Page 36 of Which Witch Is Wicked?
There wasrare, and then there was the fact that the stove hadn’t been used, and neither had the grill as far as Aerin could tell. She supposed Claire could have roasted it with her uber fire powers, but she thought Claire was in the entertainment room with the others—
The high-pitched, terrified screams of her sisters was instantly drowned out by the pounding of adrenaline in her ears. Snatching the broom from the ground, Aerin raced down the hall, almost tripping on the Celtic-braided rug before skidding to a stop at the entry to the entertainment room.
“His boot still has brains on it!” Moira bounced up and down on the overstuffed sectional couch, crunching on another pork rind and pointing at the big screen TV. “Did y’all see that? Zombie’s eye popped like a grape!”
“Myeyes are still popping because the one with a crossbow took his shirt off.” Claire wriggled her shapely eyebrows.
“Gross,” Tierra moaned from where her face was buried in one of the couches’ many throw pillows. “Tell me when I can look, you guys.” Even in the ambient glow of the TV, she looked a little pale, maybe a little green, too.
Aerin lowered the broom she brandished, her breathing returning to normal. They’d all been on high-alert lately, and it must be getting to her more than she realized.
An impending Apocalypse will do that to a girl.
She knew how religious her sisters were about their Sunday night cable and that for the next hour, they would be glued to the tube, getting off on gore-porn and zombie killers.
“Why does the sweaty one in leather have a crossbow? Seems like an antiquated weapon with a high risk of running out of ammunition. Don’t guns kill zombies in this show?” Aerin asked. “Everyone else is using a gun.”
Three pairs of mutinous, incredulous eyes turned toward her in perfect synchronization. It was unsettling because each face was identical but for the color of their eyes, and it gave a distinctChildren of the Cornvibe.
“Thesweatyone?” Moira asked slowly, her aquamarine eyes narrowing.
“You mean thehotone,” Claire corrected. “As in sexy. Also, that woman is using a katana, so noteveryonehas a gun.”
“I prefer the leader,” Tierra said, slightly off topic. “I like a rugged guy with a beard who’s in charge and carries a big gun.”
“But he’s carrying a revolver,” Aerin pointed out. “It only holds six bullets. What about the good-looking Asian with the AK47, doesn’t it seem like he should be in charge? At the very least, he wins bullets.”
“That so-calledsweaty oneis the melancholy backwoods badass loner with a tragic past and a heart of gold.” Moira snorted her displeasure. “Almost every woman in this country would do him sideways from hell to breakfast.”
“As long as they use protection,” Aerin snarked. “It looks like his family tree doesn’t have enough branches.”
She gasped as a pork rind bounced off her face. “Hey!”
“Are you doing chores?” Tierra asked hopefully motioning to the broom Aerin still clutched with both hands.
Aerin looked down, feeling sheepish and at the same time wondering where the dustpan went.Chores?Ha. Fat chance. “I heard you guys scream, and I thought…”
“That we were being attacked and you were going to sweep them to death?” Moira chortled.
“If this was the zombiepocalypse, you’d totally die first,” Tierra said.
“You know what? Never mind.” Aerin brought the broom in closer to her chest, as though to shield it from their taunts. See if she came running to their rescue next time.
On the screen another zombie head exploded, and a horde of gray, hissing, grotesque undead began ripping the limbs off a screaming victim.
“That’s it!” Tierra held the back of her hand to her mouth, the silver backs of her rings catching the light from the TV as she squeezed her eyes shut. “Change the channel you guys, or I’m going to barf.”
Moira grabbed the remote. “Okay, what else we got on Sunday night?”
“Hmmm.” Claire pursed her lips. “There’s Masterpiece Theatre presents historical soap operas, Sexy Highlanders on Starz, or boobs and dragons on HBO.”
“I don’t care.” Teirra swallowed a few times. “Just switch it before you’re wearing my dinner.”
Moira hit a button on the remote and two newscasters, a man and a woman with impossibly white teeth and strikingly similar blowout hair styles, sat behind a gray desk.
“Whew, thank you.” Tierra visibly relaxed.
“… Officials are saying that they don’t have any conclusive data as of yet to explain the cause of the recent rise in disturbingly violent crime in Seattle, but they did voice their growing concerns that it’s spreading to other cities along the West Coast,”the male newscaster explained in a solemn voice.“Officials also refused to comment on the claims several victims have made that the perpetrators of assaults, violence, and even murder have been someone who was previously reported deceased.”
