Simi flashed her fangs. “I like Akri-Bubba’s idea. The Simi votes for that!”
Really, so did he. If only life worked that way.
“We’ll try it Grim’s way. If I fail, feed him to Simi.”
Her smile widening, she dug a bottle of hot sauce out of her coffin purse. “The Simi isn’t hoping something happens to Akri-Nick, but she is hungry. Just saying.”
At least she was honest. There was something to be said for that.
With a heavy sigh, Nick headed for the gate.
“Nick?”
He paused to look at Kody. “Yeah?”
“Be careful. I love you.”
“Love you too. Y’all watch over each other and I’ll go get your dad.”
She pulled him into her arms and gave him the sweetest kiss he’d ever known.
Nick breathed her in, grateful that she was a vital part of his life. Honestly, he had no idea what he’d do without her. Stepping back, he kissed her brow, then pushed her gently toward Simi. “Guard my girl for me, Simi. Don’t let anything happen to her.”
“I won’t.”
With a reluctance that ran through him, he released Kody and faced the others. “If y’all hear me scream like a girl in a horror movie, please come get me.”
Xev laughed. “Absolutely.”
Nick inclined his head to her, then took a deep breath for courage.
Step through it.
But it felt so ominous. Terrifying. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fought alone. With no one at his back.
He didn’t want to be alone. It just didn’t seem right.
Grim had no expression on his face whatsoever.
Just go.Easier said than done. Nick knew he had to do it. It didn’t make it any better.
You can do it.
He actually knew hecoulddo it.The problem was, he didn’twantto do it.
Closing his eyes, he tapped his powers and used them to light up the dark chamber. Then he moved his hand and broke the lock. The doors creaked even more ominously as he swung them wide. He half expected an Alice Cooper song to start playing.
Where were those soundtracks when you needed them?
Then again, he started hearing Bauhaus’s “Stigmata Martyr” ringing in his head. All this place needed was a wicked strobe and it would be the perfect place for a rave.
“Undead. Undead. Undead …” He began singing “Bela Lugosi’s Dead.”
It really wasn’t helping. He could feel his ulcer growing as he waited for something to jump-scare him.
“I swear if that haggard old man jumps in my face, I’m going to rip his head off.”
Think happy thoughts …
