Fashionably Dead and Loving It (Hot Damned #14) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,53
would tell you.”
Nodding jerkily, I opened the van door and stepped out into the sunlight. Wiggling my fingers and sending protection magic to Martha and Jane’s skin so they wouldn’t fry to a crisp in the sun, I looked over at Anastasia. “Are you okay in sunlight?”
“I am,” she replied, joining me on the pitted black asphalt. “We can’t destroy a child.”
“Agreed,” I said grimly.
I paced the pavement and was glad I wore combat boots instead of the fifteen-inch Prada heels from my dream. I would have twisted my ankle repeatedly on the torn-up parking lot. Wordplay. Wordplay. Fuck. I loved to win. I wasn’t going to give up now.
“Levi, repeat what Jane said earlier, please.”
“Jane wants to be undead instead of the living dead because she’s already undead… the good kind of dead,” he said.
“Well, there’s your fucking answer,” Lizard said, crawling out of the van and pulling his pants out of his crack.
I wanted to peel my skin from my body and scream. What the hell was he talking about? I didn’t see the answer.
“Lizard,” I said through clenched teeth, hanging on to my sanity by a thread. “I’m going to ask you a question. If you give me a cryptic or unsatisfactory answer, I am going to shove your baseball bat up your ass and pull it out of your mouth. Does that work for you?”
Lizard grinned with appreciation at my unsavory and vicious threat and gave me a thumbs up.
“Excellent,” I said. “What did you mean by that’s my fucking answer?”
Lizard removed his gum from his mouth and stuck it to the end of his bat. He sat down on the holey pavement and motioned for all of us to come close. If he told another story about smashing a wanker in a book, I was going to ram the bat up his butt, gum and all.
“The living dead are half undead,” he whispered.
“Correct,” I said, as my stomach roiled. Then a small smile of understanding began to pull at my lips. Satan’s clues danced in my brain. ‘The living dead are going to be your ruin. This is not my problem. It’s yours. I’d suggest a little wordplay game. And that is a big fucking hint. I’d suggest you work to understand it as well. It might save your undead asses from the ones halfway there.’
“We need to finish the job,” I said. “Make the living dead the undead.”
“Pretty sure I just puked in my mouth,” Martha gagged out, paling considerably.
“That’s impossible,” Jane grunted, whacking her sidekick in the head. “But I know I just crapped my pants.”
“Also impossible,” I pointed out, realizing I was the one who was going to have to turn the ten living dead. I was the only one who wouldn’t end up a pile of ash if bitten. As much as I secretly fantasized about Martha and Jane’s early demise, it was only a fantasy. I loved the imbeciles and would protect them with my life. Anastasia was out of the equation as well.
“All of you will stay outside. I’m going in alone,” I ordered. “I can’t die. It’s too risky for the rest.”
“Lizard and I will join you,” Levi said, glancing over at Lizard, who nodded his agreement. “Because the Zombies were created by Vamps, I doubt they can destroy Demons.”
“True,” Lizard concurred. “I went at them earlier today. Got bit twice. I’m still standing.”
“Where were you bitten?” I asked, then wished I hadn’t.
The crazy man yanked his pants down all the way to the ground. He was wearing a glaringly sparkly and unfortunately revealing gold thong. To say it was alarming was an understatement. Anastasia quickly turned away to hide her laugh while Martha and Jane whipped out their cell phones to snap pictures. When he pointed to two vicious and raw-looking areas around his ankles, I almost electrocuted him.
“Was there a reason you had to drop trou to show us your ankles?” I asked.
Lizard pulled up his pants and grinned. “Nope.”
He was a piece of work.
“Bottom line,” Lizard continued, buttoning his pants and adjusting his beret. “Demons can be harmed, but not killed.”
“Done deal,” Levi said, checking his weapons. “The goal is to save them, but if that can’t happen, they have to be ended.”
“We can save them,” I said, hoping the words would make it come true. “We have to.”
“Your compassion could bite you in the ass,” Anastasia pointed out, looking worried.