Page 4 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

I answered because ignoring the high priestess never ended well, and because if the council was calling, this was already bigger than one undead idiot on my street.

“What?” I demanded, voice harsh.

“Where are you?” Lucinda’s tone was clipped, as if I’d personally inconvenienced her morning.

“I’m outside,” I snapped. “People are running. There’s a⁠—”

“A zombie,” she cut in, as if she’d already moved past the shock and into irritation. “Yes. We know. Get to the council chambers. Now.”

I glanced at the corpse in front of me as it swayed, head tilted, listening to nothing.

“You want me to leave this here?”

“You want to argue?” Lucinda’s voice rose. “Move, Salima. This is council business.”

Council business. The words tasted bitter.

I’d been council business in Salem. That hadn’t gone well for me or for anyone who stood too close.

“I’m on my way,” I said, because fighting on the phone while a zombie tried to chew my face off felt like a bad use of time.

“Good,” she snapped. “And Salima? If you know anything, you tell us first.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone for half a second, then shoved it back into my grip like it could keep me grounded.

The zombie lurched again.

I didn’t have a weapon. I didn’t have supplies. I had a bathrobe and a headache and the world’s worst timing.

So I did the only sane thing.

I ran.

Not away from the zombie. Past it. I sprinted up the sidewalk, darted around a parked car, and threw a final shove of magic over my shoulder. It knocked the corpse sideways, giving me a few precious seconds.

I flew back toward my house, feet slapping pavement, robe belt flapping like a ridiculous flag.

As I crossed the yard, I heard Harriet’s voice from upstairs.

“Salima?” she called with worry. “What’s going on out there?”

“Stay inside!” I shouted back. “Lock your doors!”

I didn’t wait for her response. I slammed into my basement suite, heart pounding, and nearly tripped over a pile of laundry I’d been pretending didn’t exist.

I yanked open my dresser.

Pants. Shirt. Jacket. Anything that didn’t scream helpless.

My phone buzzed again, and I almost dropped it.

A text from Faith.

Picking you up. Five minutes.

I stared at the message, then exhaled as if I’d been holding my breath since the first scream.