Derrick’s long face threatened tears but he bravely nodded. “Okay. I’ll miss you.”
“You won’t even notice I’m gone. We’ll be back in a month.” Dirk felt bad but looked forward to being away from Derrick’s constant shadow.
He wiped a tear and returned to the present. “He was only six years old.”
Dora took his calloused hand into her soft delicate one. “You can’t blame yourself. You were just a kid. You had no way of knowing he was in danger.”
“That’s what Sierra said. Still, before we left, my mother asked me if I’d take Derrick. That he would stay with his older cousins, and had promised not to interfere. She said Sierra didn’t mind. I was the one who told her no. I said Derrick would distract me from my alpha training with his constant chatter.” His voice broke. “Who knows, he may have become an alpha.” He fought the urge to shift and howl in sorrow. Instead, his eyes teared up. He was unworthy of being pack leader. He wasn’t worthy of having anything, including love or anything else his brother would never know.
“I understand and so does your brother.”
“What are you saying?”
“Just as I sense my parents are in a good place, I also know your brother is as well.” She tightened her hand around his and closed her eyes. “He says upon his rebirth, he will come back as a bear shifter. And that’s why he took your black bear claw.”
His fur rose on the back of his neck and his skin prickled. Had she really contacted Derrick? “Only I knew he took the claw. Before I left for Talon’s pack, I let him keep it if he promised to take good care of it. He promised but when I searched in the rubble, I never found it.” He gave her an incredulous look. “How do you know?”
“I can’t explain it but as soon as I focused on Derrick, he came to me. I seem to have the ability to connect beyond the veil.”
He gently squeezed her small hand, careful not to break it as strong emotions washed through him. “Does…he forgive me?”
She closed her eyes, took a long breath, and appeared to go into a trance. He waited patiently as she opened her eyes and reached inside her coat pocket. Her eyes widened as she drew out the bear claw. The very one that Dirk had left with him. “Derrick says he kept it safe for you and when he comes back as a bear he’s going to toss you in Talon’s lake.” She handed it to him. “And he forgives you. He never blamed you.”
Dirk took the claw and allowed a tear to fall. He smiled at the memory of their last summer at the lake as a family. Talon’s pack swam in a large lake on his territory and the kids would play toss the wolf in the lake. Dirk had always been the champion, but that didn’t matter because they’d had so much fun. A slow breath escaped his throat, like the release of a black cloud from his heart. He held the claw to his chest and smiled. “Witchy woman, I think for the first time I’m going to have a good night’s sleep.”
Dora shook her head. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
“I may get used to having a witch around to surprise me.”
“I’m wondering what else I can do.” She yawned. “But can we wait until tomorrow for any more excitement? I’m exhausted. I doubt even lying on the hard floor will keep me from sleep.”
He stood and helped her up. “Agreed but first, a goodnight kiss.” It was not a hard, possessive kiss but a tender one of thanks he planted on her sweet lips. The touch of her warm mouth tempted him to ravish her but for now he wanted to swim in the joy of knowing Derrick had forgiven him. The beautiful doctor couldn’t fathom how she’d freed him from a weight of guilt more powerful than the gleipnir that had been fastened around his throat. All he wanted was to sleep with her nuzzled on his shoulder. The woman who’d just saved him from his years of guilt and shame.
Chapter 12
A low growl awakened her. She suppressed a scream at the dark shadow towering over her. Dirk. She’d slept so soundly. Cuddling in his warmth, she had rested her head on his shoulder while his protective arm held her in a tight embrace. God, he felt good. Intimate as husband and wife. She’d almost forgotten he wasn’t an ordinary man but a werewolf. An affectionate one at that. Did he see her as his beloved, or rather a friend who provided closure between him and his long gone little brother?
“It’s still dark,” she complained.
He walked to the window and snarled. Extended fangs and claws with pointed wolf ears. His
Wolverine
comic book hero appearance. Shit. Trouble had found them.
She sat up immediately and gasped. Steps scraped the ground outside the store. Zombies, prowling for flesh. She entered his mind.
“How many?”
“It looks like a good sized swarm. I must have had too much wine to not notice earlier. That and sweet dreams of bears.”
“Swarm. You mean at least five?”
“More like thirty or more.”
“Shit.”
She stood, put her boots on and then fastened her holster.
“Most of their flesh is burnt off, so I didn’t catch their stench as well. These zombies are pretty much skeletons but with good gnashing teeth.”
“Burnt?”
“The napalm apparently missed cooking the brains of all the ghouls. We’ll need to make a run for it.”
“You mean you’re not going to go werewolf on them?”
“I could, but I won’t be able to protect you if I’m fighting more than ten at a time. Stay down.”
It was still too dark to see, but hearing the scorched ghoul’s raspy smoker’s cough whistle was far creepier. The
zombie shuffled on the wooden deck and sniffed loudly by the window
.
A struggling hiss escaped his mouth, perhaps from his charred voice box. It scraped skeletal fingers against the glass. Could it still smell her? Or was it drawn to the sound of her rushed breathing? Her trembling hand rested on her gun.
Dirk brandished his machetes, ready for battle.
“You’ll need to start the bike while I distract them.”
He handed her the keys
.
She took them but shook her head. Panic robbed her of bravado.
“They prefer human flesh.”
“Don’t worry, babe. The smell of my blood will be a bigger attraction.”
He reached the dagger strapped to his ankle, and sliced his left wrist.
“Take my jacket and drive off. I’ll catch up with you.”
Drive a motorcycle? You’ve got to be kidding.
She touched his gashed wrist and gasped as warm blood rushed out. He must have slashed his radial artery. “
How can you make it if you’re bleeding too much?”
“
My werewolf blood will heal it by the time you reach our bike
.” He readied his machetes, just as the peeping zombie forced his head through a broken hole in the window. One single chop and the zombie’s head dropped to the floor like a watermelon thrown from a roof.
She stared at its charred lipless face and froze.
“I can’t.”
He laid a clawed hand on her shoulder.
“I promise, babe. I’ll protect you.”
He gently shook her.
“Dora, are you with me?”
She trusted him, especially in his “Wolverine” mode, and snapped back to reality. She nodded and reached for her flashlight. Stupid. It would light her up like a floorshow. She wished there was a way she could see in the dark without alerting the zombies. Suddenly it came through. Luminosity. A bubble of light surrounded her. She donned her helmet and clasped it on. The motorcycle had a full tank and ready to go. Focus. Just a skip and a jump away.
Dirk barked. “Go!” He jerked open the door and killed the ghouls on the front steps. She sprinted out of the building.
As Dirk bled and yelled to attract zombies, Dora dashed to the Harley. Her witchy light worked. The zombies didn’t react to her presence. With shaky hands, she fumbled with the keys. At the clink, some of the closer zombies stopped their forward motion and turned back to her.
Shit. Good, it’s in.
She turned the ignition, but too late. A severely burned zombie, almost all skeleton and dried up like a raisin grabbed her arm and dragged her to the ground. Two others, with their skulls intact and their fierce raging brain commanding them to devour her joined in. All laws of biology were suspended. How could these ghouls still want to feed when they’d no gut left to digest? She rolled away, drew her gun and fired at the first. The skull broke like shards from jagged glass and its shrunken brain blew out like a snow flurry of gray matter.
Back on her feet, she stepped away and aimed at the approaching zombies. Anger overtook her fear. “Eat this!” She fired. Nothing. Again, she pulled the trigger of her fully load gun.
Shit.
Nothing. It was jammed! From behind gray rocks, others appeared and shambled toward her. Between her and the bike were ten zombies. The ghouls with their skins peeled off looked like reanimated victims of a fiery airplane crash. The sound of their bones and accompanying hissing moans reminded her of buzzing cicadas in a Texas summer night. Not mating calls, but calls for dinner.
Next to a trash shed, she spotted a shovel. She ran and grabbed it. The raging zombies approached and she wielded the wooden shovel, striking at the nearest one. Contact with its baked skull made a sickening thud like a martial artist breaking boards. She struck again but missed the head. She ran toward the bike. The keys dangled, waiting for her. However, two zombies stood in her way and soon others flanked her from all sides.
“Dora!” Dirk sliced his machetes through a swarm of zombies, making him look like a crashing helicopter with out of control propellers cutting down people in his way.
The zombies encircled her and moved in to feast. No way out. Panic and the rage of ending on the bottom of the food chain, triggered an inner madness. She struck, knocking one down. Another reached to pull her down and she swung the shovel, nearly severing his head. The rest moved in.
Escape!
Holding the shovel like a fighting staff, she shot into the sky like an errant missile just as the swarm dived in to devour her. “Shit!” Soon she’d die from lack of oxygen or freeze. But mostly likely plunge to her death. “Dirk!”
He ran after her, sending a telepathic message.
“Go horizontal!”
He didn’t have time to explain further as zombies sprung on him. He slashed his way toward the bike. “
Push down on the shovel!”
Dora pushed down on the handle and somersaulted in the air like an astronaut in zero gravity. Finally, she clung on to the handle as if riding a broom. It worked. She flew horizontal but this time she hurtled forward like a handheld missile. She closed her eyes and screamed in a voice that didn’t belong to her, but to someone in the last throws of childbirth, or falling out of a twenty-story window. No screams left in her, she squinted as the wind created by the velocity beat her face. At least she wasn’t climbing in elevation. Just traveling at one hundred miles per hour. Thirty feet above the ground, at this rate if she fell, she’d break every bone in her body. Feeling like a circus rocket-girl, she focused on slowing as she hovered over the cacti and rocky ground. At least she wasn’t heading toward a mountainside or granite building.
Rhyme. Must think. She would crash. Fall to her death, unless she controlled her flight. “Slow down and lower to the ground and…and…do me proud?” She repeated it over and over, with growing confidence as each time her ride slowed and lowered. Now about one mile per hour, and five, three…two feet from the ground. She dismounted and rolled off. The shovel fell. She lay on her back and dug her hands into the ground.
Terra firma
. She smiled, clutching the gravel-like dirt in her palms. Alive. She sat and dropped the pebbles then patted her body for broken bones. None. Only a dull pain of a developing bruise on her hip, where the first zombie had shoved her down.
Where was she? Her luminosity vision spell no longer worked. No matter. Sunrise twinkled in welcome. She stood, dusted off and removed her helmet. From the look of it, she had landed on an old dry creek bed. How far was she from Dirk?
Dora dizzied as an excruciating headache shot through her. The energy involved in flight must have drained her.
She staggered toward the shovel, picked it up and leaned on it. Great. No water. No food. No aspirin for her nagging headache. She looked for something that would provide better protection until Dirk arrived. Nothing. Dora climbed out of the creek bed and onto a dirt road. No cars. No zombies. At least that was one consolation.
Fingers pressed on her temples, she entered his mind.
“Dirk, can you hear me?”
No response. Was there too much distance for a connection or was he dead? No. He couldn’t be. She sensed he’d not left the earthly plane. Or could she be wrong? No. The brain drain from flight caused Dora’s loss of her telepathic communication. “I need to get a
Dummy’s Guide to Witchcraft
,” she muttered.
Holding the shovel like a weapon, Dora walked along the empty road as the sun rose. Hoping that any minute she’d hear the roar of Dirk’s motorcycle. The low night temperatures would soon turn into blistering heat. The helmet would protect her brain from frying but its black color would cook her anyway.
Up ahead, a tall cactus’ shadow offered some protection from the brutal sun. As good a place as any to wait for Dirk, Dora flopped down. On the horizon as sunrise filtered in, the puppet like disjointed movement of zombies materialized. Not again. She hastily stood. Was it a mirage? The stench grew stronger. No such luck. It was them. She slipped back down to the riverbed and hiked at a steady pace. Best if she put distance between her and the zombies rather than fighting them with one stinking shovel. At the zombie’s slow clumsy rate, they’d never catch up.
How long could she continue moving before the heat got to her? No high mountains to climb, just flat desert. The sun full above the horizon, heated the landscape, and if she continued, she would die of dehydration. A winged shadow passed over her. She shaded her eyes and looked into the sky. Vultures. Unlike zombies, she felt thirst and pain. If she were ever to see her next birthday, she’d have to fly.