Page 100 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

My mouth went dry. “Are you safe?”

“I’m behind a fountain with two drama majors and a guy who brought a skateboard to a zombie apocalypse,” Mina said. “So no.”

“Call Spencer,” I said. “We need vampires again. We need Delia.”

“I am calling everyone,” Mina replied. “Just get here.”

The call ended.

Silence filled my bedroom for half a heartbeat.

Then Cal was already moving, eyes intent. “Get dressed.”

I shoved out of bed, the egg bond tugging hard as my panic spiked. The baby sensed distress and answered with a pulse that felt like a warning in my ribs.

“I need to tell Greyson,” I said, grabbing my phone.

“I will,” Cal replied. “You dress.”

I pulled on jeans and a sweater with shaking hands, then shoved my feet into boots.

We sprinted out of my suite and into the street. His SUV sat parked near the curb, dark and unremarkable, as if it did not belong to a gargoyle who had spent the night before hauling undead into a crater.

He opened my door, waited for me to get inside, then climbed in and started the engine.

As we pulled away, I called Spencer. He answered on the second ring, voice tight with exhaustion.

“It’s Salima,” I said. “The zombies attacked the university.”

Spencer swore softly. “Delia is still wiping hospital witnesses.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But this is spreading.”

“I will send a team,” Spencer replied. “Hold the line until we get there.”

I ended the call and stared out the windshield as Cal drove toward Ravenholde University.

The campus came into view like a postcard that had been dipped in horror.

Old brick buildings. Leafless trees. A wide quad with a central fountain. Benches. Decorative lights. It should have looked peaceful.

Instead, students ran in every direction, screaming, stumbling, dropping backpacks. Several had phones up, recording as they ran, because people were incapable of surviving without documentation.

Two undead lunged across the grass near the fountain, moving too fast for stiff corpses. One tackled a student. The student went down hard, and the sound of his head hitting stone made my stomach lurch.

Mina stood near the library steps, hair wild, face pale. Two of her friends held cameras, eyes wide, filming anyway. Another student yelled at people to get back, waving his arms as if he were directing traffic in hell.

Cal braked hard. “Stay close.”

We got out and ran.

A zombie lunged toward a girl near the fountain. Cal intercepted it, grabbing it by the neck and slamming it down. The corpse writhed, snapping its jaw.

Cal’s eyes flashed. He twisted, and the neck cracked.

The body still moved.

Not as violently, but enough.