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|Blood Forever(Blood Coven Vampire,book 8) by Mari Mancusi|
Or, you know, serve as a spy to make sure I’m doing what I say I’m doing. But whatever. I don’t mind taking her and her little fire stick along. After all, we’ve fought many virtual battles over the years. Why not a real-life one?
“It’s a deal,” I tell him, rising to my feet. “Now let’s go check out that arsenal of yours. If I’m going to be facing zombies, I’ll be in need of a good old fashioned boom-stick.”
“Are they here yet?”
I groan, leaning against the abandoned baggage cart, closing my eyes, as Spider asks me the same question she’s asked me ten times in the last ten minutes. Seriously, I know she’s my best friend and all, but the girl has the attention span of an ADHD-afflicted hummingbird. I can’t believe Teifert thinks she’ll end up a better slayer than me.
“Do you see anyone approaching the plane in front of us?” I ask her.
She looks over at the aircraft in question, still sitting dark on the runway, exactly how it’s been sitting since we got here, two hours before.
“Well, then I guess they’re not here yet, are they?”
She sighs loudly, letting me know exactly how she feels about our intended targets’ tardiness, and plops down onto the tarmac, Indian style. I’m suddenly reminded how impatient she used to get during our World of Warcraft raids, always rushing in before the other members were ready. It used to drive her ex-boyfriend crazy.
She looks at her watch. “Don’t they know you’re supposed to arrive at the airport at least two hours before takeoff?” she sulks. “I mean, hello, post-9/11, anyone?”
“That doesn’t count for private planes. They don’t have the same security checks,” I inform her, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “Not to mention we have no idea when they’re supposed to take off. In fact, we’re not a hundred percent sure they’re even leaving tonight.” All I do know is that Magnus told Sunny that Jareth and his little zombie queen were taking the larger of the Blood Coven private jets and would meet them in Vegas.
“Why didn’t they just all go together?” Spider asks, peering around the baggage cart to look at the parked aircraft again. “I mean, it seems like a pretty big plane for just the two of them.”
Sigh. “I don’t know, Spider. I don’t—”
“Oh my God!” my friend interrupts, then clamps a hand over her mouth. She turns to me with bulging eyes, pointing furiously in the direction of the airport behind us.
I turn to look, swallowing hard as I realize exactly what’s gotten her so freaked out. A parade of what appears to be more than a dozen zombies trudging down the tarmac, toward the plane, led by none other than Jareth and Queenie herself.
“Crap,” I whisper, ducking down again. “I thought she’d, like, raise them when she got to Vegas. You know, find a local cemetery…” There goes our plan of taking her down before she even boards the plane. We touch a hair on her head and suddenly we’ve got an entire army of darkness to contend with. And judging from my performance during my zombie dream fight, I can’t even manage two, never mind a dozen.
I quickly take a camera phone pic and text it to Sunny. She needs to see what we’re dealing with here!
“What are we going to do?” Spider asks, fingering her fire wand anxiously as I send my text. I pray she doesn’t make any sudden movements with it, giving us away.
“We’ve got to get on that plane,” I decide. That will buy us some time at least. And then we’ll be able to keep an eye on them and see where they go once they land. “Somehow…” Though how to actually slip past twelve some-odd zombies, not to mention my boyfriend and his fake girlfriend, I have no idea.
Spider snorts as one of the zombies trips over his own rotting foot and stumbles. “Ew, they’re so gross looking,” she whispers. “Just like in the movies.” She stretches out her arms in imitation and starts walking haphazardly toward me. “Braaaaaains…” she groans.
I’m about to tell her she needs to get some brains of her own, when a thought hits me. “Spider, you’re a genius!” I tell her.
She stops mid–zombie walk. “I am?”
I reach over and tousle her hair, messing it up. She frowns.
“Um, hello? I just had that blown out, I’ll have you know!”
“Trust me.” I pull out a case of black eye shadow from my purse and smear it under her eyes. Then I do the same for myself.
“Oh!” Her eyes widen in sudden understanding. She rips at her shirt, then her pants. “Good idea.” Ducking down to the baggage cart, she scoops a handful of grease from the axle and smears it up and down her arms, then covers mine, zombifying ourselves as best we can.
Now I’m not saying we’d score first prize in a zombie walk costume contest or anything, but I have to admit, it’s not a bad job, for short notice. And so, as the last of the zombies stumbles past us, we slip to the end of the line, doing our best undead shuffle as we approach the plane, arms outstretched, legs bowed. Seriously, Michael Jackson and his “Thriller” choreographer would be totally proud.
“This is so cool!” Spider whispers as she starts up the stairs in front of me. “Like a real-life video game!”
I shush her and start moaning loudly to keep up the act and drown out anything else she might have to say as we board the plane. As we round the corner into the main cabin, it’s all I can do to stop my jaw from hitting the floor.