Page 79 of The Undead

“A friend, maybe, or another family member.”

“I really don’t think this is the time to be inviting people over, do you?” she asked indignantly. The idea. “It’s the middle of the night, Sergeant.”

The other detective let out a little snort of laughter and turned around to face the street. The older one just looked grim.

“Miss Foster, do you understand what’s happened here?”

“Surely.” Suddenly, William was there again, a friendly hand under her arm, a supporting arm. All within the warm circle of her head. “Why, my poor momma got killed by that man, that Adam Radburn. He said he’d get me. He killed my momma?

They looked at each other, the two detectives. Maggie Bowman crossed her arms across her chest, bowed her head, and didn’t say anything.

“Miss Foster, did you see Adam Radburn here?” the younger one asked. He’d gotten over his laughing fit and looked grave and thoughtful. Rebecca smiled at him. She couldn’t understand why he looked so strange.

“Didn’t have to. He was here. I can smell him? She sniffed at the wind without looking away from the young one. Pretty, pretty. William’s eyes focused through hers, and a cold interest stirred in her stomach. “Who are you?”

They’d told her once, but they couldn’t expect her to remember details like that, could they? The older detective shook his head slightly, but the younger one didn’t catch the hint.

“Frank? He tapped his pencil against his notebook nervously and tried a smile. “Miss Foster—”

“Pretty.” she breathed, or was it William? She couldn’t tell. She didn’t care. The passion was pure and holy and hungry. “You go find Adam Radburn, Frank. You go find him?

The older one’s lips pressed together in a thin line, accenting the sharp lines bracketing his mouth, and jerked his head toward the driveway. The younger detective trailed after him. Maggie Bowman lifted her head and looked at Foster, and her eyes were strange and glittering.

“I’m sorry, Rebecca,” Maggie told her quietly, and walked across the grass to where the other detectives hissed and whispered to each other. The three of them talked. Maggie left them and walked back toward Rebecca. Before anyone, even Rebecca, could stop her, she grabbed Foster’s shoulders and pulled her very close, close enough that Foster could see the bruised shadows under her eyes. There was strength coming off her like an electric current.

“Don’t touch me? Rebecca whined. Every nerve in her body jumped against the contact, but Bowman wouldn’t let go. Her fingers were too tight to shrug off. “Let go of me!”

“Rebecca, who’s William? What does he want?” Maggie shook her, an explosion of fury that rattled William’s peace and comforting gray presence right out of her head. The pain rolled back in. “Tell me! Who’s William?”

Rebecca screamed, a long raw grating sound that boiled up and shattered whatever link she had left to William, and collapsed against Maggie. Rebecca’s body twitched helplessly, fighting something she couldn’t even identify.

She wouldn’t tell. She couldn’t.

“One of them, he’s one of them, oh dear God, help me, don’t let him have me—” That was Rebecca’s own voice, wailing on without pause, without breath, a thin thread where her mouth pressed in Maggie’s hair near her ear. Rebecca tried to stop it, but the words kept pouring out like blood out of a cut throat. “Dark. Dark angel. I didn’t mean to kill the first one, I didn’t, it was an accident, and the second one she deserved it but I didn’t want him to do that to Julie Gilmore but I couldn’t stop him and then he was in my head—”

“Shh,” Maggie whispered, and her hand stroked the woman’s tangled hair. “Rebecca, shh, it’s okay now. Tell me what happened. Tell me about William.”

“Can’t. I c-c-c-can t, he w-w-won’t let me t-tell you.” The pressure behind her eyes was blinding and bright. The knife was coming again. “Help me. He’ll get you too.”

“No, he won’t. Trust me, Rebecca.”

The knife was coming up. It caught the light along the razor-edge. Rebecca saw her face reflected in it, knew it was too late for her, that her chance was gone again, gone forever.

“Mommmaaaa—” she wailed. But Momma didn’t come.

She collapsed against Maggie Bowman, limp as a rag. Maggie held her, talking soothingly. The sound of her voice was an annoyance like buzzing flies. Rebecca let her head loll back and grinned at her.

Maggie flinched and tried to pull free. Foster held onto her and kissed her, hard, forcing her tongue between Maggie’s clenched lips before Maggie managed to shove her away. Rebecca fell against the step, laughing, and tasted blood on her tongue where she’d been bitten. Maggie swayed, staring and breathing too fast. Her fists were clenched but still trembled. The two detectives ran to her side, but they were all looking at Rebecca, with identical expression of loathing and no little fear.

“I think you’re going to have to come with us, Miss Foster,” the older detective said. He came toward her. She held her hand out to him in a graceful Southern gesture; he took it.

Rebecca twisted his hand and felt fingers give under the pressure. His gun was under his left shoulder; she grabbed it, shoved him forward at his partner and Maggie Bowman, and shot at them. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs, and she turned and ran back into the house.

Not Momma’s house anymore. My house. Mine.

William was with her, running, part of her forever now. As she was part of him.

Stupid human fools. Couldn’t they see?

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