Disciple: DreamWalkers, Book 2 (37 page)

The zombies took no notice of the humans. They growled and surrounded the dinosaur, batting it with decomposing but powerful hands. The new spider skittered along the ceiling and sprayed the dino with webbing.

The T-Rex, reluctant to give up its snack, used its head as a battering ram to send zombies hurtling in every direction. Still they attacked. Maggie couldn’t see much besides the T-Rex and wraith legs. A forest of legs. A concert of moans.

Finally, the T-Rex had had enough. It released Karen’s body with a roar and went after the zombies. The war, the real war, was on.

Karen’s body walloped the wall near Zeke and Maggie and landed beside them with a thump.

The zombies didn’t step on her.

“If you can’t climb,” Maggie whispered to Zeke, “we can limp out the front. They’re distracted.”

With an unzombielike groan, Zeke backed himself into a sitting position against the wall. The zombies veered around their little island of suffering humanity as they avenged their mistress. The T-Rex snapped necks, tore off limbs, and tried to eat the zombies, but they turned to dust when it savaged them.

The dinosaur surged through the horde and back toward the intersection. The spider launched itself onto the dino’s head. The T-Rex promptly crashed into a wall.

The entire complex juddered from the impact.

Karen’s eyelids fluttered. Opened. She noticed Zeke and Maggie huddled against the wall. Maggie gulped and tried not to look at Karen’s ghastly lower half, the part of her that had been in the T-Rex’s powerful jaws.

“Zeke,” Karen croaked. She coughed, and blood trickled from her mouth. “I tried to stop it from hurting you. The vigil-block disappeared. But the T-Rex was too far gone. Too big to control.”

“Where’s your Master?” Zeke asked. In the semi-lull, he fixed a garrote as a tourniquet around his leg.

“I don’t know.” Tears trickled from Karen’s eyes like the blood trickled from her mouth. “I did everything he told me, but I…I couldn’t bear for you to die.”

The small, weak admission struck Maggie somewhere deep. She felt unexpected sympathy for Karen join the aches, pains and fears whirling through her body.

“We’re all going to die because of you,” Zeke told her, his gaze so hard Maggie shivered. “If Hell exists, you’re going there.”

“I know. But I love you the way you love her.” Karen gagged, and this time a larger gush of blood flowed down her cheek. “I only wanted to be with you, but he wanted you for his collection.”

“Collection?”

Karen convulsed instead of answering. Zeke lurched to her side, peering into her face. “What collection?”

Maggie tottered to her feet. The zombies pursued the T-Rex, which cleared the area temporarily, but not even a thousand zombies had a chance against the thunder lizard. It would finish off the other wraiths and be back—for them. “Let’s go, Zeke.”

Karen’s open eyes stared up at them—still blue despite the green pall of the one-legged spider. Her jaw worked a few more times, spilling blood, before she grew still.

Her eyes remained open.

“Good riddance.” Without another glance at the dead woman, Zeke hobbled to the bunkroom, one hand on the wall to balance himself.

Maggie stooped, closed Karen’s unseeing eyes, and followed Zeke to the metal ramp. They had a T-Rex to survive, a curator to save, a ladder to climb…and a life to live.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lill rappelled down the escape hatch in the nick of time. Between Zeke’s blood loss and broken leg, Maggie’s wrist, and the curator’s frailty, they hadn’t clambered far enough up the tube to avoid the T-Rex much longer. When Lill had clipped them into harnesses and hauled them to the surface, the gigantic wraith had been one infuriated bash from shaking them out of the tube like the last squirt of ketchup.

But Zeke couldn’t regret not ascending the tube as a group the first time they’d discussed it. The Somnium reinforcements wouldn’t have been up top to clear the remnants of the horde, which had indeed been waiting for them. The spiders would have dragged them out of the tube to their deaths. If not the spiders, then the Nosferatus, the banshee, or whatever else Karen had conjured after the vigil-block dissolved.

And he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to see Karen Kingsbury die.

He, Maggie and the curator were retrieved from the shaft and transported to the coma station, which had weathered the horde better than the outbunker. Though many alucinators and Somnium employees had been lost, in the end they’d destroyed the monsters aboveground and hidden the evidence of the encounter from the human populace. Which hadn’t been hard, considering how remote an area they’d chosen for their facility.

Still lingering in the terra firma and causing trouble, however, was the T-Rex, trapped in the outbunker and the subject of much debate the past week between the surviving members of the coma station leadership and another individual who’d arrived in the midst of the chaos and seemed disinclined to leave.

The younger curator, the one who’d dealt with Harrisburg. The one who’d met with Maggie’s brother, Hayden, to evaluate the computer model the guy had been developing to map the dreamsphere.

The one the elderly curator had called Moody.

The one who was currently ringing a peal over the old guy’s head as if he were nothing but a disobedient neonati.

“What you did was against all protocol and common sense.” The tall, dark and glowering curator frowned at the old man in the hospital bed. “Not only did we vote that you be relieved of field duties due to your health issues, but we also voted that you’d take on no more students. Your staff is at capacity.”

“My health is wonderful, for my age,” the old curator said, quirking an eyebrow at his irate colleague. “And who but I could adopt two bellatorix? I know more than the rest of you pups put together.”

While this was as close to an inside look that Zeke had gotten into the workings of the mysterious Orbis, he’d be more reassured if the curators weren’t both behaving like jackasses.

Well, they were as human as he was. They were just a shitload sneakier.

“None of us know how to train a bellatorix,” Moody barked at the old man. “It’s been too long since any have erupted. Ms. Mackey and Mr. Garrett will be forced to train themselves. I trust they’ll keep us informed.”

“Of course we will.” Zeke discreetly checked his watch. When was lunch? Maggie usually ate with him, the best thirty minutes of his day. Otherwise, as a nearly-able-bodied person, the coma station leadership had kept her busy all week. “You saw us in action. You know it’s not a problem if there’s no psycho on the loose, mucking shit up.”

“Indeed.” Moody cast Zeke a skeptical glance. After assessing Maggie and Zeke in the dreamsphere, the younger curator had formally matriculated Maggie with flying colors. He’d also had them demonstrate their bellatorix abilities. “I believe we’ll establish a series of routine appointments.”

Granted, it should have been Adi doing Maggie’s matriculation, but the former vigil had disappeared. Word was that she was officially suspended from duty for obstruction and conspiracy to commit fraud. The curators wouldn’t tell them more, only that they were lucky they weren’t all suspended. Hiding the abnormalities in the manifestations—such as the existence of physical corpses—had impeded the Orbis’s understanding of the situation.

Nobody had mentioned Adi’s suspicions about curator healing abilities, which had inspired Adi’s misdeeds in the first place. Zeke saw no reason to. The senior curator’s injuries and ill health trashed Adi’s theory. If the old man had possessed the ability to fix his body, would he be at high risk for heart attacks?

Doubtful.

“I’d be happy to meet with Margaret and Ezekiel and monitor their progress,” the old curator offered. The mechanical hospital bed whirred as he worked the lever to raise his head. “I’ve grown fond of those two crazy kids. They saved my life.”

“A life that shouldn’t have been threatened in the first place.” The curator paced to the monitor that beeped steadily beside the old man’s bed. “Do we have to put a damn ankle bracelet on you?”

The old man winked at Zeke behind the other curator’s back. “Will it have bling?”

“You try me, old man. You try me.”

“Because you lack perspective. We only live once, son, and I like to keep in touch with the rest of the world. Staying cooped up in the Orb all the time makes you a little…” The curator swirled his finger beside his temple. “Kooky.”

“The problem isn’t your mental state. It’s your physical one,” Moody said. “Do you have a death wish?”

Zeke had to give it to him—the old curator had balls of steel. Zeke may have taken out a T-Rex, but the young curator exuded menace. Something about him spoke of darkness and death. He was exactly how Zeke expected a curator to be, as opposed to the old man. The eldest curator’s insouciance was a direct contrast to his comrade’s seriousness and pinched silence.

Moody’s attitude made Zeke seem like Pollyanna, and Zeke hadn’t thought he’d ever meet anyone crabbier than he was—or used to be. He hadn’t felt nearly as crabby since he’d learned he and Maggie could stay together as she finished her hand to hand training and academic studies.

Ignoring the thundercloud glaring at his heart monitor, the old curator lowered the foot of the bed, then raised it, then lowered it again. Zeke kind of wanted to smash the controls with a hammer. From the expression on the young curator’s face, he’d give Zeke the hammer and a pat on the back to boot.

The younger guy was hard to read, and Zeke appreciated the tiny moment of transparency. Made him seem less sinister. After a double dose of Karen Kingsbury, Zeke had had enough sinister to last a lifetime.

He just wanted to lose himself in the woman he loved and forget everything that had happened the past several days.

Except the sex part. That had happened, and Zeke was getting pretty desperate for it to happen again. His broken leg would make things less athletic than he preferred, but he could manage.

“That’s better.” The old curator quit fiddling with the bed and clasped his bony hands in his lap. “And no, I don’t have a death wish. The rest of you worry too much, because I’m healthier than you think. I wonder what’s for lunch?”

Zeke didn’t think the old guy should be boasting, considering his shortcomings had caused a damn lot of trouble down below. Had he been as fit as the second curator, who seemed to be about Zeke’s age, maybe Zeke wouldn’t be stuck in a hospital bed too, nursing a broken leg.

In the same room as the pestery old man, because the other rooms were overflowing with injured employees.

Goddamn. He hadn’t had a moment’s privacy with Maggie, to tell her he thought they should get married or something. Not to mention have sex. Now that Maggie wasn’t formally Zeke’s disciple, being lovers wasn’t an issue. They could start a family if they wanted. He wasn’t sure about kids, but he was sure about Maggie.

He’d been sure about Maggie for a long time, and he’d nearly lost her. He wasn’t taking any more chances.

“Gruel for lunch for you,” the curator said to his elderly companion. He glanced over the binder at the end of the bed. “Your cholesterol is off the charts.”

“Don’t be a nag, Moody. The steak was delicious.”

“Listen to him, Moody.” Lill, leaning against the doorjamb, grinned at Zeke when he noticed her arrival. Maggie accompanied her, balancing a tray of food. “Don’t be a nag.”

“Ms. Carmichael.” The tall curator inclined his head. “Lovely to see you.”

No one believed him. Lill had been at him to tell her what was going to happen to Adi every time she’d run him to ground. Considering the guy seemed to have the ability to disappear into thin air, it was a testament to Lill’s persistence that she continued to find him.

Maggie navigated around Lill with a smile and set lunch on Zeke’s bedside table, followed by the old curator’s. A bandage wrapped her wrist and scrapes marred her pretty face, but to Zeke she looked like an angel with a cheeseburger. She returned to his side, perched on his bed, and took his hand.

“Any word from my friend Adi? Adishakti Sharma?” Lill asked. “Ring any bells?”

“Ms. Carmichael, as you’re aware, you don’t have the clearance for those answers.” The younger curator strode across the room, clearly intent on leaving.

Lill remained in the doorway, forcing the man to confront her. “Maybe I should get clearance.”

“That isn’t likely to happen.” He stood several inches taller than Zeke’s statuesque friend, and Lill was a tall woman. “I believe you’ve told me on three occasions you’d rather tear out your own hair than try for vigil.”

“I’d look good bald.” Lill’s eyes flashed dangerously, like they did during a code one. “And if I didn’t? Hair grows back. But my friend hasn’t come back, and I want to know that she’s okay.”

“Young lady,” the bedridden curator interjected. Zeke couldn’t help but notice the old fox wasn’t smiling anymore, and he always smiled at mealtimes. Especially when he’d been smuggled a cheeseburger instead of gruel. “While I appreciate your role in saving my life, I’d advise you to let this topic go.”

Maggie clutched Zeke’s hand tighter. The confrontations between Lill and the younger curator made everyone uncomfortable. Zeke suspected that was why the curator avoided Lill.

Though he didn’t look uncomfortable. He looked annoyed.

“I’ll let it go when you let me talk to Adi.” Lill pretended to check her nails, but from his angle, Zeke could see her eyeing both curators through her lashes.

“Your alliance with Ms. Sharma does you no credit, considering her transgressions.” The tall curator looked ready to seize Lill by the shoulders and set her aside, like a child. Be damned if Zeke didn’t get the impression he could manage it. What the fuck was Lill doing? “Would you like to be suspended as well, Ms. Carmichael?”

Lill’s nostrils flared. “I’m good at what I do.”

“As was Ms. Sharma. Talent isn’t the issue.”

“I recognize empty threats when I hear them.” Lill chuckled without humor. “You can’t afford to suspend me after we’ve had such heavy losses. Everyone knows L1s and L2s have been popping up like bunnies, but we’re not seeing a corresponding rise in L4s and L5s. We’ve all got double shifts, triple students. Sentries are on the front lines of neonati scanning and identification, and I’m one of only two confounders assigned to my area. And that is why you won’t suspend me.”

The man considered Lill as if he’d never seen her before—or as if he’d finally recognized her as more than a nuisance. “Seven curators. Seven divisions with seven vigils each. Seven sentries in each area. Why do you think we’re structured so that each level of our organization has seven equally weighted principals?”

“So no one is overburdened,” Lill said immediately.

“So we have redundancy should we be short a sentry. Or two sentries. Or a curator.” Moody glowered at them all, and the old curator said nothing. No jokes about food or blinged out ankle bracelets. “All of you can be replaced.”

“And you?” Lill asked, crossing her arms.

“I can be replaced,” the man said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment.” This time he brushed past Lill, and their shoulders collided. She watched him go with murder in her gaze.

“Maybe you should be replaced, asshole,” Zeke heard her mutter before took off after him.

Maggie and Zeke exchanged a long glance after Lill disappeared. He needed to convince Lillian to take the guy’s threat of suspension seriously. She was already on probation, and like she’d said, all areas were short on staff and long on students. They needed Lillian.

The old curator cleared his throat. “Your friend is not being wise.”

“She rarely is,” Zeke said. “But she is good at what she does.”

“She shouldn’t toy with him.” The curator fumbled for the water Maggie had brought him, looking exactly like the weak, old man he was. “Tell her.”

“I don’t know that she’ll listen.” Maggie unwrapped Zeke’s meal. “Losing Constance and Adi has hit Lill hard. She’s angry, and she wants someone to blame.”

“There’s nobody to blame but Karen, and she’s dead.” Reluctant to let his food get cold, Zeke started on his lunch and was halfway through it when the curator’s nurse appeared.

“It’s time for the meeting, sir.” Two orderlies accompanied the friendly nurse, one pushing a wheelchair.

“Already? And me without a thing to wear.” The curator stuffed his illicit hamburger into a bag, but not before the nurse saw it and frowned.

The six remaining North American vigils had arrived to discuss the future with the two curators. Perhaps that was where the younger curator had absconded to instead of inventing an appointment to avoid Lill. Rumors abounded that Adi’s second in command, Blake, would be elevated to vigil in her place. Zeke and Lill’s fellow East Coast sentry Rhys was also being considered, which would make the big man ecstatic. Promoting a new vigil was somewhat like an American president selecting his cabinet.

Zeke’s and Lill’s names had definitely not been on anyone’s short lists. Thank God. Granted, he could see Maggie going that route someday. She was smart, brave and talented enough, and now that she’d weathered the worst wraith outbreak in modern history and been personally matriculated by a curator, she’d gained confidence both in the sphere and out of it.

He was proud of her. So damn proud. After everything that had happened, he was also so damn grateful she wanted to be with him. She could study at the Orbis. She could be assigned anywhere. But she’d asked to complete the rest of her studies at the East Coast base with Zeke, and the vigils had agreed.