Death Whispers (Death Series, Book 1) (21 page)

Gran looked at me, her rotting face inches from
mine. The smell was gag-worthy but having been in the boys' locker
room, I could take it.

“What is your will, boy?” Gran asked, solemn.

“I want you to be put back to rest,” I said.

Later, I wish I'd realized what that request
meant, because I would have handled it differently.

Zombies were terribly literal.

Gran stepped toward Tiffany, all shuffling
determination.

Oh crap.

Mom
turned to Dad and said, “Kyle?” What's happening?

Dad surged forward and Gran turned, very smoothly
for a zombie. Geez, and put the flat of her palm on his chest and
shoved for all she was worth.

Quite a lot, apparently.

One of Dad's slip-on shoes flew off and smacked
Gran's tombstone with an audible thud while he traveled, airborne,
landing with a resounding smack on the grass.

The three kids looked at Dad, as he made the arc,
then landing, he conked out, legs splayed in front of him.

Mom screamed his name, rushing over and crouched
down beside him. While Mom was panicking, Gran was going for the
gold. She had wrapped her hand in Tiffany's hair, hood completely
gone, using her fist twined in her hair like a handle, dragging her
over to where I was.

As I stood mesmerized by the scene, Bry leaped on
Gran's back. She reached behind with her free hand, the other hand
busy in Tiffany's hair, and plucked him off like a worrisome gnat,
throwing him in the direction she had shoved Dad. He promptly landed
on his ass, his mouth closing with a snap. Blood spewed from his
mouth. That was the first clue he'd bitten some of his tongue off. Oh
boy, I thought wildly, he can loan that to Gran.

No longer frozen in panic, I was moved to action
and gave Gran a new command:

“Let her go!” I yelled.

Gran complied, instantly dropping Tiffany on her
face with a dull crunch. Shit-in-a-sack, did she break her nose?

Gran straightened and turned to me, hand hovering
over the girl. Bry took his palms to the ground, blood spilling out
of his mouth like a fountain said, “I thont are aut oo re.”

Redoubling
his efforts, since speech was
so
not
working, he engaged in a frontal assault on Gran. Both of them
tumbled to the ground. Rolling to a stop on another grave, Bry's
hands circled Gran's neck and he began thumping her head into the
ground, gray strips of hair flying back and forth.

Her hand shot out and grabbed him in the balls as
he straddled her. She tightened her grip and he yelped (sympathy
grimace). Releasing his grip on her throat, she used that lull,
holding his crotch in one hand, grabbing his neck with the other and
heaved him--again.

Dad came to, moaning, his head in Mom's lap. His
eyes grew wide when he saw the two broken kids laying in separate
heaps.

From his prone position he asked, “Caleb, what's
going on?”

Looks
like granny's getting her groove on
,
I thought. Hysteria pressed in on the edges of my consciousness.

Tiffany was coming out of a near catatonic state.
Flinching away from Gran's hand, which was back to hovering again,
she held her nose with her left hand and glared up at me over the top
of it.

“You think you can help me now?” I asked with
just a tiny bit of sarcasm.

“Yes,” she hissed through clenched teeth,
glancing covertly at her brother, who lay on the ground, observing
everyone in various states of hurt. The other girl had long since run
off. Probably straight to the police, I thought dismally.

Wonderful.

Gran
hauled Tiffany to her feet none too gently, using her arm that was
holding the nose, Tiffany gave a girl yelp. I almost felt sorry for
her but this is where her lack of cooperation had taken us. I was
ready for a little grave closure myself.

Dad was rising shakily to his feet, not every day
a person gets knocked out by a corpse, and making his cautious way
toward us, Mom on his heels.

Gran looked speculatively at him.

I
gave Dad the
stay
back
look. He stared back at me,
you
got this, Caleb?
I
shrugged, I just didn't know but them getting the potatoes beat out
of them by Gran wouldn't help.

Tiffany glared down at my Gran. Yeah, down, Gran
was small, not that size mattered. Bry was on his feet too. Holding
his crotch that was probably throbbing like hell.

Gran waited. Tiffany waited, eying each other
warily.

I did what I thought would work. I released what I
had left. It wasn't much, little more than a drop of water in a
glass. It found its mark and hit Tiffany running.

Like
knew like.

Naked goosebumps began at her wrists, making their
way up her arms, hoodie long-gone in the midst of the scuffle with
Gran.

Tiffany threw her head back, her mouth open, like
catching snowflakes on our tongues when we were little.

She
said, “it feels good...
it
feels good
,
why didn't you tell me it would feel good?”

“Because I didn't know,” I replied softly.

Her head righted itself and she stepped away from
Gran who kept a wary eye on Bry and my parents as they walked toward
me. Tiffany's eyes were a deep, hazel green I noticed as she got
closer. Not the brilliant shade that Jade had, but pretty in a
mysterious way. Dried blood edged her nostrils delicately.

She
held her hand out, momentarily forgetting Gran was right there,
shuffling behind her. I reached out to take it, having never touched
another AFTD and two things happened at once; I felt an instant
injection of juice and the whispering grew in volume. The voices and
their distinct signatures...
clearer.

As if in slow motion, Tiffany turned to me,
looking me in the eyes. “Is it always like this?”

“What?”

“The voices.”

“For me... yeah.”

Her eyes widened. “It's so loud.”

“It's louder with us touching.”

“Oh.”

We turned as one mind, one intent.

Gran had shambled over to her grave, looking
rattier by the moment. Somehow, she had super-zombie strength.

My juice was okay now. I could feel Tiffany's
energy or power, complementing mine.

I looked into Gran's eyes, and for a moment, there
was some spark or something, I didn't know what. Tiffany and I both
noticed and reacted. It felt slimy and evil.

She looked at me, scared.

I looked back, a little shake to my voice,
“Ready?”

We both knew I wasn't asking.

I
let my power shift to Tiffany at the same time I squeezed her hand
and it flowed between us and I thought,
rest.
A
mental muscle flexed, the strength of my will chased the thread that
connected me to Gran from when she gave up her place in the ground.

Tiffany's hand convulsed around mine. “Oh.”

It was so simple it was criminal. Speaking of
which, I could hear sirens in the background. There was no explaining
our way out of this mess.

Gran gave one last heave of her chest, seeming to
suck in real air for the last time, the breath rattling hollowly as
it left her lungs, then she laid down on the grave. The dirt flowed
over her, engulfing her body.

Tiffany and I watched. When it was done, the grave was undisturbed,
like it had never happened. But as Tiffany and I released each
other's hand, that spark between us fading, we surveyed the bloodied
people around us. We knew it had been real.

The first police car arrived and Garcia stepped
out, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

Perfect.

****

Garcia sauntered over, that wide smile stretched
over his face.

Tiffany
stayed where she was, Bry walking over to stand beside her. I had to
assume it had been Tiffany's snitch friend that had blabbed to the
police. Sure enough, she exited Garcia's police car.

With the hood covering her face I hadn't really
noticed her that much, kinda busy with Gran-the-corpse and Tiffany's
rather problematic older brother.

She had weird-colored hair and that's how I'd
remember her later when I filled the Js in. It was somewhere between
dishwater blond and red. Mom would know the color right away. Her
face was all tight and pinched. From the guilt I was betting,
morbidly pleased.

She looked warily from Tiffany to Bry then me. She
took in all of us standing together and the lack of a zombie running
around and flushed a fine, true red.

Good,
let her feel embarrassed. The evidence was gone and just some blood
hanging around. My parents were at my back (literally). I was
absolutely sure Dad had figured out what to say unless Gran had
knocked something important loose on his trip to the tombstone.

Garcia stood facing us, legs wide, considerable
arms folded across his chest. He looked at the Weller kids then my
parents.

Then... me.

“Well, Caleb, what do we have here?”

Just
a tiny bit of corpse-raising.

Dad interjected, I knew he would, “Sergeant
Garcia, good to see you again.”

“Hello, Mr. Hart. No offense, but I was talking
to Caleb.” his eyes got back to boring into mine.

I felt steady. I hated to admit it, but I felt
more solid with Dad here.

“And he's a minor,” Dad added.

Garcia's head swiveled back to Dad, his eyes
narrowing. “I don't have to be reminded of that Mr. Hart.”

Their gazes held.

“We were here, conducting some experiments, and
these kids,” Dad gestured to the Weller kids and then gave a nod in
the direction of girl unknown, “happened upon us.”

Dad
put his hands out to each side then shrugged like,
no
big deal, just a family hanging around the graveyard on a Saturday...
riiiggghht.
That
was gonna fly.

Garcia put his hand on his chin, rubbing it.

Mom hiccuped behind me. Oh great, she always got
those when she was nervous. Loud ones, too, from her gut.

I
rolled my eyes and Tiffany gave Mom a look like,
what
now?
Mom
went ahead and did another one. Garcia's eyebrows shot up but he said
nothing. Dad squeezed Mom's shoulder. Geez.

The other cop joined Garcia. He was all business,
with a short, military haircut. It was so blond that he looked bald.
He was short, barely taller than me, with deep set eyes, never
stopping their back and forth restless movement. Shifty bastard, he
made me nervous.

Garcia glanced casually at him and said, “This
is my partner, Officer McGraw.”

This guy was big time Aryan nation, white bread in
his pants, all blond and light compared to Garcia's tall darkness.

But he was scarier.

I could feel this guy's potential and it didn't
feel good. What I wouldn't have done for a dose of Jade's Empath
skills about now.

Garcia smiled during his introduction then got
down to the meat of the matter. “The department is pairing mundane
officers with a paranormal to better handle paranormal crime. After
all, we need the paranormal presence to handle that element.”
Garcia finished.

He
said
paranormal
like a curse. That, I-want-to-be-your-friend thing had been an act.
Boy, was I glad I hadn't said too much during the dog incident.

McGraw let a cruel smile flash, then it was gone.
I was guessing he was about Parker's age, one of the first group of
kids that got the inoculation.

They weren't giving these guys good enough psych
screenings.

What
was he anyway? That would prove pretty useful to know in say, the
next ten minutes.

I
didn't have long to wait, this jerk was just dying to show off, who
knew why? Because he could, like Carson.

“McGraw's an elemental.” Garcia let the
comment drop like a stone in a lake.

We-were-so-screwed.

The Elementals could manipulate the four elements
and it was NOT weather dependent. Fire, water, earth and air. God
help us if he was like, on my level, controlling all four in the way
that I had all five “hit-points” of the AFTD.

He obviously did not have all his dogs barking so
I was not interested in show and tell.

I looked at Dad, he was frowning. I did a mental
face-palm: there were three more kids from school that knew and the
cops were involved... swell.

“If anything gets out of hand here, I have
perfect confidence that McGraw can handle it to the letter of the
law.”

Great,
I
bet
.

Dad spoke up, “I don't think any of us will be
unreasonable. There is no need for posturing.” Oh boy.

Garcia
flipped open his notebook (
pulse
it,
moron) and got a pen out. Who wrote anymore?

He turned to the girl, who's name floated just out
of reach. “Miss Cote,” (that was it!), “... why don't you
reiterate what you told me at the police station.”