seriously, and wear black and act mysterious. I tried to be normal, but some people were still weirded out by the whole “she touches dead people,” thing.
Whatevs.
I wasn’t too surprised when Rick knew which driveway was mine. He lived in the same neighborhood, although in a bigger house with a killer pool, and we saw each other occasionally. Usually with me walking to school and him catching a ride with his friends, waving as they drove past.
We sat awkwardly for a moment. Then I smiled and said, “Well, you know. Thanks.”
“No prob.” He looked at the house then at me. “Your dad home?”
“Nah. He’s in Reno.” I looked at Rick (sooo cute!) and realized he was waiting for something. For me to...oh. My pulse leapt. “You...uh, wanna come in?”
He turned off the car and slid the keys out of the ignition. “Sure.”
I looked at my empty house and felt my stomach hitch. We would be alone in there. Squee! I was really glad that my uncle Vinnie was at the Zomporium helping Demetrius with the less-than-savory tasks of zombification. Vinnie had been my dad’s older brother and he’d died when I was three. He’d helped Dad start the business and wanted to help even after his death. Mom was the one who’d zombified him. She might’ve sucked as a mom, but she’d been a Class A zombie-maker.
Vinnie was a good zombie, but sometimes I wished I remembered what it was like to have him as an uncle.
I picked up the fake rock hidden in the Angelita daisies that lined the sidewalk up to our house. The rest of the yard was zero-scaped—you know, volcano rocks and cacti. We’d planted the daisies and the fortnight lilies along the walkway because Nonna really liked them. She missed having a garden like she had back in New York. I almost made a comment on them, so Rick would know I was sorta flower savvy, but it seemed like a lame move.
I slid the key out of the bottom of the rock, unlocked the door and then put it back. Rick watched this all without comment. I didn’t want to explain why my purse was still at the Zomporium because I didn’t want to admit to the zombie bite. Hopefully, he just thought I was some kind of klutz and whacked my shoulder or something. I’m glad he hadn’t asked me for details. If my gift freaked him at all, he’d probably bail if he knew I’d almost been zombie chow.
“C’mon.” I led the way into the house.
Rick followed, shutting the door behind him. “I need to change,” I said, looking over my shoulder. I caught Rick checking out my ass. Thank you, jean gods. “You want something to drink?”
“What do you have?” His voice sounded a little rough, but I wasn’t sure if it was from being caught gawking or from lust. Yeah, I said the L word. Necro, remember? His eyes were dilated, his breathing had shortened and a delicious tension filled his muscles. Oh, yeah. He was definitely feeling attracted to me. It’s the body language thing, you know? You have to pay attention to the details, especially when you’re reanimating a corpse. That’s a Dem-ism—and I’ve only heard it 3,000 times or so.
The front door opened into a small foyer. Three feet forward and you were in the living room. We had a sectional, a big-screen television and lots of bookshelves. The patio doors led to the backyard, which sadly had no pool. If you kept going to the right, you’d see the dining room and beyond that, our kitchen.
The hallway to the left of the foyer led to the downstairs bathroom and the master bedroom (that was Nonna’s). The stairs led to the other four bedrooms and another guest bathroom. My room connected to Ally’s via the third bathroom. Yeah. That made getting ready for school the opposite of pleasant, especially since both of us hated mornings. And sharing.
I led Rick into the kitchen and pointed at the fridge. “Take whatever you want. I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks.”
I