Page 83 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

“I am not,” I lied, because apparently lying was my hobby tonight.

Cal’s hand touched my elbow, steadying me. “Salima.”

I swallowed. “I am fine.”

His gaze held mine for a beat, and that unwanted pull flared again, heat and hunger that had no business existing in a parking lot full of death magic. My body, traitorous, had the brief thought that kissing him would be calming.

My brain responded with a mental scream.

I tore my attention back to the egg, pushed healing warmth through the bond, and forced my knees to stay locked.

The shield air shimmered.

A sound rolled across the parking lot, low and pleased, like laughter scraped through sand.

My skin went cold.

Not because of Dagna.

Because I knew that sound.

Eve froze mid-movement, hellfire hovering in her hands.

Dagna’s smile returned, wider now.

“Oh,” she said, voice almost reverent. “Perfect timing.”

The air behind her darkened.

Then Drathar stepped into view.

He did not walk like a man. He moved like a story that had become real. Tall, broad, wrapped in shadow and ceremonial menace. His presence carried heat and rot at the same time, like blood left too long under the sun.

His eyes swept us, then landed on Eve with interest, as if she were a familiar flavor.

“Little flame,” he said, voice deep and amused. “Still burning I see.”

Eve’s expression turned deadly. “Not for you.”

Drathar lifted one hand, fingers curling as if he were plucking strings.

The air rang.

And somewhere behind us, from the hospital side, a chorus of movement began.

I heard it before I saw it. Footsteps. Scraping. A wet rustle. The sound of bodies that should have stayed down remembering how to stand.

Faith turned quickly. “No.”

The undead we had killed inside the hospital rose again.

Not all of them in clean form. Some were charred, ash clinging to bone like bitter snow. Some were broken, missing chunks, moving anyway. Some were not even fully bodies, just shapes held together by spirit force, limbs twitching with wrong energy.

Even the ones we had burned down to near nothing dragged themselves upright, as if something invisible had grabbed what remained and pulled it into motion.

My stomach dropped.

That was not resurrection.