Even White Trash Zombies Get the Blues

Chapter 7

The rest of my shift was blessedly uneventful. No deaths, no autopsies, and at five p.m. I quickly changed into the clothes I planned to wear to Pietro’s and drove to Marcus’s place. I sure as hell didn’t want him to pick me up at my house. My dad still had no clue who I was dating, and I intended to keep it that way until the right time to break it to him that I was dating the cop who’d taken him to jail for domestic violence.

In other words, never.

Marcus greeted me with a smile and a kiss. He didn’t seem annoyed or upset, which told me that he hadn’t seen the article. And I didn’t feel like bringing it up and putting a damper on the rest of the day.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—the whole prospect of meeting his uncle was more than enough to distract me.

“Would you please calm down?” Marcus abruptly said after we were well on our way.

I stopped jiggling my leg, clamped my hands together, and gave Marcus an overly wide smile. “I’m calm. Totally calm. Like ice.”

He reached over to give my hand a squeeze. “Angel. It’s going to be fine. I promise. My uncle’s pretty damn cool.” He smiled. “He puts up with me, doesn’t he?”

I snorted. “Yeah, like that’s hard.” I glanced his way. “So, is he your dad’s brother or your mom’s? What’s the rest of your family like?”

“He’s my dad’s older brother—both adopted. The rest of my family is great. Mom, Dad, my sister, and before you ask, no, they don’t know I’m a zombie. My uncle’s the only one who knows.”

“A sister? Younger or older?”

“Older,” he replied. “By about ten years. She works up in Boston.” He smiled proudly. “She’s brilliant. Masters in Modern Lit and going for her Ph.D.”

“Have you thought…” I stopped, tried to figure out how to ask what I wanted to ask without killing the mood. “Never mind.”

“What?”

I grimaced. “Um, well, this has been on my mind ever since I found out how old Kang was.” Kang had been a mortuary worker at Scott Funeral Home, and was the first zombie to give me some pointers for how to exist in my undead state. He’d looked like he was in his early twenties, but had actually been closer to eighty—that is, until Ed killed him and chopped off his head.

A shadow passed over Marcus’s face, and I instantly regretted bringing the subject up. “You’re wondering how I’m going to someday fake my death and start over somewhere else?” he asked.

“Well, jeez, it sounds so depressing when you say it like that.”

He let out a breathless laugh. “I have thought about it…and my answer is, ‘I don’t know.’ I figure I’m probably all right for another ten, maybe fifteen years before I have to start wearing makeup or dying my hair grey or something to look older. That’s what my uncle does.”

“How old is he?”

Marcus pursed his lips in thought. “Sixty-ish, I guess? Something like that. He said he got turned about thirty years ago, and so far he’s managed to get by with hair dye and a little bit of makeup that makes it look like he has more wrinkles than he has.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I’m not going to make any decisions about what I’m going to do any time soon.”

“Makes sense. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Angel.” The smile he gave me was tinged with sadness. “You’re still getting used to all of this. I’ve had six years to adjust.”

I sat back and watched the scenery of forest, swamp, and small towns go by as I thought about what he’d said. How long would it take me to adjust? And what did that even mean? Was I still essentially human, but with a weird disease? Or had I been changed so thoroughly that I was something else entirely now?

“Are you ever mad at me for doing what I did?” he asked, breaking the silence. “I mean, turning you into a zombie.”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Hon’, I’d be dead, remember?”

“I know, but—”

“Stop it,” I said, cutting him off. “No, I’m not mad. It’s never even occurred to me to be mad. It’s not just that I’d be dead, but look at me—I have a job, and I’m not a complete fucking loser anymore.”

“You were never a loser,” he said.

I let out a rude snort. “Now you’re just spewing bullshit. Trust me, I was. I’d given up and didn’t give a shit.”

“You’re not one anymore,” he said.

“I damn well try at least.” And that really was the biggest change, I realized. I cared about my “loserness” and did what I could to fix it. Some things could never be fixed, though, only lived down. I was a convicted felon, my dad was an alcoholic, and my mom had gone to prison for child abuse and then committed suicide while incarcerated. Don’t give a shit had been my mantra for the last several years, which I’d pulled off by neglecting and abusing myself far more than my mother ever had. I couldn’t go back to that uncaring attitude now. Not and survive. Maybe that was why that article stung so badly. I did give a shit, and it pissed me off that anyone might still think I didn’t.

I snuck a glance at Marcus. He had a lazy smile on his face as he drove, clearly in a good mood. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the damn article now. Let’s get through this party thing, I told myself. An hour or so of making nice, and then I could get back to what passed for normal in my life.

I had the first inkling I might be in over my head when Marcus made a turn in to a subdivision and had to stop at the guard gate to show his ID. A short ways past the gate I got a good look at the type of houses in here. Nothing less than two stories, and all big enough for my dinky house to fit into them half a dozen times over. Pristine yards, expensive cars, and the occasional jogger wearing an outfit that cost more than my car. I knew that Pietro Ivanov was, as Marcus put it, “filthy stinking rich,” but I was only now beginning to realize what that meant.

After a few turns we pulled up to a three story—well, “mansion” was really the only word that worked. Pale grey brick, three stories, columns in the front, exquisite landscaping including trees near the front door that were shaped into spirals. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst was that this was clearly not going to be “just a few people.” The broad circular driveway was already packed with cars, and the street had at least a dozen more lined up along it.

I gave Marcus a panicked look. “I thought I was just meeting your uncle and a couple of others?”

He winced. “I guess my uncle invited some more people over.”

“Some?” I cast a frantic gaze over the ten or so cars in the driveway alone.

He gave me a sheepish smile. “He did say it was a cookout. And he likes to have a big crowd.” He paused as he scanned the line of cars. “Looks like he invited my folks over as well. There’ll probably be a number of associates and family friends…” He trailed off at the aghast expression on my face.

I stared at him. “Did you know this was a possibility?” He didn’t have to reply; the guilty expression on his face told me everything. “You knew. And you didn’t warn me? Marcus, how could you do this to me?”

“Angel, relax. I knew you’d get nervous if I told you that you might be meeting my whole extended family—”

“For good reason!” I wailed. I looked down at what I was wearing. I’d dithered for over half an hour on my clothes and had ended up with my nicest pair of jeans, a plain black sweater, and black boots. But the jeans were pretty low cut, and the sweater was a bit tight on me. Fine for meeting a zombie uncle, but…parents? I could lie to myself and say that I looked fashionable, but I was fairly certain I looked more skanky than vogue. I flipped the visor down to quickly peer at my reflection. Being well fed on brains was making my hair grow like crazy, which meant I had about half an inch of dark roots at the base of my bleached blond hair. Which made no sense to me at all. How could my hair grow if I was dead? I scowled as I swiped at my eye makeup in a doomed effort to make it look less whore-ish.

“Angel, you look great. Please stop worrying.”

I gave up on my makeup and settled for wiping away smudges. “Yeah, whatever,” I muttered, unable to hide my anger and hurt. “I guess I’m pretty much screwed now anyway.”

He opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head and closed it. I started to get out of the truck but he reached out and caught my arm in a gentle grip. “I’m sorry.”

I responded with a sour glare. He sighed and released me, but I didn’t make another move to get out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I was trying to protect you…keep you from getting uptight—”

“Uptight?”

He winced and lifted his hands in surrender. “Wrong word. Um, nervous, ill at ease.” He groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “Shit, Angel. I guess I was hoping that if I could avoid telling you about my parents maybe being here, that by the time we got here and you saw them you wouldn’t have time to get upset.” He exhaled. “It was a dumb, dumb plan. I’m sorry. Will you please go in with me?”

A weird feeling of betrayal swam through me, and I had to fight for several seconds to get past it. “Don’t ever do that to me again, okay?” I finally said. “I don’t like surprises, let alone being blindsided.”

“I won’t. I swear.”

He looked so damn forlorn and upset that I had to sigh. “Fine. Let’s go meet your family.”

I tugged my sweater down and my jeans up as we walked up to the house. For the first time in my life I was glad that I had hardly any boobs at all. At least I could maybe get by with just “skanky” instead of “skanky whore.”

“Wait,” I said. “Do your parents know about me?”

He gave a noncommittal shrug. “I might have mentioned you to them earlier this week.”

“Great,” I muttered. What sort of image would I have to live up to?

Marcus gave my hand a reassuring squeeze as we followed a path of granite paving stones around to the back yard. A hum of conversation and low music greeted us as we passed through a heavy iron gate. I plastered a smile on my face and hoped that I looked more friendly than manic. At first I didn’t think there were as many people as I’d originally suspected. It certainly didn’t seem crowded. But then it sank in just how enormous the back yard was. Easily bigger than the house and front yard and driveway combined, though it was broken up into sections which disguised how huge it was, somewhat. Whoever had designed the landscaping had interspersed hedges, garden plots, and fountains to form areas for people to wander, or sit and talk with at least the illusion of privacy. I counted three gazebos, two koi ponds, and half a dozen outdoor heaters—useful since there was a bit of a nip in the air. Oh, and at least forty people.

A “couple of people” my ass, I silently grumbled. There were a few faces I thought I recognized, and I had another rude jolt when I realized it was because they were politicians. A couple were clearly local, such as the Sheriff and the mayor of Tucker Point. But I was almost positive one of the men was a U.S Senator. He’d been involved in a sex scandal a few years back, and his picture had been all over the news.

Pietro is rich as hell and has a ton of connections and influence. Yeah, no reason at all to be nervous.

I didn’t have long to wait before the frenzy of attention started. Well, frenzy wasn’t really the best word, though I definitely felt like a tasty juicy fishy in a school of sharks. Did sharks have schools? Or was it some other word? Well, whatever it was, I was certainly getting sized up. Every person in the backyard seemed to be giving me the Who the hell is that? eye.

Marcus gave everyone he saw nods and smiles and kept a firm grip on my hand as he steered me toward a couple seated in one of the gazebos. They looked up as we approached, and it was clear from the delight on their faces that these were his parents. One look at Marcus was enough to confirm it. He looked like the perfect combination of them both. He’d gotten his height, build, and rugged good looks from his dad—a seriously handsome man, with brown-hair, blue-grey eyes, and a friendly, easy smile. If I was into older men I’d have been drooling over Marcus’s dad.

And, for that matter, if I was into older women I’d have done the same for his mom. Marcus’s dark hair and eyes had clearly come from her, a curvaceous woman who was nothing short of stunning. She had to have been in her fifties, but she carried her years with effortless ease.

Marcus greeted them with smiles and hugs, then he pulled me forward. “Angel, these are my folks, Nathan and Morena.”

His mom gave me a warm smile. “So nice to meet you, Angel! Marcus has told us a bit about you.”

I wanted to give Marcus a panicked What the fuck have you told them? look, but I managed to resist the urge. I didn’t think he’d regale them with stories about my former drug addiction, my felony record, my alcoholic dad…so what the hell did that leave? My sparkling personality?

I managed to keep my own smile in place. “Nice to meet you, too.” There, that was safe enough, right? God, I sucked at this.

“Marcus says he met you at work,” his dad said. “Are you a cop also?”

“She works for the coroner’s office,” Marcus explained, saving me from hysterical laughter. “We get to see each other over dead bodies.” He grinned. “Romantic, right?”

His mom chuckled. “Sounds like you’re pretty tough,” she said with a wink.

“Um, I dunno about that,” I said. “More likely I’m just sick in the head,” I added, then instantly regretted it. Nice, I thought with an inward cringe. Just come right out and tell them that their boy is dating a whacko.

But the Ivanovs seemed to have a generous sense of humor. “Then you’re probably perfect for Marcus!” his dad announced.

We sat with them for a short while, making light conversation. I expected to remain a nervous wreck but his folks were so damn nice and genuine that it was impossible not to relax and simply enjoy myself for a few minutes.

Marcus glanced at his watch. “I hate to ditch you,” he told his parents, “but I think it’s time for me to hunt down Uncle Pietro.”

His mother gave Marcus a light kiss on the cheek. “We’re going to be heading back to Lafayette soon. You’re still coming this weekend?”

He smiled and gave her a hug. “Absolutely.”

“It was lovely meeting you, Angel,” his mom said to me with such warmth that I was pretty sure she actually meant it and wasn’t just saying it to be polite.

“You too,” I said, meaning it as well.

Marcus gave my hand a gentle tug, and we headed toward the house. “Your parents seem real nice,” I said.

He smiled. “They rock. I’m damn lucky.”

We entered the back door of the house and passed into a kitchen so large that I wondered if whoever cooked for Pietro ever got tired simply walking from one end of the room to the other. I was used to fancy houses so I managed not to gawk too much. After all, rich people died just as often as poor people. But Pietro clearly had a lot of money. Everything was oak and marble. Everything. I couldn’t even figure out where the fridge was.

Marcus turned to me. “Would you mind waiting here for just a minute while I hunt down my uncle?”

I minded a lot since the last thing I wanted in the world was to be abandoned in the middle of someone else’s house where I knew pretty much no one, but I wasn’t about to admit that. “Nah, that’s fine. I’m a big girl.” I even flashed him a wide smile so that he’d believe it.

And apparently he did, damn it. With a parting kiss he was off, leaving me to fidget and pray that I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone before he came back.

So of course, that wasn’t going to happen. Marcus hadn’t been gone more than five seconds before a slim auburn-haired woman came into the kitchen. She gave me a tight, polite smile before heading straight to one of the oak walls—which she then opened to retrieve a bottle of wine. Okay, fridge successfully located. I’d have never found that thing on my own.

The woman turned with her bottle, walking with enough care that I suspected it wasn’t her first. But she paused as she neared and raked an unsteady gaze over me. “We could be twins,” she announced.

I blinked in confusion until I realized she was wearing jeans, black sweater and boots—same as me. Except on her it looked like the perfect definition of “elegant casual.” Then again, her clothing probably hadn’t come from the outlet mall.

“Though I don’t think I could pull off that hair color,” she added with a twitch of her lips.

I fought the urge to reach a hand up and smooth down my perpetually frizzy, overbleached hair. Leaning back against the counter, I did my best to give off an I don’t give a shit attitude. “Yeah, it’s a personal statement thing,” I replied, copying her smirk. Personal statement? I sighed inwardly as soon as the words were out of my mouth. That was the best comeback I could come up with?

She let out a snort, then held up the wine. “You drinking?”

“Nah, not right now,” I said. Or ever. Drinking alcohol would only make me rot faster while my zombie-ness cleaned up the damage it did. “But don’t let me stop you. Knock yourself out.”

She gave me another once-over, then apparently decided I was boring her. She rolled her eyes, turned without another word, and tottered off to the backyard.

I barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief before a tall blond woman in a black dress and burgundy jacket entered the kitchen.

“Did a redhead in a black sweater come through here?” she asked me, her forehead puckering into a worried frown.

“Yeah,” I said. “She grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge and headed out back.”

She heaved a sigh and leaned against the counter. “Good. Maybe she’ll get drunk enough that she’ll forget to chew me out tomorrow.” I must have looked baffled because she straightened and shrugged. “Sorry. That’s my boss, Dr. Charish. She’s been on my ass wanting me to explain my requisitions in painful detail, which slows down my actual work, which means she then gets on my ass about not getting my project reports in on time.”

I recognized her now. This was the chick that Marcus had been talking to at the lab. And the redhead was the uptight-looking woman who’d looked so pissed off when we were picking up the body.

“That sucks,” I said, since I had no idea what else to say.

“Don’t mind me,” she said with a small smile. “I’m just venting. I’ve learned ways around Dr. Charish’s craziness.” Then she tilted her head. “You must be Angel!” she said. “Nathan and Morena said that you’d come inside. I’m Sofia.” She gave me a warm smile and shook my hand. Her grip was cool and firm—one of those perfect handshakes that made me think she had to do a lot of meet and greet type bullshit at her job.

“Yeah…that’s right. Yes, I’m Angel. Nice to meet you.” I decided to play dumb about knowing who she was. “Are you one of his cousins?”

Amusement lit her eyes, though she didn’t laugh. “No, I’m just a family friend. I’ve known Marcus since high school. Have you two been dating long?”

“Not really,” I replied. “Only a couple of weeks.”

“Well that explains why we haven’t heard much about you,” she said with a light chuckle. “Though he does tend to stay pretty private.” Her lips twitched. “It says quite a bit that he brought you around to meet us so soon.”

I gave a weak laugh in response. “Well, we’ve actually kinda known each other for a while. I mean, we just weren’t dating is all.” Crap, what had he told them about how long we’d known each other?

Sofia tilted her head slightly. “Ah. That makes more sense. So, tell me about yourself, Angel. Where did you go to school?”

It took everything I had to not pretend I heard Marcus calling for me or my phone ringing. I fought to keep the smile on my face, but I was pretty damn sure it looked sickly. “I, uh, went to East St. Edwards high school.”

Sofia waited a beat as if expecting me to say more, then seemed to realize that I was finished. “Of course. Any plans for college?”

A sick tightness began to form in my stomach. You don’t belong here was the clear message. “Um, not right now. Just working, y’know.” The last thing I wanted to tell her was that I hadn’t even graduated high school. But hey, I was studying for my GED at least. Or rather, I was about to start studying for it. Any day now.

She took a sip of her drink. “Of course. There are some great online courses that are pretty affordable and don’t eat up too much time. That’s how Marcus is working toward his masters.”

I blinked. “Masters? Oh, I, um, didn’t know he’d gone to college.” Here I was thinking he was just a cop. He had a degree? Why hadn’t he ever told me? Trying to protect my feelings again?

What the hell did he see in me?

“He has a bachelors in sociology. But he figures that with a masters he has a better chance of going federal.”

“Federal?” I asked weakly.

She smiled at me over her glass. “Federal agent. FBI or DEA. That sort of thing.”

“Oh,” I managed. “He…never told me that.”

Marcus came back then, and I nearly seized him in relief. “I see you’ve met Sofia,” he said, then surprised me by giving her a kiss on the cheek. “You’re looking as sharp as ever,” he told her.

“And you as well. I was just getting to know your new girlfriend.”

“Well, I hate to interrupt, but I need to steal Angel away from you to introduce her to Uncle Pietro.”

Sofia’s eyes crinkled in what looked like amusement, then she gave me a polite smile and turned away. Marcus tugged me toward the stairs. He glanced over at me as we climbed. “You all right?”

I plastered on a smile. “Sure thing.” I wasn’t about to tell him that I was suffering from a crisis of inferiority because I was an uneducated doof, and that I was feeling more and more like I didn’t deserve to be with him. “I’m peachy keen,” I added for good measure.

He didn’t look convinced, but luckily for me there wasn’t time for him to pry more details out of me. At the top of the stairs we proceeded to the room at the end of the hallway. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. A sitting room or maybe an office. Something that looked a bit like the room Marlon Brando sat in during the beginning of The Godfather. It was my dad’s favorite movie. I knew that room.

This wasn’t that room. Not even close. Oh, there was a big ol’ oak desk and leather chairs and that sort of thing. But one wall was taken up by an enormous TV, along with consoles for several different video game systems. Opposite that was a smaller desk with a computer and flat screen monitor. Every bit of wall space that wasn’t taken up with TV, windows, or door, was filled with bookcases all chock full of books. All kinds—hardback, paperback, non-fiction, fiction, mystery, sci-fi—all precisely shelved and, as far as I could tell, alphabetized.

I pulled my attention away from the intimidating number of books. In a chair by the window was a man who I could only assume was Uncle Pietro. To my relief, he looked exactly how I’d pictured him. Stocky and swarthy, dark brown hair with a scattering of grey, and dark eyes that seemed to crackle with intelligence. I found myself discreetly peering to see if I could detect any evidence of hair dye or makeup but quickly gave up. Whoever did his work was damn good. As far as I could tell the man really was in his sixties.

He stood when we entered and came over to give Marcus a warm hug. “Good to see you, my boy. Very glad you could make it.” He then turned to me. “And you must be Angel. I’ve heard a bit about you.” But before I could respond he glanced to Marcus. “Close the door, please. Then we can talk.”

That wasn’t encouraging. Looked like I was in for another third degree on whether Marcus could do better than me.

Pietro turned back to me and gestured toward a chair. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

I didn’t want to sit in the chair, mostly because I wanted to sit next to Marcus. Not to be all publicly affectionate with him, but because I was really fucking needing some reassurance at this point, and a simple hand-holding would have suited me just fine. But I went ahead and sat in the indicated chair, then realized that Pietro probably knew exactly what he was doing and had wanted me separated from Marcus so that he could get a better idea of what kind of person I was. A nervous wreck, I thought with a silent sigh.

Marcus closed the door and took the chair next to mine. Still too far apart for me to reach out and take his hand or anything, at least not without me looking like a complete spaz. Which I probably already looked like. Yes, my self-esteem was currently hovering somewhere below rock bottom.

I expected Pietro to sit on the edge of the desk, thereby allowing him to loom over us, or at the very least take the seat behind the desk so that he could be more boss-like. But to my surprise he pulled a third chair over so that we formed a circle. Or a triangle. A circular triangle.

He glanced at the door as if to verify that it was shut, then picked a remote up from a side table and turned on some sort of vaguely familiar classical music. “The speakers are pointed so that it’s louder by the door,” he explained to me. “Makes it pretty much impossible to eavesdrop on us from there.” He set the remote down and then leaned back in the chair. I tried to hide how freaked out I was at the sudden display of security. “So, tell me, Angel,” he said. “How are you adjusting to being a zombie?”

“It’s fucking weird,” I said, then flushed at my complete lack of couth. “Sorry, sir, I mean, it’s pretty odd, but I think I’m getting a handle on it.”

The smile he gave me was almost friendly. Almost. “I don’t mind an f-bomb, Angel. Especially considering that you saved Marcus from the hunter.”

At first I thought he meant a deer hunter, and it took me a couple of seconds of mental floundering to figure out what the hell he was talking about. Hell, I was a redneck. Of course I’d think of deer hunting first. “You mean Ed?” I asked, just in case.

“Yes. The zombie hunter.” He shifted, crossed one leg over the other. “I confess I was less than thrilled when Marcus told me he’d created a zombie. There are sustainability issues, you understand.”

I knew I looked perplexed. “You make it sound like he put me together in his garage,” I said. “And no, I don’t understand. What are, um, sustainability issues?” Hell, they already knew I was uneducated. What, I was going to lower their opinion of me?

“I’m referring to how to keep our population fed without resorting to means that would draw attention to us.”

“Oh, you mean how to get enough brains,” I said. Why the hell couldn’t he have said that?

Pietro tipped his head in a nod. “Precisely. You are a new zombie, which means that your need is somewhat higher. You probably consume, what, a full brain a week? Perhaps a bit more?”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” I said. Hey, look at that, something resembling some answers. “You saying I won’t always stay this hungry? How long does that last?”

“About a year. It will gradually taper off a bit to where, with normal exertion, you’ll be able to make a brain last about a week and a half. But, this still means that the average zombie needs about forty brains a year.” He gave me a sardonic smile. “I’m sure you can see why our population needs to be strictly controlled.” He met my eyes, and I had zero doubt that he would have preferred that my population had been controlled, perhaps even before I’d been made a zombie.

Well, fuck him and fuck this whole thing. I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest. “Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me now,” I said with a tight smile. “And I guess you’re all right with Ed taking a bunch of y’all out?”

He frowned. “We don’t kill our own. There are plenty of others willing to do that for us—and Ed is a perfect example.”

Marcus cleared his throat softly. “Angel, Ed’s not the only zombie hunter out there.”

Pietro waved his hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. There are ways to deal with these hunters.”

“Is that who you think stole the body?” I asked. “Zombie hunters?”

Pietro’s eyebrows drew down in a frown. “What body?”

“Angel was held up at gunpoint last night,” Marcus quickly explained. “They took the body of a man who was killed in a fall out at the lab where Sofia works.”

Pietro pursed his lips. “Very mysterious. But unless the victim was a zombie, I can’t see why you’d think hunters would be involved.”

I silently bristled at both his “you silly idiot” tone and the fact that, apparently, Marcus hadn’t talked to Pietro about the body. So why was it so goddamn important that we come see his uncle so soon? I cast my mind back over our conversations. As far as I could remember he’d definitely given the impression that the body theft was the big reason why we needed to see him.

Or maybe I was reading more into it. Maybe Marcus was more worried about Ed. I knew I was stressed and on edge, so it was more than possible that I was being overly sensitive.

“I couldn’t smell his brains,” I said. “I was hungry, and he had a significant skull fracture.”

Pietro’s mouth curved into a slight frown. “And so you automatically assume he was a zombie? I know the procedures for this sort of thing…didn’t the paramedics run an EKG strip on him?”

“Well, yes but—”

“With only a skull fracture he would still have heartbeat, though very slow,” he said, and this time there was no mistaking the trace of patronizing sneer in his voice.

I shot a look at Marcus, but he remained silent, a pained look on his face. He met my eyes and gave a slight shrug that was clearly meant to convey “I told you so.”

Anger and betrayal swept through me, and I had to bite the side of my tongue hard to hold back the urge to either cry or shout a bunch of curse words. “Right. Then I’m not really sure why I’m here,” I managed.

Pietro said nothing, but the look in his eyes echoed my sentiment. Marcus cleared his throat. “Angel, you’re one of us now. That’s why you’re here. We’re mostly worried about Ed and whoever else he might be working with.”

I took a deep breath to get my ragged emotions under control. “What about the other zombies in the area? Have you warned them about Ed?”

Pietro nodded. “The ones who are in our circle know.”

“Your circle?” I echoed, frowning. “What does that mean? Are there others?”

Marcus reached and patted my leg. “He means we’ve contacted everyone we know for certain are zombies.” He gave me a reassuring smile, but an uneasy knot remained in my gut.

But I also knew that I’d be wasting my time and breath if I started asking more questions. “Gotcha,” I said instead and did my best to smile.

“Very well,” Pietro said, standing. “Then we should rejoin the party.” He looked my way as I scrambled to my feet. “Unless there is anything else you wish to discuss?”

I shook my head. He didn’t really want to discuss shit with me.

“Very good.” He beckoned to the door, and I made my escape.

We didn’t stay much longer. Marcus’s parents had already left by the time we came out of the meeting, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk to anyone else who wanted to pin me down and ask me about my education and career goals. My goal right now was to stay alive, to survive. Pietro pulled Marcus aside at one point, and I escaped to the bathroom, lingering in there long enough, hopefully, to avoid having to talk to too many people, but not so long that people would wonder if I was sick. Or, I realized later, doing drugs.

Unfortunately, as soon as I came out of the bathroom I damn near ran smack into Sofia in the hallway.

“Angel, I’m so glad I ran into you,” she said with an earnest look. “I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier.”

I fixed as polite a smile on my face as possible. I wasn’t going to make any sort of scene or be a bitch. At least that’s what I told myself.

“No, not at all!” I replied. Hell, I might have even gushed it. “Don’t be silly. It’s fine,” I insisted.

She shook her head. “No, I mean it. I spend most of my time in a lab which means my social skills sometimes leave a lot to be desired. And I realized that I probably…”

“Made me feel like an inadequate moron?” I finished.

She flushed. “God. Yes. I swear it wasn’t my intent.”

I wasn’t sure if she really was as remorseful or uncomfortable as she appeared to be, but I went ahead and took satisfaction in it anyway. “It’s cool. I know what I am.”

Sofia smiled uncertainly, clearly not sure how she should take that. “Oh. Okay, well, again, I’m sorry.”

I gave a stiff nod. “Sure. I’ll even accept it.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Thing is, you’re right. I don’t have shit in the way of education. I had a crap family life, and there was no one to tell me to finish school and go on to college or any of that stuff. And there sure as hell wasn’t anyone to help pay for it. But it doesn’t matter. I’m working to improve myself, and I don’t need anyone telling me that I need to do it. Just me.” And my probation officer. But I didn’t plan on adding that little detail.

She blinked, silent for several seconds, then smiled in the first unguarded expression I’d seen on her. “Now I’m wondering if Marcus is good enough for you.”

“I think we’re more than good enough for each other,” I said.

She dug in her purse and fished out a business card. “Look, here’s my contact info. Maybe we can meet for coffee or something someday? Start over and get off on a better foot?”

Not in this lifetime, I thought, but I simply nodded and took the card. “Sure. I, uh, hang on.” I dug in my purse for a scrap of paper and scrawled my number on it, all the while wondering why the hell I was giving her my info. I really didn’t want to have happy girl-chat funtime over lattes, but it probably would’ve been insanely rude not to reciprocate.

Thankfully, Marcus rounded the corner at the end of the hall and spied me. “Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said. “You ready to go?”

“If you are, sure,” I said instead of the “fuck yeah!” I wanted to say. I flashed a polite smile to Sofia. “So nice talking to you.” Then turned and walked off with Marcus without waiting for a response.

I held off until we were back in the truck before turning to Marcus. “Have you asked Sofia what she knows about that security guard who died?”

“I did,” he said, then glanced at me with a smile. “I promise, I did.”

“And?”

“She didn’t know him. It’s a big lab. Lots of people work there. Sorry.”

I gave a stiff nod in response. “What was all that business about with your uncle?” I asked as soon as we were back in his truck.

“What was what all about?”

Oh, I was so not playing that game. “Why’d he have to talk to you again?”

Marcus gave my knee a squeeze. “Just some family stuff. He was asking me how school was going and when I was going to graduate. Stuff like that.”

He was lying to me. I couldn’t explain how I knew, but there was something about his answer that was off. Maybe they did talk about school, but there was more.

“You never told me you were going for your masters,” I said, deciding to change the subject for now. “Where’d you go to college?”

“University of Louisiana, Lafayette. Started out as a criminal justice major then switched to sociology.”

“So you always wanted to be a cop?” I asked.

“Actually, I was going to go to law school,” he said with a self-conscious shrug while I blinked in amazement. “But then my mom developed breast cancer, and I decided to stay closer to home and put off law school. Joined the sheriff’s office and been there ever since.”

“Sorry about your mom,” I said, uncertain what else to say.

He gave me a smile. “Thanks. She’s good now. They caught it early, and she’s been clean for seven years.”

“Why are you going for a masters? Or are you going to go to law school now?” Was that the same as a masters? I didn’t know much about how all that worked. I sure as hell wasn’t ever going to go that route.

“My uncle’s idea, actually,” Marcus said. “He thinks I should eventually go into politics, and he thinks going federal could be a good start.”

“Oh. Okay.” I paused. “Is that what you want to do?”

I wasn’t surprised when he shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I mean, I can’t see staying a cop for the next twenty years.” He glanced my way. “And, as my uncle pointed out, I have certain skills and abilities that could come in pretty handy in federal law enforcement.”

Do you do everything your uncle says? I thought, but bit back the urge to say it out loud. I was silent for several minutes while I turned the events of the evening—hell, the entire past couple of days—over in my head. I also considered everything that Pietro had said, but also things that hadn’t been said.

“Why didn’t you tell your uncle about me thinking the guy from the lab was maybe a zombie?” I finally said. “I felt like an idiot in there.”

He sighed. “Angel, I’m sorry. I knew what his reaction would be. I was really hoping you wouldn’t bring it up.”

Well you could have fucking told me that, I thought but, once again, held it in.

We were almost back to his house when I turned to him and asked, “Why was it so important that I figure out the whole zombie thing on my own?”

“Excuse me?”

I took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to say what I wanted to say. “Okay, so you made me a zombie, and then left the brain smoothies for me at the ER, and got me a job, and then left a note telling me to give in to my cravings.”

His forehead puckered into a frown. “Right.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell me, ‘Hey, this is what happened, and you’re a zombie now, and this is what you need to do’?” I knew what the answer was, but I wanted to hear him admit it.

A pained look flashed across his face as he pulled into his driveway. “Angel…you were a mess. In so many ways. Making you a zombie wasn’t just about saving your life. It was about…about getting you to get control of your life again.” He looked over at me. “And it worked. Right?”

“Oh, I don’t deny that. But I want to make sure you understand what you did. Yes, you had the best of intentions, and yes, it all turned out well and yes, you saved my life in a number of ways. But you basically put me in a rehab program against my will.” He opened his mouth, but I held up my hand. “Hang on. I’m not saying what you did was wrong, and I’m not mad about that. I swear, I’m not.”

“Then what are you mad about? Because, you sure seem mad.”

I shook my head. “I’m not mad. I promise. But I want to be sure of one thing.”

“And that is?”

I met his eyes. “That you never pull that sort of ‘I know what’s best for you’ bullshit on me ever again.”

“All right,” he said.

I shook my head. “No, I don’t think you get it. You do it a lot. I mean a lot.” His forehead puckered and I plowed on. “You didn’t tell me that your parents might be there because you didn’t want me to get upset. You didn’t tell Pietro about the body because you knew he’d dismiss it, but then you didn’t bother telling me that you hadn’t told him, which basically left me out in the wind.” His face was stony, and I clenched my hands together to keep them from shaking. “Marcus, I really like you, but I don’t need a babysitter. Or even if I do need one, I sure as hell don’t want my boyfriend to be one. Does that make sense?”

“It does. It won’t happen again,” he said, but there was a weird note to his voice.

“Okay, so…tell me what you’re thinking.”

He shut the engine off but didn’t make a move to get out of the car. “I…I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you this all night. Just haven’t been able to figure out how.”

The knot in my belly started to come back. “Tell me what?”

He lifted a hand and scrubbed it over his face. “Shit. I got called in to Major Hall’s office this afternoon. He asked me if you and I were dating.”

“Okay,” I said, frowning. “Why on earth would he care if you and I were dating?”

“Apparently it matters if we’re dating because…well, because you’re a convicted felon, and I’m an officer of the law.”

I could only stare at him for several seconds. “Wait,” I finally managed. “You mean, I’m not allowed to date you?”

He wouldn’t look at me. “Well…as long as you’re on probation, yes. It’s in our policy manual. I knew about the regulation, but it never occurred to me that it would apply…”

“So we have to break up,” I said, though my voice sounded strained in my ears. The knot in my belly was thick and hard, but at the same time I had a kernel of relief in there which made me feel instantly guilty. Did I want to break up with Marcus? I didn’t think that was true, but at the same time I’d been feeling like things were going awfully fast. But it pissed me right the hell off that it wasn’t my choice to make.

Marcus shook his head and finally met my eyes. “No, see, the Major didn’t say flat out that we had to break up. He just said ‘if the higher-ups find out.’” He gave my hand a comforting squeeze, while I did my best to keep my expression even. “Anyway, I’ve figured it all out.”

“You’ve figured it out?” I echoed. Had he listened to anything I’d said earlier?

“We simply need to tone it down in public. Be ‘just friends.’” He flashed me a warm smile that left me cold. “I figure we cool it off for a little while, and then when I stop being on their radar, we can pick it up again and…be discreet.” He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine.”

I stared at him for several seconds. “Do I get a say in this?”

A puzzled look swept over his face. “Of course. But I figured you’d be less than okay with being told we had to break up.”

“You’re right, I am less than okay with it. But didn’t you hear anything I was saying before about not babying me?”

His mouth tightened. “I’m not babying you. I’m simply finding a way for us to be together—”

“Yes, you found a way, you made this decision that we’ll have to sneak around. You didn’t even think to talk to me about it.” I could feel myself scowling. “I dunno, maybe, just for a change of pace, we could try communicating and talking shit out?”

“Since when are you the expert on relationships?” he said. He clamped his lips shut and shook his head. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry—”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” I replied, fumbling for the latch on the truck door. “Fuck you, Marcus. Just because my last relationship was shit doesn’t mean I don’t know what a good one should be like. I don’t deserve this.” I managed to get the door open and practically slid out of the truck. I started toward my car, but a second later Marcus was out of the truck and in front of me.

“Angel, I’m sorry. Don’t go like this.”

“Get out of my way, Marcus.”

He lifted his hands but didn’t step aside just yet. “Angel, please. I shouldn’t have brought your ex up. It was shitty of me. Now please, come on inside.”

“I need to go home and check on my dad,” I said, then took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve had a really horrible couple of days. I don’t want to fight or anything anymore. Please let me go home, okay?”

He sighed and stepped out of my way. I started to move past him, then paused and quickly kissed him on the cheek. “I like you. I do. But I want you to like me too, and I’m not sure you even know who I am.”

“Angel—”

“We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” I said, cutting him off.

His eyes were shadowed as he nodded. He turned away and headed to his front door while I continued to my car. As I drove off, I checked my rear view mirror and saw that he was watching me leave. But for the first time in ages I didn’t feel shitty or guilty about leaving someone I cared about behind.

Now if I only knew what that meant about me.