Page 81 of Dead End

I didn’t know where people went when they died. I didn’t even try to imagine, but I hoped that wherever he was right now, he could hear me. If I had the power to control the dead, shouldn't it stand to reason that I could breach that veil, too?

A stark cold seeped into my veins then, and my mind went blank. It was as if the shaking had stilled and the hurricane-force wind had stopped. I could hear nothing but the blood pumping under my skin and my heartbeat as it slowed. And then I felt my lips moving.

“Et vocavi vos oriri ex somno... Intra haec vita in regnis hoc iterum... Arcum meum sentire potestas, et meo imperio...”

The words were not my own, but they were coming from my mouth. My voice was tinged with another, and power filled my veins. I chanted the same words over and over again until something began to burn deep in my chest.

My eyes flashed open when a blast lit up the world around me. Bright green swirls of power and strikes of lightning hit me at once as the stone coffin shattered into millions of tiny shards. Static electricity ran along the surface of my skin as some invisible force lifted me into the air. My body righted, and I hovered there, my feet inches from the soil. My dress and hair flowed around me, but my lips kept on repeating that same ancient chant. Over and over again, until my voice rose to a scream, a desperate cry, as the earth began to shake.

“No!” I heard from the ground. “Cal, stop her!”

It was Ichabod. He sounded panicked and desperate, but I couldn’t see him through the lightning. I could suddenly feel every deceased creature buried in this graveyard, and those undead as well. I could feel the power of their empty shells writhing, trying to break free from Ichabod’s unorthodox hold. I called out to them, beckoning them to come to me.

“Meus es tu...” I said it softly, my voice strong and echoing around the graveyard. I chanted the words over and over again. “You are mine,” I told them.

I could hear Ichabod shouting louder now. He screamed, “No, no, no!” over and over again, until his voice was drowned out by the moans and gurgles of my corpses—the ones he’d raised from their eternal sleep. The bodies he’d desecrated began to turn on him.

That invisible force carried me forward, floating inches above the ground. Ichabod was staring right at me, mouth agape. The blackness I’d seen in his eyes before was gone completely, replaced with a frightened, watery brown. I saw the corpses come to a standstill in my peripheral vision, no longer fighting my guys. My eyes flickered briefly to where Jason stood with his boot on Payton’s mother’s chest, eyes triumphant as he held her down, before Cal laid a hand on his shoulder to take over guard duty.

Maddie was heading over with Baen and Roger trailing behind her, and once again, a small Jessica perched on his shoulder. Blackness was receding from Michael’s arms, and he was holding Freddy by the shoulders to keep the werewolf from running over to me. Norman grabbed his other arm, keeping a hold on his twin. They all watched me as I pulled the corpses closer, beckoning them to come to their master.

My lips were still moving, those words rolling out effortlessly. I had an inkling of what I was saying.

“Meus es tu!” I shouted, my voice carrying over to the front gates. I was telling the corpses to do my bidding, to submit to me, and to turn on the one who’d ripped them from their rest.

They staggered forward, and Ichabod scrambled back on his heels, feet kicking up dirt, chanting, “Tuus ego sum. EGO teneo et tibi dominantur!” He screamed the words over and over again, but the zombies didn’t even flinch.

They converged on Ichabod and bypassed Cal, who was standing close by in a protective stance as he formed an invisible wall around Payton and her mother to trap them together in case they woke up.

I felt something then—a gentle breeze against my neck that sent a sense of comfort and warmth rushing through me. It was a familiar sort of warmth, and immediately I knew exactly what it was. Tears sprung to my eyes as I felt my parents' spirits wrap around me, fueling me with the strength I needed. Invisible fingers laced through mine.

“We are so proud of you, darling girl. We’re always here,” they whispered in my ear as my eyes closed to absorb the sound of their voices one last time.

“Tolle eum,” I said softly, knowing my undead servants would listen. “Take him.”

My guys were now surrounding me for support, watching Ichabod cower. The corpses ignored everyone I loved. The guys watched as they converged, and Ichabod screamed as hands groped him, jaws clashing and nails scratching at his skin.

I smiled down at the man that I realized was responsible for the deaths of my parents. It really was him all along. I know that now. I didn’t know how I’d missed it before. He was the top-hat-wearing man in the street that night who’d made our car fly off the road. The one with the power to disappear like magic. The one who set all this in motion.

“Take him,” I’d said to them. Not kill him. No, I didn’t want this vile, worthless warlock dead just yet. I had plans for him.

Roger

I felt taller than tall, over the moon, and on top of the world. I rode the beast on its back through a bona fide battle and lived to tell the tale. My strings were cut loose from my master, and I was a free marionette.

No more cold, lonely nights on the job being told what to do. I was my own fella, destined to set the rules, until I needed a new master. But who would treat this detective with the respect I deserved?

I rubbed my smooth, porcelain jaw and moved my head around three hundred and sixty degrees, gazing at the broads and guys in the room. I stopped at the tall, raven-haired gal and felt a keen respect for her. She looked sad, yet tough enough to survive on the streets. But we could only roam alone for so long before it got tiring.

I wondered… Maybe she wouldn’t mind a dummy for a companion? She and I could keep this town safe and keep the riff-raff out.

‘Detective Roger and his assistant, Miss Mad’s, on the case’ had a nice ring to it.

Ishowered the second we got back to the manor after I forced myself to take two huge mugs of Auntie Fe’s healing tonic. I was stalling, really. My wounds would stitch themselves back together. I hadn’t been badly wounded, but when that coffin shattered, it scratched me up pretty good.

I found myself standing under the hot spray, letting it rain down over me with my eyes closed, because I didn’t want to stare at the dirt and blood trailing down the drain. Hearing the sound of a door opening and closing, I didn’t even bother to move. Even as the sound of the shower doors sliding open registered, I kept my eyes shut, content to bask in the heat scorching my healed skin.

Hands slid over my shoulders, gently massaging the aching muscles. I let my head fall back, resting against a hard chest. Lips caressed the front of my throat, and I felt another presence in front of me. I smiled, knowing exactly who had joined me.

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