One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie Tale (10 page)

Noelle eyes me from behind Father Moss’s wings. A huge bruise is forming on what I can see of her shoulder. “Coming back for another round?” She rolls her head from side to side. “I can do that.”

Father Moss hisses and clatters his wings. Noelle glares at me, but subsides.

So I’m the one who has to be the big girl. Fine. I hold out my hand. “I’m not trying to steal Daniel,” I grit out. “He offered to take me to a club. That’s it. And that still doesn’t explain Andrew.”

Noelle stares at me for a long moment before answering. “Daniel told me it wasn’t a date,” she admits, which just pisses me off even more.

“You already
knew
about it?”

“Back off, minionette, he’s mine.”

And, like a dog, she wants to pee on her territory. Then I blink. “Did you just call me a minionette?”

“You’re not tall enough to be a whole minion…”

“Come at me,” I growl. Forget Father Moss. I’m so finishing this.

“Isis, Noelle, enough! We’re all adults here. Try acting like it!”

There’s nothing like having a creature you always thought was imaginary yell at you to make you feel around an inch tall.

I sigh. “Noelle, Daniel is all yours. I promise. I don’t want him.” The only person on my mind any more is Andrew, and not for the reason she thinks. But I’m not going to tell her that. Ever.

“You know Isis is telling the truth,” Father Moss says. “Noelle, end this childish behavior at once.”

The half-fae sighs. “Fine.” Her next words sound like they’re pulled from the depths of her, slow and reluctant. “I apologize for turning your fingers into snakes.”

“And?” Lydia prompts.

“Mo-ther!”

I’ve never heard Noelle sound so childlike before.

“Noelle Mykayla Louren A’Damier, complete that apology at once!”

“I’m sorry I lied about Andrew.”

It’s the most half-hearted apology I’ve ever heard, but it’s probably the best she can do.

“We can’t have fighting in this church,” Father Moss says. “If you can’t abide by the rules of the sanctuary, then you can’t stay. Noelle, that applies to you just as much as it does to Isis.”

“What?” Noelle protests. “That’s not fair. This is my
home
. She has a life. Let her live it elsewhere!”

“She needs this church just as much as you do,” Lydia says sharply.

“So what? We’re all supposed to cater to her and her whims because she’s a half-zombie? That doesn’t make her any more special than the rest of us! Ask Albin, or Terra, or anyone else who comes here!”

“That’s
enough
,” Father Moss says. “Noelle, go to your rooms. Isis, is there a reason you’re here, other than to antagonize Noelle?”

That is
so
unfair. “I didn’t mean—”

He gives new meaning to the term ‘flinty eyed’. “What you meant and what you caused are two very different things.”

“I would suggest you go home, to your own apartment, and think about what happened here tonight. Come back Thursday and we can discuss it,” Lydia says. I guess staying at her house tonight is off the menu.

My heart sinks. Noelle smirks at me before flouncing away.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I’m really, really sorry.” I slouch out the front doors, down the sidewalk, and back to the Bug. It’s time to go home and explain to my mom why plans changed.

Sixteen:

I Suck.

My mom drums her fingers on the kitchen table. Her eyes are red and swollen. I can only presume that I’m the cause. “So this gargoyle said you couldn’t come back?”

“No, Mom. Lydia said I couldn’t come back. Not until Thursday.”

“Because of the fight with her daughter.”

“Right.” I sit, slumped, across from her, dressed in a pair of green Grinch footie pajamas. “I was just so angry. I pushed her and she
flew
across the sanctuary. Now I’m afraid to touch anything.”

“You don’t have super strength, Isis. That’s a myth.”

“Mom, you weren’t there. You didn’t see it. I cracked one of the stone pillars.” I’m trying really hard to stay calm, but my voice has other ideas. It keeps spiraling upward.

“Sweetie,” she reaches across the table and takes my hands in hers. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

I pull one hand free in order to tuck my hair behind my ear, forgetting completely that part of it’s missing. My mom, on the other hand, notices immediately and reacts accordingly.

“Isis Blue, what happened to your ear, and where is the rest of it?”

Crap. “It’s, ummm, in the dress Lydia gave me.”

“
What
?” Her eyebrows crawl up to her forehead and take residence there while she waits for my reply.

“Part of it came off in my hand at the club Daniel took me to,” I reply. “Honestly, I forgot all about it.”

“So you shoved it into your pocket? Isis, what’s
wrong
with you?”

“Seriously, Mom? What’s right? Apparently I’m starting to decompose. I don’t
know
what to do about it. I certainly don’t want to wear screws in my wrist for the rest of my life. Death. Whatever!” I fling my hands into the air. The left one goes sailing across the kitchen and lands, with a thunk, on the stovetop. Of course it does. The apartment falls silent.

“I thought you had screws in your wrist.” My mom’s voice is hoarse.

“I do. They must have come loose during my fight with Noelle. I’ll get it.”

“While you’re up, get the bit of your ear, too. I’ll put it in a baggie of ice to preserve it and first thing tomorrow, we’ll head to the hospital. Maybe they can reattach it, like they do with fingers.”

“And pretty soon I’ll look like Frankenstein. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“You’re acting like this is an option, Isis.” She leans forward. “Let me assure you, it’s not.”

“Mom,” I protest, “it’s not just going to stop. I’m not suddenly going to turn normal again.”

“Do you actually think I don’t know that? Do you actually believe I have my head buried so far in the sand that I don’t understand what’s really happening? I’m doing the absolute best I can, Isis, but believe me when I tell you that I know the truth. I promise you, I
know
it.” By the time she finishes speaking, the tears are dripping down her cheeks.

“It’s decomposition, Mom,” I say quietly. “A doctor won’t help.”

She nods. “I know, but I don’t know what else to do.” Defeat weaves its way through every word she utters.

It takes me two steps to reach her, wrap my arms around her, and give her the biggest, hugest hug I can before I continue to the stovetop and pick up my hand.

“Do you—do you want me to help you with that?”

I shake my head. “I’m just going to go to bed. But thanks.” I smile to take some of the sting out of the rejection.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.” I walk into the single bathroom, swinging my hand in my…errr…hand. Placing the hand on the edge of the sink, I awkwardly squeeze the toothpaste onto my toothbrush. With everything starting to decompose, I’m just grateful I still have teeth. But I brush carefully, making sure I barely massage each individual tooth with the electric brush before spitting and rinsing. I leave my hand in the bathroom. There’s really no point in keeping it by my bed. I’ll get my mom to help me with it tomorrow. I pause at the entrance of my room; pleased, as I always am, at the homemade chain mail canopy draped on the four posters of my bed. I hated making it
while
I was doing it, but now I think it’s pretty darn cool. I crawl into bed and close my eyes. Sleep would be a blessing.

The dreams start almost immediately. Crazy, twisted dreams of eyes with little arms and legs; eyes following me down dark, twisted hallways, and six foot tall talking skeletons covered in rawhide. I open my mouth to say something, but my lips fall off. It’s only once I bend over to pick them up that I realize I have no hands, either.

I scream myself awake.

“Isis, it’s all right.”

I don’t recognize the voice and lash out when a hand begins to smooth my hair back from my forehead.

“Isis, stop, it’s Mom. It’s all right. You’re awake now.”

I start dry sobbing. “It—it was horrible, Mom. I was running down a hall and all these red eyes were following me and growling.”

“It’s that club,” she says. “It’s giving you nightmares. I really don’t think going back there is a good idea, honey.”

And that’s when it hits me. “Actually, Mom, it’s the perfect idea. I
have
to go back.”

“What are you talking about? How’s going back the perfect idea?”

“Nacelles is a magician.” My words come slowly as I noodle out exactly what I’m trying to say. “So theoretically, he could stop me from decomposing. Right?”

My mom rubs her eyes with the palms of her hands. “I suppose it’s theoretically possible. But is it wise?”

Probably not, but that isn’t going to stop me.

Seventeen:

The Blair Lich Project.

Nacelles drums his finger bones on his table. “Ink, you know my services don’t come cheaply. Why would you bring her to me?”

The vampire leans back in her chair. “She came to the club to find you, Nacelles. I found her pressing random panels on the wall. Did you really want me to let her continue doing that?”

He doesn’t answer her, but turns to me. I swallow.

“What brought you here, Isis?”

I reach into my pocket and pull out my bits of ear and cheek, carefully preserved in a quart sized baggie with two ice packs. My mom is nothing if not super-efficient.

“I see,” the lich says. “And you wish me to what? Reattach them?”

“Can you do that?”

“Isis, be careful what you ask for. Magic has a price,” Ink cautions me.

“I don’t need him to reattach them,” I hurriedly reassure Ink. “I’d just prefer it if nothing else fell off, y’know?”

“I will need a payment of some kind from you,” Nacelles says. “It’s the only way the magic will work.”

“Is that why you’re willing to help me?” I ask. “What’s in it for you?”

“I’m a lich by nature and a researcher by trade.” He leans toward me across the table. It takes everything I’ve got not to send the chair I’m sitting in flying backward. “You are a fascinating conundrum, Isis. Quite frankly, I wish to study you, but in order to do that, you need to stay whole.”

If that’s the price I have to pay…and speaking of prices…”You said I had to pay you?”

The tall creature nods.

I catch a glimpse of something hound shaped at his side, but even as I blink, it vanishes and I’m not sure I really saw it in the first place.

“What kind of payment are you talking about?” I ask.

Nacelles’ shrug is oddly graceful. “It’s nothing we need to discuss yet.”

“Ummm…I disagree,” I say.

“Come with me,” Nacelles commands. “I find this room damp and uncomfortable for extended conversation.” He waves one hand and the room we’re currently in lights up, which means I get to see the hound shape clearly. Except that it’s more than one shape. And they’re large. I mean, they’re
huge
; like brahma bulls huge. And they’re all drooling.

Ink notices my wide eyed stare. “They’re hell hounds,” she responds to my unanswered question. She holds out her hand and one of the monsters flickers in and out of reality until it reaches her. Then, much to my surprise, it swipes her hand with its tongue. Okay, so hell hounds aren’t always evil, either. Boy, this night is turning into some sort of an education.

“Isis, this is Maxx.” Ink introduces me.

The gigantic beast opens its jaws. “Isisss,” it repeats.

Oh. My. Gawd.

“Maxx is my companion of many years,” Nacelles says. “I watch over him and he returns the favor.”

Maxx opens his mouth in a wide, doggy-like grin. It would be cute if it wasn’t for the strings of steaming saliva dripping from fangs as long as my pinky.

“That’s…nice,” I say.

“She is nervous,” Maxx states the obvious. His body isn’t pure black, like I originally assumed. Undertones the colors of magma coat the animal’s fur. I stretch out my hand, but before I can touch him, he pins me with a golden eyed stare. My hand drops back to its side.

“It’s not you,” I can’t believe I’m attempting to placate a dog, but it seems to be the wisest course of action. “I just – this is all so new to me.” I eye the hell hounds still standing at silent attention behind the lich. Regardless of what Nacelles might think, none of them look particularly friendly.

“Maxx, would you please take your pack and return home? It appears I won’t need your services, after all.”

The massive animal bows his huge head and barks once. The hounds behind him begin to flicker out of existence until the room is empty.

I breathe a sigh of relief. The hell hounds freak me out. “What kind of services do they perform?”

The lich stares at me for a long moment before answering. “Maxx is in charge of pest extermination, among other things.”

I don’t even know what to say to that, so I keep my mouth shut.

“Ink, I would greatly appreciate it if you would go up and bring Blair downstairs. We will need her assistance.”

The vampire nods her assent and leaves.

“Who’s Blair?” I’m determined not to show my nervousness, but my voice shakes and declares me a liar.

“She’s a ghost. She’s going to help me stop your decomposition.”

I frown. “Really? They can do that?”

He nods, but I can tell he’s not really paying attention to anything I’m saying.

“So what exactly is going to happen next?”

“Once Ink gets back, I will cast a spell that will transfer some of Blair’s energy to you. The supernatural blending of your forces will allow your body to stop your decomposition.”

I’m sorry I asked. I sigh and rest my head on the table in front of me. My undeath just keeps getting more and more complicated.

“Are you all right, Isis?”

I open my eyes. The first thing I see is the ghost Nacelles had mentioned hovering
in
the table.

“Uhhh…yeah,” I reply.

“Blair, I could use your help over here, please.”

The ghost nods and drifts away.

“Isis, have a seat over there.”

I look where the lich is pointing but don’t see anything to sit on. “Ummm…” I trail off.