"The creature near the door is also dead,” he said, nudging the zombie with the toe of his boot. “Care to explain how it happened?"
"One of those situations that can't be explained.” God, it hurt to think, hurt to move. But she had to do both. She couldn't stay here.
His gaze was disbelieving. Nikki ignored him. She didn't have the energy to even try to explain Michael's intervention.
After a moment, MacEwan shrugged and put his gun away. “Who am I to question deliverance? Need a hand up?"
She nodded. He clasped her arm and hauled her upright. Pain shot like fire through her brain, and she gasped, fighting the urge to be sick.
"You don't look so good.” MacEwan studied her with a frown. “Maybe you should go downstairs and let one of the doctors take a look at you."
She gingerly shook her head. The last thing she needed was to be prodded and poked. She was fine. Mostly.
"Then at least let me get someone to drive you home..." They both turned sharply at the sound of the exit door opening. More police officers. She sighed in relief.
"The cavalry, at last,” MacEwan commented dryly.
"Too late, as usual.” She rubbed at her temples. Would the pain ever go away? It was a white-hot fire, eating at her brain.
MacEwan gave her a wry look and waved his men over. “Would an earlier arrival have saved us? How many men does it take to kill a zombie?"
Only one— if you're a vampire. “Isn't that a bad joke somewhere?" He laughed, a startling sound in the hushed night. “Probably.” He turned as an officer approached.
“Jenkins, drive Miss James home, please."
The young officer nodded. MacEwan turned back to face her. “I dare say my superiors will want to talk to you about tonight."
"You know where to find me.” She glanced across at Jake, still safe in the shadows of the chimney.