Page 23 of Brother's Keeper

Nash’s move to standing meant the moment wasofficially over. He buttoned his shirt as I reluctantly dragged myself to answer my brother’s summons.

On the deck, the hot sun and cool breeze made for a queasy combination. My skin went clammy, and I shielded my eyes from the brightness that assaulted me from all sides. After a brief moment of standing and squinting, Nash exited through the door behind me. He slipped an arm around my waist and sidled up close to steady me.

“Better slow down. Your color’s all wrong.” He brought his other hand around to sweep the hair off my suddenly sweaty brow.

I’d spent the twenty-four hours since the transfusion sleeping and dumping painkillers into an empty stomach. It was the furthest thing from the doctor’s orders, but I’d survived this long without the intervention of Capitol healers, and I saw no need to change. Why treat your body like a temple when you could ride it like a rollercoaster?

“Cool scars,” I reminded Nash, then pushed away from him.

On the dock, Donovan gestured emphatically to the cause of the commotion. Maggie stood in the shade of a black lace parasol. She looked down at her patent Mary Jane shoes while clicking her heels together. It reminded me of Dorothy wishing to go home, and it seemed the zombie girl was similarly lost.

I channeled all my energy into keeping my balance as I walked forward and descended the steps onto the dock. Before I reached my brother and Maggie, I glanced around, checking to see if Ripley was lurking nearby.

“She’s alone,” Donovan said in answer to my unspoken question.

Squinting against the sun, I frowned at my brother. “So, call Ripley and tell him she’s here. He’s probably worried.”

Judging from Maggie’s nonchalance, she wasn’t. Turning to the pigtailed teenager, I extended my arm. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

Maggie perked up and beamed a toothy grin. She trotted over to me, tucking into the bend of my elbow and raising her parasol over both of our heads.

“How’d you get all the way out here, huh?” I whispered to her, knowing full well I would get no answer.

Nash came down and closed the gap to us. “We should get her inside.” He cast a wary glance at the other boats in their slips. “We’re causing a bit of a scene out here.”

“Ididcall Ripley,” Donovan said in response to my earlier question. “He didn’t answer.”

I huffed a breath. “Then text him. Nobody wants to talk on the phone these days.”

“Texted, too,” Donovan said.

Pressing my palm to my face failed to lessen the pain of an oncoming migraine. “Sounds like you’ve got it handled. What did you need me for?”

Donovan’s cheeks puffed. “What are we supposed to do with her?”

Everyone looked at the zombie girl who stood with her head lolled back, staring up through the canopy of her parasol.

“Maybe we can take her home,” Nash offered. “See if Rip’s there?”

“Either of you know where he’s staying these days?” I asked. A glance around generated blank stares in response. My focus returned to the Goth girl tucked against me.

“Hey, Mags.” I jostled her. “How about I give you a ride home?”

She met my gaze, and her crimson eyes crinkled in an eager smile.

“You’re not driving,” Nash cut in. “Not like this.”

His head-to-toe wave over me called attention to my current state. My clothes were wrinkled, hair tangled; I was barefoot and in need of a shower. Aesthetics aside, it felt like a rubber mallet was pounding at my temples, and all this standing and moving around had stirred nausea in my gut.

“I can drive,” Donovan offered.

“Someone should stay in case Ripley shows up,” Nash said. “Do you mind, Donnie?”

“You don’t need me to do what a note on the door could.” The set of my brother’s stance made him look ready to take off down the dock. To his car or straight into the ocean, I didn’t care.

“A note’s a good idea,” Nash replied. “Put one up, then meet us at my car.”

Donovan’s expression shifted to one of smug satisfaction.

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