Who ordered the ribs? the macabre thought raced through my mind.
Rodney doffed his shirt and folded it neatly before placing it well outside the circle. He already had a spare pair of pants there. Then he squatted beside Bones, who was dressed only in a pair of dark shorts. His skin gleamed under the fluorescent lights, but my usual admiration was absent. Must have been the sight of him plunging that same dagger under Rodney’s rib cage, wiggling it around, and then drawing out the ghoul’s heart.
Two of the waiting blood donors vomited. The rest looked like they wanted to join in. I couldn’t blame them, but thankfully, my throat stayed clear. Rodney was amazingly quiet throughout, only grunting a few times and making a comment about paybacks. Bones snorted with grim amusement at that. Rodney’s heart was then placed on another waiting tray before they turned their attention back to Dave.
This part was much simpler with his breastplate off. Swish, swish, swish, and out came Dave’s heart. Rodney unceremoniously shoved it inside his chest cavity while Bones arranged Rodney’s former ticker in Dave. Finally satisfied with the placement, he leaned over Dave’s torso and dragged the knife deeply across his own throat.
The soft outcry came from me, not him, at the sight of his neck hacked open. Bones had warned me that this would be graphic, but hearing and seeing were two different things. With his power, he forced the blood from his body. It came in crimson streams. He had to cut his neck three more times after it healed, and there were more sounds of indigestion from the troops. When that red flow finally slowed, Bones set the knife down and waved at the remaining donors.
“Move it,” I hissed when there was hesitation.
One by one the seven men knelt down, Bones drinking from their necks before they stumbled away. When the last one headed for the medic unit, Bones reopened his artery and the faucet was turned back on.
Something began to happen. I could feel it before seeing anything. The air became charged with energy. My skin crawled as it slipped over me. Blood continued to gush into Dave’s chest, overflowing the cavity, and then my own heart stopped for a second when I saw his finger twitch.
“Holy fucking Christ,” Tate breathed.
Dave’s hand lazily curled, flexing. Next came his feet, toes flinching sporadically even as the torrent of blood from Bones ebbed again.
“He needs more. Get another six men,” Rodney barked, since with his throat open, Bones could hardly speak.
I shouted out the order, unable to tear my eyes away. There was scrambling as more donors were rounded up. Rodney helpfully held them in front of Bones long enough for the refills to take place, and then each man was dragged away to the medics. Distantly I hoped they’d brought enough plasma, because this was taking much more blood than we had anticipated.
When Dave’s head tilted to the side and his eyes opened, I fell to my knees. Rodney placed his severed rib cage back over Dave’s chest like fitting a piece into a puzzle. Bones rubbed the area with the blood pooling around him, and I had to try twice before I could speak.
“Dave?”
His mouth opened and closed before a scratchy reply sent tears coursing down my cheeks.
“Cat? Did…the vampire…get away?”
God, he thought he was still in the cave in Ohio! That made sense, since it was his last memory. Bones and Rodney moved away. Juan wept, mumbling in Spanish. Tate knelt, shell-shocked, before he touched Dave’s hand and broke into tears at the answering squeeze.
“I don’t believe it. I do not fucking believe it!”
Dave frowned at the three of us.
“What happened? You guys look awful…Am I in the hospital?”
I opened my mouth to respond when he reared back suddenly and sat up.
“There’s a vampire! What…”
He finally noticed the blood. Bones was also covered in it where he sat a few feet away. I held Dave by the shoulders and spoke urgently to him.
“Don’t move yet. Your chest hasn’t knitted together completely.”
“What—?” He looked down at himself, and then around the tented area before his eyes settled on the coffin and the headstone bearing his name.
“Dave, listen to me.” My voice was thick. “Don’t worry about the vampire; he won’t hurt you. Neither will the ghoul next to him. You…you weren’t hurt in that cave in Ohio. You were killed. This is your grave, and that’s the coffin you’ve been inside for the past three months. You died that day, but…we brought you back.”
He stared at me as though I’d gone crazy, then a heartbreaking smile tugged his lips.
“You’re trying to scare me for breaking formation. I knew you’d be mad, but I never thought you’d go this far—”
“She’s not trying to scare you,” Tate croaked through his tears. “You died. We saw you die.”
Dave glanced in alarm at Juan, who gulped and hugged him hard, crawling behind him.
“Mi amigo, you were dead.”
“But what…how…”
I went to Bones and Rodney, laying a hand on each of them.
“We had a choice, Dave, and now you have to make one, too. These two brought you back, but there’s a price. Your humanity died with you, and nothing can change that. You’re only with us now…because you’re a ghoul. I’m so sorry for not warning you in time when that vampire ran out of the cave. He killed you, but you can continue on…undead.”
The denial filled his features as he looked at us, his surroundings, and then the headstone.
“Look, mate, feel your neck,” Bones said practically. “You don’t have a pulse. Take that knife.” He pointed at the instrument that had been busy all evening. “Slice it across your hand. See what happens.”
Dave cautiously placed two fingers to his throat, waited, and then his eyes bugged. He grasped the bloodied blade and drew it swiftly across his forearm. A thin line of blood welled before his flesh neatly closed together, and then he screamed.
I abandoned my previous position and clutched his hands. “Dave, let me tell you from experience that you can overcome an unexpected heritage. We are who we make ourselves to be, no matter what. No matter what. You’re still you. You’ll still laugh, cry, do your job, lose at poker…We all love you, listen to me. There’s more to you than your heartbeat! So much more.”
He started to cry, pink tears leaking out of his eyes. Juan, Tate, and I wrapped him in a group hug, covering him as he shook. Finally he pushed us back and wiped his eyes, staring at the blood on his fingers.
“I don’t feel dead,” he whispered. “I remember…hearing you scream, Cat, and seeing your face, but I don’t remember dying! And how can I go on if I’m dead?”
Tate answered fiercely, “Dead is stuffed inside that box, not what you are now. You’re my friend, always will be, no matter what the fuck you eat. I didn’t believe that pale prick when he said he could wake you up, but you’re here, and don’t you dare think of covering yourself back up with dirt. I need you, buddy. It’s been hell without you.”
“I missed you, amigo,” Juan said in almost incoherently accented English. “You can’t leave me again. Tate’s boring and Cooper only wants to train. You stay.”
Dave stared at us. “What’s been going on that you have a vampire and a ghoul raising the dead for you?”
I clutched his other hand. “Come with us and we’ll tell you all of it. You’ll be all right, I promise you. You used to trust me before; please, please trust me now.”
He sat where he was, silently staring at the headstone and the faces close to him. At last a wry smile twisted his lips.
“This is the weirdest thing of all. I feel fine. My mind’s cotton candy, but for a dead man, I feel pretty goddamn great. Are we in a cemetery?”
At my nod, he slowly stood up. “I hate cemeteries. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
I threw my arms around him and the tears fell again, but this time, I smiled through them.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
Juan led him
out of the tent. Wordlessly, Don clapped a hand on his back, his own gaze shiny as they walked away. Bones still sat on the ground by Rodney.
I flung myself on him so hard it flattened him, heedless of the blood soaking him. With all my joy I kissed him, and when I finally pulled back, he smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
“Ahem.” Rodney grinned. “I helped, too, remember?”
I gave him a fervent lip-lock of gratitude that had Bones snatching me back with a snort of amusement.
“That’s thanks enough, luv. You won’t be able to get rid of him if you keep it up.”
“You look awful, Bones. God, is it always that brutal?”
Rodney answered the question. “No, not normally. Just about a pint usually does the trick, but your boy was cold for a long time. Frankly, I didn’t think it would work. You’re lucky Bones is strong.”
“I am lucky,” I agreed, but not only for that reason.
“Hey Crypt Keeper.”
It was Tate, and he had a resolute look to his face.
“I keep my word, so I’m here to say I’m sorry for saying you were full of shit, and in this case, I’m fucking thrilled to be wrong. Since vampires are more about actions than words, though, you can have a swig at my expense. You look like shit. Anybody ever told you you’re too pale?”
Bones laughed. “Once or twice, and since I’m knackered, I’ll take you up on your offer.”
He rose to his feet and Tate tilted his head. “Don’t kiss me first,” he snidely remarked.
Bones didn’t reply to that, but just sank his teeth into him. A minute later, his blond head lifted.
“Apology accepted. Kitten, we don’t want to keep your friend waiting. He has a lot to learn. Rodney, your assistance was greatly appreciated, but I know you want to go. I’ll ring you in a few days.”
I gave the ghoul a last hug before he disappeared into the night. Bones walked with his arm around me while Tate kept pace at my side.
“We still have to deal with my mother,” I said.
“Indeed, yes. Can’t have her trying to kill me all the time, can we? But don’t fret. She won’t be any harder to manage than raising the dead.”
“Don’t be so sure.” But even my mother couldn’t dampen my mood. Not with the empty grave behind me, and its former occupant waiting ahead of us by the car.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This past year has really driven home why books have an acknowledgments page. Writing an initial draft might be done in solitude, but everything after that isn’t.
First, I want to thank God, for granting me what I hadn’t even dared to pray for.
Next, I want to thank my husband, Matthew, for giving me the love and support that made me believe I could pursue my dreams, and for accepting me as I am, which has made all the difference.
I want to thank the fans of the Night Huntress series. Your enthusiasm for my characters means more to me than I can ever express.
I owe a huge thank you to my editor, Erika Tsang, who really rolled up her sleeves with me on this one. Aside from her outstanding feedback on what was and wasn’t needed to get this story told, she also spent an hour with me discussing the varied potentials for a ghoul’s diet (hope your appetite has finally recovered!). You’re the best, Erika.
Thanks go to my agent, Rachel Vater. I can’t imagine anyone else helping me along this journey.
Immense gratitude goes to Tom Egner, for my gorgeous covers. Further thanks go to the wonderful people at Avon Books, who’ve made my experience with the publishing world such a pleasant one.
Sincerest thanks go to Melissa Marr, Jordan Summers, Mark Del Franco, and Rhona Westbrook, for beta-reading OFITG and keeping me on track. Also thanks to Vicki Pettersson, for enough hours of encouragement to warrant therapy payments.
Of course, I’m grateful to my family, especially my parents and sisters. Your unconditional support has meant the world to me.
Last but not least, I want to again thank Melissa Marr. You’ll never know how important your friendship has been along this strange, bumpy road. I’d try to articulate, but we both know you’re better with words than I am.
About the Author
JEANIENE FROST lives with her husband and their very spoiled dog in Florida. Although not a vampire herself, she confesses to having pale skin, wearing a lot of black, and sleeping in late whenever possible. And while she can’t see ghosts, she loves to walk through old cemeteries. Jeaniene also loves poetry and animals, but fears children and hates to cook. She is currently at work on her next paranormal novel.
To know more about Jeaniene, please visit her website at www.jeanienefrost.com.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
By Jeaniene Frost
ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE
HALFWAY TO THE GRAVE
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE. Copyright © 2008 by Jeaniene Frost. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Mobipocket Reader March 2008 ISBN 978-0-06-164915-8
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Jeaniene Frost, One Foot in the Grave
(Series: Night Huntress # 2)
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