I so want to tell her that working for Slayer Inc. is more of a destiny thing than a paid gig, but I figure there’s time to disappoint her later, when there’s not a five-alarm fire in the immediate vicinity.
“Fine. I’ll help. But you’ve got to let me in, okay? No more of this trying-to-kill-me thing.”
“Okay, okay, whatever,” she agrees. “Just get this fire out!” She runs down the porch stairs, then up again, helplessly watching the flames rise higher.
I roll my eyes and walk calmly into the manor. I grab the fire extinguisher I know they store in the closet under the stairs and head back outside.
The fire has gotten bigger at this point, lapping at the roof of the porch. Spider’s trapped herself between the fire and the porch rail, just standing there, frozen in place, a horrified look on her face. See? This is why I’m irreplaceable for this job.
I raise the extinguisher and let her rip. A moment later the flames sputter out. Spider collapses onto the porch in tears, choking on the smoke. I walk over and put a comforting arm around her.
“I’m the worst slayer ever,” she moans.
“I don’t know,” I tell her, feeling a surprising sense of pity for my friend. After all, my first day as a slayer didn’t go all that well, either. “The firebolt thing was pretty cool. You just need to remember not to use it around flammable materials. Or, you know, best friends.”
“Yeah?” She looks over at me with a hopeful look. “You think it was cool?”
“Definitely.”
She hangs her head. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you, Rayne. I guess I just got…overenthusiastic.”
“It’s okay. It happens to the best of us.” I give her a friendly hug. “Now come on. Let’s go talk to Teifert.”
19
“Um, Mr. Teifert? There’s someone here to see you.” Spider squeaks as she peeks her head into the vice president’s office. I stand patiently behind her, letting her do her thing. The place is still a bit of a mess, presumably from my sister and Bertha’s fight two nights ago, and I wonder how he can manage to work in such disarray.
“I thought I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed, Spider,” he admonishes, not looking up from his paperwork.
“I know, but…” Spider glances back at me helplessly, then turns to her boss once again. “She says it’s a matter of life and death.”
Mr. Teifert sighs, dropping the paperwork in question onto his messy desk with a totally uncalled-for overly dramatic flair. “Very well. Bring her in.”
“Hey, Teif!” I cry, popping into the office and plopping myself down in one of the cozy armchairs across from his desk. “How’s it hanging?”
He raises his bushy eyebrows, taking me in. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I was here to apply for the whole slayer job—I was told Bertha’s no longer in service…”
“Yes, thanks to your little friends…”
“…and I was pretty sure I was next in line. Though Spider here tells me she’s been offered the gig.” I frown. “So what’s the dealio, dude? Am I off the list or what?”
“The…dealio…as you so eloquently put it,” Mr. Teifert says stiffly, “is that you decided to break a vampire out of jail and allow him to take out one of our top operatives. Pardon me for saying so, but I assumed your blatant disregard for Slayer Inc.’s best interests meant you were not all that interested in coming to work for us.”
“Oh, that.” I nod. “Yeah, that was my bad. But you gotta understand, I thought you were only killing Lucifent because he was a child vampire. I had no idea he planned to unleash an army of zombies on the human race.” I shrug. “If I had, I promise you, I would have slain him myself when I had the chance.”
That got his attention. “I’m sorry?” he says. “What did you just say?”
“Don’t play coy with me,” I reply. “I know you must know something about Project Z. Otherwise you wouldn’t have issued the slay order against Lucifent.”
“We knew he was planning something. But we didn’t have any concrete details…”
“Okay. Well, now you do. It’s zombies. Lots and lots of creepy, undead, slimy zombies. Lucifent only wants them to impress his boss. He’s a bit shortsighted, that one. But Pyrus is going to take the idea and run with it. Meaning good-bye, Slayer Inc. Good-bye, human race.”
Teifert scratches his head. “And how do you know all of this?”
I pause. That is the question, isn’t it? But I realize I’ve got to come clean to someone. And hey, it may as well be someone who might actually, possibly believe me. “Okay, this is going to sound really weird,” I tell him. “But I’ve come back from the future.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I see.”
From beside me, Spider squeals. “So that’s how you knew everything that was going to be in the next game patch! Oh man! I was so wondering…” Then she frowns. “And how you knew who was going to win the field hockey game. Dude, that’s cheating! I want my five bucks back!”
“Silence,” Teifert commands. He turns to me. “So in this future you speak of, we’re overrun by zombies?”
“Um, well, not exactly.” I give him the shortest version possible (which still ends up being pretty long) about our adventures thus far.
“So I admit, we kind of screwed things up by saving Lucifent,” I finish. “But now we want to help make things right. Get him good and dead before he can present Pyrus with his little project.”
Vice President Teifert pulls a cigar out of his desk drawer and lights it. Then he takes a puff. I consider reminding him about no-smoking laws in the workplace, but then decide my lungs will have to deal. No need to piss him off when we need his help.
“I’m not saying I believe you,” he says at last. “But even if I did, the problem remains the same. Getting Lucifent alone. Thanks to your little Scooby-gang meddling, we’ve lost the element of surprise. He’ll be constantly guarded from here on out.” He flicks ash into a nearby empty whiskey glass on his desk. “Not to mention, we’re currently one trained slayer short, also thanks to your contribution to our cause.”
“No offense, but you didn’t want Bertha on the payroll anyway,” I point out. “She had a ton of blood pressure problems. Not to mention she ends up betraying you and working for Pyrus in the future. And don’t even get me started about her food issues—”
“In any case,” Teifert interrupts, “most of our local operatives are occupied with other cases. And while we’ve started training Spider, and she’s doing very well, she’s certainly not prepared to go up against any kind of major threat by herself.”
“Yeah, she still needs a bit of…fine-tuning,” I agree with a small chuckle, remembering her performance on the porch.
Spider scowls. “I knew we should have done best two out of three,” she mutters.
Teifert taps his desk with his index finger, considering. “I suppose we could call on Riverdale, our sister slayer academy in Europe…”
“Oh no!” I cry quickly. “You don’t want to do that. They turn out to be evil.” Teifert gives me a sharp look. I shrug. “Long story. But we can deal with them later. The zombie apocalypse is a bit more pressing.”
“Agreed. But you’re not listening, Rayne. We don’t have an available slayer to stop them on such short notice. Our hands are tied.”
I smile smugly. “But that’s where you’re wrong. You do have a slayer. You have me. Trained by your very own alternate-future hands. I’ve staked evil vampires. I’ve wrestled werewolves. I’ve even taken on Tinkerbell.” I decide not to bring up the fact that technically I lost that particular battle. Way too embarrassing. “Bottom line, I’m a super-slayer extraordinaire. And with the proper weaponry, I’m sure I could take on a few zombies with one hand tied behind my back.”
“You might want to use both hands,” Teifert replies dryly. “Considering that with zombies, there are hardly ever only a few.”
“Right.” I consider this. “Well, maybe the best thing to do is to go after th
eir queen. I mean, if we can’t get Lucifent himself, we should try to cut him off at the source. No voodoo queen to raise the zombies from the dead? No zombies for Pyrus to play with. And we all live happily ever after.” Not to mention, as an added bonus, I get to get rid of Jareth’s little annoying fake girlfriend. A win for everyone.
Teifert stubs out his cigar, only half smoked. “I suppose that would be the best possible tactic, given the current scenario,” he muses aloud. “Very well. I will provide you with what you need to go on your quest. On one condition.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“You take Spider here with you. She may not be a fully trained slayer, but she has a lot of potential. She could be useful to you in a pinch.”
Or, you know, serve as a spy to make sure I’m doing what I say I’m doing. But whatever. I don’t mind taking her and her little fire stick along. After all, we’ve fought many virtual battles over the years. Why not a real-life one?
“It’s a deal,” I tell him, rising to my feet. “Now let’s go check out that arsenal of yours. If I’m going to be facing zombies, I’ll be in need of a good old fashioned boom-stick.”
20
“Are they here yet?”
I groan, leaning against the abandoned baggage cart, closing my eyes, as Spider asks me the same question she’s asked me ten times in the last ten minutes. Seriously, I know she’s my best friend and all, but the girl has the attention span of an ADHD-afflicted hummingbird. I can’t believe Teifert thinks she’ll end up a better slayer than me.
“Do you see anyone approaching the plane in front of us?” I ask her.
She looks over at the aircraft in question, still sitting dark on the runway, exactly how it’s been sitting since we got here, two hours before.
“Um, no?”
“Well, then I guess they’re not here yet, are they?”
She sighs loudly, letting me know exactly how she feels about our intended targets’ tardiness, and plops down onto the tarmac, Indian style. I’m suddenly reminded how impatient she used to get during our World of Warcraft raids, always rushing in before the other members were ready. It used to drive her ex-boyfriend crazy.
She looks at her watch. “Don’t they know you’re supposed to arrive at the airport at least two hours before takeoff?” she sulks. “I mean, hello, post-9/11, anyone?”
“That doesn’t count for private planes. They don’t have the same security checks,” I inform her, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “Not to mention we have no idea when they’re supposed to take off. In fact, we’re not a hundred percent sure they’re even leaving tonight.” All I do know is that Magnus told Sunny that Jareth and his little zombie queen were taking the larger of the Blood Coven private jets and would meet them in Vegas.
“Why didn’t they just all go together?” Spider asks, peering around the baggage cart to look at the parked aircraft again. “I mean, it seems like a pretty big plane for just the two of them.”
Sigh. “I don’t know, Spider. I don’t—”
“Oh my God!” my friend interrupts, then clamps a hand over her mouth. She turns to me with bulging eyes, pointing furiously in the direction of the airport behind us.
I turn to look, swallowing hard as I realize exactly what’s gotten her so freaked out. A parade of what appears to be more than a dozen zombies trudging down the tarmac, toward the plane, led by none other than Jareth and Queenie herself.
“Crap,” I whisper, ducking down again. “I thought she’d, like, raise them when she got to Vegas. You know, find a local cemetery…” There goes our plan of taking her down before she even boards the plane. We touch a hair on her head and suddenly we’ve got an entire army of darkness to contend with. And judging from my performance during my zombie dream fight, I can’t even manage two, never mind a dozen.
I quickly take a camera phone pic and text it to Sunny. She needs to see what we’re dealing with here!
“What are we going to do?” Spider asks, fingering her fire wand anxiously as I send my text. I pray she doesn’t make any sudden movements with it, giving us away.
“We’ve got to get on that plane,” I decide. That will buy us some time at least. And then we’ll be able to keep an eye on them and see where they go once they land. “Somehow…” Though how to actually slip past twelve some-odd zombies, not to mention my boyfriend and his fake girlfriend, I have no idea.
Spider snorts as one of the zombies trips over his own rotting foot and stumbles. “Ew, they’re so gross looking,” she whispers. “Just like in the movies.” She stretches out her arms in imitation and starts walking haphazardly toward me. “Braaaaaains…” she groans.
I’m about to tell her she needs to get some brains of her own, when a thought hits me. “Spider, you’re a genius!” I tell her.
She stops mid–zombie walk. “I am?”
I reach over and tousle her hair, messing it up. She frowns.
“Um, hello? I just had that blown out, I’ll have you know!”
“Trust me.” I pull out a case of black eye shadow from my purse and smear it under her eyes. Then I do the same for myself.
“Oh!” Her eyes widen in sudden understanding. She rips at her shirt, then her pants. “Good idea.” Ducking down to the baggage cart, she scoops a handful of grease from the axle and smears it up and down her arms, then covers mine, zombifying ourselves as best we can.
Now I’m not saying we’d score first prize in a zombie walk costume contest or anything, but I have to admit, it’s not a bad job, for short notice. And so, as the last of the zombies stumbles past us, we slip to the end of the line, doing our best undead shuffle as we approach the plane, arms outstretched, legs bowed. Seriously, Michael Jackson and his “Thriller” choreographer would be totally proud.
“This is so cool!” Spider whispers as she starts up the stairs in front of me. “Like a real-life video game!”
I shush her and start moaning loudly to keep up the act and drown out anything else she might have to say as we board the plane. As we round the corner into the main cabin, it’s all I can do to stop my jaw from hitting the floor.
It’s a sight I never thought I’d see. Twelve or so zombies all sitting quietly in their seats, seatbelts securely fastened. Some look eager to get going, while others look ready for an in-flight nap. And is that one in the back actually perusing the Sky Mall catalog?
Flight of the living dead, for realz.
At the very back of the plane stands Queenie, her gaze sweeping over her creatures like a shepherd keeping watch over her flock. Her eyes settle on Spider, who’s stopped short in front of me and is currently staring at the scene with an appropriate, yet dangerous level of horror on her face. I shove my friend forward, before Queenie starts getting suspicious, and she quickly picks up the act again, muttering nonsense under her breath as she takes a seat next to a rather dapper old dead guy, dressed in a three-piece suit, accessorized with a crimson cravat. Whatever killed this dude, he definitely died in style.
Now that Spider’s found her seat, I scan the plane, looking for a place to sit myself. I realize there’s only one spot left. A middle seat between two zombies that look scarily similar to Charlie and Meredith from my dream. Pretty much the last place I want to hang out for the next five hours. But, I realize, as I feel the queen’s eyes settle on me, I really have little choice in the matter. And so, swallowing hard, I squeeze past Charlie and plop down into the empty seat, praying that Queenie fed her creatures before the flight. Because I’m guessing the complimentary peanuts aren’t going to cut it for this crew.
Once we’re all seated, the plane starts its engines and before we know it, we’re taxiing down the runway to a point of no return. Once we take to the air, a pretty, blond flight attendant, a vampire by the looks of her, appears at the front of the plane and reminds the undead passengers to remain seated and keep their seatbelts securely fastened until the captain has turned off the sign. As if a little turbulence is going to trou
ble the corpse in the front row who has already had half his head blown off.
But safety first, I guess.
When the flight attendant’s finished, she presses a button and little TVs slide out every three rows and the zombies prepare themselves for the in-flight entertainment movie trailer. And what do you know? They’ll be playing Zombieland, which is evidently a crowd favorite, judging from the way the audience moans in delight. At least I hope it’s delightful moaning. And, you know, not hunger cries.
I try to relax. Close my eyes and go to sleep. But Charlie is laughing way too loudly at every joke in the film—especially when we get to the Bill Murray bit. And Meredith, while keeping mostly to herself, keeps losing her eyeball out of its socket. Which would be gross, in and of itself, but is ten times worse when it drops into my lap and she asks me nicely, through hand gestures and grunts, if I can pop it back in for her.
And just as I’m about to lose my lunch over squishy undead eyeballs, the flight attendant starts wheeling the serving cart down the aisle. And I realize she’s not serving peanuts and Pepsi. No, these zombies are getting a full-course meal. Of what appears to be actual brains. And they’re chowing down with great gusto.
Horrified, I watch as Spider, three rows up, takes the plate of gray matter that’s offered to her with a grim smile affixed to her pale face. She glances back at me, then shrugs and sticks a glob in her mouth. I shudder, realizing I can never speak badly of her slayer skills again. Talk about taking one for the team!
When the attendant reaches my row, I attempt to decline, but Charlie so helpfully grabs a plate and sets it on my tray. I stare down at the squiggly gray matter, which smells overpoweringly like rotten flesh, trying to get up my nerve. But in addition to being a nonzombie, I’m also a vegetarian. And the sight and smell proves too much.
I puke all over my meal, effectively giving my humanity away.
21
Sunny
There was a time when I would have given anything to have Magnus take me out on the town, wine me and dine me, maybe take me to a show, and never once be interrupted by Blood Coven business. To have my boyfriend all to myself—even if it was just for one night. Of course, back in the day that kind of uninterrupted date was nothing more than a sheer fantasy on my part. Even if Magnus did have a so-called free night and agreed to go out, every five minutes the coven would be calling, and he made it clear from the start they were his number one priority.