Page 67 of Brother's Keeper

“You’re not in jail,” Donovan said, only barely kidding. He pulled away and I thrust the drink tray toward him.

“No jail. I convinced Grimm to call off the investigation.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“Would you believe it was my exceptional interpersonal skills?”

He shook his head. “Youdon’t have those.”

I wagged a finger at him. “You’re right.” Grabbing the door’s lever handle, I opened it outward. Interior lights flashed into the dusky night, casting my shadow across the deck.

Inside, Maggie crouched before the console TV, pressing buttons on the VCR. She cocked her head toward my entry, then flashed a toothy smile. I’d seen this outfit before—a black and white striped crop top with black overshorts. It made her look appropriately like a mime.

She toppled a stack of VHS cassettes in her rush to stand and close the gap to me. Donovan crowded in as the zombie girl enveloped me in my second hug of the night.

“Hey, honey.” I patted her back where her pastel hair had been pulled into a braid. “Long time, no see. You thirsty?” I snagged one of the cups from the tray Donovan held and offered it to Maggie.

After squinting like she feared I might poison her, she took the cup and dropped to sit on the edge of Donovan’s bed. Peeling the lid back, she peered at the creamy, pink drink.

“Strawberry,” I explained as she dunked a finger into the shake, then pulled it out and gave a tentative lick.

“What happens if she eats something she shouldn’t?” Donovan whispered from over my shoulder.

I shrugged. “I don’t know, Donnie. Maybe she explodes.”

“Not funny.”

Maggie flinched away from the ice cream dripping down her finger, then gave it a disgusted flick. A palepink drop flew loose to splatter onto the wall. Capping the cup, she handed it back to me, then lunged for the bag I held.

Far be it from me to stand between a zombie and anything she wanted, so I readily handed the food over. Donovan, in contrast, let out a cry of dismay as Maggie dug through the drive-thru meals and helped herself to a burger, wrapper and all.Donovan and I stared as the zombie girl chowed down. I nipped the straw from her rejected shake and took a long swig.

“You mean she could eat burgers this whole time?” Donovan sounded exasperated.

“I guess itismeat,” I said.

One burger down and apparently satisfied, Maggie dropped the bag on the floor. I bent to retrieve it, then passed it to Donovan. My dinner tonight had been reduced to a strawberry shake and some fries, which would have to do because I was starving.

I walked past the cluttered kitchen counter to sit on the couch where Donovan joined me. He unwrapped his burger and started in with greedy bites, then set the open bag between us so we could take turns rummaging for fries.

The cleanliness of the houseboat had taken a downturn in my absence. It looked like a storm had blown through. Clothes piled in the narrow aisle of the floor, joined by food wrappers and receipts from the delivery meals I’d suggested Donovan order. The chaotic collection of VHS tapes had been tossed, cases separated from cassettes in a haphazard heap. The whole scenereeked of boredom, and I wondered how feasible it would be for Donovan to get a job to fill his time. After Maggie moved along, that was.

My brother must have been thinking similarly about the zombie girl’s extended stay because he asked, “What do we do if Ripley doesn’t come back? Like, what if he’s dead?”

Cheeking the fry I’d been munching, I hissed at him. “Keep it down in front of her.” I tipped my head toward Maggie, who sat cross-legged on the bed, humming while bouncing her knees up and down like a butterfly’s flapping wings.

Donovan waved his burger-holding hand in surrender. “Sorry.”

After sucking down a chaser of strawberry shake, I sighed. “I guess that means you haven’t heard anything else from Jax’s goons.”

“Nada.” Shifting onto one hip, he pulled his cell from his pocket. “Maybe you scared them off.”

I snuffled a breath. “Doubtful.”

The details of my encounter at Lazy Daze never made it to Donovan’s ears. The story of how I’d barged in there only to get cold-cocked by Superwoman, then nearly drowned in my own fluids didn’t bear repeating. My brother had learned from enough years living with me that work—be it for Grimm or the Capitol—was my least favorite topic of discussion, and he tended to take me at my word when I assured him everything was peachy.

In this case, keeping him in the dark about the trio of rogue Hex members gunning for his newly acquiredtattoo was a judgment call. I could protect him far better than he could defend himself and, as long as I was keeping the threat at bay, why worry him with it?

“But if he is…” Donovan glanced cautiously at Maggie, ensuring she had tuned out of our discussion. “If he’s dead, what do we do with her?”

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