Ethan frowned. Not alive? What the hell was she talking about?
"Yeah, I know it can't be a vampire. This is something else." She waited a few moments then added, "No. I think you're right. I think this is aimed at us. We'll meet you at the lodge. Just make sure you set yourself a warding circle until we get there."
She hung up and looked at him. "I can feel trouble up ahead."
"What kind of trouble?" And what the hell was a warding circle?
"I don't know. But the mere fact I'm sensing it suggests it's dead — whatever it is."
"How can something dead be a danger to us?"
"Vampires are dead. That thing we're chasing is dead." She shrugged. "Do you really think werewolves are the only supernatural beings that walk this earth?"
"I never thought about it." Just spent his time trying to either control or forget that part of himself. And most of the time, he succeeded.
"Well, you'd better start thinking and believing. Because those things are out there, and right now they're massing against us."
He bit back disbelief and glanced at his rearview mirror. There was no one behind them and no one in front of them other than the rapidly disappearing Mercedes. If they hit trouble, they'd have to face it alone, right here in the middle of nowhere.
"Any idea what we're facing?"
"No."
What good were talents that told you everything and yet nothing? "I have a gun in the back."
"Guns don't always hurt the dead."
He glanced at her, not sure whether or not she was joking. Her grim expression told him she wasn't. "So what does hurt them?"
"That depends on what we're facing."
He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "How far ahead is it?"
"Close." She hesitated. "And coming closer."
The road was long and straight. He couldn't see anything approaching. Not a truck, not a car, not an ant. Maybe her psychic senses were going a little haywire...
"Look out!"
From the corner of his eye he caught the flash of red. An engine growled, then a truck surged out of the trees and across the road. He planted his foot on the gas pedal, but it was already too late. The truck hit the back of the Cadillac and slewed them around. He fought the wheel for control, but the trees loomed fast. They hit with a sickening crunch that jarred every bone in his body. Through the creaking of metal and slight hiss of air came the sound of an engine. And not his. Whoever it was wasn't finished with them yet.
He undid his seat belt then reached across and undid Kat's. "You all right?"
She nodded. There was blood on the side of her face, and her hands were trembling as she pushed back her hair. Her gaze met his, then went past and widened. "It's coming again."
"Get out." He reached past her and thrust open the door. Then he did the same and dove out, tasting dirt as he rolled and rose. And not a second too soon. The truck crashed into his Caddie, buckling the door and pushing in the entire side of the car.
He ran around and wrenched open the truck's door. The stink that hit him was almost overwhelming, and he gagged. God, hadn't this madman showered in the last twenty years? He reached in, grabbed the idiot by the arm and pulled him out of the cab.
The driver hit the dirt and didn't move, though if the wild gyrations of his arms and legs were anything to go by, he was certainly trying. It looked for all the world like there was an invisible weight sitting on his chest, holding him down.
"It's a zombie." Kat stopped beside him, a bead of perspiration running down her cheek and an odd look of concentration on her face.
"As in, Night of the Living Dead?"
"Yep."
He kicked the idiot's foot. "He doesn't feel dead. And he's certainly not acting dead."