Undeadly. Michele Vail

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СКАЧАТЬ wasn’t like there was a shortage of necromancers in the world, but most people were born without any reaper gifts. Being a necro doesn’t make anyone really special, though. Everyone has to learn about necromancy, about zombies and SEER machines, and even Ancient Egyptian history (required course, like math and science). But it’s not exactly a big deal these days, not like it was waaaaay back. So, reading about necromancy is like reading about the Titanic and World War I. The necros on board that Titanic couldn’t stop it from sinking, but they used their zombies and death magic to help people. And World War I? The American zombies were the reason we saved so many lives on the frontlines.

      Anyway. Some necros take themselves too seriously, and wear black and act mysterious. I tried to be normal, but some people were still weirded out by the whole “she touches dead people,” thing.

      Whatevs.

      I wasn’t too surprised when Rick knew which driveway was mine. He lived in the same neighborhood, although in a bigger house with a killer pool, and we saw each other occasionally. Usually with me walking to school and him catching a ride with his friends, waving as they drove past.

      We sat awkwardly for a moment. Then I smiled and said, “Well, you know. Thanks.”

      “No prob.” He looked at the house then at me. “Your dad home?”

      “Nah. He’s in Reno.” I looked at Rick (sooo cute!) and realized he was waiting for something. For me to...oh. My pulse leapt. “You...uh, wanna come in?”

      He turned off the car and slid the keys out of the ignition. “Sure.”

      I looked at my empty house and felt my stomach hitch. We would be alone in there. Squee! I was really glad that my uncle Vinnie was at the Zomporium helping Demetrius with the less-than-savory tasks of zombification. Vinnie had been my dad’s older brother and he’d died when I was three. He’d helped Dad start the business and wanted to help even after his death. Mom was the one who’d zombified him. She might’ve sucked as a mom, but she’d been a Class A zombie-maker.

      Vinnie was a good zombie, but sometimes I wished I remembered what it was like to have him as an uncle.

      I picked up the fake rock hidden in the Angelita daisies that lined the sidewalk up to our house. The rest of the yard was zero-scaped—you know, volcano rocks and cacti. We’d planted the daisies and the fortnight lilies along the walkway because Nonna really liked them. She missed having a garden like she had back in New York. I almost made a comment on them, so Rick would know I was sorta flower savvy, but it seemed like a lame move.

      I slid the key out of the bottom of the rock, unlocked the door and then put it back. Rick watched this all without comment. I didn’t want to explain why my purse was still at the Zomporium because I didn’t want to admit to the zombie bite. Hopefully, he just thought I was some kind of klutz and whacked my shoulder or something. I’m glad he hadn’t asked me for details. If my gift freaked him at all, he’d probably bail if he knew I’d almost been zombie chow.

      “C’mon.” I led the way into the house.

      Rick followed, shutting the door behind him. “I need to change,” I said, looking over my shoulder. I caught Rick checking out my ass. Thank you, jean gods. “You want something to drink?”

      “What do you have?” His voice sounded a little rough, but I wasn’t sure if it was from being caught gawking or from lust. Yeah, I said the L word. Necro, remember? His eyes were dilated, his breathing had shortened and a delicious tension filled his muscles. Oh, yeah. He was definitely feeling attracted to me. It’s the body language thing, you know? You have to pay attention to the details, especially when you’re reanimating a corpse. That’s a Dem-ism—and I’ve only heard it 3,000 times or so.

      The front door opened into a small foyer. Three feet forward and you were in the living room. We had a sectional, a big-screen television and lots of bookshelves. The patio doors led to the backyard, which sadly had no pool. If you kept going to the right, you’d see the dining room and beyond that, our kitchen.

      The hallway to the left of the foyer led to the downstairs bathroom and the master bedroom (that was Nonna’s). The stairs led to the other four bedrooms and another guest bathroom. My room connected to Ally’s via the third bathroom. Yeah. That made getting ready for school the opposite of pleasant, especially since both of us hated mornings. And sharing.

      I led Rick into the kitchen and pointed at the fridge. “Take whatever you want. I’ll be right back.”

      “Thanks.”

      I started to walk away, but Rick looped his fingers around my wrist. He looked at me, his eyes sparkling. “Don’t be gone too long.”

      “Promise.” My belly squeezed in excitement. Dad would be so un-thrilled to know I was alone in the house with a b-o-y. Not that he would have to know. Ever. Rick dropped my wrist, gave me another grin and I suppressed the urge to skip through the house.

      In my room, I took off my shirt and assessed the damage to my shoulder. It didn’t look too bad. I got a washcloth and wiped some of the goop off and then smeared what was left across the teeth marks. Yuck.

      I got out my precious bottle of Dior Addict, which I saved for special occasions, and squirted it along my neck and collarbone. Then I spritzed my wrists. I picked out another shirt, my teal flutter-sleeve with a V-neck, and put it on. It looked pretty good with my jeans. I took a second to brush my hair, which I wore long and straight. It was a boring shade of brown, but I had hazel eyes, which kinda made up for the witchy locks. I also freshened my makeup. Luckily, I had decent skin and didn’t need too much coverage. I wore peach blush on my cheekbones, lightly lined eyes with a smidge of mascara and gloss (Dad put the kibosh on colored lipsticks).

      Then I brushed the hell out of my teeth. Just in case.

      Finally, I came downstairs, heart racing. I wasn’t sure what to talk about with Rick. We were in a couple classes together, but we didn’t usually run in the same circles. I’d been kinda surprised when he started hanging around me more at school. I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed, either. My friends thought it was way cool, but Mina Hamilton, head cheerleader, perfect princess and Rick’s ex-girlfriend, did not. She’d been giving me dirty looks, making snide comments within earshot and “accidentally” pushing me aside when sashaying down the hall. Her mean-girl attention scared me worse than dealing with hungry Mortimer. Surviving a zombie attack was easy; getting out unscathed from a Mina attack was not.

      Rick was standing in the living room, staring at our bookshelves. He held a can of 7UP and he took a sip as he studied the shelf filled with necro books.

      “Hey.”

      He turned, checked out my blouse (and okay, my boobs) and smiled. “Hey.”

      He put the soda on the coffee table and stretched out his hand. Heart pounding, I took it and he drew me into his arms.

      Holy. Freaking. Anubis.

      “You’re very pretty,” he said. I smelled mints and the tang of 7UP. My heart beat faster still and my knees went all mooshy.

      “Thanks,” I whispered.

      His blue eyes darkened. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Remember when I said I had no social life? Dad had rules about me and boys—as in never the twain shall meet (another point to Mrs. Dawson). Sixteen was the magic number for dating. And driving. And everything else.

      “You СКАЧАТЬ