Undead Chaos, page 29
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what to do with myself now that Daddy is gone,” she said quietly.
“And?”
“And I have no idea.” She raised an eyebrow at me. “Your mother suggested Hunter training, but I’m not sure I’d enjoy it.”
“You’d be a great Huntress. Especially considering your, um, unique talents.”
“Maybe, but I’m afraid that no matter what, the Council will try and force me to track down my father. That’s something I would never do, so formal schooling or training is out of the question.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I have some money in the bank, which will give me time to figure out what to do and where to go.”
I placed a mummified hand on hers. “Whatever you decide, I hope it keeps you close by.”
She grinned. “Me too.”
* * *
I spent two more days in bed, and another few in my old room at the Homestead. Despite Jenkins’s assurance that I was on the mend, I suspected my mother of ordering the staff to keep tabs on me. Everywhere I went, maids or gardeners kept asking how I was feeling. Even Cornelius seemed less stiff toward me, which I took as one of the signs of the Apocalypse.
The guards, who were normally terrifyingly quiet, were talkative. Several thanked me for atoning Mercer’s death and all of them started calling me “sir.” When I asked Santiago about it, he said that I was now considered “one of the boys.” It was a compliment he swore was more meaningful than I could imagine.
Coming from someone like him, I felt both honored and humbled.
I ran into Alexander in the bee yard, and was impressed with the hives he’d installed. Each was stacked and painted, and he’d even ordered queens to replace the ones lost to the fire. The girls accepted the three new matriarchs and seemed happy as clams with their rebuilt homes.
It was good to see the old man out of the house, but the sight of him working a hive in his armor was both unnerving and hilarious. Considering my hands would be wrapped up for a couple of weeks, I wasn’t about to question his methods. The girls didn’t seem to mind, although a few did ask when I was going to feed them next. They had a hard time understanding that they’d have to ask the “Shiny Keeper.”
One of the few surprises of the week was finding Steve still at the Homestead.
When I asked him about it, he mentioned that Dad had offered him a job as part of the security detail. Since Steve was both homeless and jobless, it seemed like a good idea until something better popped up. As we said goodbye, he handed me the Elvin knife, stating that it was far too small for him and that I should keep it as a souvenir.
Quinn wrote a message to Millie for me thanking her for all the help and asking about Jones and the wounded. She responded with a letter that smelled heavily of bacon. In it, she stated that the Oracle had taken up residence in the room and was slowly nursing Elyanna and the others back to health. The prisoners had been worse off than we’d realized and, like with Jethrow, might not have survived more than a few more hours. Healer Utterback had them under close watch, but he seemed to think they’d all live.
The most startling news, however, was that Jones was still sober. Millie swore that he hadn’t had more than water to drink since we’d left. Additionally, he’d actually showered and shaved for the first time in forever and, in Millie’s words, was a “relatively handsome man.”
I suspected the sudden change had something to do with the Elf, but whatever the reason, I hoped it would stick. The man was a mess when I’d met him, and he needed a new outlook on life.
Eventually I was deemed healthy enough to return to my place, which was unwelcome news to my mother. She argued in vain with the Healer, then hugged me tightly as I gathered my things. Since my hands were still wrapped, Quinn volunteered to drive me, and we waved goodbye to everyone.
On the way home we swung by the hospital so I could check on LaDell. His shoulder was still sore, but he was out of the sling and back to work.
He harassed me about my mummy hands before spending an eternity explaining the new security features he’d asked the hospital board to install in the morgue. He didn’t think they’d agree to the retinal scanner, but was certain they’d go for a keypad with rotating code. As long as it kept the dead inside Winter Wonderland, he didn’t care.
Considering everything that had happened, I agreed wholeheartedly.
It was early evening by the time we got back to my townhouse, and even though I had only been gone a short time, the diffusion of my being from the place was palpable. The interior felt cold and stale. Without a living presence, the space was nothing more than a large storage unit.
I flipped on some lights and asked Quinn to pop the cork on a bottle of wine. She poured us two glasses while I scooted chairs together on the deck so we could enjoy the view of the golf course. She set the glasses on the small table between the chairs. I smiled as I looked at mine.
“I didn’t know I had straws.”
She sat next to me. “Found them in a drawer.”
We both waved as a golfer spotted us and raised his putter in a salute. He missed his putt, but whistled pleasantly as he climbed into his cart and drove off.
“This is nice,” Quinn said after a few moments.
I inhaled the cool Reston air. “Yeah, I really love it here. Very calming.”
She closed her eyes and put her head back. For the first time since my finding her in the Underground, the tension in her jaw and shoulders seemed to ease.
I leaned over and took a long pull on my straw. The wine was warm and smooth.
Quinn blew out a long breath. “Man, what a wild couple of weeks.”
“Hard to believe everything that’s happened, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
I gazed into the setting sun and let my mind drift over recent events.
“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked, opening one eye.
“Just thinking about the butterfly effect.”
She sat up. “What do you mean?”
I motioned toward the horizon. “Somewhere out there, the greatest Necromancer of our generation and his ‘creation’ are on the lam while a rogue Hunter is avoiding Council justice. My old friend and nemesis is in a hospital bed, and an alcoholic Oracle is apparently trying to sober up in the name of love. Or possibly extreme infatuation. You are attempting to figure out what to do with your life while I will soon report to the Council headquarters in order to help root out a possible traitor. And all of it, every single thing that has happened, is because of a single phone call.”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
“Dad always said that eventually, everything connects. I never believed him until now.”
“Speaking of your father, he asked me to show you this.” She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket, unfolded it, and set it on the table.
It was a short article from the announcement section of the local news outlet.
“Well, how about that?” I asked, reading the piece.
Quinn frowned. “What’s so interesting about some rich socialite publicizing her pregnancy?”
“It’s Carly,” I said, pointing at the picture. “And she claims she’s already two months along.”
“Oh.” Then her eyes widened. “Oh!”
“Exactly. Sounds like she’s sobered up, too. Thank goodness.”
“Do you think it’s Tony’s baby?”
I shrugged. “The timing works that it could have happened before he died, but it could just as easily be her boyfriend’s. We may never know for sure. The important thing is that Tony thought it was his. Hell, he escaped from Quaos because of it.”
Quinn nodded slowly. “Like all undead, he was following his strongest urge.”
“Yeah. A paternal one.”
She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure that’s a first for a reanimated. The Council Necromancers will have a field day with that information. It may even revolutionize our understanding of the undead.”
My mind went back to the night I banished the zombie, and I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Quinn asked.
“After I re-killed him, I actually asked him why he’d return from the dead for someone as screwed up as Carly. I’m glad at least one of my questions from this whole mess was finally answered.”
“And yet there are so many more still lingering.”
“True, but you know what? Out of all of them, I can’t get over why Banks was naked.”
Quinn chuckled. “That’s the issue you have the most trouble with?”
“Trust me, it’s disturbing on so many levels.”
“What am I going to do with you?” she asked, shaking her head.
“Anything you want.”
Her smile turned feral. “Finish your wine, then we’ll talk.”
The future with all its uncertainties was out there waiting for Quinn and me, but worrying about it was wasted energy. Instead, it was best to enjoy the present while we could. I reached for my glass, lifting it with both hands. Then I winked and swallowed the rest of my wine in a single gulp.
Quinn laughed until tears leaked from her eyes. The sound echoed through the open door and filled the townhouse with the warmth it so desperately craved.
* * * * *
About the Author
Joshua Roots is a car collector, beekeeper and former marine. He enjoys singing with his a cappella chorus, playing video games and reading comic books. He and his wife will talk your ear off about their bees if you let them.
Where no great story goes untold.
The variety you want to read, the stories authors have always wanted to write.
With new releases every week,
your next great read is just a download away!
Keep in touch with Carina Press:
Read our blog: www.CarinaPress.com/blog
Follow us on Twitter: www.twitter.com/CarinaPress
Become a fan on Facebook: www.facebook.com/CarinaPress
ISBN-13: 9781426896576
UNDEAD CHAOS
Copyright © 2013 by Joshua Roots
Edited by Mallory Braus
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.CarinaPress.com
Joshua Roots, Undead Chaos
Thank you for reading books on ReadFrom.Net
Share this book with friends
“And?”
“And I have no idea.” She raised an eyebrow at me. “Your mother suggested Hunter training, but I’m not sure I’d enjoy it.”
“You’d be a great Huntress. Especially considering your, um, unique talents.”
“Maybe, but I’m afraid that no matter what, the Council will try and force me to track down my father. That’s something I would never do, so formal schooling or training is out of the question.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I have some money in the bank, which will give me time to figure out what to do and where to go.”
I placed a mummified hand on hers. “Whatever you decide, I hope it keeps you close by.”
She grinned. “Me too.”
* * *
I spent two more days in bed, and another few in my old room at the Homestead. Despite Jenkins’s assurance that I was on the mend, I suspected my mother of ordering the staff to keep tabs on me. Everywhere I went, maids or gardeners kept asking how I was feeling. Even Cornelius seemed less stiff toward me, which I took as one of the signs of the Apocalypse.
The guards, who were normally terrifyingly quiet, were talkative. Several thanked me for atoning Mercer’s death and all of them started calling me “sir.” When I asked Santiago about it, he said that I was now considered “one of the boys.” It was a compliment he swore was more meaningful than I could imagine.
Coming from someone like him, I felt both honored and humbled.
I ran into Alexander in the bee yard, and was impressed with the hives he’d installed. Each was stacked and painted, and he’d even ordered queens to replace the ones lost to the fire. The girls accepted the three new matriarchs and seemed happy as clams with their rebuilt homes.
It was good to see the old man out of the house, but the sight of him working a hive in his armor was both unnerving and hilarious. Considering my hands would be wrapped up for a couple of weeks, I wasn’t about to question his methods. The girls didn’t seem to mind, although a few did ask when I was going to feed them next. They had a hard time understanding that they’d have to ask the “Shiny Keeper.”
One of the few surprises of the week was finding Steve still at the Homestead.
When I asked him about it, he mentioned that Dad had offered him a job as part of the security detail. Since Steve was both homeless and jobless, it seemed like a good idea until something better popped up. As we said goodbye, he handed me the Elvin knife, stating that it was far too small for him and that I should keep it as a souvenir.
Quinn wrote a message to Millie for me thanking her for all the help and asking about Jones and the wounded. She responded with a letter that smelled heavily of bacon. In it, she stated that the Oracle had taken up residence in the room and was slowly nursing Elyanna and the others back to health. The prisoners had been worse off than we’d realized and, like with Jethrow, might not have survived more than a few more hours. Healer Utterback had them under close watch, but he seemed to think they’d all live.
The most startling news, however, was that Jones was still sober. Millie swore that he hadn’t had more than water to drink since we’d left. Additionally, he’d actually showered and shaved for the first time in forever and, in Millie’s words, was a “relatively handsome man.”
I suspected the sudden change had something to do with the Elf, but whatever the reason, I hoped it would stick. The man was a mess when I’d met him, and he needed a new outlook on life.
Eventually I was deemed healthy enough to return to my place, which was unwelcome news to my mother. She argued in vain with the Healer, then hugged me tightly as I gathered my things. Since my hands were still wrapped, Quinn volunteered to drive me, and we waved goodbye to everyone.
On the way home we swung by the hospital so I could check on LaDell. His shoulder was still sore, but he was out of the sling and back to work.
He harassed me about my mummy hands before spending an eternity explaining the new security features he’d asked the hospital board to install in the morgue. He didn’t think they’d agree to the retinal scanner, but was certain they’d go for a keypad with rotating code. As long as it kept the dead inside Winter Wonderland, he didn’t care.
Considering everything that had happened, I agreed wholeheartedly.
It was early evening by the time we got back to my townhouse, and even though I had only been gone a short time, the diffusion of my being from the place was palpable. The interior felt cold and stale. Without a living presence, the space was nothing more than a large storage unit.
I flipped on some lights and asked Quinn to pop the cork on a bottle of wine. She poured us two glasses while I scooted chairs together on the deck so we could enjoy the view of the golf course. She set the glasses on the small table between the chairs. I smiled as I looked at mine.
“I didn’t know I had straws.”
She sat next to me. “Found them in a drawer.”
We both waved as a golfer spotted us and raised his putter in a salute. He missed his putt, but whistled pleasantly as he climbed into his cart and drove off.
“This is nice,” Quinn said after a few moments.
I inhaled the cool Reston air. “Yeah, I really love it here. Very calming.”
She closed her eyes and put her head back. For the first time since my finding her in the Underground, the tension in her jaw and shoulders seemed to ease.
I leaned over and took a long pull on my straw. The wine was warm and smooth.
Quinn blew out a long breath. “Man, what a wild couple of weeks.”
“Hard to believe everything that’s happened, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
I gazed into the setting sun and let my mind drift over recent events.
“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked, opening one eye.
“Just thinking about the butterfly effect.”
She sat up. “What do you mean?”
I motioned toward the horizon. “Somewhere out there, the greatest Necromancer of our generation and his ‘creation’ are on the lam while a rogue Hunter is avoiding Council justice. My old friend and nemesis is in a hospital bed, and an alcoholic Oracle is apparently trying to sober up in the name of love. Or possibly extreme infatuation. You are attempting to figure out what to do with your life while I will soon report to the Council headquarters in order to help root out a possible traitor. And all of it, every single thing that has happened, is because of a single phone call.”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
“Dad always said that eventually, everything connects. I never believed him until now.”
“Speaking of your father, he asked me to show you this.” She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket, unfolded it, and set it on the table.
It was a short article from the announcement section of the local news outlet.
“Well, how about that?” I asked, reading the piece.
Quinn frowned. “What’s so interesting about some rich socialite publicizing her pregnancy?”
“It’s Carly,” I said, pointing at the picture. “And she claims she’s already two months along.”
“Oh.” Then her eyes widened. “Oh!”
“Exactly. Sounds like she’s sobered up, too. Thank goodness.”
“Do you think it’s Tony’s baby?”
I shrugged. “The timing works that it could have happened before he died, but it could just as easily be her boyfriend’s. We may never know for sure. The important thing is that Tony thought it was his. Hell, he escaped from Quaos because of it.”
Quinn nodded slowly. “Like all undead, he was following his strongest urge.”
“Yeah. A paternal one.”
She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure that’s a first for a reanimated. The Council Necromancers will have a field day with that information. It may even revolutionize our understanding of the undead.”
My mind went back to the night I banished the zombie, and I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Quinn asked.
“After I re-killed him, I actually asked him why he’d return from the dead for someone as screwed up as Carly. I’m glad at least one of my questions from this whole mess was finally answered.”
“And yet there are so many more still lingering.”
“True, but you know what? Out of all of them, I can’t get over why Banks was naked.”
Quinn chuckled. “That’s the issue you have the most trouble with?”
“Trust me, it’s disturbing on so many levels.”
“What am I going to do with you?” she asked, shaking her head.
“Anything you want.”
Her smile turned feral. “Finish your wine, then we’ll talk.”
The future with all its uncertainties was out there waiting for Quinn and me, but worrying about it was wasted energy. Instead, it was best to enjoy the present while we could. I reached for my glass, lifting it with both hands. Then I winked and swallowed the rest of my wine in a single gulp.
Quinn laughed until tears leaked from her eyes. The sound echoed through the open door and filled the townhouse with the warmth it so desperately craved.
* * * * *
About the Author
Joshua Roots is a car collector, beekeeper and former marine. He enjoys singing with his a cappella chorus, playing video games and reading comic books. He and his wife will talk your ear off about their bees if you let them.
Where no great story goes untold.
The variety you want to read, the stories authors have always wanted to write.
With new releases every week,
your next great read is just a download away!
Keep in touch with Carina Press:
Read our blog: www.CarinaPress.com/blog
Follow us on Twitter: www.twitter.com/CarinaPress
Become a fan on Facebook: www.facebook.com/CarinaPress
ISBN-13: 9781426896576
UNDEAD CHAOS
Copyright © 2013 by Joshua Roots
Edited by Mallory Braus
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.CarinaPress.com
Joshua Roots, Undead Chaos
