
A Broken Heart Press Digital Publication
© 2010 Michele Bardsley EYE SCREAM
"It's an eyeball," said Patsy Marchand. She glanced at her son, Wilson. He looked a little green around the gills. He nodded. He was trying very hard not to look at it.
The eyeball was centered on the lid of a pickle jar. The lid lay on the kitchen island, nestled among the bowls of candy she'd been preparing for the Halloween party.
"Where'd you find it?" she asked. She'd never been the squeamish sort, and ever since she'd become loup de sang, aka lycan-vampire, very little wigged her out.
"It was here when I walked in to get some Kit Kats," said Wilson.
"I told you to leave the candy alone."
"It's not like I can eat anything now," he said. "There's a freaking eyeball in our kitchen!"
Patsy raised a finger and aimed for the eye.
"Oh, my God. Mom, if you poke it, I'm gonna puke."
"What's going on?" Gabriel strode into the kitchen looking like his usual fine self, and Patsy was instantly distracted by her husband. Was it bad to have the constant urge to lick him? He was her Halloween treat---and hella better than a Kit Kat.
"I thought you were setting up the decorations." She accepted his kiss, enjoying the tiny thrill the small contact initiated.
"Eva kicked all the men out. She accused us of not helping." He scoped out the bowls of candy. "I figured I'd grab some Kit Kats."
"I told you guys to keep your paws off the candy." She pointed down. "Look what Wilson found."
Gabriel leaned over. "It's an eyeball. Nice touch."
"It's real," she said. "See all the red, stringy parts?"
Wilson made a gagging sound, and ran toward the sink. "Gross, gross, gross!"
"Really?" asked Patsy. "I thought I raised you to be less girly."
"I don't apologize for finding someone's ripped out eye hurl-worthy." He leaned over the sink and took in deep breaths. "I'm reacting like a normal person. You're the freak."
"Thanks, son."
"Whose do you think it is?" asked Gabriel.
"Well, did you see anyone with only one eye, possibly screaming and clutching their face, wandering around our house?"
Gabriel actually took a minute to think about it. "Nope. How about that Kit Kat?"
"Dude!" Wilson sucked in half the room's oxygen. Then he turned around and marched out muttering about his parents, the mental patients.
"What do we do about it?" asked Patsy.
"We could ask Eva if she wants to use it for decorations."
"I see why you got kicked out." Patsy grabbed a handful of Kit Kats and pushed them into her husband's hand. "C'mon. We need to check out how the haunted house is coming along."
Holding hands, they left the kitchen.
A few minutes later, Jenny Matthews O'Halloran skipped into the kitchen. She paused, then turned and gestured to her companion. "C'mere. Told you I found it!"
The man paused in the doorway. He was dressed in a dark suit with shiny black shoes. His hair was wispy, and his skin tinged gray. "Uuuuhhh."
Jenny dug in one of the drawers and took out a small, metal tube. Then she squeezed the substance over the back of the eyeball.
Carefully she picked up the lid and walked very slowly over to her new friend. "Here you go, Larry. Put it in quick. I put Super Glue on it, so it should stay in now."
"Uuuuhhh." The man plucked the eyeball from the lid. He tried to stick it into his socket, but missed and the orb landed on his forehead.
Jenny tried to help, but Larry had gotten one of his fingers stuck in the glue. So now his hand and his eye were stuck to his forehead. After a minute of Jenny pulling on his arm, his hand came away, but his finger skin stayed put. It hung off the side of the eyeball like a little bat wing.
Oops.
Jenny cocked her head and considered the problem. "It doesn't look that bad."
"Uuuuhhh."
"Well, at least you'll never lose that eye again." She grabbed a Kit Kat and handed it to him. "C'mon. I want you to scare my brother."
The zombie stuffed the entire candy bar, wrapper and all, into his mouth.
Jenny laughed. "Happy Halloween, Larry."I REALLY DIG YOU
"It's a shovel," Jessica Matthews said as she accepted the object from Patsy. She looked around the cemetery, and shuddered. She thrust the shovel back at her friend. "No. Hell, no. You tricked me."
"I promised you Godiva," said Patsy, "but only after you do me this one little favor." She plucked her own shovel from the trunk of her white Mercedes. "It won't take long."
Jessica glared at Patsy, who ignored her and walked down the nearest row of tombstones.
"Fine!" said Jessica stomping after her, "but I want two boxes of Godiva."
Patsy stopped at a grave and peered down at the piles of dirt. Jessica squatted next to her and examined the hole. It was easy to make out the ripped open coffin. "Are those chains?"
"I didn't know what else to do," said Patsy. "He keeps getting out."
"Who?"
"Larry Stotten."
"And he is...?"
"I don't know. Some guy who died in 1954."
Jessica stood up and looked around the cemetery. It was quiet. The full moon hung in the sky like a white chocolate truffle nestled against a sky of dark chocolate. Mmm. Chocolate.
"There he is!" yelled Patsy.
The vampire queen took off and Jessica followed. It was only after they reached the zombie that she remembered as a vampire of the Family Ruadan, she could fly. She looked down at her muddied shoes and sighed.
"Hey Larry," said Patsy. "Time to go night-night pal."
"Noooooo."
"Dude. He talked."
Patsy tossed Jessica a glare. "I don't care if he sings opera. He can't wander around the freaking town." She aimed the shovel at his knees and WHAM.
Larry the zombie went down howling.
"Grab his head!" shouted Patsy as she sat on his squirming legs.
"How about no?"
"Three boxes, okay? Just hold on to his damned head so I can drain his ju-ju."
"That sounds perverted."
"Jessica!"
"Fine!" Jess dropped her shovel and knelt next to Larry. He had wispy hair and gray skin and for some reason, his left eyeball was attached to his forehead. "Ew. What up with that?"
Patsy spared a glance and grimaced. "Every time he gets out something weird happens to him."
"Is this the same guy who bit Meyer?"
"No. If you'll recall Meyer kicked that zombie's head off."
"Oh. right."
Jessica grabbed Larry's head and the eye still in its socket rolled up to look at her. "Sorry, dude."
His arms stretched toward her, but his coordination sucked and he didn't do much other than wiggle his fingers at her.
"Noooooo."
Jessica felt sorry for him. What was wrong with having a zombie for the town mascot? It wasn't like it would be weird or anything.
"Pleeeeaaassee."
"His breath is rank, but I swear I can smell Kit Kat."
"You can detect Kit Kat taint on zombie breath?"
"It's a talent."
Patsy shook her head and started muttering the spell that would turn poor Larry from zombie to corpse. A minute later, he stopped moving and lay still. Then she said, "I think we should chop him up."
"Not for all the Godiva in the world," said Jessica. "Let's just get him back into the grave. And you know what? If he rises again, just leave him alone. He was kinda nice for a zombie."
Patsy scooped up Larry and carried him to the grave. After getting him tucked in, her and Jess piled on the dirt until the hole was filled.
"I need a shower," said Jessica.
"Me, too. Let's get outta here."
They walked to Patsy's Mercedes, dumped the shovels into the trunk, and left.
Almost three hours passed before two gray hands popped out of the freshly turned earth like big ugly flowers. A few minutes later, Larry crawled out of his grave and leaned against his marble headstone. He straightened his damaged knees, checked to make sure his forehead eye was still affixed, then got up and shuffled toward town. DO YOU FEAR WHAT I FEAR?
"It's haunted," said Bryan O'Halloran.
"Hel- lo, welcome to Broken Heart," said Wilson Donovan. "Everything's haunted. Just ask my mom."
Wilson's mother, Patsy, would know. Like his own mom, Patsy had gotten Turned into a vampire. And she could actually see and talk to ghosts. She saw them everywhere; worse, they saw her. Plus, she'd once raised a zombie army, which Bryan thought was so beast.
"Well, this house was haunted before the town got freak-a-fied." They left the cracked sidewalk and walked through the yard, which was filled with itchy, knee-high grass. Bryan aimed his flashlight across the front of the tiny house. The beam revealed peeling gray paint, broken windows, and a sagging porch.
This section of the neighborhood had long been abandoned. The streetlights didn't work, the sidewalks were crumbling, and all the houses in the cul de sac looked like movie sets for horror movies.
"You know the story, right?" asked Bryan. He approached the porch, stopping at the broken steps and peering at the front door. It was half-opened, offering a diagonal glimpse into the darkened room beyond it.
"Lemme guess," said Wilson, sounding bored. "Some dude killed his wife. With an ax. Then he buried her in the basement."
Bryan rolled his eyes. "What is this? The Goosebumps hour?" He laughed, mostly to cover how nervous he felt. For all the weird crap he'd seen---from his vampire mom to that zombie with the eye glued to his forehead---he was still creeped out by this place. They'd been hanging out at Wilson's house, talking about Halloween and trying to top each other's scary stories. Then Bryan had mentioned this place, and now they were on a ghost field trip.
"What are you waiting for, dude?" Wilson punched his shoulder. "C'mon."
He jumped over the steps and crossed the porch, which didn't look too steady. Still, no way would he let Wilson think he was a coward. He followed him into the house. They stood in the small living room, and Bryan flashed the light around.
"It smells like ass in here," said Wilson.
The beam revealed a ratty couch and a broken coffee table. Obviously, they weren't the first trespassers to venture here. Graffiti covered the walls and trash littered the nasty, hole-ridden carpet.
"So what's the story?" asked Wilson. He turned on his own flashlight and flicked it over the wall to examine the graffiti.
"It was 1954. A widower and his two little girls move from Tulsa to Broken Heart. One day, the girls disappeared---somewhere between the bus stop and this house. Nobody every knew what happened to them. The father went crazy with grief and shot himself. Some people think he killed his daughters."
Wilson looked over his shoulder, his expression suggesting minor interest. "And buried them in the basement?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Lame." Wilson panned the light into the hallway. "Where do you think the basement door is?"
"Probably in the kitchen," said Bryan.
"Let's go."
Bryan reluctantly followed his friend into the kitchen, and yeah, there was the door that led to the basement. He had to admit this place was creepy. It smelled bad, too, like rotting meat. And he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Goosebumps pimpled his skin and the hair on the back of his neck felt electrified.
But he couldn't wimp out. Wilson would never let him live it down if he refused to go check out the basement.
"That's weird," said Wilson. "This whole place is falling apart, but this door is nailed shut." He ran his fingers along the doorjamb. "We can't get in this way."
Relief flooded Bryan. Any excuse not to go down to the basement was okay by him. "I'm bored," he said. "Let's roll."
"Don't be a chickenshit. We'll go outside. Maybe there's a window or a ground entry."
BANG!
Both boys nearly jumped out of their skins.
"What the hell was that?" asked Bryan. He spun around the dilapidated kitchen. The light bounced from ceiling to floor.
"Ooooooooooooooo."
Bryan's heart kicked into overdrive and his palms got sweaty. Fear rollercoastered through him. He looked at Wilson. His friend was as white as a sheet, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. "It's nothing," he said, but he didn't sound convinced.
"Ooooooooooooooo!"
Knock, bang, knock, bang.
"I'm out!" cried Wilson.
They bolted from the house, sprinting over the steps, and kept on running all the way down the street.
A minute later, Tamara LeRoy and Jenny O'Halloran popped out from their hiding places in the cabinets.
"Boys are stupid," said Jenny.
Tamara smiled. "Eh. They have other uses."
"Yuck." Jenny turned on her flashlight and moved it around the kitchen. "You really think that guy killed his kids?"
"No," said Tamara. "I think it's a dumb story."
They examined the dusty counters. "Hey look." Jenny picked up a battered business card. "Larry Stotten." Her eyes went wide. "That's my zombie!"
"I told you, Jen, you can't keep a pet zombie. Your mom doesn't even like cats."
"Maybe he's looking for his daughters," said Jenny. "We should help him."
"It's been more than fifty years," said Tamara. "I don't think that's a mystery we can solve."
Jenny crossed the kitchen and examined the basement door. "That was smart of you to nail the door shut. It sure freaked out the boys."
"I didn't nail it shut."
Tamara and Jenny shared a look.
"Time to go," whispered Tamara.
Jenny nodded, and together, they hurriedly left the house of Larry Stotten. SHE'S NOT MY GHOUL FRIEND
"Zombie alert," said Jessica O'Halloran. She plopped down next to Patsy on the couch and stuck her hand into the bowl of popcorn. New residents to Broken Heart would never have so casually taken a seat next to the queen of two paranormal species, much less pawed her popcorn. But Jessica had known Patsy practically her whole life, and often still asked her for a haircut. Prior to Patsy's prophesied role as leader over all, she'd been the town's beautician.
"It's Larry, isn't it?" asked Patsy. She never took offense of Jessica's casual treatment of her. Actually, she preferred it over all the fawning she got from people who wanted her to decide crap about their lives. She wasn't Oprah for God's sake.
"Nope. Some dead chick in a pink nightie," said Jessica. "But Larry's out there, too. I think there's a zombie argument going on." She shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "I find it ironic we're watching Shaun of the Dead."
"I've raised a zombie army," said Patsy, "and that part where the zombies start ripping out that guy's stomach still squicks me out."
"Eh," said Jessica. "Once you've hacked off someone's head, zombie eating habits aren't that exciting."
"You ever known our zombies to eat brains?" asked Patsy.
"I've never known them to eat anything. It's not like you can't run away from a zombie. I've seen snails outpace them."
Patsy sighed. "Well, I better get out there and see what's going on."
She stood up, and Jessica did, too. Together, they went to the front door, and opened it. Larry stood in the front yard, dressed in his business suit, his wispy hair done in a come-over. He was moaning angrily at the female zombie in front of him. She was in a pink nightie, just as Jessica said, but had no shoes. Her blonde hair was up in curlers.
"Seriously," said Patsy. "Did she get buried that way? Who goes to their grave in a nightgown and hair curlers?"
"Maybe the mortician got lazy."
Larry pointed at the female and then jerkily swung his arm toward the road. He did this gesture several times.
"I think he wants her to leave," said Jessica. "Darn. I shoulda brought the popcorn. Zombie soap opera is kinda fun."
"Don't get any ideas," said Patsy. She marched across the yard and thumped Larry on the shoulder. "Hey! How many times I gotta bury you?"
"Uh!" Larry turned toward her, his one good eye focusing on her. The eyeball Superglued to his forehead was looking a little... disgusting. "Uh!" He pointed at the lady and again, pointed to the road.
"Dude. Do not tell me zombies have territory. Or is she your wife or something?"
"Uhhhhhhh!" Larry actually shook his head.
"Uh," said lady zombie. She pointed at Larry. "Uh!"
"I need a freaking translator," said Patsy.
"It's hard for them to form words," yelled Jessica from the porch. "Their mouths don't work well."
"Thank you, Nurse," groused Patsy. "C'mon, you two, get outta here. Go shuffle over to cemetery and get back into your graves like nice zombies."
To her surprise, both zombies crossed their arms and glared at her.
"You know what? Fine. Wander around town. I don't give a shit anymore. But get off my lawn. Now."
"Uh," said Larry. He turned and shuffled to the driveway.
His female friend followed him. Her moans sounded like irritated nagging.
Patsy returned to the porch.
"You gonna let them wander around town?"
"You suggested it, remember?"
"Ah," said Jessica, "zombie lurve."
"Shut up. C'mon. We'll do shots every time Shaun kills a zombie." Patsy went inside the house.
Jessica paused just a moment to study the two zombies shuffling toward the road. Then she shrugged, and followed Patsy, shutting the door behind her. GIVE ME A LEG UP
Libby Monroe Genessa stood in her front yard and stared at the object sticking up from the snow. She blinked a couple of times. Backed away. Scooted closer. Closed one eye and waved her hands.
Nope. It was still there.
"Ralph!"
Her husband, already on the porch hanging up a Thanksgiving wreath, waved at her to wait. She hadn't quite gotten over hanging up a Turkey Day wreath. Christmas wreaths, she could understand. But Thanksgiving? What was appropriate for one of those? Heaps of stuffing dotted with cranberries with turkey legs hanging off? Alas, her husband's version of a Thanksgiving wreath was merely a circle of twined limbs with fall leaves on it. And in the middle hung a little wooden sign saying "Happy Thanksgiving."
Still. Turkey legs. Nom, nom, baby. The dragon inside her snorted with approval. She had been a vegan for a very, very long time. Then she got... um, gifted with a dragon soul, and she married a vampire. Her views on consumption of meat had changed drastically. She suffered tremendous guilt when giving in her to her carnivorous cravings... she did. But, her daughter, who was certainly all dragon, had to eat meat. And so Libby had slowly introduced meat into her own diet while pregnant and in no time at all became a bacon whore.
Since she'd grown up on the road, raised by parents who were seriously devoted paranormal investigators, she hadn't experienced the insanity of holiday celebrations. They hadn't really celebrated anything, unless it was a successful investigation. Then her dad would pop for a trip to IHOP.
"That's a leg," said Ralph, who'd finally joined her. He slid his arm around her and placed a kiss on her temple. She still got giddy when he did stuff like that. She loved him deeply, and it was a good thing, too, since they were pretty much married for the next five-hundred years. Vampires who did the wild thing were hitched for a century, but dragons were committed for a half a millennium. She hugged Ralph, and then together, they stared at the leg. It was clothed in black pants, and a shiny black shoe.
"Dig under the snow drift and see if it's attached to anything," she said. Only in Broken Heart could two people find a freaking leg in their front yard and think it was normal.
"Zombies," muttered Ralph as he crouched down and used his vampire speed to dust away the snow. "They're always dropping their parts everywhere. And they smell like garbage dumps."
"I still like Jessica's idea that all zombies should be issued cans of Axe Body Spray," said Libby.
"Then they'll smell worse." He paused. "It's attached to a body."
Libby squatted next to him, and looked down at the man they'd uncovered. "It's Larry."
"Nah," said Ralph. "The last time we saw Zombie Larry, his eyeball was glued to his forehead."
Libby examined the guy's brow. "I see Superglue residue." She studied him intently, frowning. His eyes were open, staring sightlessly ahead. "I swear it's Larry. Only he's looking a little less dead."
"Other than that blue tinge, I think you're right," said Ralph. "No more flaking skin, no more slack mouth, and his hair had definitely grown back. What's that in his hand?"
Libby plucked out the orange gem. "It's a big faceted crystal." She looked at it. "Probably fake."
Larry blinked, and then he moaned. Not a zombie moan. A human one. Translation: OUCH!
"Holy crap," said Libby. "He's alive. Let's get him inside."
\*
"I'm completely freaked out," said Libby as she helped her husband arrange a comatose, but breathing Larry in the backseat of the Honda. "Seriously. Freaked. Out."
"I think we should belt him in," said Ralph as he studied the not-so-dead zombie stretched in the back seat. He was too tall to fit, so he was really scrunched in there.
"Hel- lo," said Libby from the other side of the car. "Your wife needs reassurance."
Ralph stopped contemplating the Larry transportation issue and rounded the car to hug his wife. "This is Broken Heart," he said. "When was the last time something weird didn't happen here?"
"True." She sighed. "I guess we should get him buckled in."
Ralph kissed her. She melted into his embrace, and for a second, the kiss went nuclear, and she forgot all about the zombie.
"If there wasn't an almost dead guy in it the backseat, I would take you to our bedroom right now," said Ralph.
"Yay for night school!" said Libby. The boys were in third grade now, and their daughter had started kindergarten. "Boo for zombies."
"Let's go," said Ralph. "Now."
Libby felt a little guilty for shoving the zombie around and being all in a hurry so they could return home for some nookie.
Then again... Larry would understand.
"What about the gem?" asked Libby.
"Let's hand it over to Patsy and Gabriel. It might have something to do with Larry's new lease on life."
"Okay dokay." She threw her husband a smoky look. "Let's roll. 'Cause time is a wastin'."
Ralph dove in the car and had the engine turned over before Libby had buckled her own seatbelt.
He took off like a shot, and Larry, not so comfortably arranged behind his own seatbelt, groaned.
\*
"The zombie's here," said Patsy. The queen of vampires and werewolves was sitting on the front porch with her husband sharing a bowl of chocolate ice cream. Offering him some had been a big-assed mistake because he'd eaten half the freakin' the bowl. But then he suggested what they could do with rest of the ice cream, and she'd darned near called Ralph and Libby to hold off on the delivery of the strangely alive Larry.
"I hate being the boss," she groused as they watched the Honda zip up the very long driveway. "Is it just me, or does Ralph think he's a Nascar driver?"
"He does seem to be in a hurry," said Gabriel. He leaned down and kissed his wife's neck, which made her shiver. "I promise we will have time later to explore our dessert options."
Patsy grinned at him.
Ralph barely had the car in park before he jumped out, and swung open the door to the Honda's back seat.
"Here you go," said Libby, as she popped out of the car, and helped her husband haul out the zombie.
Patsy left the bowl of ice cream on the porch, and walked with Gabriel to take over their new charge. "You found him in a snow bank?"
"Yep," said Ralph. He practically threw the zombie at Gabriel, who managed to catch the poor man and swing him up into his powerful arms.
"He had this on him," said Libby. She lobbed an object at Patsy, who caught it easily. "It's a gem. Don't know much else about it."
Libby was already in the car, belting herself in.
"That's it?" asked Patsy incredulously.
"Pretty much," said Ralph. "Good luck."
He scrambled into the car, and within two seconds, the Honda was zipping back down the driveway.
Patsy looked at her husband, feeling even more grumpy. "They are so going home to have sex."
"Yeah," said Gabriel. "I think the werewolves in Siberia could smell those pheromones."
"Lucky bastards," said Patsy. She sighed. "All right. Let's get him into a room and get Stan over here. Unless he's having sex, too. Why does everyone get sex, but me?"
Gabriel laughed, as they both turned toward the house. "I promise, my love, that I will accommodate your needs as soon as possible."
Patsy brightened. "Sweet." Her gaze went to the zombie who seemed to sleeping peacefully in the werewolf's arms. "I wonder what his story is."
"We will know soon enough," said Gabriel.
They walked into the house.
A few minutes later, with Larry securely tucked into a comfortable bed, Gabriel returned to the porch. He picked up the bowl of melted ice cream, and grinned.
\*
"He's not bad-looking," said Linda Beauchamp Michaels. "For a zombie."
Her husband, Dr. Stan Michaels, looked down at the unconscious man splayed on the bed. Patsy and Gabriel had placed him in one of many available guest bedrooms. The man who'd spent months shuffling around Broken Heart with an eyeball Superglued to his forehead was looking more alive with every passing minute.
"I don't think he's a zombie anymore," said Stan. "He's got a heartbeat. And his lungs are working."
"And he's got skin," added Linda. "Not to mention all of his hair."
Stan rubbed a hand over his bald head and slanted a glance at his wife. She grinned and kissed him soundly. "I love you, Cueball."
"Well, I'd believe you if you weren't drooling all over the dead guy."
"He's not dead," she said. "Besides, you're the only guy, dead or otherwise, for me."
Mollified, Stan moved away from the bed. He scooped the orange gem from the nightstand. This gem had been going around Broken Heart the last few days and granting wishes to whoever held it. "He must've made a wish," he mused.
"But how did he get it?"
Stan shook his head. "I don't know."
"It's mine," said a hoarse voice.
Linda and Stan were both startled and turned to look at Larry.
"I lost it fifty years ago."
"You've been dead for fifty years?" Linda sounded horrified. "How did you get back into your body? How did you get... alive again?"
Larry had blue eyes, and blond hair. He was tall, and as he got more and more... well, alive, he was also getting muscled. Larry the former zombie really was a looker.
"He appears to be returning to the same form he had before he died," murmured Stan. He was staring at the man with clinical precision, no doubt noting details no one else would think important.
"Before I was murdered," said Larry. His eyes fluttered closed.
"Shit," said Linda. "Murdered?"
Larry had obviously passed back out. She glanced at her husband, who shrugged.
"We'll let the queen know, but I hardly think solving a fifty-year-old murder is relevant now." Stan returned the orange gem to the nightstand. "We should let him rest. I've taken all the samples I need." He picked up the case where he'd stored the blood and skin he'd taken from Larry.
"Poor soul," said Linda as she took her husband's free hand. "I hope he's okay."
"We'll know more after I finish the tests," said Stan. "C'mon, sweetheart."
He led her out of the bedroom, and she turned and shut the door behind them.
A couple minutes later, the closet door popped open and thirteen-year-old Jenny Matthews O'Halloran stepped out. Larry had been the town zombie because of her.
She'd found him when she was nine years old---on Halloween night. He was her zombie, and she had to take responsibility for him. She rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe she'd even thought that. Mom was all about responsibility this and responsibility that. What-ev-er. At least rescuing a zombie was more fun that scrubbing toilets. Bathroom duty totally sucked. And they were rich, so they could pay someone to clean the whole house, too, except her parents were too down-to-earth to employ a maid service.
Quietly, Jenny crept to the bed and shook her zombie awake. "Larry?"
He blinked awake. "Princess?"
"Yeah," she tugged on him. "C'mon. I'm getting you outta here."
He smiled. "You're rescuing me?"
"Like you rescued me, Larry." Jenny didn't like thinking about that night in the cemetery. If Larry hadn't seen her fall into the pit... she shuddered just remembering how it felt to have the earth give way under her feet.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe," she promised.
"I need clothes."
"Thought of that!" Jenny ran to the closet and grabbed an armful of clothing from the floor. "I brought some of my dad's sweats."
She piled the pants and shirt onto the bed. "There's another way out of this room," she said. "In the closet. There's a little hallway that goes down to a door into the garden. Soon as you're dressed, I'll meet you there."
"Okay, princess."
Jenny scurried into the secret passage, her heart pounding. Her plan had only been to get Larry away from the adults who would only poke and prod him like he was a lab rat. She didn't know what she would do after she got him to her secret place in the woods, but as her mother said, one damned problem at time.
\*
Larry Stotten stood underneath the oak tree and watched Jenny scrabble up the wood slats that had been nailed into it, forming a ladder up to the tree house above.
"Daddy built it for us," said Jenny. She paused. "Not Patrick. My real dad. He died."
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I'm lucky I got two good daddies. Some kids don't even get one."
Larry's newly beating heart stuttered. He'd once believed himself to be a good daddy, too. After his wife died, he'd moved the girls to Broken Heart. He'd thought, much to his everlasting regret, living in a small town would be safer. He hadn't counted on his wife's gem bringing trouble to their door. On her death bed, Lila made him promise to never give it to her step-brother. Ean wasn't a nice man, she'd said. A big understatement. He was a kidnapper. And a murderer. But at least he'd never gotten the gem.
There were so many things he hadn't known about Lila or her family. It hadn't been her fault that her mother's second marriage had been to a man without moral character. It was Lila's mother who stole the gem and gave her to her daughter for safekeeping. Larry hadn't known his wife's secret, not until she gave him the stone and told him to protect it, and their girls.
He hadn't known the gem's powers. He hadn't known Ean was an honest-to-God mage. He hadn't known there was no way to ever keep his daughters safe.
"Larry?"
Jenny's voice filtered down from the tree house. He shook off the memories, and began the climb. His thick fingers and sneakered feet didn't do well on the thin strips of wood. He slipped a few times, but finally, he managed to get to the square hole cut in the bottom of the tree house. It was at least a decade old, and the floor creaked ominously as he crawled onto it.
Jenny was prepared. She had two battery-powered lanterns, a stockpile of energy bars, chocolate, and bottled water. She even had pillows and a sleeping bag. "I figure you can hang out here until... well, we figure out what to do next."
"Thank you, Jenny. You're a good friend."
She beamed at him.
He remembered that his daughters used to smile at him like that, especially if he'd said yes to candy or to an extra bedtime story. Fifty years. He could never, ever get those years back. His life had been stolen.
"Why are you... you know, alive?" Jenny was studying him, her smile giving way to a frown.
"This." He pulled the gem out of his pocket. "It's a wishing stone."
"Wishing stone?" She looked skeptical, which made him laugh. The child lived in a town with vampires, dragons, werewolves, and zombies, but the idea of a gem that granted wishes seemed unbelievable to her. He tucked it back into his pocket.
"A long time ago a mage named Merlin made it. It's dangerous, Jenny. A lot of people would like to get their hands on it. People who aren't very nice."
"Why don't you wish it away?"
"I can't. There are rules. Especially for the guardian." One wish per person. He'd never made a wish on it. He hadn't known what it was until after Lila died. She'd transferred guardianship to him the day before she passed away, and told him what it did mere minutes before she breathed her last. He would never know why she didn't wish away her disease. Had she already made a wish? Or did she want so badly to be free of the gem, she preferred to die? He wanted to believe enough in her love, in her loyalty, to think she would've never left him and their daughters alone unless she felt as though she had no choice.
The day his girls disappeared, he'd intended on going to the stone's hiding place and wishing for their return, but Ean had found him first. And killed him.
After he died, he had no idea where he'd gone. He didn't remember. Not heaven, not hell. Not even limbo.
One night, he'd woken up in his desiccated body fighting in a battle right out of an Orson Welles screenplay. It turned out that Queen Patsy had called forth the dead in the Broken Heart cemetery to fight demons and vampires trying to destroy the town.
After the fighting was over, and they had won, he could only think about staying out of the grave. He knew there was something he was supposed to do, but not what. And he hadn't known his name, or even what he was. There was only that insistent, driving urge to remain upright and moving.
Then he'd found the gem in Stan and Linda's backyard.
The moment he touched it, everything instantly came back, and he'd made the wish to live again. He'd felt the heat and the power of the magic---and then... well, he'd woken up in a snowdrift, then in Ralph's Honda, and finally in the bed at Queen Patsy's house.
"I have to find my daughters."
"No problem," said Jenny. "I've been Googling all the over the place." She pulled out a small laptop.
Larry understood that technology had made many leaps since his demise. He'd seen enough computers on his ramblings to know what they were---even if he wasn't sure how they worked. Curious, he watched Jenny flip open the machine and start tapping on the keys.
"Their names are Beatrice Alice and Catherine Laverna, right?"
"Yes," said Larry. "How'd you know?"
"Tamara and I looked up their school records." Tap, tap, tap. "You filed a missing persons report a couple hours before you disappeared."
"Did they... were they..." He swallowed the knot his in throat. "Found?"
"You mean dead?" She looked at him, sympathy in her gaze. "Not here. But..." She turned the laptop around and showed him the screen. "Adoption records for Beatrice Alice and Catherine Laverna, both with the last name of Stotten. They grew up in Tulsa, and still live there. They got married, had kids, and grandkids."
"Adopted?" Bea had been six, and Cathy eight. Now his own children were older than he was. He'd been returned to the age he'd died, which made him thirty-two.
Jenny shrugged. "There's nothing about them being found in town. Or how they ended up getting adopted."
Had Lila's brother kidnapped them, and then somehow grown a conscious, allowing them to return to Tulsa to be adopted? His stomach squeezed. Had Ean adopted them?
"Who raised my girls?"
"Leticia and Ernest Mortimer," said Jenny.
Larry frowned. He'd never heard of them.
"Is it really important to know how they got there?" asked Jenny. "You wanted to know what happened to 'em, and now you do. Bea's an accountant and Cathy's a doctor."
Larry looked away, his eyes hot with tears. His daughters were alive, and apparently doing well. And what could he do? Show up and say, "Hey, I'm your dead father?"
"I'd like to see them," he said. He just needed to make sure they were okay. "Can you find out about Ean Whittaker?"
Jenny nodded. While she worked, he ate one of the energy bars. It wasn't too bad, but the chocolate bar was much better. He'd forgotten how great food could taste.
"Dead."
Larry blinked. "What?"
Once again, she turned the computer around and handed it to Larry. On the screen was an article from the Tulsa Tribune. It was dated the same day he'd died.
Three men and two little girls had been in a car accident. Apparently the car had stalled on a train track and been broadsided. Only the girls had escaped unscathed.
"My daughters lived," said Larry as he returned the laptop. "And Ean and his goons died."
Maybe Lila had made a wish, after all. It would be just like her to plan ahead like that, and very much like her to give up her own life for their girls. He felt oddly at ends. The driving force behind his re-animation, and his own wish to live again, seemed to be moot.
"What now?" asked Jenny.
"I don't know." He unwrapped another chocolate bar. "I'll go to Tulsa and see the girls, and then... well, I guess I could live in Broken Heart."
"Your house is kinda falling down," said Jenny. She chewed on her bottom lip. "They're gonna want to test you and stuff."
"Who?"
"Doctor Stan."
Larry shrugged. "That's okay. I don't have anywhere else to go."
"I won't let them hurt you."
He reached over and chucked her under the chin. "You're a good kid, Jenny."
"What-ev-er." She rolled her eyes, but he could see that she was pleased by his compliment.
"I guess we don't have to hide out then," said Jenny. "I can take you home. Mom and Dad will help you."
"Okay," said Larry. He was still the guardian of the gem's power even though he couldn't wield it. He'd used his wish. But maybe it could be used to help Broken Heart and the people who lived here.
"C'mon," said Jenny. She shut the laptop and shoved it into a backpack. Then she grabbed one of the lanterns. "If I'm not back for breakfast, Mom'll flip her sh---er, stuff."
"Flip her stuff?"
"Yeah," she said, blushing. "It's one of the crazy things us teens say."
"Uh-huh."
She scurried to the hole and made her way down the trunk. Then Larry followed, a little more sure-footed this time.
Jenny waited for him, and then turned to make her way through the woods toward her house on Sanderson Street. Larry paused and looked up into the night sky. In his pocket, the wishing stone pulsed warmly, just like a heartbeat.
Just like a second chance. Bonus Stories About The Magic Gem!
DEAD YOU HEAR THAT?
"Where the hell is that damned box?" I paused and looked over my shoulder. I don't know why I bothered. We were in the attic of the house on Sanderson Street, which was where I'd lived with my kids while I was alive, and for a little while as a vampire. It's a long story. Anyway, my family and I had moved back into the house after vacating the Silverstone mansion. I wasn't too sorry about leaving there---it was huge, dusty, and a bitch to clean. Also, I got a lost. A lot.
"She's not here, Jessica," said my husband. My sexy Irish vampire bent over a trunk and dug through the contents. "And quit lookin' at my ass."
"I wasn't," I protested, moving my gaze away from his butt. (P.S. Fantastic view, peeps. Better naked, but hey, I'll take it where I can get it.) As for the "she" Patrick was talking about---that was my daughter, Jenny aka She Who Rules the Bad Words. My inability to stop cursing had put enough money in the Cussing Jar to pay for a Wii. Needless to say, I was paranoid. Jenny popped up out of nowhere with that damned jar. I think she's saving up for a PlayStation 3. Or college.
Patrick straightened. Cobwebs clung to his longish black hair. He plucked them out and sighed. "You know we're rich, right? Wealthy beyond measure. I could buy you new decorations. I could buy you an entire factory that made decorations."
"But these are family decorations," I whined. "Stuff the kids made. Like that Frankenstein Bryan made from a coffee can... and that pumpkin candle thingie that Jenny painted in 2nd grade."
"I can buy you new children."
"Patrick!"
He grinned; and lust zipped through me as hot and quick as lightning. He knew it, too, because his smile went all sexy. "Screamin' is traditional on Halloween, isn't it?"
"It's not Halloween."
"I still want to explore the screamin' issue. We should practice, I think."
Patrick tended to blur my good judgment---well, what little I actually had. It's not like I'd ever get a medal for good decision making. Still, I felt like I should at least try to accomplish the mission that had brought us to the attic.
"The sooner we find the decorations," I said, being all practical and responsible, "the sooner we can get to that screaming thing."
Patrick drew me into his arms and kissed me until I couldn't feel my toes. Then he stepped back and looked down at me, tender desire illuminating his silver gaze. "As you wish."
"Don't even try, Sucky McSuckpants."
He laughed. Then he let go of me and headed toward the opposite corner. I followed him to another towering pile of boxes, none of which I'd bothered to label. We each took a box. I found baby clothes; Patrick found Christmas lights.
The last box held the treasures I was looking for. Most of the items had been created by either Jenny or Bryan. When Rich, Jr. got older, I imagined he'd make a few things to add to my trove. He was my adopted son (part of that long story I mentioned earlier) and I loved him to the bottom of my undead heart.
Something glittered among the stick-figure witches and the orange and black paper chains. I plucked it and held it up to the wavering yellow light that barely cut into the dark attic. Not that Patrick and I needed too much light. Our vamp vision was awesome.
The gemstone was orange and about the size of a kiwi. I'd never seen it before and I wondered how it had gotten into the box of Halloween goodies.
"Let me see it, love."
I handed it to Patrick and he spent a quiet minute studying it. "There's magic here," he said.
"Uh-oh. The good kind, or the bad kind?"
"I don't know. It's too faint to tell."
"Well, let's give it to someone who can figure out what it is."
"Dr. Michaels then." Patrick stood and picked up the box of decorations. Because he was part Sidhe, he could fly, so he lowered himself through the attic trapdoor easily. I could do the same trick, but I choose to use the ladder.
When we got to the kitchen, Patrick put the box on the table. We'd wait until the kids got home from school to go through the stuff. Rich, Jr. was hanging out with his grandpa, and I was only slightly worried Ruadan was somewhere doing something he shouldn't.
Patrick took out the gem and examined it again. "It looks kinda familiar." He handed it to me and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. "I'm goin' to call Stan and hand it over to him. Maybe he can figure out what it is."
How had something magical ended up in my attic in a bunch of Halloween decorations? I'd never seen it before. Had one of the kids found it last year and just thrown into the box thinking it was Halloween-y?
Patrick finished his phone call. "Dr. Michaels will pick it up later."
"You know what I wish I had?" I asked, rubbing the gem. It was feeling a little hot. I didn't have a pulse, much less a temperature, so it wasn't me generating the heat.
"Chocolate?"
"Why do you always assume that's my wish?"
"Because it always is."
"This time it's something different."
Patrick looked at me, a smile flirting on his lips.
"I want those Godiva pecan pie truffles." I grinned. "In bed. With you."
He laughed and wrapped is arms around me. He leaned down for a kiss then paused.
Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop.
"Dead you hear that?" I asked.
Patrick looked at me, one eyebrow quirked. "Really? Why do you try to work 'dead' into every sentence?"
"'Cause I still think it's funny."
"That makes one of us."
We hurried up the stairs, following the odd sounds to our bedroom. Patrick opened the door and we peered inside.
Little foil-wrapped balls were raining onto the bed. Thanks to my vampire nose, I could smell the gourmet delight that was Godiva. I pushed past Patrick, who protested and tried to grab my arm, but hel-lo, ain't nothing or no one getting between me and a freaking bed full of Godiva.
I grabbed one of the truffles, unwrapped it, and stuffed into my mouth. "Oh, my sweet lord," I said, "it really is a pecan pie truffle."
"Jessica, where's the stone?"
I tossed him the gem and crawled onto the bed. I made a space, said a brief prayer of thanks that I no longer had to worry about widening my ass, and started unwrapping truffles.
"You made a wish while holding this," he said.
I glanced at him, a half-unwrapped truffle in my hand. "Do you think it has more wishes?"
"I think if it does, it's a very dangerous object."
"Well, Stan will figure it out. We can lock up it the Consortium vault, but right now..." I patted the bed. "We have chocolate. All we need is nakedness."
Patrick locked our bedroom door, put the weird orange gem onto the nightstand, and then climbed onto the bed, pushing aside the truffles. From that look in his eyes, I had a feeling things were about to get messy.
In a screamingly good way. Zombie Poetry
Uuuuuuh.
Uh. Uh. Uh.
Uuuuuuh.
Uh? Uh?
Uuuuuuh.
Uh!
Uuuuuuh.
Uh... uh... uh.
Uuuuuuh.
Uh; uh.
Uuuuuuh.
Uh: Uh, uh, uh.
Uuuuuuh.
Uh? Uh. Uh!
Brains. TUESDAY, THE 13TH
"What're you doing?" asked Linda as she entered the basement lab. Her husband, Dr. Stan Michaels, removed the gem he'd been studying under some fancified scientific doo-dad. "Oooh. That's pretty."
"Jessica found it in her attic in a box of Halloween decorations," he said. "Patrick sensed magic. He said it granted Jessica's wish."
"Chocolate?" asked Linda.
"Apparently it rained pecan pie truffles in their bedroom."
Linda leaned against the counter and looked at the gem. "I bet she ate every one of those truffles, too."
"Jessica does love her chocolate."
"And I love you."
That got his attention. He turned toward and grasped her hand. He wasn't the romance-novel type of vampire. Even the change hadn't rid him completely of his basketball belly, and it certainly hadn't given him more hair. He'd already been pale and doughy; so the Turning hadn't much changed him there, either. She missed his glasses; she'd always thought he looked real sexy in those square black frames. He was smart. A lot smarter than her, but he never made her feel dumb. She'd been the one to Turn him, and through the whole terrible process, she could only think about how much time she'd wasted fending off his advances 'cause of her own insecurities. He'd loved her, and she'd almost lost him. But now, they had eternity together.
"I'm surprised Jessica gave up something that made it rain chocolate." She picked up the jewel and examined it. It was a sparkling bright orange, not a color she'd seen in a real gemstone. "It's fake, right?"
"Not synthetic, but I can't find out what kind of crystal it is, either. Seems it would only grant the one wish," said Stan.
"Too bad," said Linda as she rubbed the faceted edges. "If it still worked, I'd wish for an in-ground pool with a waterfall and rock landscaping. Oh! And the water would replenish itself, we'd never have clean it, and it would smell like lavender."
Stan blinked up at her. "If you wanted a pool, why didn't you say so?"
"You've been busy." She gave him back the gem. "We haven't spent much time together lately."
"Oh, honey." Stan put down the orange stone and gathered his wife into his arms. "You're more important to me than anything. If you want a pool, then by God, you're getting a pool."
"C'mon," said Linda. She kissed him very slowly. "We can go upstairs and discuss the pool."
As she led Stan up the staircase, the ground started to shake. They heard a boom, and then the roar of water.
"What the hell?" she shouted. The earthquake stopped suddenly, and the two of them bolted up the stairs. They examined the house, but other than a few items bounced to the floor and an overturned hallway table, nothing seemed awry.
She was on the second floor, checking out the bedrooms, when she heard Stan's shout. She nearly tripped going back down the stairs. She hurried into the dining room. A row of windows allowed a view of their backyard. He was staring out the middle window, and she joined him. "What's so..." She gasped. "Holy crap."
Her dream pool, with an elaborate waterfall, landscaped with rock all the way around, was there, right there, in the place where her recently mowed backyard had once been.
She grabbed Stan's hand and dragged him outside. They examined the rocks, sniffed the lavender-scented air, and put their hands in the warmed water.
"It's perfect," she said. She tossed off her shoes and wiggled out of her jeans.
"C'mon, baby. Let's take a dip."
"No, not yet," said Stan. "We have to test the water, and do some readings. And the gem..." He lost his train of thought as his wife undressed, all the way down to her birthday suit.
"Or we could jump in," said Linda, grinning. "Cannonball!" She ran and jumped into the deep end, then broke the water and waved at him. "Are you gonna stand there or join me?"
There was only one response. Stan hurriedly divested himself of his clothes and jumped into the water. When he came up for air, Linda was waiting. She wrapped her luscious body around him and kissed him until he nearly forgot his own name.
"Wishes really do come true," he said.
"Hmmm," said Linda, her lips trailing his neck. "I have another wish... and I think you might be able to help."
Then she whispered into his ear.
He smiled, and started doing his best to make his beautiful wife's next wish come true.

