Valentines Day of the Undead
Author: Stacey Jay
Date: 2011-02-09 08:00:00+00:00
Description: Q: What could be worse than spending Valentine's Day alone? A: Spending it with evil zombies!! Megan Berry is no stranger to heartbreak, but spending Valentine's Day serving other happy couples hot dogs while mourning the loss of her one true love is almost more than even a highly trained Zombie Settler can handle. So when her recently estranged boyfriend, Ethan, texts her asking her to be his Valentine, she ditches her bodyguard and rushes to his side. But soon, Megan's dreams of chocolates, flowers, and lingering make-up kisses take a turn of the rotted-corpse-and-maggot variety and Megan fe
Publisher: Createspace

Valentine’s Day

of the Undead

A Megan Berry, Zombie Settler, Short Story

By Stacey Jay

Copyright page

Copyright Stacey Jay 2011
Cover art and layout by April McGuire
Author photo by Jamie Fender Photography

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Valentine’s Day of the Undead
Copyright © 2011 Stacey Jay
Edited by Julie Linker. Cover art by April McGuire.
Publication February 2011

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author, Stacey Jay. Contact her using the form at staceyjay.com.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). (In addition, if you download this book illegally, the author will hate your rotten, stinky, thieving guts, and will dispatch her pack of flesh-eating zombies posthaste. Fear zombies; buy books.)

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Are you lonesome tonight: Elvis Presley Enterprises, Mini Cooper: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengesellschaft Aktiengesellschaft, Minnie Mouse: Disney Enterprises, Inc., Kardashians: KimsAPrincess Inc, Sonic: America's Drive-In Brand Properties, LLC Vanderbilt: Vanderbilt University

What the critics are saying

about the Megan Berry series:

“Sharp storytelling, good writing, and the current hunger for zombie fiction make this a sure hit with some nutritive value.” -Booklist

“Jay's writing is light and engaging, and the characters are lively and likable.” –Publisher’s Weekly

"Megan and Monica kick some major undead butt in Jay's newest release. Jay is pitch-perfect with her heroine's attitude…her struggle feels eerily recognizable." -4 Stars from Romantic Times Magazine

“I certainly hope there will be [more] because this series is staring to become a favorite of mine.” –Lauren’s Crammed Bookshelf

“Undead Much was just as funny, sassy, and unpredictable as it's predecessor!” –The Story Siren

"...a cross between Stephenie Meyer and Joss Whedon.....high school angst with more than a dash of otherworldly danger" -Kidliterate Reviews

"Part Buffy the Vampire Slayer, part Night of the Living Dead, this is one title you absolutely cannot miss." -BookKids Recommends

What you’ve missed so far:

Megan Berry is a Zombie Settler by birth, a supernatural therapist to those recently distressed in death. She helps friendly dead people with unresolved issues from their lives most of the time, but occasionally Megan has to whip out a can of kick-ass on black magically raised zombies.

Megan’s power to Settle disappeared after an attack by black magically raised zombies when she was a kid, but returned at the beginning of her sophomore year of high school, in time for her to be tutored in the way of the Settler by her smoking hot childhood best friend, Ethan.

She and Ethan fell hard for each other, Megan made the pom pom squad, was nearly killed by her best friend (a witch), and helped saved Carol High School homecoming from becoming a zombie bloodbath. Yay! But then Megan got in deep fertilizer all over again when a new, über-zombie uprising threatened to destroy the state of Arkansas. She discovered that not only is she a Settler, she’s also half witch and has black magically charged blood that bad guys the world over are going to want for their spells.

She was kidnapped by evil cheerleaders, had a brief dalliance with a zombie psychic named Cliff who’s risen from his grave to help prevent a zombie apocalypse, and she and Ethan broke up (but decided to remain friends who hug). Top it all off with a human hand in a box from her evil bio dad and a warning from the zombie psychic that the evil Addison Strain (aka evil bio dad) will be showing up “soon,” and that’s what you missed in YOU ARE SO UNDEAD TO ME and UNDEAD MUCH?—books one and two of the Megan Berry, Zombie Settler, series. Learn more at staceyjay.com

VALENTINE’S DAY

OF THE UNDEAD

February 14th, 8:02 p.m.

Tragedy. Heartbreak. Misery. Pain.

Being stuck serving hot dogs at the Valentine’s Day semi-formal because you’re the only pom squad member without a date is all of these things. Served cold. With a side of tragedy slaw, drizzled with the sour, rancid mustard of love squandered and passion denied.

Ethan is hundreds of miles away, but even if he were standing right next to me it wouldn’t matter. Because I ruined everything. And now he’s gone.

Anguish. Smothered in sadness chili.

I sniff and hand over a tray of chilidogs to three junior girls who came as each others’ dates. They head for a table and Penny—fellow sophomore pom squadder—steps to the head of the line.

“Megan!” she squeals. “You look so cute!”

“Thanks,” I say, even though I know she’s just being nice. I look anything but cute. My hastily flat-ironed brown hair hangs in frizzy waves to the middle of my back, and I’m pretty sure I’ve already smeared my eyeliner. I should have known better than to make an eye-

make-up commitment on a tear-threat-level-orange night. “You too.”

Penny’s copper hair is piled on top of her head like a beauty queen, and her swingy green dress makes her eyes sparkle. She’s always super cute, but tonight she’s practically glowing. I guess her one-month anniversary is going even better than she hoped.

“I love your dress,” I say.

“Thanks!” She squeals again. I try not to wince. Who am I to judge? I’m sure I was just as audibly thrilled at my first—and only—dance with Ethan.

Ethan. Sigh.

“So what can I get you?” I ask, with as much perk as I can manage.

“Two hot dogs with extra relish, please.”

“Awesome.” I smile my friendliest smile as I load two dogs into their buns. Penny and I had the it’s-fine-for-you-to-date-that-guy-I-went-out-with-once talk a while ago, but I don’t want her to think there are any lingering hard feelings. I couldn’t be more thrilled that she’s found true love with Josh Pickle. After my one, extremely lame date with Josh and his even lamer rumor-spreading about the “home run” he allegedly scored during said date—he barely got to first base and that’s the truth—I would have dubbed him a skeeze incapable of complex human emotion, but he’s great to Penny. Obviously, I was wrong about him.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m wrong a lot lately. It’s becoming an upsetting trend—like open toed boots or lime green stretch pants or the Kardashian sisters.

For example, I assumed I was just an unusually powerful Zombie Settler, but in fact I’m half Settler, half witch, and have weird supernatural blood that makes black magic more powerful. I assumed my dad was my dad, but he’s actually my adopted dad. My real dad is a witch who sent me a human hand in a box as a late Christmas present. I assumed our Settler community was good and honest, but somewhere in Arkansas there’s a traitor who helped my evil ex best friend—also a witch—escape from Settlers Affairs prison, and now every Elder in the state is being investigated by the National High Council.

Worst of all, I assumed I was a true blue girl who would never cheat on her boyfriend. But I did. I cheated. I kissed another guy and ruined my chances with the only boy I’ve ever loved, the only person in the world who understands me, the only shaggy blond haired, flashy green-eyed, gorgeous, funny, sweet, brave—

“Megan?” Penny waves a hand in front of my face. “Are you okay?”

I blink away the stinging at the backs of my eyes. I’ve got to stop thinking about Ethan. So it would have been our first Valentine’s Day together. So what? There’s no reason to let my angst infect everyone else’s evening. I force another smile. “Sorry. I zoned out. What were you saying?”

“Oh, nothing really.” Penny shrugs. “I just thought it was cool that Josh is dancing the fast dances with me. I know most of the football team would rather get stabbed in the face than dance in public.”

“Totally. Wow. That’s brave.”

“I know.” She laughs. “I can’t believe it. I was sure he’d want to sit on the side with his friends and I wouldn’t get to dance at all. But he said he knows how much I love to dance, so…” She trails off with sigh, and turns to peek at her true love. Josh is in line for popcorn and drinks at the cheerleader’s refreshment table.

Dana and a half-dozen of her minions are working the cheer concession stand, and none of them seem bummed that they’re not here for fun of the romantic variety. But it’s a known fact that the Carol High Cheerleaders are seriously love impaired. Thanks to a magic Settler mind wipe none of them remember trying to sacrifice me on an altar in exchange for eternal youth and beauty a few weeks back, but I remember and I can tell you I’ll never look at a perky blonde ponytail the same way again.

I’m a Zombie Settler and I deal with normal, troubled-in-death dead people on a regular basis, and black magically raised zombies hungry for human flesh more often than I’d like, and I still say there’s nothing scarier than a CHS cheerleader.

“He said he practiced every night in his room so that he wouldn’t embarrass me,” Penny says, turning back to me with flushed cheeks. “Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“It is. Josh is so much cooler since you two started going out.” I pile relish on the hot dogs until the buns start to get soggy and hand them over to Penny with two forks and a handful of napkins. “You’re good for him.”

“Really? You think?”

“I do.”

Penny smiles, but doesn’t turn to leave the table. She lingers, and the love sickness in her eyes becomes the gossamer sheen of pity. “I think you were good for Ethan, too. I bet he’s regretting transferring schools already.”

The official story is that Ethan transferred to Vanderbilt University and is going for an undergrad degree in engineering. The true story is that Ethan is in training to be an Enforcer—one of the FBI of the Zombie Settler world—and won’t be finished for five or six years. He’ll only be coming back to Carol for the occasional family visit, which means from now on I’ll only see him for a few days at a time, and those days will be spent as friends.

Just friends. Hopefully. And maybe not even that.

I’ve called him five times in the four weeks since he left, but he hasn’t picked up or called me back. Kitty says he’s probably so busy that he hasn’t had the chance to get to a phone, and Mom says to give him time and he’ll come around, but I’m not so sure. If Ethan was serious about wanting to stay friends, he would have called me back. But he hasn’t. I’m guessing he’s decided he’s better off without a Megan in his life, and I really can’t blame him.

I can hurt and ache and cry and feel like my soul is trapped at the bottom of a deep, dark hole I might never climb out of, but I can’t blame him.

But Penny doesn’t know any of that, so I just shrug. “Maybe.”

“Definitely. I bet he’ll transfer back this summer and you two will be the cutest couple ever again in no time.”

Gah. The knife. She twists it. But she doesn’t know that, either. “Thanks, Penny.”

“No problem.” The freshman boy behind her clears his throat. She scoots to the side. “Well, I guess I’d better go. Let me know if you need a bathroom break. I can cover the table.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it under control.” I wave good-bye to Penny and start another tray of chilidogs for the freshman boy—who seems to be alone, but in desperate need of processed meat topped by more processed meat, extra cheese, and onions.

Fine by me. The more hot dogs I sell the better.

All proceeds from the concession stand are going to buy new uniforms for the pom squad, though you wouldn’t know it judging by the behavior of my Sisters in Pom. Everyone’s out dancing, or eating, or making out under the bleachers—happy to leave the heavy dog lifting to me for the entire night.

Penny is the only one who offered to fill in for even a few minutes. Of course, Monica—my new best fr-enemy and captain of the squad—probably would have worked a shift, but she’s at home on Settler duty. If any teenagers rise from their graves in need of supernatural assistance tonight, Monica is channeling enough power to draw them all to her.

I volunteered to be the Settler on call—the better to avoid prolonged exposure to couples in love—but Kitty, the Enforcer in charge of guarding me from bad guys out for my witch blood, says its best if I keep my power under wraps as much as possible until the whereabouts of my evil bio dad are determined. In a show of coolness, however, she agreed to guard me solo tonight and let Barker have a night off.

If I know him, he’s probably shacked up with the Monicster in her pink and orange love lair above her parents’ garage. Barker is super old—probably twenty-three, at least—but he and Monica have a thing. I can tell. There’s something in the way he looks at her that screams “man besotted.” I know that look. Once I’d seen that very same look on Ethan’s face when he looked at me.

Sigh. Mournfulness. With melted miserable cheese.

God, this is getting ridiculous. Maybe I should take a potty break. Nothing like the smell of nasty melon air freshener to clear the head.

I hand over the tray of dogs to the hungry freshman and search the dance floor, hoping to catch a fellow pom squadder’s eye long enough to beckon her over. I don’t want to bother Penny since she’s busy eating and making googly eyes at Josh, but Alana or London could certainly stand to come to the rescue.

They’re the ones who insist we need new uniforms to celebrate Carol High’s mascot change. (I personally don’t find the fact that our beloved Cougars have become the Fighting Cavemen, or that our new mascot is a guy in a fur diaper, anything to celebrate.)

But London and Alana don’t see me wave. They’re on the far end of the gym, as close to the D.J.’s table as they can get without dancing on top of it. The D.J. is very cute, but both London and Alana came here with a man slave in tow. They could have a little more class.

Though it’s not like I’m one to talk.

My eyes skim past the girls to find Cliff dancing with a giggling Terra. They’re not dating—they just came to the dance as friends—but I can tell Terra wishes Cliff was her special friend. She’s constantly pestering me about him during dance team practice. She thinks he’s my cousin from California who came to live with my family after his dad passed away, and she doesn’t understand why I’m not more eager to facilitate her love connection.

But Cliff is not my cousin. He’s a dead psychic who rose from his grave to help me prevent a zombie apocalypse, and who only manages to stay alive-looking and non-rotty by siphoning my magic.

We’re supernaturally connected until the threat to the world is resolved and very good friends, but there have been some awkward moments between us since January when I hosted his soul in my body during the cheerleader attack.

Aaron, the lone male cheerleader and ringleader of the spirit squad’s black magical plans, had been hosting my evil ex-best-friend Jess’s soul inside his body when I accidentally knocked him off a roof. She got trapped inside Aaron when he died, but that didn’t stop her from trying to summon a zombie army. So Cliff and I did what we had to do to stop Jess/Aaron and save Arkansas from certain doom. We ripped his/her heart out. With my bare hand.

Jess’s body died in Settler prison shortly thereafter, but Aaron’s was never found. For all we know, Jess could still be out there somewhere, inhabiting his heartless corpse, but still…it feels like Cliff and I killed two people instead of one. Two evil people, but that doesn’t make it any easier to live with. There are nights when I can’t look into Cliff’s eyes without remembering how it felt for my fingers to dig through flesh and bone.

And when I’m not thinking about that, I find myself thinking about other dangerous things. Like how good it felt to hug him, and the amazing way he kisses.

Blergh. Kisses. That one stupid kiss Cliff and I shared that day by the lake. If it had never happened, my whole life could be different. Ethan might have decided to stay in town until I graduated, I wouldn’t be drowning in shame and regret, and my home life would be infinitely less stressful.

Having Cliff around all the time—from when I wake up in the morning with fuzzy teeth, to late at night when I’m watching bad reality shows in my room and wishing Ethan was there to make fun of me for it—isn’t easy. I can tell Cliff wishes we were more than BFFs and allies in the war against black magic, and I admit there are times when I’m…tempted.

I care about Cliff, and there’s no doubt that he’s a good-looking guy. Very good-looking, actually. And sweet, and a great friend and, apparently, quite a dancer.

I watch him spin Terra out of a Lindy-hop combination with genuine awe. Who knew he could shake his groove thing like that?

Cliff suddenly stops dancing and turns, catching my eyes across the crowded gym. He smiles and my cheeks heat, but thankfully it’s dark and he’s too far away to see me blush. He waves, and I wave back before turning my full attention back to loading more hot dogs onto the rolling cooking machine.

I can’t let myself think about Cliff as anything but a friend. He’s here with Terra, and even if he weren’t, he’s not the guy for me. Ethan is my One. Was my one, until I ruined everything and cursed myself to a lonely life spent serving refreshments with extra relish to those smart enough to hold on to the person they care about.

As if to underline my pain, the D.J. switches to a slow song, the lights dim, and all the shadows on the dance floor ease together in softly swaying pairs. Ugh. It’s the last straw.

I drop the hot dog tongs on the table and reach for my purse. I need a break from the love fest. There’s no one in line for hot dogs, and it’s not like I’ll be gone that long. Just in case, I scribble “back in five minutes!” on a napkin and set it by the tongs. That should do.

I hurry around the table and back toward the entrance to the gym. There’s a public restroom behind where the D.J.’s set up, but the girls’ locker room is located off the lobby. I’m more likely to get the privacy I’m craving out there. Of course, if Kitty sees me, she’ll probably insist on joining me and standing outside the stall while I pee. She’s been that intense about her guarding duties of late. It’s understandable considering the danger I’m in, but there are times when I resent having an Enforcer shadow. Like when I’m blowing my nose, or going to the bathroom, or in need of a few minutes to indulge in a Valentine’s-Day-Is-The-Worst-Holiday-Ever cry.

Thankfully, Kitty is engaged in conversation with one of the other chaperones as I slip through the door and into the lobby. For a second I hesitate—worried that she’ll be freaked out if she turns her attention back to the hot dog stand and realizes I’m gone—but after a second, I decide to take the chance.

The need to be alone is even stronger out here. Through the glass doors, I can see the parking lot, the last place I saw Ethan before he left for Nashville. If only I’d known he was going to be shipped out the next day, maybe I would have said or done something differently and he would have stayed. Or at least agreed to a long distance relationship. I’d still be missing him like crazy, but it would be so much easier to miss him if I knew he was out there missing me, too.

By the time I reach the girls’ locker room and push inside, my throat is tight and it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest. I collapse on the benches by the lockers and bury my face in my hands, certain the sob fest is going to commence at any second.

But it doesn’t. I’ve been working so hard not to show how miserable I am that my body has forgotten how it feels to be alone and safe to feel whatever I’m feeling.

The heaviness just lies on my chest.

Trapped. No way out.

Just like me.

Once upon a time, I thought being forced to Settle the dead was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. I would have done anything for my supernatural power to fade away, and be able to live a normal life. Now, everything is so much worse.

Even if my power fades, my blood will never change. The bad guys are always going to be after me for the magically charged red stuff that rushes beneath my skin. I’m going to need bodyguarding for the rest of my life, and there’s a good chance that at some point, someone—me, or one of the people watching me—is going to make a mistake, and the bad guys are going to win.

Maybe they’ll kidnap me and hold me prisoner in order to secure a steady source of witch blood. Or maybe they’ll drain me all at once, and leave my body in a ditch.

Neither option sounds very appealing, and the future…

Well, the future isn’t something I look forward to anymore. I hate walking this scary road alone, without Ethan by my side. Even if I could just hold his hand right now, I’d feel so much better. Ethan is a very, very good hand holder and never complains when I have a bout of profuse palm sweat. He loves me—palm sweat and all.

And I love him, I always have. Even back when he was an arrogant jerk who treated me like a bratty little sister.

Arrogant. Hmmm…

Ethan is amazing, but he’s also proud.

Maybe that’s the reason he hasn’t called me back! Maybe he’s up on his pride horse and can’t bend down far enough to pick up the phone. And maybe I’ve been up on my pride horse a little bit, too. I mean, I could have written an email or a text or at least left a voicemail, but I haven’t. I’ve been too chicken to put myself out there without some hint of how he’s feeling.

But can I really afford to be a cowardly baby? When my one shot at true love is at stake?

“No.” The word sounds unnaturally loud in the quiet locker room. It echoes, rings in the air, inspiring me like a call to battle. My phone is out of my purse, and Ethan’s contact information pulled a second later.

My thumbs fly across the keys as I make my Valentine’s Day confession. I pour out my soul, holding nothing back. I tell Ethan exactly how much I miss him, how much I care, and how desperately I wish he was here with me tonight. I finish and hit send before I can talk myself out of it. And then I sit there, rereading the message again and again, trying to imagine what Ethan will think when he reads it.

Will he get it tonight? Will he respond? Or will he let the message fester in his inbox for another week or more while I languish in misery and—

My phone trills and leaps in my hand. It’s Ethan. He’s already texted me back!

Me too. All of it. I missed you so much I jumped in the car after class today. I’m almost to the Carol exit. Be my Valentine and meet me at Sonic in fifteen minutes?

I type back “yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” and jump to my feet in a spontaneous, spastic victory dance. It’s all I can do not to squeal out loud! Ethan misses me! Ethan still loves me! Ethan’s almost here! And I’m going to be alone with him in fifteen minutes!

Alone. I freeze mid wiggle and my hopes crash back to earth.

Ethan and I can’t be alone. Kitty will be right there in the car with us. She might be cool enough to sit at one of the outdoor tables at Sonic and avert her eyes for a few minutes, but that’s it. And considering it’s barely above freezing outside, even a few minutes will be a lot to hope for. If I want this reunion with Ethan to be a real reunion, I’m going to have to take ditching my bodyguard to the next level.

Once again, I hesitate, torn between respect for Kitty and what’s she’s trying to do for me, and the desperate need to be alone with Ethan. Really alone. Just him and me and a Sonic hot fudge sundae—his perfect, all weather snack food—in the back seat of his Mini Cooper. I can already taste how much better the fudge tastes when it’s licked from Ethan’s lips.

Ethan’s lips. They must be mine. All mine.

At least for a few minutes.

Then Ethan and I can come back to the dance, put Kitty’s mind at ease, and become a pair of swaying shadows on the dance floor. Sigh. As Hamlet would say, “tis a consummation devotedly to be wished.” And I’m not talking about offing myself. I’m talking about kisses. Ethan kisses. Kisses that make me feel magical in a way that has nothing to do with zombies or witches.

Decision made, I head for the locker room bathroom, and the window that will dump me out on the left side of the gym, far from the prying eyes of any pom squadders or Enforcer body guard types who will wonder where I’m going if they catch me sneaking out the front. I rode here with Kitty, but I don’t need a car to get to Sonic in fifteen minutes. If I run, I can get there in ten, and be waiting when Ethan pulls into our usual spot.

Ethan! Our spot! Tonight! Almost right now! This Valentine’s Day isn’t going to be the most wretched night ever, after all!

It’s going to be wondrous and perfect, served warm, and smothered with the sweet sauce of true lovers blissfully reunited. I’m so certain everything’s going to be fine that even dropping out the window into the cold, dark night doesn’t give me the willies. Yes, it’s true that every other time I’ve snuck out a window in my life disaster has followed, but not tonight. Tonight is a night for magic and miracles. I am certain of it.

I hit the ground and run for the road without a single look back.

February 14th, 9:36 p.m.

Are you lonesome tonight? Do you miss me tonight?

Elvis’s voice oozes from the speakers at the abandoned Sonic drive-in, echoing off the plastic overhangs covering the parking spots, syncopated by the harsh buzz of a broken electric menu. The street leading to the last burger joint before Carol turns into a maze of subdivisions is dark and still, and the only sign of life is a gathering of crows picking at a furry, dead thing beneath the sputtering streetlight at the corner of Main and Needle Lane.

Eerie. Creepy. With tremble on top.

The sign flashing orange in the drive-through window says the place is open, but apparently freezing cold weather doesn’t put the average Carol, Arkansas citizen in the mood to grab burgers and ice cream and eat in the car.

I cross my arms and huddle tight to the side of the building, taking comfort in the fact that I can hear people moving around inside if I really try. Otherwise, it would be easy to start dwelling on how much this moment resembles the beginning of a horror movie.

Girl alone? Check.

Usually cheery setting made creepy by the fact that it’s utterly deserted? Check.

Romantic old music that will be made scary as hell when played over footage of Girl Alone being hacked to bits by zombies/mutant wolf creatures/axe murderers/escaped mental patients possessed by demons/evil clowns? Check and check.

Of all those, zombies are the only thing I’m equipped to combat, and I’d be happy to avoid contact with the feral undead tonight.

I shiver. “Come on, Ethan. Where are you?” I check my phone again just to make sure that it’s really been thirty minutes since Ethan’s text. It has.

Fortunately, however, Kitty didn’t text me until five minutes ago. I texted her back saying that the four chilidogs I ate were having an adverse effect on my delicate digestive tract, and that I was just finishing up in the bathroom. I promised I’d be back at the hot dog stand in ten minutes. Fifteen at the most.

Hopefully she won’t go looking for me in the loo. And hopefully Ethan will get here soon, and we can make it back to the dance before Kitty has a coronary. I’m sure Ethan would rather spend at least some of our limited time together alone, but his late arrival is going to make that impossible. We’ll have to settle for snuggling on the couch after the dance with Kitty or Barker standing guard outside the front door, and Cliff asleep down the hall.

Ugh. Cliff. Ethan doesn’t know that Cliff is living with my family.

I meant to tell him one of the many times I called, but he never called me back. What will he think when he finds out? Will he believe me when I tell him that Cliff and I are strictly friends? Or will he assume that our proximity has led to intimacy of the more-than-friends-and-magically-connected-supernatural-creatures variety?

My nervous stomach cramps and my palms start to sweat despite the fact that it’s freezing and I’m only wearing a thin red sweater, black miniskirt, silky hose, and combat boots. I look down at my outfit critically. The miniskirt is short, but not sexy short, and the sweater is downright modest. I’d planned on serving hot dogs tonight—and figured red was a good call in case I got messy with the ketchup—not reminding my one true love of my lusciousness.

But then Ethan always thinks I’m pretty, even when I’ve got dark circles from not sleeping well, or I’m wearing my saggy-in-the-butt sweat pants and one of Dad’s old t-shirts. He thinks I’m pretty because he sees me with the eyes of love. Just the same way I see him.

See him. I see him! Ohmygod, there he is! There’s the Mini, pulling into the last spot on the right!

He shuts off the car and steps out into the light of the “Eat More Cheeseburgers” sign. My breath catches and I prepare for the electrical charge that always zips and zaps along my nerve endings in the presence of Ethan. The boy affects me on a visceral level, like being electrocuted but much, much nicer.

I brace myself, prepare to sizzle, but…the sizzle doesn’t come. I meet his eyes and smile. He smiles back, but even his signature grin doesn’t light me up from the inside the way it usually does.

He seems…different. His shaggy hair is even shaggier and hangs down into his eyes, giving him a vaguely messy vibe, and his black jeans, sweater, and coat are a somber choice for Valentine’s Day and more modern gothic poet than his usual skater-inspired wear. But the small changes in his appearance aren’t responsible for the strange feeling in my chest as I hurry across the concrete to meet him. It’s something else, something in the expression on his face that’s…troubling.

He’s smiling and seems perfectly happy, but I don’t feel that instant connection. What’s wrong? Is Ethan still mad at me—no matter what he said in his text—or is something more insidious to blame?

What if my betrayal has permanently soured things between us? What if we can’t ever regain the trust that made our relationship the most honest, intense kind of love I’ve ever known? What if the magic is gone forever and it’s all my fault?

“Hey,” he says, when I stop a few feet away. “You look beautiful.”

Even his voice sounds different. He’s holding back, or…something. For a second I’m tempted to break down and beg him to forgive me for The Great Kissing Betrayal all over again, but decide that mentioning Cliff—or the kiss—is probably stupid. It’s better to be myself, and show Ethan that I’m still the same girl he fell in love with in September, no matter how many things have changed since then.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I say. “I’m so, so glad you’re here.”

“Really?” he asks, eyes searching mine. “I was afraid you’d be angry, or…”

“Or what?”

“Or that you’d already have a Valentine.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I know I left without saying good-bye and things have been different between us. I wouldn’t blame you if you’d…lost interest.”

Oh my god. Is that why he seems so strange? Is he crazy?

“Ethan, no,” I hurry to reassure him. “I mean, I think we have a lot to talk about, but you’re…” I swallow, suddenly nervous to say out loud the things I wrote to him less than an hour ago. “I meant that text. There’s no one I’d rather be with tonight than you.”

He smiles, that grin that makes his dimple pop, and my heart does a happy dance in my chest. Everything is going to be fine. He’s smiling and we’ll work our way through the angst. The important thing is that he’s here. He drove all the way from Nashville to be with me tonight, and I’m not going to let a little awkwardness get in the way of making this the best, first Valentine’s Day ever.

“So what do you say we get out of here?” He nods to the car. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Oh, no! I didn’t get you anything.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, opening the passenger’s door. “I don’t need anything but you.”

“And I don’t need anything but you.” I pause in front of him—tempted for a moment to show him I mean what I say with a kiss. But I decide it doesn’t feel quite right yet, and slide into the car. He shuts my door and circles around to his side. “Really,” I say, once he’s settled. “I feel awful that I don’t have anything. Why don’t you keep the surprise and—”

“It’s not that kind of surprise.” He starts the car and backs, steering through the deserted drive-in and turning onto Needle Lane.

“What kind of surprise is it?”

His dimple pops again. “The kind that won’t keep in a box.”

“Oh. Good. I’m not real big on surprises in boxes lately.”

“Understandable,” he says, smile fading. He was there when I got the hand in a box from my bio dad. We found it in this very car, perched innocently on the seat in which I am now seated. Shudder. “That’s why I thought this would be better,” he continues. “It’s more of an experience present than a hold in your hand present.”

“Okay…” Now my curiosity is definitely piqued. “But is this experience going to last longer than a few minutes?”

“I certainly hope so.”

Oh. Ohhhh. Is he thinking… I mean, I’ve sort of been thinking ever since he left that I wish we’d… I mean, how many times do I have to nearly be sacrificed for my virgin blood before I get rid of the problem already? And Ethan is my first love—

maybe my only love—and I can’t imagine wanting my first time to be with anyone but him.

But still…am I really ready? Tonight? Now, assuming we didn’t have somewhere else to be?

“What do you think?” he asks. “You up for something different?”

I make a breathy, cough-snort sound that I hope Ethan won’t remember is my nervous laugh. “Sure, I’m up for anything,” I bluff, secretly grateful that I have a good excuse not to make the “is tonight the night?” call. “But I promised Kitty I’d be back at the Valentine’s dance at school in a few minutes. She thinks I’m still in the girl’s bathroom at the gym.”

“So you snuck away from your bodyguard. Again.” His tone is pleasant, but I know he must be mad. He hates it when I take chances with safety. Even little chances.

“I know. I’m bad,” I say, heading a lecture off at the pass. “I just… I really wanted to have a few minutes alone with you. I didn’t want Kitty there watching and making things awkward, you know?”

“I understand.”

“Anyway. No harm done. We can just head back to the dance, I’ll clean up the concession stand and we can hang out for awhile, and then I’ll ask Kitty if she minds following us to wherever we’re going.”

“Oh.” He comes to a stop at the next intersection and turns left instead of right. I glance back over my shoulder, wondering if Ethan’s forgotten the layout of Carol after over-exposure to the big city. “That might be awkward.”

“Oh…okay.” God, so he must have been thinking… Wow.

The realization renders me mute for a few moments. Meanwhile, Ethan continues to drive in the wrong direction until we cross over the railroad tracks and draw close to the highway.

“So, what do you think we should do?” I ask, starting to get nervous. Kitty will kill me herself if I’m not where I’m supposed to be in ten minutes. She might look like an über-nerd, but the woman has serious butt-kicking skills. “You remember the school is the other way, right?”

“I do. But I think you should call Kitty and tell her that you’re with me, and we’re going for a drive.” He takes the exit onto the freeway and heads south, zipping into the darkness of our poorly funded stretch of rural interstate. “Tell her I’ll protect you with my life, guard you against all bad guys, and get you home before twelve o’clock.”

“She’s going to be pissed.”

“She’s going to be pissed regardless. Even if we turn around right now, we’ll never get back to the gym in a few minutes.”

He's right. “Okay. But I have to be back by eleven. Mom gave me an earlier curfew. She and Dad can’t go to sleep if I’m not home since the whole killer cheerleader thing.” I pull out my phone.

“Wait.” He reaches out to squeeze my hand, stopping me mid-dial. The touch lasts less than a second, but it’s enough to make me shiver. His hands are so cold. “Let’s drive for a few minutes first, just in case she decides she needs to join us. At least that way we’ll get some time together before the chaperone shows up.”

“Okay.” I slide my phone back into my purse.

The place where Ethan touched me still feels colder than the rest of my hand. I was standing outside Sonic for twenty minutes and thought I was chilled through, but Ethan is practically freezing. It’s strange. Not only because he was inside his nice, warm car before coming to meet me, but because Ethan is usually a furnace. His hands are always warm. (Yet never sweaty, which is further proof that he’s probably descended from Greek Gods or Sexy Alien Vikings or some other superior race of people without normal human flaws and weaknesses.)

“So how are you?” He pulls off the highway, taking the exit that leads out toward the Army base north of Little Rock. “How’s school?”

“Fine. You know, same old same old.”

“But you’re doing well? Keeping your grades up?”

Keeping my grades up? What kind of question is that? He sounds like my dad or something.

“Um…yeah.” I search for something further to add, but come up empty. I’ve never had trouble making conversation with Ethan, but things still feel awkward. “How about you? How’s the Enforcing going?”

“Great. Swimmingly.”

Swimmingly? Ethan watches “films,” not movies, and has been known to get his pretentious on now and again, but he’s never said anything so Old-English-Man-with-a-Lisp sounding as swimmingly. What the heck is going on? Who is this guy, and what has he done with my boyfriend? Or ex-boyfriend? Or…whatever we are to each other now?

I peer at Ethan out of the corner of my eye, studying him as he drives. Even the way he’s holding his head—chin up instead of tilted to the left to keep his hair flopping in the proper direction—is wrong. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was…possessed or something.

Possessed or…bewitched.

Crap.

If I were a black magic practitioner looking to kidnap a teenage girl with witch blood, I would totally cast a spell on her true love and get him to do the job for me. What better abductor could there be than the person she wants to spend time with the most?

The cold spot on my fingers spreads across my skin, and my gut gets that rotten feeling that I’ve come to associate with impending badness. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past six months, it’s never to ignore my gut. The gut is wise, perceptive, and not nearly so easily fooled as other, lesser organs like my brain, eyes, and stupid, trusting heart.

“Good, good.” I casually pull my phone from my purse. If Ethan’s been enchanted, I’m going to need help of the Enforcer variety. “You know, I think I should go ahead and call Kitty. I don’t want her to worry.”

“Of course. Let me know if she wants to talk to me.”

Okay. Well, that wasn’t what I expected. If Ethan’s under a spell, he wouldn’t want me to call Kitty. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe my gut is confused. Maybe those four chilidogs really are coming back to haunt me.

I waver for a moment, but then go ahead and dial Kitty’s number. I have to call her sooner or later, and it’s better to be safe than dead. She picks up on the first ring, and I can tell right away that I’m on her poo list.

“I was just dialing your number,” she snaps. “Where are you?”

“I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m furious. Do you know how worried I’ve—”

“I know, I know, but you don’t have to be worried,” I say in my best soothing-the-savage-bodyguard voice. “I’m fine. I’m with Ethan.”

“Ethan,” she says, tone strangely flat.

“Yeah. He drove in from Nashville for Valentine’s Day.”

“And you’re with him right now?”

“Um, yeah,” I say, wondering why she’s making it sound like such a bad thing. “We’re taking a drive.”

“Megan, am I on speakerphone?”

“No.”

“Good. Listen carefully and don’t give any sign that what I’m about to say upsets you.”

Oh, crap. Crap! “Okay.” I manage to keep my tone casual even as my heart starts slamming inside my chest.

“I don’t know who you’re with,” Kitty says, “but it’s not Ethan.”

What?

“Ethan just showed up here a few minutes ago.”

What, what?!

“Someone ran him off the road just outside Carol, and stole his car. He says he doesn’t remember what happened, just driving into the ditch, feeling something hit the back of his head, and waking up in the grass by the asphalt a few minutes later.”

Holy crap on an evil cracker.

If the dude driving the car isn’t Ethan, then who the heck is he? And how did he come to be wearing my boyfriend’s body? My skin crawls and fear for Ethan makes my churning stomach feel like it’s turning to stone. What if Ethan’s hurt? What if this creep impersonating him did something awful to him?

“But everything’s okay? Um…the guy who fell at the dance is okay?” I sound like I’m channeling Minnie Mouse. I clear my throat, and fight to get my vocal chords under control.

“Ethan’s fine, but you’re not going to be.”

I breathe a sigh of relief even as I mentally thank Kitty for the stunning reassurance.

“Where are you?” she asks.

“Sure. I’ll tell Ethan you said hello,” I say, pushing my hair out of my face as the driver lowers his window and cold air sweeps into the car. I raise my voice to be heard over the wind. “We’re just driving out by the army base near mile marker seventeen so we shouldn’t be—”

The phone is plucked from my hand and flying out the window before I can gasp in surprise. I turn to whoever is driving the car, ready to grab the wheel and pull us off the road if I have to, but before I can make a move the guy reaches into his coat and grabs something from his pocket.

Something he throws into my lap.

Something cold, stiff, and a sickly shade of blue.

I look down, get a good look at the dismembered hand lying on my mini-skirt, and scream loud enough to wake the dead.

Dead hand! Dead hand! Ew! So unspeakably creepy and gross!

I bat it to the floor with a spastic thrash of my arm, and pull my feet up into the seat, the better not to touch it with any part of me, ever again.

The man in the driver’s seat laughs. “I told you a good witch always starts with a hand.”

Starts with a hand. Oh, no. Oh, god. I know who this creep is now.

I whip my head in his direction in time to see Ethan’s dirty blond hair turn brown- streaked-with-gray, and his face sharpen into the features of an older man. Features that are strangely familiar considering I’ve never seen this dude’s gray eyes before in my life. But then, maybe it’s a piece of myself I see in his face. Maybe I’m not a clone of my mother. Maybe there’s some of my crazy, witch father in the curve of my nose and pointy chin, as well as my blood.

My father. There’s no doubt that it’s him, Addison Strain, the evil bastard who nearly killed my mother. He didn't know she was pregnant with me when he tied her up and left her to bleed out all alone, but that doesn’t win him any points in my book. He’s a crazy, monstrous, psychopathic, murdering freak who—according to Settler intelligence—spends his spare time plotting ways to bring about the end of the world.

I always thought I’d be scared to death if I ever came face to face with my bio dad, but instead I’m angry. Really, really angry. That whisper of darkness inside me, the one that’s simmered beneath my skin since the day Cliff and I ripped out Jess/Aaron’s heart, surges to the surface.

How dare this creep hurt my mom? How dare he pretend to be his daughter’s boyfriend in order to kidnap her? It’s not just wrong, it’s repulsive.

What if I had kissed his disgusting lips or—god forbid—something worse? How far would he have taken his little game of pretend? Assuming my “wrong-dar” hadn’t gone off and out-ed him for who he really is?

Ugh. Shudder. Blechk. So, so, sooooo gross.

Just the thought of touching him makes my skin want to crawl right off my bones. “You’re disgusting,” I choke out, working to keep the gorge rising in my throat headed back in the right direction.

“It’s not disgusting, it’s a hand. And smart magic. If you want a convincing illusion spell, you’re always going to need a helping hand,” he says paternally, like we go for Daddy-daughter drives and swap magic tips all the time. “Sometimes I wonder if that’s where the phrase comes from. What do you think?”

I think it’s time to get the hell out of here.

I go for the release on my seatbelt and the handle of the door at the same time. The door opens, but before I can hurl myself from the speeding car—which I totally would have done since I strongly believe that it’s better to risk death than abduction by evil bio dad—Addison grunts a witch command beneath his breath.

The door slams shut and locks with an ominous snick snack. I spin back to him with my hands raised, and scream the first Settler command that comes to mind, “Exuro!”

I throw the call for flame in his direction, hoping to distract him long enough to get out of the car. I know it’s pointless to use Settler magic on the living, but I can’t work any other kind. I have witch blood, but no witch training. All of my magical skills are sending-the-dead-back-to-the-grave or banishing-black-magically-raised-zombie related.

When it comes to living bad guys, I have to rely on my Junior Enforcer combat training and the killer high-kick I’ve perfected during pom squad practice for protection.

So to say that I’m surprised when Addison bursts into flames is an understatement.

I’m shocked, dumbfounded, momentarily immobilized despite the fact that the flames are hot enough to make my left side sting and my nerve endings scream.

Why is he on fire if he’s not dead?

Why isn’t he howling in pain?

What the hell is going on?

By the time I recover my wits and go for the door a second time, Addison is laughing and reaching a flaming hand in my direction.

I scream and tug at the door handle, jamming it back and forth until my fingers bruise, but it won’t budge. I’m trapped, and the seats are starting to catch fire! I press myself tight to the door, and shove one shaking palm in my bio dad’s direction.

“Opprimo!” I shout the smothering command, the one that puts out the burning dead, but it’s too late.

My father’s hand is already in my hair, tangling in the long, brown locks I’ve been growing since I was ten, setting me on fire just as his own flames go out.

February 14th, 10:16 p.m.

I wake up in a cold, dark place.

At first, I assume I’m at Monica’s house. We’ve had our share of sleepovers lately, and she always keeps her room the temperature of a deep freeze. You’d think someone so scrawny would be cold all the time, not hot, but Monica often defies expectations. I used to think she was a huge b-word, but in the past few months I’ve come to love her. She’s not really mean, just blunt and missing an empathy gene or two.

But she cares about people, about me. She’d never let me go to sleep smelling like a dead fish wrapped in burnt pretzels. Especially in her bed.

Sniff. God, I stink. Monica would have forced me into the shower at gunpoint if I showed up at her house like this, and what I’m lying on feels harder than a bed, though not as hard as the ground. It’s solid, but with some give, kind of like cardboard.

So I’m not at Monica’s…

I blink, searching for some light in the darkness, but there’s nothing. I might as well have my eyes closed for all I can see right now. I shift my legs, trying to sit up and get a better look around. That’s when I realize my feet are tied together at the ankles, and my hands at the wrists.

My pulse speeds as I roll onto my back, stirring up the burned smell and a flash of pain as the scorched skin at my neck protests movement.

Scorched. Burned.

It all comes rushing back to me. The Ethan who wasn’t really Ethan, the car speeding into the darkness, my bio dad on fire and reaching for my hair.

My hair! I can feel it poking my cheek, sticky little stumps that barely reach the top of my neck. I’ve spent half my life growing out my hair and—as of last year—I’m finally able to wield my Chi with enough skill to transform my naturally frizzy mane into a shimmering curtain of brown glossiness (when given the proper amount of primping time and some frizz-easing product).

I love my hair. My mom loves my hair. Ethan loves my hair.

And now it’s gone! I know in the grand scheme of things that it’s just hair. Assuming I live through the night it’ll grow back, I’ve got bigger things to worry about, yada, yada, yada. Still, I can’t seem to contain the rage that burns inside me. I thrash my bound legs into the air in protest of this latest offense to decency, and immediately wish I hadn’t

“Ow!” I hiss as my boots slam into metal with a hollow thunk.

Metal above my head, cardboard feeling stuff underneath me. I suddenly have a pretty good idea where I am. I take a second to stretch my legs to either side—making sure my hunch is correct—and find more metal. I’m guessing I’m in the trunk of a car, but not the Mini’s. I’m only five four, but the Mini’s trunk would still be way too small to fit all of me.

Addison must have moved me to another car—the better not to be tracked down by Settlers Affairs as he flees the scene of his wickedness. And now he’s probably driving me back to his wretched, slimy, witch lair, daydreaming about all the horrible spells he’ll be able to cast with access to my tainted blood!

No. Wait. Not driving. The car isn’t moving. There’s no rumble or hum. We must be parked somewhere.

I hold perfectly still, straining to hear voices, movement, any sound from outside that might give me a clue where I am or who’s around. But I can’t hear a thing. I kick the roof of my prison a few more times and scream for help, just in case there’s someone friendly around or Addison didn’t hear me kick the first time.

I don’t care if he knows I’m awake. Let him come for me. I can’t fight back physically with my arms and legs tied, but—seeing as he’s had the lack of foresight to leave me gag-free—I can certainly whip out a few Settler commands on his evil butt.

I was too freaked out by seeing him on fire to make use of the knowledge that zombie magic works on him the first time around, but I’m ready to make use of it now. I’ll slam him with a reverto terra and put him six feet under the ground. I’ll literally bury him alive and let him dig his way out, while I bust out of this trunk and hop to safety.

“Help!” I scream, my voice loud enough to prick at my ears in the confined space. “Help me!”

Nothing. Not a sound. Either there’s no one out there, or I’m being ignored.

“Help! Please!” I cough and give a very convincing gasp for air. “I’m suffocating! I can’t breathe!” Still nothing, and now I’m really starting to feel like I can’t breathe.

Darn the power of suggestion!

I pull in one slow breath and then another, fighting the urge to start panting for air. I guess I could suffocate in here if I’m left alone long enough. Is that my evil father’s plan? To wait until I asphyxiate and then pluck my dead body from his trunk? Maybe put me in a deep freeze somewhere to keep my corpse—and my blood—fresh for years to come?

The thought makes me even angrier. I don’t want him to own me, not while I’m alive and not while I’m dead. I want out. Out! The dark power that is my father’s horrible legacy rises inside of me again, humming like a swarm of locusts. If I could get my hands around his throat and squeeze right now, I know I would. Instead, I slam my feet into trunk again and roar “LET ME OUT!” at the top of my lungs.

Megan? Is that you? Where are you?

“Cliff? Cliff! I’m in here! In the trunk!” I scream. It’s not until he speaks again that I realize I’ve heard him with my brain, not my ears.

In what trunk? Where are you? Me and Kitty and Ethan are just past mile marker seventeen. We found Ethan’s car, but we can’t find you.

I take a deep breath and try not to panic. I didn’t realize that Cliff could still hear my thoughts. I knew he could right after we shared my body, but in the weeks since then we haven’t tried to communicate telepathically, and I haven’t heard anything from his brain. But what if he’s been hearing me all along?

I’m tempted to indulge in a minor freak out as I consider all the embarrassing things I’ve thought in Cliff’s presence, but remind myself that—much like my newly cropped hair—I have bigger things to worry about.

I don’t know where I am. I send the thought out, hoping Cliff will hear me. But you have to be careful. My da… Addison Strain is the one who took me. He disguised himself as Ethan with a spell. He might still be close. He has to be the one who locked me up in here.

Don’t worry. We’re ready for him, and more Enforcers are on the way, Cliff says. Do you remember which way he took you when you left Ethan’s car?

No. I passed out. I just woke up a few minutes ago. I’m tied up in the trunk of a different car, but I don’t know where it’s parked.

Okay. Hold on. We’re going to find you.

How? My anger begins to bleed into terror, and the feeling that there’s not enough air to breathe returns. I have no idea where I am. I could be anywhere. I can’t hear anything or anyone outside. I’m going to suffocate before you—

No, you’re not. Cliff’s voice is as steady and calming as always.

He’s a rock. A zombie rock who is always there for me, and I haven’t been nearly as nice to him as I should have been. Ever since the kiss and the heart-ripping I’ve let my own guilt make me hold Cliff at a distance, punishing him when the only person who really deserves to be punished is me.

I’m sorry, Cliff. I never meant to be a jerk. I care about you so much. I’m glad you’re my friend.

Don’t give up on me, Megan Berry. Don’t you dare. I swear I can hear the hitch in his voice even though it’s beaming directly into my brain.

Beaming…into….my brain. The only other times we communicated this way, we were pretty close to each other, less than a hundred feet for sure.

Cliff, have you been able to hear my thoughts the past few weeks?

Yeah. Some. He sounds guilty, but we don’t have time for guilt any more than embarrassment.

All the time, or only when we’re close to each other?

He hesitates for a second. Only when we’re both in the house. A couple of times at school, and once or twice at the dance tonight. But yeah, mostly when you’re close.

I pull in a deeper breath. Hope makes my lips tingle. So I must not be that far from Ethan’s car. Look around. Do you see any other cars close by?

A longer silence this time and some mumbled mental words that I guess is Cliff talking to Ethan and Kitty.

Ethan. He’s really here. If I were out of this damned trunk, I might even be able to see him. The thought makes my heart squeeze in my chest. There’s so much I want to say to him, so many things I want to know.

Why hasn’t he called? Is he the one who texted me saying that he loved me? Or did my evil bio dad already have his phone at that point? Ethan must have made the decision to come to Carol on his own—Kitty said Addison ran his car off the road close to town—but was he coming here to see me, or for a family visit, or on Setttlers Affairs’ business, or what?

I have to live to find out. I just have to. If I die without knowing, the suspense will follow me into the afterlife and kill me all over again.

Megan? Cliff’s voice is clearer this time.

I’m still here. And I can hear you better.

Okay, good, but… Well, we’ve looked, and none of us see anything except trees and water. Are you sure you’re in a trunk?

I thought so, but I guess it could be something else. I kick the roof again. It’s definitely metal.

Maybe if I could see I’d have a better idea where I am, but it’s still pitch black. I lift my hands over my head to feel the metal above me and the cardboard-feeling stuff beneath my head, but neither one gives me any clues. All I manage to do is stir up another wave of stink.

I pause, wrinkling my nose, dissecting the smell in my prison. Burned hair is the worst, but there’s also that dead fish smell, the one I noticed when I first woke up. And all Cliff, Ethan, and Kitty can see is trees and water.

And where there’s water, there are fish. And where there are fish, there are fishing boats. And where there are fishing boats, there are places to keep fish after they’re caught.

Cliff, I think I might be on a fishing boat. I hold still for a second, double-checking to make sure I’m still motionless. It’s not moving, so it’s not in the water, but I can smell fish. Do you see any—

Hold on! Ethan sees something. There’s a dock further down. We’re headed that way. We should be there in five minutes, tops.

Be careful. Addison could be waiting for you. This could be a trap.

This could be a trap…

I freeze, dread creeping along my suddenly cold skin.

This has to be a trap.

Why else would Addison have allowed me to call Kitty and give her an idea where to find me? Why else would he have locked me up and seemingly disappeared, if not to lure the people he knew would come to look for me into a trap?

I was so freaked out by waking up in the dark that I wasn’t thinking clearly, but I’m thinking clearly now.

Cliff wait! Leave me here! I scream, praying he hears me in time. Go back to the road and wait for the—

No way, Megan. We’re not— His voice shuts off so abruptly it makes me flinch. It’s like a door slammed closed somewhere in his head, severing our connection.

Cliff? Answer me. Cliff!

But I know he can’t hear me. I came to my senses too late. The trap has already been sprung. I’m sure of it, even before I hear soft, male laughter and a horribly familiar voice whispers from just outside my prison.

“I always said you were the stupidest smart person I’d ever met.” She/he snorts with exquisite derision. “I can’t believe you have a 4.0.”

Even coming from a boy’s dead body, my ex-best-friend’s voice is unmistakable.

It’s Jess, still trapped in Aaron’s corpse. She/he’s here, and I don’t need even half my stupid-smart brain to know that’s very, very bad news indeed.

February 14th, 10:41 p.m.

The lid of the metal box flies open and a floodlight shines straight into my face. I wince, taken by surprise long enough for someone to reach in and shove a rag into my mouth. Seconds later, frigid hands grab me beneath the armpits and haul me to my feet.

I struggle to stay standing as I’m hit by a wave of dizziness.

“Told you she didn’t need to speak.” Jess’s words stab at me through the speckled air as my eyes try to adjust. “That zombie can hear her in his head.”

“Smart girl.” Addison’s voice comes from behind me. He sounds pleased, proud, confirming my suspicions that he and Jess are partners in crime.

How does she keep convincing people to help her with her wicked schemes? How? When she is so obviously not only crazy, but crazy and repeatedly unsuccessful in both her wickedness and her scheming?

Once I stop weaving back and forth, Addison lifts me out of the fish storage container and sets me on the deck. I shrug him off with a growl the second I can. If he’s hurt Ethan or Cliff or Kitty, I swear I’ll find some way to kill him, even if I have to do it with my elbows.

I blink as my eyes recover from the glare and the deck of an old wooden pontoon boat swims into focus. It’s a cloudy night and there isn’t much moonlight, but I can just make out the faint rippling of water beyond the boat’s railing. We seem to be dry docked on a pier, but we can’t be that far from the road. I hop in a circle, trying to see more, and catch Jess—or Jess’s soul in Aaron’s progressively decaying corpse, if we’re being technical—setting the flood light back on a table to my left.

Beyond her, propped against the front railing of the boat, are Ethan, Cliff, and Kitty. Their eyes are open, but they aren’t moving, and they don’t say a word when I start hopping toward them. I make it close enough to see their terrifyingly deadpan expressions before Jess grabs me around the waist and shoves me into a chair.

“Behave yourself, Berry.” She leans down, sticking Aaron’s rotted face close enough for me to smell how ripe she’s become. I hold my breath, knowing I’ll yarf and choke on it if I get another whiff of her. “Do exactly what I say or your friends are dead meat. Got it?”

Thank god. Whether she meant to or not, Jess has banished some of my panic. If she’s threatening to kill them, then Ethan, Kitty, and Cliff must not be dead. At least…not yet.

“Get it?” Jess asks with a gurgly laugh. “Dead meat?”

She reaches back to the open hole in her skull and pulls out a wriggling white thing. It takes me half a second to realize it’s a maggot, and less than that to feel like I’m going to throw up all over again. I start to gag even before Jess brings the worm within an inch of my face, and makes it do a dance in front of my nose.

“Jessica, be nice,” Addison warns.

“Why should I?” Jessica doesn’t like being told what to do, but thankfully she tosses the maggot to the floor instead of shoving it up my nostril and cheering it on as it makes a beeline for my brain. “This is all her fault. She’s the one who did this to me!”

“And now we’re going to undo it, sweetie, and everything will be fine.”

“It won’t be fine. I’ll still be trapped in a boy’s body. My life is never going to be fine. I don’t want hers to be fine, either!”

“And I don’t want you to try to hurt Megan again,” Addison says, his voice cold enough to make me shiver. Apparently his Don’t Talk Back To Me tone works on Jess, as well. She backs away, allowing me to pull in a breath without getting a whiff of her rot. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you myself after that stunt you pulled,” Addison continues. “Sacrificing your sister to save some dumb human kid with a brain tumor was never part of our agreement.”

What? What did he say?

“Sorry,” Jessica mumbles, milky eyes trained on the boards at her feet.

“Now, come help me and stop fighting with your sister.”

There it is again. What the hell is he talking about? “Shh ishnt mah shsher,” I say, talking as clearly as I can around the rag in my mouth.

“She is your sister,” Addison says, apparently able to understand me just fine. But then, unfortunately, I’ve had practice talking while gagged and bound. “Your half-sister to be specific, but you share the blood that matters.”

This man really is insane. I turn to glare at him, but forget to look menacing when I see the flaming cauldron now settled on top of my fish box prison. He and Jess are casting a spell. I have no idea what kind of magic they’re about, but I know it can’t be good.

I do another scan of the boat, hoping to find anything I can use to cut myself free. I have to get me and the good guys out of here before whatever is cooking in that cauldron goes live.

“Jessica’s mother and I met shortly after your mother and I ended our relationship,” Addison continues, conveniently leaving out that he’d nearly ended Mom’s life in the process. “At first it was a casual affair, but eventually she decided to leave her husband and she and I were married.”

What?

“I hope you’ll have the opportunity to meet her one day soon.” He throws something that looks like a dead mouse in the cauldron, and the fire inside burns brighter. “I know you two would have a lot to talk about.”

What?! Like what? Like how many times her daughter has tried to kill me? This is crazy. Jess can’t be my half-sister. It would just be too wrong. And sad.

Back when we were best friends, finding out we were also family would have been a dream come true. It would have made the pain of learning my mom cheated on my dad so much more bearable knowing something amazing like a sister had come out of it.

But instead I learn the truth after Jess has tried to kill me twice, and I’m responsible for the death of her body, if not her soul. The body she was born into, the one that held the same genetic material as my own, is gone. Her heart stopped beating a few days after I killed Aaron and trapped her in his corpse.

I turn back to Jess, but she’s still looking at the ground. Guess she’s finding this moment as uncomfortable as I am. Or maybe she’s hunting for the maggot she dropped. Who knows?

Not me, that’s for sure. I know nothing. That becomes more abundantly clear with every passing day.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, Megan,” Addison says. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much time. I’m sure your friends called for reinforcements. But I’ll be in touch. Don’t worry.”

As if I care. If I never see his face again, I’ll consider myself the luckiest girl in the universe.

“Jessica, get the knife. We’re nearly ready.” As Jessica shuffles away, Addison stands and crosses to my chair, a swagger in his step that reminds me of all the senior studs at school.

The evil bio dad is supremely confident and was probably a pretty decent looking guy when he was younger, but I still don’t understand how my mom could have been sucked in by his alleged charms. I see nothing charming in him. When he crouches in front of me all I see is Bad and Scary and Cold.

So, so cold. His fingers brush my skin as he plucks a burned chunk of hair from my neck, and I feel like my entire head is turning to ice.

“My apologies for your hair,” he whispers, making me shiver. “I needed a large portion of hair and some blood from the wound at your neck for the first part of the spell to help your sister. But you’re just as lovely with short hair. You remind me of my mother, actually. She was a legendary beauty.” He cups my cheek in his hand and my shiver transforms to a full body tremble.

But I’m still not afraid. I’m furious. Once again, here I am, tied up and helpless to do anything but watch the bad guys go about their business. I know working black magic is evil and causes brain damage, but a part of me wishes I’d thrown caution and my brain to the wind and used my spare time in the past few weeks to track down a few deadly spells. If being one of the good guys means I have to keep letting the people I love get hurt, then what’s the blasted point of being good? I don’t want to be good; I want to be the one with the power.

At that moment, I make myself a promise—If Bio Loser is stupid enough to let me live, the next time we meet I’ll be ready for him with some big bad black magic. Next time, I’ll be the one holding lives in my hands, and chances are good he won’t be walking away with his.

“Good.” Addison smiles, a smug curve of lips that I hate to admit are a larger, manlier version of my own. “Get angry and stay angry and I will see you very, very soon.” He leans in to kiss my forehead and I know this is it. I won’t get a better chance.

I clench my abdominal muscles and kick my bound legs as hard as I can, catching Addison in the shins as I slam my forehead into his mouth. The sharp forward motion shifts my gag, and I shove at it with my tongue, forcing it out as I hit Daddy Dearest with another kick in the guts.

He clutches his stomach and falls to the wooden boards of the boat, but instead of crying out in pain…he starts to laugh. “A fighter! Strains have always been fighters.”

“I’m not a Strain,” I say. “And I never will be. Reverto terra!” I cast before he can get in a word, before he or Jessica can make a move toward the gag lying on the floor.

Addison starts skidding along the planks toward the edge of the boat, but he doesn’t stop laughing. He just laughs harder, so hard that his face crumples and bubbles and…

Oh, no…

He’s changing again, just like he did when he transformed from Ethan to Addison. But now he’s turning into someone else, a dead someone, who’s been checked out for quite some time if the leathery skin that replaces Addison’s olive complexion is any indication.

Crap! He’s inhabiting a corpse! That’s why zombie magic works on him. Addison’s real body was never here at all.

“Goodbye girls,” he says as he picks up speed, his borrowed bones rattling across the floor. “Play nice.”

And then he’s gone.

He disappears over the edge of the boat, hitting the water with a splash and a glug glug glug as he’s sucked down to the bottom of the lake and under the earth beneath.

“Dad, wait! You said you’d help me!” Jessica screams.

I turn to see her by the bow of the boat, crouched on the ground next to a still unmoving Cliff. In one hand is Cliff’s long hair; her other hand holds a knife.

The tip of the blade hovers above Cliff’s chest, right above his non-beating heart. He’s a zombie, he’s already dead, but in that moment it doesn’t matter. I need Cliff. I need him walking and talking and smiling and dancing and fighting and foretelling and being my friend. But if Jessica does what I think she’s going to do, I’m afraid he won’t—

Her arm draws back, her knuckles whitening on the hilt.

“Don’t do it!” I yell.

“First your zombie, then your boyfriend,” she says. “It’s the least you deserve.”

Ethan. No! “Don’t!” I scream. “Or I swear I’ll kill you!”

Her milky eyes meet mine and her lips twist. “Good thing I’m already dead.” And then she strikes, slamming the knife deep into Cliff’s chest.

February 14th, 11:12 p.m.

Blood pours down Cliff’s shirt, such a bright red I can see it even in the meager light hitting that side of the boat. I open my mouth to cast, but before I can speak Jess pulls out the knife and shoves her hand inside the hole she’s made.

It’s impossible, but I swear I can feel her fingers curl around Cliff’s heart like it’s my own. I choke on my next breath and unbelievable pressure crushes my chest. Tighter, tighter, until it feels like my ribs are going to shatter into a million pieces. And then the pressure is gone and pain sweeps in and I scream.

I scream and scream, even though the screaming only makes the agony worse. But I can’t stop. Sound is my last defense. If I stop screaming, the pain will take over and smother me, snuff me out, end me the way Jess is ending Cliff.

“Absisto!”

Casting. A Settler is casting.

I can just barely hear the freezing command over my own wailing, and I can’t tell who’s spoken, but I know the second the spell takes effect. The abrupt cessation of the pain hits me hard, a blow of its own that sends me into a full body thrash. I slide off the chair and onto the deck, gasping for breath as I crane my neck toward the front of the boat.

The first thing I see is Ethan struggling to his hands and knees. He’s thrown off whatever spell still has Kitty frozen, and is starting to crawl across the planks. Ethan is the Settler who froze Jess, and now he’s coming to save me. But I’m not the one who needs saving. I can just barely see Cliff’s wide, empty eyes over Jess’s shoulder. She’s frozen for now, but she won’t be for long. Ethan has to get rid of her and save Cliff.

“Ethan. Help Cliff.” My voice is raw, but I can tell he’s heard me.

Still, he doesn’t stop crawling in my direction.

I know he isn’t Cliff’s biggest fan, but he has to know that Cliff is important to me. He’s not just my friend; he’s my partner. Zombie seers come to help Settlers in times of trouble. Cliff’s here for a reason, to help me stop the bad guys. I need him. The world needs him.

“Please,” I say. “Ethan you have to—”

“Ignitus!” Jess’s command cuts through the air and the fire in the cauldron explodes. Sparks shoot into the sky and chunks of still-burning spell ingredients rain down onto the deck. One lands on my cheek and starts to sizzle, but before I can scream Ethan is there, brushing it away.

“Hold on,” he says as he spins around, hands raised in front of him.

I assume he intended to freeze Jess again, but he’s too late. She’s gone. Disappeared. And she’s taken Cliff’s heart with her.

I can see the hole in his chest clearly now, see the ribs she broke as she stole a vital part of my best friend. I can’t look away from his broken body, even when Ethan turns back to me and starts working to free my arms and legs, even when I can move and Ethan pulls me in for a hug. I still can’t stop staring at Cliff over Ethan’s broad shoulder. I can’t believe he’s gone. I’ve never lost someone I love as much as I love Cliff.

And I did love him, even if it wasn’t the same way I love Ethan.

“I’m sorry, Meg. I’m so sorry,” Ethan says, his arms tightening around me. “I just had to get to you. You come first.”

“I love you.” I say it because I have to, because I wish I’d said it to Cliff before it was too late.

“I love you, too,” Ethan says. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not okay, but it’s too late for that to matter. My stomach cramps and I feel like I’m going to be sick, but still there are no tears. I used to cry all the time, but now there’s nothing, just a deep, gnawing sense that everything in the world is wrong. Jess won. Cliff is dead.

Well, he was always dead, but now…

“Ethan! Kitty!” The voice is faint, but I recognize it. It’s Barker. The reinforcements have arrived. I’m glad, even if they are too late.

“We’re over here! On the boat! We just lost a Reanimated Corpse. He could be coming your way!” Ethan shouts before turning back to me and lowering his voice. “I’m going to check on Kitty and see if the spell is wearing off yet. You want to stay here?”

I nod. Yes. I do. I don’t think I can handle being that close to—

Megan…

My head snaps toward the bow of the boat. Cliff is still limp and motionless, but so is Kitty. Could he be…could this maybe…

I stagger to my feet and rush to kneel by his side. His wound looks even worse up close. I focus on his eyes, his hazel eyes with the flecks of green that I’d once mistakenly thought were plain old brown like mine. But they’re not. They’re so much more interesting—beautiful, really.

I can safely say I’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful as Cliff’s eyes lifting to mine, or heard anything as lovely as his voice in my head. It’s okay. I’m fine.

“Thank god!” I throw my arms around his neck and pull him close, heedless of the blood soaking through my sweater. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

I turn and press a kiss to his cheek before I really think about it, before I realize Ethan is right next to me, helping a moaning Kitty sit up.

Our eyes meet for a second, but all I see in Ethan’s expression is relief, not a hint of anger or jealousy. He reaches out to touch my hand—just the barest brush of his fingers—but in that touch I feel that everything is going to be okay. He knows I love Cliff, and he doesn’t care. He loves me so much it doesn’t matter.

I start to tell him “thank you,” knowing he’ll understand what it’s for, but suddenly the boat is alive with activity. Enforcers and Protocol Officers stream on board with flashlights. Behind them there are health techs with a stretcher, and even one of the doctors I recognize from SA headquarters.

Within moments, I’m helping load Cliff onto a stretcher and carry him back toward the road. Behind me, I hear Ethan and Kitty talking to Barker about coordinating a search for Jess in Aaron’s body, but I know it’s pointless. Jess if very good at slinking away from the scene of her latest devastation.

That’s why I’ll be making sure the next time I see her, is the last time I see her. It’s past time to solve the Jessica problem once and for all.

I don’t care if she is my half-sister. I’m going to kill her.

February 15th, 1:47 a.m.

Someone handed me a blanket over an hour ago and the couch is pretty comfy—for a couch—but I’m nowhere close to sleep. I can’t stop replaying the events of the evening, and beating myself up for every little mistake that led to Cliff getting hurt.

The SA doctors say he’s fine and will continue to remain Reanimated as long as I’m alive and funneling energy his way, but the fact remains that he’s got a huge hole in his chest. There’s no way he’ll be able to continue going to school or passing as an alive person now. He’ll lose what little life he’s been able to build for himself in the past weeks, and it’s all my fault.

And now Jess—with the help of Cliff’s heart and my hair and blood—will have a new lease on life, which makes me want to stab myself every time I think about it.

Apparently there’s a spell that will regenerate a corpse with a living soul trapped inside, but it requires the heart of a person who has done them great wrong. Cliff and I certainly did Jess a great wrong when we ripped Aaron’s heart from his chest, but it was my hand that did the ripping. It should have been my heart she was after. But I’m guessing Addison vetoed that option.

Addison. He’s as stupid as his name. He should want me dead.

He probably would if he knew how often I’ve fantasized about ways to kill him and Jess in the past hour and a half. Of course, there’s not much else to do in the SA hospital waiting room. All the magazines are at least ten years old, and I’m a little old for the block table.

I could have joined my mom and dad, Kitty, and half the Enforcers stationed in Carol for their emergency meeting in the conference room at the end of the hall, but I declined the invitation. I don’t care how they decide to deal with me; I know how I’ll be facing the future—with a black magic spell book in my hand. I’ll study in secret, and when I’m ready I’ll leave my family and friends and everyone I care about safely behind and go take care of Addison and Jess by myself.

That way, no matter what happens, it’s only my life at risk.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” a voice says from the waiting room entrance.

I turn and look over the back of the couch. Ethan is standing by the chairs on the wall. He looks tired, and his favorite gray-and-red striped sweater is torn in two places, but otherwise he’s wonderfully, perfectly whole. I’ve done my share of imagining what would have happened if he’d come out of the spell a few minutes later and Jess had made good on her threat to go for him after she was finished with Cliff, and none of the images in my head were pretty. If Jess had hurt him…

I close my eyes for a second, banishing the thought, and do my best to find a smile. “No. I can’t sleep.”

“Worried about what’s going on in the meeting?” he asks.

“No. Should I be?”

He shrugs, and ambles closer. “I don’t know. I’ve been hooked up to a bunch of machines. They wanted to observe me for a couple of hours before they set me free. Make sure there are no lingering effects from the Rigor Mortis spell.”

“So you’re okay?” I come to my knees and turn to face him as he stops on the other side of the couch.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” He puts his hands over mine. They’re as warm as ever. “And just in case no one’s told you yet, this isn’t your fault.”

“It is my fault.” I try to pull my hands away, but he holds on tight.

“No, it’s my fault,” he says. “I should have been watching my back instead of texting you, and maybe that guy wouldn’t have been able to run me off the road.”

“So that text was from you.” I look down at our joined hands, suddenly nervous. “I wondered.”

“Yeah.” His voice is soft. “It was from me.”

“I’m glad.”

“Me too. And I’m sorry I didn’t call you back when you called before,” he says. “I was afraid if I heard your voice I wouldn’t be able to stay at school, but I should have emailed or something. It was stupid and…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“And I’m sorry we missed Valentine’s Day.”

I shrug. “It’s a stupid holiday anyway.”

Our eyes meet and something electric passes between us, but it’s not the zip zap of our usual connection. It’s something deeper, a meeting and mingling of our energies that goes beyond attraction into the realm of unity. This is love. No doubt about it.

“So…did he really look just like me?” he asks.

“He did. Exactly. But I knew something was off the second he got out of the car.”

“How?” He leans closer, until I can smell the Ethan smell that I’ve missed so much.

“I just…know you.”

“You do.”

“I do,” I whisper as his lips get closer to mine. “And I love you, and the things I love the most aren’t the things that show on the outside.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” he says, and then we’re kissing and it’s as perfect as it always is.

But sad, too.

So many things have been lost in the past month and the innocent thrill of our new love is one of them. We’ll never have that back again. But maybe we’ll have something better, something stronger. His lips on mine, his arms around me, his hands fisting at the waist of my skirt—they no longer inspire fear or uncertainty. Instead, they fill me with the same determination I feel about my future. Ethan is the boy I love, and he’s mine and he always will be. I won’t settle for anything else.

By the time he pulls away, we’re both breathing deeper, but not faster. We’re still grounded. In this moment. In each other.

“You look so much older.” He brings one hand to my newly chopped hair and runs his fingers along the ends. One of the nurses cut all the burned parts off and evened it out. Now it barely reaches my chin in the front and shows the entire nape of my neck in back. “I like it.”

“I like you.”

He smiles. “I’m moving back to Carol.”

“No, you’re not.” I object, even though I want Ethan back in Carol more than anything. Or maybe I just want it more than anything except what’s best for him. “You want to be an Enforcer. This is your chance.”

“I want to be with you. Like I said earlier, you come first for me.”

“And I wish you could come first for me.” Hurt creeps across his face, but I press on. “But you can’t. I have…things I have to do. And I have to do them alone. I don’t know if I’ll even be in Carol in a few months, so it would be a waste for you to come back here for me.”

“What are you…” His eyes narrow as he realizes what’s going on inside my head. “No way, Megan. You can’t solve this on your own. You know your dad—”

“He’s not my dad.”

“Of course he’s not,” he says. “But you know what I mean. Addison isn’t working alone. He has a huge network of people helping him.”

“I know. And some of them are working for Settlers Affairs.” I do a quick check of the area to make sure we’re alone. We are, but I lower my voice anyway. “He’s got at least one mole—maybe more—right here in our top secret place where we’re supposed to be safe.”

“The National High council is going to find out who the mole is.”

“But they haven’t yet,” I say. “And who knows how much more that person is going to help Addison before they do? I don’t trust Settlers Affairs right now, and I don’t know if I ever will again.”

“But you trust me, and that’s why I should be here. With you.”

“You can’t quit Enforcer training for me. I won’t let you. It’s stupid.”

“I agree,” a woman’s voice breaks in, making us both jump in surprise. I turn to see Kitty standing only a few feet away, where I know for darn sure she wasn’t a second ago. She’s as stealthy as ever. I’m glad.

I’m also glad to see her awake and feeling better. I’m about to tell her so—in hopes that my kind words will inspire her to forgive me for causing all the trouble tonight—but she beats me to the punch.

“I just left the meeting,” she says. “I was going to let your parents tell you what they’ve decided, but it sounds like you need the information now if Ethan is thinking about giving up his place at the academy.”

“What information?” Ethan sounds suspicious even though Kitty is, without a doubt, one of the people we both trust the most.

“Megan, Cliff, and I are going away.”

“Away?” I blink, the concept not computing. “Away where?”

“Away to an undisclosed location,” Kitty says. “Your parents won’t know where we are, Settlers Affairs won’t know where we are. Heck, we won’t even know where we are until we get there. And once we’re there, we won’t tell anyone our location. No one.”

“You mean…” She means isolation. From my parents, my home, my school, my life, from…everything I’ve ever known. Even with Cliff along for the ride, the thought is terrifying, though not as surprising as I would have imagined. I think some part of me knew this was a possibility since the truth came out about what I am in January. “For how long?”

“As long as it takes,” she says.

“What does that mean?” Ethan crosses his arms, and his look grows dark, wary. “Are we talking weeks? Months?”

“Until the threat to Megan’s safety is eliminated.”

Her words make my legs feel weak. I collapse back onto the couch, the enormity of what she’s said hitting full force. Until the threat to my safety is eliminated. She’s not just talking about my bio-dad. She’s talking about all the bad guys everywhere who know who I am and what my Settler-powered witch blood can do. And when has there ever been a time in history when all the bad guys were gone?

Never. That’s when. There are always bad guys.

Which means, if I go into hiding with Kitty, I might never come back. I might never see the people I love again. My parents, Ethan, even Monica—the thought of losing them makes me feel like I’m being eaten alive.

“Do I have any say in this?” I ask, my voice as hollow-sounding as I feel.

Kitty smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You always have a say, and you always have a choice. But I trust you’ll make the choice that’s best for everyone involved so…”

She sighs, and her arms fall limply to her sides. “So I’m going to go start packing. We’ll leave this afternoon, after we get some sleep.” She leans in and gives Ethan a quick hug. “Take care of yourself, and I promise I’ll take care of her.” She turns back to me, and the softness vanishes from her features. “Assuming, of course, that she’ll let me.”

Ouch. But I deserved that. I probably deserve more than that.

I watch Kitty walk away with a horrible, sinking feeling. My plan was to protect the people I care about by taking Addison and Jess out of the picture, but taking me out of the picture will get the job done, too. And no one will have to die. A part of me screams that it’s okay for them to die, that it’s okay for me to kill them to keep the people I love close, to hold on to my life and the itty bitty bit of normal I have left.

But I have a feeling that part of me is his part. And I never, ever want to be anything like him.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asks as he circles the couch. He sits beside me and takes my hand. “You don’t have to go. We can figure something out.”

“No. I… I have to.” The tears I’ve been waiting for all night finally find their way to my eyes. “You know I do.”

He sighs, but doesn’t argue. Because he knows I’m right. I have to go to keep myself, and everyone I care about, safe.

So instead of offering false comfort, he hugs me, kisses the top of my newly cropped hair, and whispers, “Wait for me,” so soft I can barely hear it.

But I do. And I feel like my heart is being torn out of my chest all over again. “I’ll always wait for you. But I don’t want you to waste your life on a girl who might never be coming back.”

“No. You don’t understand.” Ethan pulls away, cups my face in his hands, insisting I look him in the eye. When I do, the steadiness there calms me more than I would have thought possible. “I can finish the Enforcer program in three years if I take extra classes and study through the summers. And when I’m done, I’ll find you and Kitty, and I’ll take over as your Enforcer guard.”

What? He’s crazy, but…maybe… Maybe we could really… Could we?

“You think they’ll let you?” I ask, the hope in my voice scaring me a little.

“They won’t have a choice, and I know Kitty will be past ready to get back to her own life by then.” He brushes a tear from my cheek with his thumb and smiles. “And when she does, you and I will get on with ours. Together.”

Together. Me and Ethan. Forever. It would be the pot of gold waiting at the end of this rainbow of crap I’m sliding down.

But there’s one big problem…

“What about Cliff?” I hate to bring up his name at a romantic moment, but Cliff is a part of my life for the foreseeable future, or at least until the threat to the world has passed. “I can’t abandon him.”

“Listen, Schmeg,” Ethan says, using the old nickname that used to make me want to throw things at him. Now it just makes me realize how much older I feel since those days in September. “I know you and Cliff are friends, but he’s already dead. He could have returned to his grave by then.”

“He could,” I agree, trying not to think too much about the inevitability of losing Cliff. “But what if he hasn’t?”

Ethan stares at me, wearing his thinking-hard face, the one that makes him look as smart as he is sexy. “Well, then…I guess we’ll find a place to live with a guest house in back. And lay down some strict ground rules about when he can visit.”

Wow. That…wasn’t what I was expecting him to say. “You’re kidding me. Even after… You’d be okay with that?”

“You kissed him one time, and you told me it was a mistake,” he says, taking my hands in his once more. “As long as I’m the one you love and he’s cool, I don’t see why we can’t be friends.”

I shake my head, amazed that I can still be amazed by this boy. I should know by now that he’s the most awesome person on the planet. “You are…the best boy ever.” At least for me, I add silently.

“I am.”

I take a deep breath, so full of possibilities my hands are shaking. “But do you really think this can happen? How will you find us? We could be anywhere in the world by then.”

“We’ll figure something out,” he says. “Some way for you to communicate with me that only you and I know about. That way we can keep in touch…while we wait.”

Wait. A few weeks without Ethan has been hell. How am I going to make it three years? How is he? “Are you sure about this?” I ask, even as I curse myself for giving Ethan an out on our happily-ever-after. “Three years is long time.”

He smiles. “It’s not that long.”

“It is. Three years is like…forever.”

His smile fades, and his hands squeeze mine so hard it almost hurts. “I’d wait three forevers for the chance to be with you for a lifetime.”

Tears spill down my cheeks and my nose starts to run almost immediately, the way it always does when I’m happy-sad. I sniff and try to pull my hands away, but Ethan holds tight.

“My nose is running,” I protest.

“You’re beautiful,” he says. “Say you’re my girl.”

“I have snot on my lip!” I half wail, half laugh.

“Say you’re my girl, and I’ll get you a tissue.”

“Fine. I’m your girl.” I snatch the tissue he grabs from the box on the table with a laugh, wiping my nose and dropping my fist to my lap. I meet his eyes, see the telltale shine there, and know I’m never going to forget the moment Ethan and I made this promise. “And you’re my boy.”

“And don’t you ever forget it,” he says, smiling that soft, sweet smile I’ve only ever seen him smile for me. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I say, and then he kisses me again and I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him tight, wishing I never had to let go, but knowing I will when the time comes.

When I have to, I’ll let go, knowing Ethan will come back to me.

And when he does, I’ll be waiting.

Special thanks

Many, many special thanks to April McGuire (http://velvet-moonlight.deviantart.com/), my talented cover artist, who makes awesome look easy. Thank you, April. You are a Talent, and I am so happy to work with you. Big thanks also to Julie Linker, my critique-partner-turned-editor, who is the sweetest, sassiest Grammar Watchdog ever. Thanks, Julie! Also much appreciation to Stacia Kane (my dear friend), the Debutantes of 2009 (who keep me sane), and My Old Man and Preshush offspring for putting up with me when I NEED to write some Megan Berry zombie drama.

But most especially, thank you to my readers. You sent me hundreds of emails letting me know that you wanted to read more about Megan and Ethan and the gang, and your voices were heard. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a big, meaty novel right now, but I hope you will take this story as a token of my sincere affection and appreciation. You have changed my life in the past few years and I am grateful for your lovely, passionate enthusiasm.

About the Author

Stacey Jay is a recovering workaholic (or at least working hard at recovering) with three pen names, two small children, and a passion for playing pretend for a living. She’s been a full time mom-writer since 2005 and can't think of anything she'd rather be doing. Her former careers include theatre performer, professional dancer, poorly paid C-movie actress, bartender, waiter, and yoga instructor.

Learn more at staceyjay.com.

Read the first two Megan Books Yet? Check out YOU ARE SO UNDEAD TO ME? and UNDEAD MUCH? Available now.

Table of Contents

- Title Page

- Copyright page

- What you’ve missed so far:

- February 14th, 8:02 p.m.

- February 14th, 9:36 p.m.

- February 14th, 10:16 p.m.

- February 14th, 10:41 p.m.

- February 14th, 11:12 p.m.

- February 15th, 1:47 a.m.

- Special thanks

- About the Author