Zombie Midnight

by Lori Devoti

Chapter One

Bryce Menard had never failed before. The Fringe—his brother vampires who had joined
together over a hundred years ago to police their own kind—wouldn’t take kindly to him
doing so now. Their numbers were small; each had to do his part. No one believed or
supported that more than Bryce.

He would jam the ceremonial blade of disgrace in his own heart if he failed.

But it was too early to start planning his own death. He had only been tracking the
Zombie Maker for three months, having taken over from one of his brothers who had
failed.

And Bryce had a lead.

Feet shuffled to his left. He sank back against the side of the building and disappeared
into the shadows.

A human boy, no more than sixteen, shambled past. His gait was no different than that of
a thousand other apathetic teens, but his scent—stench to Bryce’s vampire nose—was
pure rot. A zombie.

He had been turned—Bryce inhaled—but recently.

He waited another two minutes for the boy to be within easy reach, then sprang from the
darkness and grabbed the walking corpse by the neck. His fingers pressing into the boy’s
throat, his face against his ear, he whispered, “What are you worth to your maker?”

***

Lexi Thompson hurried down the quickly darkening street. Mitchell was a block ahead of
her now. She couldn’t lose him, couldn’t stand the thought of her student becoming
another victim of the drug epidemic that was claiming her brother.

She knew what Mitchell’s shuffling steps, the flat deadness of his eyes and the
undeniable odor of his breath meant. He, like Tony, was addicted.

She’d heard the kids whispering about some new drug—zombie.

She didn’t care what they termed it; she wouldn't lose a student to it. If the police
wouldn’t take her calls seriously, she would take care of things on her own. They might
be able to ignore her pleas to help one strung-out kid. But if she had the name, even the
face, of the dealer to give them, how could they ignore that? They couldn't. She’d make
sure of it.

Determined and convinced she was doing the right thing, the only thing she could, she
stepped out of her heels and left them lying forgotten on the sidewalk. They were only
slowing her down. Then, ignoring the cold concrete beneath her bare feet, she hurried her
steps.

Her sacrifice paid off. Another ten feet and she caught sight of Mitchell again. She let out
a tension-filled breath, but she was only allowed that one tiny moment of relief before a
new anxiety wrapped around her.

A man jumped from the shadows and grabbed the teen around his neck. Strung out as he
was, Mitchell didn’t struggle. He stood in the man’s grip defenseless…lifeless.

A memory of her brother lying pale and near death on his bed, a needle protruding from
one arm, flashed through Lexi’s mind and crowded out everything else, every sense of
personal danger she had ever held.

She raced forward and threw herself on the man’s back.

Chapter Two

The attack came from nowhere. One minute Bryce had the zombie in his grip, squeezing
him into submission, and next a body of sweet-scented curves had landed on his back.

A forearm pressed into Bryce’s Adam’s apple. “Run, Mitchell!” a woman screamed in
his ear.

His fingers still gripping the zombie’s neck, Bryce spun, but the woman held tight. With
his free hand, he reached behind him to jerk her off his back.

“Run, Mitchell!” she repeated.

At her second call, the zombie’s head tilted. A bit of recognition, humanity even, flashed
over its face. The woman rose higher on Bryce’s back and slapped her hands over his
eyes. At that moment the zombie twisted from his hold. With a curse, he reached over his
shoulder and tossed the female who had cost him his quarry onto the concrete.

She fell hard. He moved to step over her, but she rolled to a crouch and grabbed him
around the thigh.

Then she screamed.

The zombie was already disappearing into the gloom, leaving the female to receive
Bryce’s wrath.

He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and hauled her to her feet.

She was maybe six inches shorter than his six-foot-two-inch frame. She only had to tilt
her head a bit to meet his gaze with hers. After her bold attack, he’d expected to find
defiance and challenge in her blue eyes, but fear and desperation met him instead. The
intensity of it caused him to pause.

“The school knows I’m here. Knows Mitchell is, too. There are others following.” She
took a step to the side, trying to follow the zombie’s example and twist from Bryce’s
hold. But he was ready this time. He gripped her by the other arm and pulled her against
his chest.

She smelled of baby powder and permanent markers. The mixture was disconcerting, soft
and harsh. Just as contradictory as her actions were to the fear he saw in her eyes.

Her hands spread over his white cotton shirt. Her fingers were stained with blue and
green ink—the markers.

He didn’t bother glancing around for the saviors she claimed were coming. He could see
by the way her gaze darted, the words were a lie.

She jerked against his hold, but he held tight.

“Why?” he asked.

Sweat beaded on her upper lip. She dug her fingers into his chest until he thought her
nails would poke through the fine woven cloth and scrape his skin.

He yanked her closer, until there was no room between them for her to even bend her
fingers, much less continue her attack. “Why are you following him? What do you
know?”

“I…” She threw her head back, baring her neck.

Bryce froze. Her throat was long and pale. Her pulse beat wildly under the skin. He could
see the rapid twitch at her collar bone, could smell the blood now. The need to taste it,
fed by the adrenaline ripping through him, almost overwhelmed him.

He lowered his head.

She jerked again.

His lip rose, and his fangs descended. A snarl broke free from his throat. He had never
wanted anything as much as he wanted to taste this woman’s blood. He dipped his mouth
toward her neck.

Chapter Three

My God, what was happening? Lexi had clawed at the man, tried to force him to free her.
But as he bent closer, lowered his head toward her, she found herself clinging to him,
instead. Her heart beat as if it might fly from her chest. Her instincts shrieked danger, but
her body defied all the warnings. Her knees bent, pushing her even closer to the man
she’d seen attack Mitchell, until she could feel his breath dance over her skin and her
breasts flatten against him.

“What…what are you doing?” The words were no more than a whisper. She stared up at
the strange man who was making her body react in an even stranger manner.

His eyes were dark…dilated to the point she couldn’t tell their real color. His black hair
was tousled, falling over his forehead and brushing one cheek. She wanted to push the
strands back so she could see him more clearly. She straightened her head, trying to see
his whole face; his lips and chin weren’t visible at this angle.

He stared back at her and something clicked in his eyes. A circle of gray appeared, telling
her their color. Then with a curse, he shoved her to the side. For the second time that
night, she hit the ground. Her phone, which she’d tucked in the pocket of her slacks, fell
too.

She dove toward it, but the man reached it first. He lifted one foot and stomped her
lifeline to others into nothing but tiny bits of plastic and wires.

Then he kicked the remnants across the ground and spun toward her. “Stay away from
me.” And with those words, little more than a growl, he raced down the street.

Away from her and toward Mitchell.

No phone. No way to call for help.

She had no choice but to follow.

***

Bryce cast the woman aside, cursing himself for what he had almost done. He’d lost
focus, forgotten his hunt and become ensnared by the scent and feel of her.

It had never happened before.

He couldn’t let it happen again.

With that thought pounding in his head, he took off after the zombie. Within seconds, the
undead teen was back in sight. The boy was squatting in the middle of the street. He
seemed to be prying the lid off a manhole.

Bryce slowed his steps. The zombie slipped from view, disappeared beneath the street.
The only sign he’d been near was the clang of the manhole cover falling back into place.

Bryce didn’t pause. He jerked at the manhole cover, but the thing wouldn’t budge.

He glanced over his shoulder. The woman was kneeling in the road, holding the remnants
of her phone. Her gaze was on him, but even from here he could see her hands shaking.
With the death of her cell, she’d lost her bravada.

Not that her cell would have done her any good where he was going. Another sharp tug
and the cover pulled free. He slipped through the opening and pulled the cover back
down into place.

Even if the female’s bravery hadn’t been false, she wouldn't follow him here.

Chapter Four

Lexi’s feet were numb and her skin clammy, but she didn’t have time to worry about
either. The man who had attacked Mitchell was getting away. Without her phone to
photograph him or call the police, she had to follow, had to see where he went so she
could tell someone, so she could save Mitchell.

As she raced forward, he was already disappearing, but in an impossible way. He seemed
to be lowering his body into the street.

She stopped, stymied. The sound of metal hitting metal broke through her confusion—a
manhole cover. He was going into sewers.

She licked her lips and looked back the direction she had come. Now would be a good
time to leave and find a phone. Going underground would be insane. She had no idea
where the tunnels went. She took a step back toward the school.

But a new thought stopped her. She didn't know where the sewers went, which meant she
didn’t know how far away he could get and how quickly. He could leave the tunnels
through some other route and be gone for good.

She turned back around and scanned the street.

A few feet to her right lay a strip of metal, fallen from some ramshackle car. She grabbed
it, then scurried forward. Not giving herself time to rethink her decision, she slipped the
metal strip under the edge of the manhole cover and pried at the disc. Then sucking in a
breath, she lowered herself through the hole.

Above her the lid clanked closed.

She was left in complete darkness.

***

Twenty feet away from the manhole he’d entered through, Bryce froze. He knew that
sound.

Someone had followed him. The woman.

A gasp, followed by a soft cry, confirmed the guess.

His first instinct was to keep going, to let the idiot female figure her own way out of
whatever problem she’d landed herself in.

Tiny whimpers echoed through the concrete passageway.

He thought of the duty assigned him, or tried to. His mind floated instead to an image of
the female’s face, lost, afraid and determined.

His teeth gritted, he stalked back to the sewer entrance.

The underground tunnels were black as death. Lights hung from the ceiling, but none
were operating. The darkness didn't bother Bryce. He and his kind thrived in the dark, but
it was obviously an issue for the female.

She clung to the ladder that led from the street, as if she were dangling from a rope over a
sea filled with sharks. Of course, unknown to her, the monster she dangled over was
much more dangerous than any shark.

He swallowed, his mouth dry, his body aching.

She was built like women of his youth when breasts and buttocks were celebrated, not
starved away.

Her hair had fallen into fine waves atop her shoulders. His fingers opened and closed.
The locks would be soft to his touch, would wrap around his fingers and trap him like
cotton candy.
And her taste—his tongue moved over his fangs—like the candy, would be sweet and
addictive.

He should walk away.

But he couldn’t.

His fangs heavy in his mouth, he took a step forward.

Chapter Five

Lexi stabbed at open air with her bare foot. Her hands and fingers ached, but she was
afraid to lighten her grip on the cold metal ladder. She knew there had to be ground
below, but she couldn’t see it, having nothing to reference where she was but the ladder.

Panic engulfed her.

Her world seemed to be collapsing, invisible walls pressed in toward her.

She gulped for air, but none made its way into her lungs.

Below her something hissed.

She jerked and turned. Her body swayed to one side and finger by finger her grip on the
rungs loosened.

Then she fell.

***

The female dropped from the ladder like a bird shot from the sky. The fall was short, less
than twelve feet, but her landing, on concrete, would be hard.

With the speed of the preternatural beast he was, Bryce rushed forward.

With an umph of exhaled air, she landed into his arms.

He held her, cradled against his chest, unsure what to do next. Mind and duty said to drop
her, but his arms curved around her and didn’t seem to want to let go. The sweet scent of
innocence broke through the dank air of the sewer like a fist punching through a wall.
Bryce grasped her tighter against his body.

“What…?” She pulled in a stuttering breath. Her hand reached out, grasping blindly in
the dark, feeling for who had saved her. Her fingers found his face.
Bryce held still, not even his chest moving with breath.

“I fell.”

A pure statement of fact that in Bryce’s mind required no response.

“You caught me.” The words were soft, filled with disbelief.

He had. He hadn’t meant to, but he had. He was as surprised as she was. The realization
only increased his need to be with her, to discover her.

His face lowered until her breath danced across his skin. He pulled it into his lungs, tasted
it, tasted her…wanted more.

His groin tightened.

Tension flowed from her body like water from a spring; he could feel it. She closed her
eyes and tilted her head back as if relaxing in an easy chair. She felt as comfortable in his
embrace as he felt embracing her. The thought flitted through his brain, but briefly. His
attention was too focused on the column of skin her movement had bared, her throat, pale
and perfect.

The tiny steady throb of her pulse called to him.

He brushed his lips over her collarbone, and tried to remember who he was, the duty he
was sworn to complete. Tried to think of zombies and vampires drunk with their own
power, but all he could see, all he could feel at that moment was her.

She was everything, and for the first time in his long-dead existence, he was powerless to
resist.

He opened his mouth and sank his fangs into her.

Chapter Six

The stranger’s lips brushed over Lexi’s throat. Some tiny bit of sanity told her this wasn’t
right. But as quickly as the thought flickered to life, she knocked it aside. Her hands
moved to the man’s chest, touching material so smooth and fine it could have been silk,
except it wasn’t, she knew that. She recognized the expensive cloth beneath her fingers,
having felt it only moments earlier when she had grappled with the man who had
attacked Mitchell.
Reality smashed into her like a bucket of snow to the face. But before she could react, or
even tense, the feel of lips hovering over her throat was gone, replaced by a pain that
jerked her breath from her chest.

Then just as quickly the pain was gone, too. Her mind swirled and her body ached. She
shifted in the man’s arms, knowing somehow he was providing the intense feeling of
pleasure that surrounded her—knowing, too, through him there was much more to be
had.

A moan left her lips and her hands rose. She wanted to touch the man, pull him even
closer. Her fingers wove through his hair. Her body arched.

He murmured something and she murmured in return, nonsense words, noises of pleasure
and desire.

She hadn’t felt this way, forgotten herself this way for years. Her job and constant
struggles to save Tony from himself didn’t allow time for anything personal.

Tony. Her eyes closed and tears pressed against her eyelids. Disassociated as she was,
distant as the world seemed right now, his situation felt more desperate, hopeless.

The moan she’d been about to release changed to a sob.

***

Bryce felt her tears on his cheek, inhaled their salty scent.

Lost as he was in the pleasure of feeding on her, the unexpected emotion cut through the
fog that surrounded him.

His mouth still pressed against her throat, the truth hit him. He had forgotten his hunt,
given in to the most base of vampire desires, fed when he should have been caught in the
chase.

He pulled his fangs from her throat, but couldn’t bring himself to let her go.

“Who are you?” he whispered, his lips still pressed against her skin.

***

Lexi’s feet hit the ground slowly, the man loosening his hold, releasing her while still
keeping her close. It was the perfect time to jump backwards, proclaim her shock and
anger at being taken advantage of and touched when she was at her weakest. But outrage
would have been a lie. And Lexi didn’t have it in her.
“Lexi,” she replied. She searched his face, wishing she could see him better in the dark.
She needed to see him, to understand how someone she didn’t know could strip away the
barriers she’d built around herself so completely.

She could feel his stare, thought for a moment he wouldn’t say any more.

“Bryce.” His voice was rough, gave her the feeling his offering was made grudgingly.
But still knowing his name was better, reassured her he was real and not some panic-
induced dream.

“Thank you,” she murmured. He’d saved her from her fall; he deserved her thanks.

The other, how she had reacted to him…she dropped her gaze to the ground. She
wouldn’t think about that.

Chapter Seven

“I…I have to go now.” The woman placed a shaking hand against Bryce’s chest and
stepped backwards, but Bryce didn’t release his hold on her. He kept her trapped within
his arms.

She closed her eyes and took a breath. When she raised her eyelids something had
changed. She had changed, hardened.

“You attacked Mitchell,” she muttered.

“Mitchell? The zom…boy?” he asked. He kept his voice calm, conversational. She, he
realized, might know something he could use to find the zombie and thus his maker. It
was an excuse, a reason to keep her with him. But one he could justify, to himself and the
Fringe.

“Zombie. You were going to say zombie. You gave it to him, didn’t you? You’re his
pusher.” She jerked against Bryce’s hold again.

He had no idea what the woman was rambling about. “Pusher?” he asked.

She stomped down on his foot and kicked his shin; with her feet bare neither had any
affect.

“Yes, pusher. You gave him the drug. How many others have you supplied?” She
wrenched side to side. He held firm.

“I haven’t supplied anyone with anything,” he replied.

A rough laugh left her throat. “Then why did you grab Mitchell? Why did you come
down here?” She glanced around.

“Why did you?” he asked.

“I was following you, trying to save Mitchell.”

“And I was following him, trying to find his…pusher.”

There was a scuttling up ahead. Both Bryce and Lexi stilled.

“Mitchell,” she murmured.

Bryce inhaled. The telltale scent of rotting human flesh assailed him. Zombies were just
ahead, waiting for them.

“You have to leave.” He took a step toward the ladder, signaling for Lexi to follow him.
She stood poised like a wild animal startled by a light. Then she ran.

***

Her hand trailing over the concrete wall for reference, Lexi ran as fast as she could
through the darkness. Racing forward blindly was like being caught in a nightmare. The
sound of her bare feet slapping against the cold floors echoed through the passageways.

She wasn’t sure why she was running. She had believed Bryce when he said he was
hunting Mitchell’s pusher. Maybe that was why…. She shouldn’t trust him. The fact that
she did, so quickly and so thoroughly, terrified her.

Her footsteps rang through the sewers and her breath came in puffs. She could hear little
else, couldn’t tell if the man was in pursuit or not. But before she’d run, she’d heard
something else. It had to be Mitchell; who else would be in this tunnel?

Once she found him, she would leave. She would let Bryce—if he was telling the truth—
continue the hunt for the pusher.

But she couldn’t leave without her student.

Ignoring the panic that threatened to overtake her again, she raced forward. Then with no
warning, the wall she’d been following disappeared. Her hand hit open air and her foot
slipped to the side. She teetered, and for the second time that night, she was falling. And
also for the second time that night, an arm wrapped around her waist.

Chapter Eight
“Stay here.” Bryce shoved Lexi against a wall. Then he was gone.

She threw out her arms and hugged the concrete behind her. On her left, her hand touched
cloth, and on her right, open air. She spun and grabbed the material with both hands.
Holding it like a lifeline, she realized it was clothing. She groped more and found a
helmet with something round mounted onto its top. She released a breath—a light. Her
fingers numb and her heart racing, she fumbled with the tiny knob she found protruding
from the side. There was a click and a yellow glow blazed to life, blinding her.

She pulled the helmet to her chest and flashed the light around her. She was in an
intersection of old and new. The passage she had run through ended three feet from her
current location and broke instead into three arched tunnels constructed of brick. The
wide ledge she’d been walking on ended, too. In the older passages there was no more
than an inch of flat brick on each side of the channel, which carried runoff and who knew
what else.

She stared down at her bare toes and swallowed. Then remembering the clothing, she
spun. She shoved what she now saw were gray coveralls aside. Sitting beneath them, toes
out and lined up nicely, were three pairs of green waterproof boots.

A moment later, the helmet strapped to her head and her feet swimming in a pair of
oversized boots, she moved forward.

It had been dark when Bryce left. She had no way of knowing which direction he had
gone, or what he had been running toward. But she knew Mitchell was still here. If Bryce
was chasing his pusher, she had a chance of finding her student and getting him out of
here before everything went to hell.

With nothing to go on but gut instinct, she took a step toward the archway on her right.
She had taken one more decisive step when she heard sounds coming from the tunnel on
her left.

“Miss Thompson? Are you there?”

Mitchell. He was okay and looking for her.

With her neck bent to keep from hitting her head against the ceiling, she shuffled into the
tunnel. “Mitchell?” she stage-whispered. “Don’t move. Stay where you are. I found a
light.”

***

The older tunnels wove around and ran into new ones, formed a maze under the city that
few knew of and fewer had visited. How the zombie managed to navigate it so quickly,
Bryce didn’t know. He’d thought he had the creature once, smelled it and known it was
close, only to hear a whisper of new movement farther away, or in a new tunnel.
Finally, tired of the game, Bryce stopped. Water trickled along the ground, echoed until
to Bryce’s sensitive ears it sounded like a waterfall. He blocked the noise out and
searched for something new, more subtle.

Somewhere behind him, or beside him in another tunnel, there was shuffling. He edged
forward, slower this time. He focused on the noise. At the next intersection he sank back
against the bricks. The noise was growing louder; the zombie was moving closer.

Fainter, he heard something new—breathing.

Zombies didn’t breathe. Vampires didn’t breathe, not unless they were pretending to be
human.

“Mitchell? I found you.” The relief in Lexi’s voice was evident.

Then she screamed.

Chapter Nine

Something had grabbed Lexi. She had heard Mitchell’s voice and been walking toward it
when a cold clammy hand dropped onto her neck. With a scream, she bolted.

It was hard to run in the boots. For one fleeting second she considered dumping them like
she’d dumped her pumps, kicking the cumbersome male footwear to the side. But then
she’d remembered the thin but steady stream of sewage running over her feet and she'd
kept them on. When she looked ahead and saw the outline of Mitchell’s body she was
glad she had. The sewers had made her jumpy when she needed to be strong.

Relief and a bit of giddy embarrassment washed over her. She slowed her pace and
smiled, tried to look like the confident in-control adult Mitchell needed right now.

His arms rose and dropped around her, capturing her in an awkward hug.

She hesitated, feeling both uncomfortable with such intimate contact and glad that he was
happy to see her. She murmured something reassuring and tried to step back. Her hand
hit cold dead flesh.

Startled, she looked up into glassy unseeing eyes.

Her heart shuddered.

Mitchell was dead—except he couldn’t be. He was still standing, still watching her.

“Mi…Mitchell?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Miss Thompson,” he acknowledged, but there was no recognition in his eyes. There was
nothing in his eyes except cold unmistakable hunger.

He opened his mouth and lunged toward her.

***

A second scream—this one louder and more shrill than the most practiced of horror-flick
shrieks—tore through the sewers. Bryce didn’t stop to think. He just ran.

Rounding the corner, he found his prey. The zombie was silhouetted in an almost
blinding light, his arms upraised and his body bending forward over someone. Lexi.

Bryce hissed and leapt. Hampered by the close walls, he did his best to propel himself in
a straight trajectory. He didn’t need to hit the monster. He just needed it to turn its
attention away from Lexi and give her a chance to run.

The zombie staggered to the side, its head twisting toward Bryce as it did. Lexi stood
behind it, her face drawn. He yelled at her, told her to run. But just as quickly he realized
the zombie wasn’t alone. It had friends, other zombies waiting no more than twenty feet
away.

Lexi was trapped between them.

His body struck the first zombie.

The creature swung at him. Its fist made contact with Bryce’s head. Bryce’s fangs
extended and his shoulders widened. He forgot that he had wanted the creature mobile
and able to lead him to his maker, forgot everything except destroying the shell of what
had once been a teen.

The monster's hands clamped on to Bryce’s arm; its teeth followed. Bryce extended his
arm so the creature’s head smashed into the low ceiling. The zombie didn’t flinch; it bit
down harder.

Bryce laughed at the zombie’s stupidity. You couldn’t turn what was already dead. Just
like Bryce couldn’t kill what was already dead.

But he could stop the corpse from walking. Stop it from attacking Lexi or anyone else
ever again.

He wrapped his free hand around the creature’s throat and squeezed. Seeming completely
unaffected, the zombie tilted its head side to side.

Then Lexi screamed again.

The other zombies had joined the fight.

Chapter Ten

Bryce dropped the undead teen onto the ground and reached into his coat where he kept
the silver and iron stake every member of the Fringe bore. Its end was sharpened and its
handle bound in leather. It fit in Bryce’s hand like it had been made for his grip, which it
had. The swordsmith who crafted it had watched Bryce fight a hundred other vampires,
memorized his strengths and weaknesses, then crafted the stake for him and him alone.
There was no other like it.

It was almost sacrilege to use it on an opponent as unworthy as a zombie. But it was the
only weapon, aside from Bryce’s own fangs and strength, he had at hand.

Almost.

Lexi stood pressed against the wall. The other zombies reached toward her, their mouths
open and hunger reflecting from their dead eyes. He spun, grabbed the boy he’d first
followed and tossed him toward the pair.

All three fell.

Bryce leapt and landed on the pile. He shoved the blade into the base of one zombie’s
skull, severing the spinal cord and destroying the brain stem. The zombie, a female,
crumpled.

Behind him, Lexi squeaked.

Blade still in his fist, his fangs still extended, Bryce spun directly into the blazing light
and Lexi’s gaze. Another zombie stood behind her, its undead fingers clamped into the
curly strands of her hair. But her eyes were focused on Bryce.

She’d seen him, and she knew what he was.

***

Bryce was a vampire. It was the one clear thought Lexi had before she was jerked
backward by her hair.

With a scream, she grabbed at her scalp.

Bryce was a vampire. Mitchell was a zombie. And now something had her by the hair
and was pulling her through the sewers.
Her hip hit the ground. Her body bounced from the walls to the floor. Pain shot through
every inch of her, until she could feel it in her teeth. She screwed her eyes shut and tried
to push down panic, but it wasn’t working. She was going to die. There was no way
around it—no one to save her.

“Lexi!” Her name blasted into her mind. She saw and felt it as much as heard it.

“Lexi!”

Bryce calling her. No, ordering her, reminding her she wasn’t alone.

But Bryce was a vampire, a monster. She couldn’t trust him, didn’t want him calling her,
saving her.

If she didn’t want to die, she had to save herself.

She stiffened her body and jammed her heels onto the bricks. One of her boots caught on
a crack and was jerked from her foot. Her bare heel dragged over the rough floor until it
was bloody and raw. The creature who had grabbed her, an undead teen like Mitchell,
didn’t slow.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

She’d come into this sewer hoping to save her student and she’d failed, just like she had
failed her brother—just like she was failing herself.

Chapter Eleven

“Lexi!” Bryce again. Calm settled over Lexi. She could do this. She had to do this.

She inched her hands from her scalp to the cold fingers that were looped through her hair.
She clawed at the skin. Gouged and stabbed with her nails.

“Lower your hands!” Bryce again, still ordering her, this time to stop her attack. His
demand went against all logic. Holding on to her scalp was all that saved her from the
pain of having her hair ripped from her head.

But then, if it was torn from her scalp she would be free, wouldn’t she?

Desperate, she dropped her hands.

A weight landed on her and she was pinned to the ground. For a second the pain of her
hair being pulled quadrupled. Air swooshed past her face. There was another tug on her
hair, this one even more violent, jerking but different. As if her hair was breaking strand
by professionally-colored strand.

Then without warning her skull clunked onto the hard ground.

She lay there dazed and unsure what to think or do.

She was alive. It seemed impossible, but she was alive.

Soaking in that unlikely reality, she shut her eyes. When she opened them, she
remembered she still wasn’t alone, still wasn’t safe. The weight that penned her to the
ground was Bryce, the vampire.

***

The zombies were getting away. Yet another chance at finding their maker was getting
away. But Bryce couldn’t seem to move, couldn’t do anything but stare down at the
woman trapped beneath him.

He lowered his hands until one was on each side of her face, and dropped what he had
held—his blade and the length of her hair he had chopped free of the zombie’s hold.

What would the Fringe think of how he had used their blade tonight? What would they
say if they knew he was laying here staring at a human female while their prey fled
through the sewers?

That he wasn’t fit to bear the stake.

That he was close to becoming one of the hunted instead of the hunter.

He knew that, could hear their censure. Knew, too, that he was about to cross a line. But
damn everything including his own existence, he couldn’t stop himself.

He lowered his body to Lexi’s and captured her lips with his.

***

Bryce’s lips brushed over Lexi’s. Her first thought was vampire, her first instinct to
scream. But as Bryce slid his arms beneath her and pulled her up against his chest, gentle
and protective, she knew no monster could act like this.

She had to have been mistaken, crazed by what had been happening and everything she
had endured.

She opened her lips and let his tongue slip inside her mouth. Her hands moved to his
arms. Even through his leather coat she could feel his muscles. Stubble on his chin
rubbed against her cheek. With her eyes closed, she was able to forget where she was.
Forget everything and live in the moment with Bryce.

Chapter Twelve

Lexi inhaled. The stench of the sewer was gone, replaced with the masculine scents of
leather and spice.

Bryce held her carefully. The dank tunnel disappeared. All she saw, smelled, sensed was
Bryce.

She felt safe, more than that—cherished. She needed the feeling. She was tired of being
strong for everyone, of protecting everyone.

Bryce’s tongue slipped into her mouth; she met it with her own. A tingle swept over her,
through her. His fingers ran along her scalp, gentle, but firm, replacing the pain that had
been there earlier with pleasure.

He slanted his mouth to the side, changing his kiss to tiny bites that caused her to shiver
and cling to him tighter. Her head fell back. He kissed and nibbled down her neck.

Then he paused.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. Something was happening, was about to happen.
She didn’t know what, couldn’t put a name to it. But she could feel the air around them
shift, could feel her own pulse quicken.

Her fingers dug into his arms as she waited.

Then pain shot through her, fleeting and quickly replaced by pure addictive joy, but not
so quick that it didn’t cut through the dream she’d created, didn’t remind her of
everything she’d been trying to forget.

Tony. Mitchell. The sewers. And Bryce.

Bryce, the vampire, was feeding on her.

She should care about that, should be screaming and fighting. But she wasn’t and had no
desire to do so. In fact, all she wanted was to stay where she was, exactly where she was
forever.

***

Lexi’s blood filled Bryce’s mouth sweeter and more intoxicating than a century-old wine.
Beneath him, she moaned. He stroked the side of her cheek, brushed the skin where he’d
seen tears before.

He wanted to hold her, keep her safe, stop those tears from ever returning.

He wanted everything he had thought he could never have. Everything the Fringe would
say vampires couldn’t have.

The Fringe. Thoughts of his brothers chilled him. His fangs still in Lexi’s throat, he froze.

He had fallen off the path, broken almost every rule they had tonight.

Lexi moved, grabbed him by the back of the head and pressed his mouth more tightly
against her neck.

Her blood flowed again, into him, warming him. But the dream was gone, reality had
returned. She might be willing now, but the bite did that to humans, made them meek,
eager even.

But Lexi was different. She’d seen him fangs extended. At some point, she’d remember
that. And then she would run away screaming vampires were real, endangering
everything he had vowed to protect.

He couldn’t let that happen. The Fringe wouldn’t let that happen.

***

Lexi shuddered, but not with revulsion. The idea of being with a vampire, being with
something powerful and mythic excited her. She wove her fingers into Bryce’s hair and
pulled his mouth tighter against her throat. Her body tensed.

She wanted to strip down and be with this man, this vampire. She reached for his jacket.

He pulled away.

Chapter Thirteen

Lexi felt cold and abandoned. She stared at a button on Bryce’s shirt and placed her hand
over her neck. There was no wound, no sign at all that the skin had been punctured, but
that didn’t shake her certainty that there had been.

“You know,” he murmured.

She could feel his gaze on her, encouraging her to look at him.
She turned to the side and stared at the wall. The light she’d been using was still on. It
cast enough light, even not directed at them, to allow her to see. And seeing reminded her
where they were.

How pathetic was she that she’d been willing to strip to nothing here in a sewer with a
man she’d met only hours earlier? Worse, what did it say that knowing that he wasn’t
really a man, was actually a vampire, excited her?

She couldn’t look at him. Was only glad they were alone and no one else was here to
witness exactly how lonely and desperate she had become.

“You know what I am,” he repeated. There was no hint of a question in the statement, but
Lexi answered anyway. She nodded. “Yes.”

But did she, really? People pretended to be vampires, didn’t they? She’d always thought
it a strange fetish, but—again her hand went to her throat—now she understood. Despite
his rejection and her subsequent humiliation, she looked at him. “You’re real aren’t
you?” She knew the answer deep in her core, but she had to ask.

***

Real? Was he real?

Bryce had wondered the same thing himself often enough. It was a question most people
never had to ask themselves. But existing as he did, in the shadows, a creature no one
truly believed existed, he had lost track of what was real and what wasn’t. It was one of
the reasons he had joined the Fringe. With them such cerebral questions had no
importance. They existed to police, to kill. Their life was simple—black and white. No
thinking on your own, no wondering about your place. You just did as you were told.

Simple as that.

Staring into Lexi’s wide blue eyes he realized now would be the perfect time to lie to her,
to tiptoe into her brain and plant just enough doubt she’d think what she’d seen and felt
was hysteria brought on by her time in this sewer.

Bryce had never held someone in thrall. He wasn’t like the Zombie Maker. He despised
what that vampire had done. To survive, Bryce might steal human blood—but he had
never stolen their will.

Still, it was the only way, the only solution.

He cupped Lexi’s face in his hands, closed his eyes and prepared to make her forget.

***
There was a tickle in Lexi’s brain, like a feather drifting over her temporal lobe. She
frowned and blinked.

Bryce’s fingers were warm against her cheeks.

Vampires were supposed to be cold, dead, and scary. But Bryce was none of these things.
She smiled. “I’m glad,” she whispered.

Chapter Fourteen

The tickle stopped. “Of what?” Bryce asked. His voice was rough.

Lexi looked away, embarrassed.

He turned her face back to his. “Tell me.”

She couldn't. Instead she looked over his shoulder to where she had stood with Mitchell.
Her stomach clenched. Mitchell. He’d tried to kill her.

Bryce touched her chin, tipped her face up to his. “The boy. You’re thinking of him. He
attacked you, but it wasn’t his fault. His actions aren’t his own.”

“The drugs…” she murmured, but she knew that wasn’t right, knew Mitchell wasn’t like
Tony. Mitchell’s issues weren’t as simple as drugs. She winced at the thought—drugs
simple. They weren’t, but whatever had happened to Mitchell went beyond even the
horror of her brother’s existence.

“I can’t save him,” she added.

“No. You can’t.” Bryce’s voice turned cold.

His jaw was hard, tense. Made her realize perhaps what he’d said earlier was true.
Perhaps Bryce wanted to stop whoever had brought Mitchell to where he was, as badly as
she did. Her hand rose to touch his. As her fingers brushed his skin, she hesitated.
Vampire. For a moment she’d forgotten what she’d seen.

Maybe that was for the best. It allowed her to cope.

Bryce seemed to sense her second of uncertainty. His hand forming a fist, he lowered his
fingers away from her face.

“I thought he was taking a new drug—zombie, the kids called it.” She spoke quickly. It
felt good to tell him, to have a real conversation, made him seem real.
“No drug.” Bryce stood, withdrawing physically and emotionally, leaving her alone on
the cold brick.

She felt naked and exposed, wished she had something to wrap around herself. With
nothing else, she folded her arms around her body.

He stared down at her. “You thought I was selling him drugs.”

She looked around, saw for the first time how completely insane her situation was. A
tremor shook her. She hugged herself tighter.

“Zombie isn’t a drug. It’s what he—” Bryce nodded in the direction Mitchell and the
others had fled “—is.”

Zombie—the walking dead. It was how after seeing Mitchell up close Lexi would have
described him. But the way Bryce said the word she knew his meaning was much more
literal.

And Mitchell hadn’t been alone. Her gaze wandered down the tunnel. It was empty, or
seemed that way.

Unwilling to think too much about where the others had gone or when they might come
back, she looked back at Bryce. “How?”

He flicked his gaze back at her. “How what?”

“Everything. How did Mitchell become a zombie? How do you exist? How am I
believing you? None of this should be real.” She waved her hands in front of her face.

Bryce walked to her helmet and picked it up. With its light blazing up at the ceiling, he
replied, “Somewhere somehow he made a fatal error. He trusted a vampire.”

The light flowed upward over Bryce’s features, twisting his high cheekbones and full lips
into something dark and horrifying. She placed her hands on the ground behind her and
edged her body backwards.

“He trusted a vampire?” she repeated.

“That’s right. And that vampire turned him into a zombie.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Is that what vampires do?” The acceptance Bryce had seen on her face faded, replaced
with uncertainty.
“Is that what you did to me?” Her voice trembled. She pressed her fingers against her
chest. She was standing now; apprehension was clear in how she stood, as if unsure
which direction to run.

He hadn’t meant for her to believe he’d been turning her into a zombie. But then if she
believed that, if she hated him, walking away, returning to his life with the Fringe would
be that much easier.

“Not all vampires,” he replied, but he punctuated his words by lowering his head and
staring at her, unwavering.

“Not all…” She took a step back.

His deception was working. She was retreating; the light in her eyes was gone. The shift
was good, needed.

“And Mitchell? Is there no pusher? Did you do that to him?” she asked. “Turn him into a
monster?” She still hadn’t run. Why? What kept her here?

He needed her to give up whatever thoughts she had that made him seem acceptable, but
he couldn’t answer her, couldn’t lie to her outright. He stared past her, at the wall.

“Did you believe in vampires before tonight? Did the thought of someone feeding on
your blood excite you?”

“No.” She shook her head, violently.

The motion cut into Bryce. Of course she hadn’t. What sane human would?

“So why did you let me bite you, not once, but twice?” He looked back at her, then ran
his thumb and index finger along the sides of his mouth as if wiping away her blood. It
was blatant and ugly, but seemed to accomplish his goal.

Her eyes rounded; her chest rose and sank. She wanted to scream; he could see it building
inside her.

He pushed his advantage. “That isn’t something you would do, is it? Or do you always
throw yourself at men?”

“No!” She turned away, but damn it, Bryce had miscalculated. There was nowhere for
her to run. They were too far from the sewer entrance; he couldn’t let her run blindly
away from him, risk her encountering Mitchell or another zombie.

He grabbed her by the arm. She stared at him, her eyes wide and damp.
“You loved your student, didn’t you? You wouldn’t want what happened to Mitchell to
happen to anyone else.”

The fire came back to her eyes. She pulled her body straighter. “I’d do anything to stop
that.”

“Then do as I say and I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

A line formed between her brows and for a second, Bryce thought he’d said too much
and made her doubt what he’d just suggested.

“I do as you say and you won’t do whatever you did to Mitchell to anyone else,” she
clarified.

“No one else will become a zombie,” he replied.

She glanced to the side, as if still considering bolting. “And you won’t play with my
mind? Won’t make me think things or feel things?”

Feel things. What had she felt? Bryce wanted more than anything to ask her. “I’ll stay out
of your mind. I won’t make you feel or think anything.”

Her lips pressed together. She folded her arms over her chest and nodded. “It’s not like I
have many choices.”

She had zero choices, but then Bryce didn’t have many either.

He’d made it possible for her to walk away, run away from him and look back only with
loathing and fear. But there was no one to give him that gift, no one to make him forget
the feelings she’d stirred in him. They would stay with him forever.

Chapter Sixteen

Bryce retrieved her boot, the one that had been jerked from her foot as she was dragged
through the passage. Then they walked for what felt like hours in the dark. One of
Bryce’s first demands had been for Lexi to turn off her light. Remembering her promise,
she’d agreed, but she hesitated when he reached for her hand.

“Can you see?” he asked.

She bit her lip.

He sighed. “The Zombie Ma—” He cut off whatever he had been about to say. “The
zombies will know we are coming, but they will know more quickly with that light
heralding our arrival.”

What he said made sense, but she was still reluctant to slip her fingers into his hand. She
didn’t want to touch him. No, that was a lie. She did want to touch him, but she didn’t
want to be constantly reminded how good his touch felt. She needed distance, but he
didn’t relent.

“I can see in the dark. I can lead us both, and all of this will be over faster.”

Over faster. That was what she wanted. She laid her fingers onto his outstretched palm.
His fingers folded over hers and for a moment neither moved.

While Lexi’s breath and heartbeat seemed to echo inside the close tunnel, there was no
audible sound that Bryce was by her side. It was unnatural, but then vampires and
zombies weren’t natural. At least not in the world she knew. A fist squeezed her heart.
All of this was becoming more and more real, too real.

“Let’s go.” His voice was harsh. For a second she wondered if he’d read her thoughts.

He moved ahead quickly. So quickly that Lexi stumbled and almost fell, but Bryce was
there, catching her. He pulled her close; his arm wrapped around her waist. Her nose
pressed against his jacket. She inhaled leather and her mind flashed back to lying beneath
him, wanting him.

“I’ll go slower,” he whispered.

Embarrassed again, she nodded. Her face brushed against his shirt. She stilled, then
realizing what she was doing, pulled back as if electrocuted.

Despite knowing he’d manipulated her mind, made her accept and want him, her body
and heart didn’t seem to care. She couldn’t force her brain to remember that Bryce had
played with her and destroyed Mitchell. She needed to go back and relive this night from
the beginning, see for herself what Bryce had done to her. Maybe if she could, she’d be
able to accept everything.

But like vampires and zombies, traveling back in time was only possible in fiction. A
quiet laugh escaped her.

Bryce froze.

She waved her hand, motioning him on. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
Yes go, come to the end of this fantasy wrapped in a nightmare. Come to the end of this
damned sewer and go back to her simple life where zombies and vampires were only
pretend.

But could she? Could she forget Mitchell, Bryce, any of this?

As she took another step, listened to her boot slogging through the liquid that coursed
through the bottom of the tunnel, she knew that she couldn’t.

No matter what happened when they reached the end of this journey, her life would never
be the same.

Chapter Seventeen

Bryce smelled the zombies one-hundred feet before the tunnel he and Lexi crept through
came to an end. The last ten feet or so, he pulled her close, kept her body tight beside his.
She didn’t object or shrink away.

Then they were in the room. It was dimly lit, but huge. Rock music pounded off the
concrete walls. Pipes with metal wheels ran along the ceilings and walls. They were at
the hub of both the sewers and the zombies.

The place was packed with bodies—most alive, but a few not.

“What is this? A rave?” Lexi whispered. They were the first words she had uttered since
she’d agreed to turn off her light and depend on Bryce to lead her through the tunnel.

“The Heart,” Bryce murmured and he didn’t mean the term figuratively. Messages the
Fringe had intercepted from the Zombie Maker had mentioned The Heart as his place of
recruitment.

“They’re all young.”

Bryce could tell the realization bothered Lexi, but age made no difference to a vampire.
His gaze slid across the pulsing bodies.

Behind him, Lexi cried out, “Kayla and Nicole.” She grabbed Bryce by the arm. Her grip
was tight as she pulled his face down to hers. “Tell me the truth. What is this? What is
happening here?”

He knew he should lie to her. Fringe business was sacred—a secret so closely guarded
the only exit from the group was a walk into the sunrise. But the intensity of her gaze was
too much. “Recruitment. It’s a recruitment party. I don’t know if the party goers realize
it, but that’s what it is.”
“For what?”

He held her gaze this time, made sure she understood. “Prey for a vampire—the Zombie
Maker.”

“Prey…?” Her hand went to her throat. He wasn't sure she even realized she had made
the gesture. “But there are so many. Surely, one vampire can’t feed on all of them.”

“It isn’t their blood he wants. Oh, I’m sure he takes that, too. But the Zombie Maker
wants more than that. He hungers for blood, as we all do, but he also hungers for life.”

“Life? He steals their lives. You mean he kills them?”

“Not outright, little by little. He turns them into zombies by holding them in thrall,
stealing their memories, their emotions, everything they hold dear. He bleeds them of
those things until they are nothing but walking shells—zombies.” Caught up in his
impassioned monologue, Bryce forgot that he’d let Lexi believe he was responsible for
Mitchell’s state.

She shook her head. “But why would they let him do that? Why would they come here?”

It was the opportunity Bryce had been waiting for. As they had stood there talking, he’d
been watching the flow of teens coming and going from the room, knew now where the
exit was. He just had to get Lexi to go through it, to leave the sewer and him forever.

“Because it feels good, letting little bits of yourself drift away. It’s addictive, an out of
body experience, a high.” She was still wearing her helmet. The light was off, but the
ridiculous oversized hat was still on her head. He tucked a bit of her hair up into it. “You
know how that feels, don’t you, Lexi, to be held in thrall?”

Her hand rose to her mouth and she took a step back.

He gestured to where the teens entered and exited the room. “It’s been fun, but now I
have work I really must do.” Then he looked away and he didn't look back, not as she
stumbled into the crowd in her borrowed boots, not as she disappeared in the crowd.

There was no looking back when you were a member of the Fringe. There was nothing
but the Fringe.

Chapter Eighteen

Bodies knocked against Lexi. She walked blindly, staring into faces, looking for signs
that the teens they belonged to were already gone—zombies. Bright excited eyes stared
back at her, happy to be here—walking willingly to their fates.
Just like she had walked willingly into Bryce’s arms and thrall.

She was no stronger than any of them, no stronger than her brother. The realization hit
her hard. All her life she’d thought she was different—the strong one, better even, but
now she knew how untrue that was.

Another wave of teens flowed into the room. The helmet was jarred from her head.

“Excuse me.” She bent to pick it up. A girl with tiny silver balls decorating her natural
dimples kicked the headgear and sent it spinning into the crowd.

Without thinking, Lexi turned and ran after it. Another girl, this one with braids wrapped
around her head Heidi-style, scooped the object up. Lexi stopped. “Bethann?”

“Ms. Thompson.” Bethann glanced around, guilty.

The helmet forgotten, Lexi grabbed her student by both arms. “You have to leave. You
don’t know what’s happening here.”

The girl stared at Lexi’s hands gripping her. “I’m okay. I’ve been here before. But you
shouldn’t be here. Adults aren’t allowed here.”

“You have to leave!” Hysteria raised Lexi’s voice. She knocked the helmet from
Bethann’s hands and pulled the girl toward the door.

They hit a wall of bodies. Lexi pushed her shoulder against them, trying to go against the
tide and pull Bethann with her. But no one stepped aside, no path through was offered. If
anything the bodies moved closer together. She glanced at the closest face, ready to beg
the boy to give way.

She stared into the dead empty gaze of a zombie. It was then she realized the bodies
weren’t coming or going. They were waiting…for her.

***

Bryce prowled through the throng listening and sensing. Lexi was gone. He hadn’t seen
her leave, but he knew she was no longer in the room.

He could forget her now, finally concentrate on his task. And when the Zombie Maker
was dead, Bryce could return to his life, return to the Fringe, get a new assignment, hunt
another vampire, and do it all over again.

Except this time there would be no slips, no failure, no Lexi.

His gut twisted, like the stake he carried had been shoved into his own side. He tightened
his jaw and tamped the feeling down. Lexi was gone—time to forget her and remember
who he was, what he was.

Resolute, he shifted his attention back to the room.

Zombies were everywhere, roaming through the crowd, blending with the kids. He saw
the two who had attacked them in the tunnels, but neither approached him. Perhaps their
brains were so gone they didn’t recognize him or didn’t see him as a threat, but Bryce
doubted that. He suspected something else was to come, something big.

But zombies weren’t the only brain-dead creature here tonight if the Zombie Maker
thought tricking Bryce would be that easy.

He held the stake hidden against his thigh and continued his trek through the press. He’d
circled the room two more times when the music stopped and the chant began.

“Zombie, zombie, zombie.”

The crowd parted. Two zombies, pulling a wagon, staggered out of a tunnel and into the
center of the room. A man stood on top of the rolling platform, his feet splayed and his
arms raised overhead like he was reaching to the heavens, making some offering.

Bryce’s gaze shifted to the Zombie Maker’s feet.

Lying between his ankles, her face pale and her wrists bound, was Lexi.

Chapter Nineteen

The wagon jerked. Lexi rolled to the side. The zombies had dragged her out of the room.
She’d fought but it had been a useless effort. There were too many of them, too focused
on the task they had been given by—she stared up—the man, vampire, Zombie Maker
standing above her. He held himself like a king, seeming to thrive on the mindless
worship of the teens he had destroyed.

Lexi coughed and gagged. She’d always hated the faceless drug pusher who had supplied
her brother with the poison that taunted him, but even in her darkest moments she hadn’t
imagined anything as vile as the creature that stood above her.

He tweaked a finger and the teens scurried toward him. She had no doubt they would kill
her, no doubt they would do anything he asked.
The wagon jolted to a stop. Lexi rolled again, this time onto her stomach. Her bound
hands beneath her, she tried to push herself up. She needn’t have bothered. The Zombie
Maker grabbed her by the hair and jerked her to a stand beside him.

“Your master is nothing to me.” He spat onto the bed of the wagon, next to her feet. Lexi
twisted and swung her arms, tried to swipe at the monster. He jerked her close and she
saw his fangs, his eyes and the crazed glow behind them. His mouth inches from her
throat, he muttered. “Not yet lamb. You haven’t served your purpose yet.” He looked into
her eyes and something slithered into her brain, like a snake coiling around her free will,
cutting it off.

She knew immediately what was happening. This was thrall. And just as clearly she knew
Bryce had never done this to her, would never do this to anyone.

What she’d felt when she was with him wasn’t forced on her—it was real. So real she had
felt it despite knowing he was a vampire. She had been an idiot to doubt it.

But Bryce was gone and she was going to die, or worse, be turned into a zombie.

***

The Zombie Maker had Lexi. Rage wrapped around Bryce.

“Vampire, vampire, I have your toy. Come out and claim her, or I will,” the Zombie
Maker taunted.

He, like all of the Fringe’s targets, was ignorant of the secret group’s existence—ignorant
of their pledge to sacrifice everything, anything to complete their missions. He thought
Lexi belonged to Bryce, was his doll, a human who ties herself to a vampire and survives
under his care. He thought Bryce would step forward to save her.

But the Fringe didn't keep dolls and they didn't save anyone at the risk of losing their
prey.

The Zombie Maker trailed his tongue down Lexi’s neck. Bryce’s hands clenched into
fists.

If the other vampire bit her, he would bleed her dry. His game would be for nothing
otherwise.

But that was good. That moment, right before the last bit of Lexi’s blood had flowed
from her body, would be the best moment for Bryce to attack.

Even the oldest of vampires couldn’t ignore the euphoria that much blood brought, and
the last drops from a human’s body were the sweetest. It’s what kept the Fringe in
business—too many vampires with a taste for those final remaining drops laced with life.
So, as the Zombie Maker’s fangs sank into Lexi’s neck, Bryce knew what he should do.

Wait for Lexi to die.

Chapter Twenty

When the vampire’s teeth sank into Lexi’s neck, there was no thrill like there had been
with Bryce. Just pain and the full awareness that she couldn’t pull away, couldn’t do
anything to stop what was happening.

She was trapped in a body and mind that seemed to belong to someone else. Her knees
collapsed. Only the Zombie Maker’s arm behind her back and his fangs in her throat kept
her from falling. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. She’d told Tony he had the
strength to change his fate, to fight, had judged him for being weak. But here she was,
hopeless and spent, just waiting to die.

“Cut him off,” Bryce’s voice, yelling at her…inside her mind. She stiffened. She wanted
to tell him she couldn’t, that the Zombie Maker’s hold was too strong, but then she
thought of Tony. She had told him time and again that he had to stop the drugs. He had to
make the choice. She realized now how true that was. She couldn’t do it for him. She
couldn’t save him. He had to save himself.

And she had to stop this.

She stepped into the pain, embraced it. The snake that had coiled around her will was still
there, its head bobbing side to side, taunting her.

She gritted her teeth and hardened her determination until it was razor sharp, until the
snake bled. Then she twisted and jerked her neck from the vampire’s bite.

Shock pulled at his features. She staggered to the side. He reached to grab her, but his
fingers never made contact. Air and spittle, colored with her blood, bubbled from his lips.
His mouth fell open and his hand rose to his chest.

Then he fell—and with him, his zombies. They crumpled like broken dolls. It was the last
bit of proof she needed to know Bryce hadn’t been involved in their creation.

The teens who were still alive screamed and ran for the exit. The place was chaotic,
pulsed with confusion, but Lexi had never been clearer about anything.

Her gaze shifted to the vampire standing behind the Zombie Maker’s fallen form—Bryce.
A silver stake was in his fist. He slipped the weapon into his coat and held out his now
empty hand. Ignoring it, Lexi fell against his chest. “You lied to me,” she whispered.
His hand dropped to the back of her neck. “I never lie,” he replied. “I am a vampire.”

She balled her hands into his shirt. “Say it then. Say what I felt in the tunnels, for you,
wasn’t real. Say you didn’t feel it, too. Say you held me in thrall, that you did this to
them.” She gestured to the fallen zombies.

He closed his eyes, but not quickly enough. She saw the truth. She pulled on his shirt.

He placed both hands on her hips and stared down at her. “I’m not what you need. My
existence, it isn’t normal.”

Glancing at the empty room, she laughed. “And mine is.”

“I’m a vampire. I don't walk under the sun.”

She smiled. “I have a full-time job. My days are booked.”

He shook his head, but his words came out softer, less determined. “I work with a group.
… They won’t approve.”

Her hands slipping around his neck, she pressed her lips to his. “Then don’t tell them.”

Then she kissed him and he kissed her back.

***

Lexi didn't understand, couldn’t. But maybe that was for the best. Maybe Bryce knew too
much, thought he knew too much. Maybe it was time for a change, for him and the
Fringe.

Maybe to save lives, it was time they lived a little of their own.

And staring down at the woman in his arms, he knew he was ready to try.

The End