Evanescent - By Addison Moore Page 0,95

head to the resurrection chamber. By the way, I think I’m going to need some resurrecting myself.

I glance at Laken. I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to tell Flynn there’s no cure for his condition.

“What are all these other people doing here?” Laken shudders when she says the word people. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

Flynn looks around at the growing number of Spectators.

Dude, these guys are tight, he asserts. And they’re ready and willing to try anything to improve their situation. They’re totally down with checking out, Ezrina. He grunts as if to annunciate his point.

“Which one bit you?” I pan the vicinity for the guilty party. We may as well pinpoint who’s to blame for Masterson’s demise. I don’t know why he would get so close to one to begin with.

There were these two hot chicks. He looks down with the hint of a budding smile. Dude, they were hitting on me. It was like they wanted a threesome right there in the woods, and you could hardly see the rot on their faces. They were like cover models. I couldn’t resist.

Laken and I groan in unison.

“I hope you’re happy, Flynn,” Laken snips. “Just because you couldn’t control that garden snake in your pants, we’re going to have a zombie apocalypse on our hands. You have successfully screwed us all.”

Garden snake? He huffs. Honey, I’ll have you know, I have the ability to give anacondas a run for their slithering money. If you want a private show just name the time and place.

“Oh gross!” Laken swats him in the chest. “Just call off your friends, so we can get out of here with our brains intact.”

Exactly. Flynn grunts as he says it. We all want to get a move on to the Transfer, so Ezrina can get her potions in motion. He slaps an arm over my shoulder. Let’s roll, buddy.

I glance around at the enormous crowd.

I’d have to carry them all individually. This would take weeks. Tell them it’s just the Tobias family for now.

Flynn calls out to the crowd in what sounds like a Spectator’s version of yodeling, and a young boy and girl step forward.

“Where’s the father?” I say it breathless. It’s hard to believe Flynn, in all of his boneheaded glory, actually came through for once.

Dead. Flynn glances from me to Laken. Rumor has it a white hunter with a sharp knife killed him while he was chasing a young girl through these very woods. Pummeled his brains out a few weeks back. Flynn gives an intense look that scares the living shit out of me.

“I killed him?” As if I had to ask.

“And I was the girl.” Laken looks down, despondent over the news. “It was the first day I arrived, and you saved me.” She brushes her fingers over my cheek with a resolute sadness.

“I killed him.” I sway on my feet. I’ve never really viewed them as people before. “It was Emmanuel Tobias.”

The boy and girl step into our midst, and Hattie picks up the little girl’s hand.

“Richard and Kara,” Hattie introduces us to the Spectator duo.

Thunder rolls from above. A tremor of lightning illuminates the forest, and the Tobias sisters appear in tandem—first in their haggard state, then in their healthier, comelier forms.

“Richard! Kara!” Hattie barks as if she were reprimanding them. She and Amelia head over and engage in life-clutching hugs that go on for a long time. “We’re so glad to have you back.” Hattie caresses the side of Kara’s deteriorating face. “This will heal. I promise.” She looks up at her brother. “And father?”

Shit.

Richard shakes his head and grunts out something unintelligible.

“I see.” Hattie and Amelia exchange a forlorn glance. “He’s in paradise,” she whispers to the quieter of the two. They nod into one another as if they were conducting a private conversation.

“I’m sorry,” I say to the two of them at the risk of outing myself as the killer, but neither of them acknowledges my apology.

The original Hattie steps forward and touches the hair of the Celestra taking up residence at Ephemeral.

“They gave you my name,” she says with a marked sense of pride.

Amelia, the silent one, goes over and offers a firm embrace to the doppelganger of the bunch.

“She’s mine,” Hattie says to both Laken and I. “My granddaughter.”

“Granddaughter?” The word expels from Laken in a fog.

“They freed you,” she whispers. “You must never let them take you back.”

“I’ll make sure of that,” I volunteer, hoping to change the terms of our