“I paid less attention to that part. Sorry, Star.” The troop leader smiled confidently. “We’re here to help. Tell us what needs doing.”
No, that wasn’t happening. Edie wouldn’tletit happen.
“We can’t put children in jeopardy.” Agitated, she raked her hand roughly through her hair, ignoring the pinches of pain as she ripped out tangles. “Sabrina, tell them.”
The witch stood in the juncture between her hallway and kitchen, massaged her temples with her fingertips, and said nothing. Behind her, clattering noises rang through the home as Kipand Lorraine each grabbed a plate and utensils and began dishing up their meal.
No help there either, apparently.
Edie turned a beseeching look on Max, who sighed resignedly.
“We’re not using you in battle,” he said, the statement definitive. “If I allowed it and you wound up headless, Edie would never forgive me. But we can use your assistance as we prepare and find a noncombat role for you during the confrontation.”
Riley dipped her chin. “I think that’s a compromise we can accept.”
“Max.” Edie’s jaw ached from all the teeth-grinding. “Those girls are—”
Max raised his brows, entirely unrepentant. “Those girls are going nowhere. I recognize their expression, my Edie. It’s the same one you wear when you stubbornly refuse to see reason. We can harness that stubbornness for our own ends and do so as safely as possible, or we can discover what a dozen young humans eager to prove their worth in battle will do when left unsupervised. My prediction: get in our way, then die. Within moments.”
The logic in his argument infuriated her. Mostly because he was right, and she knew it.
“Alarmingly enough, I agree with the vampire.” Sabrina waved a tired-looking hand. “You can help with preparations and tactics, but there’ll be no hand-to-claw combat against zombies, Riley. Not for any of you girls.”
“Understood.” Riley met the gazes of her troop. “All those in favor?”
After the loud chorus ofayes, Edie had to close her eyes for a minute.
“They’ll be fine, love.” Max’s fingers gently combed through the patches of hair she’d recently abused, coaxing the remaining knots loose. “I’ll make certain of it.”
“That’s a big promise, Max.” When the pad of his thumb flicked her earlobe, she shivered. “And the only reason you’re making it is…”
“I don’t want you upset or angry at me,” he supplied immediately.
“Yes. That’s what you said.” Tipping her head, she nudged against his hand. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be perfectly fine watching a dozen tweens die in the grisliest possible manner due to a decision you’d made. Correct?”
A lengthy silence fell between them.
“Like I said.” His jaw worked. “You wouldn’t forgive me.”
A nonanswer. Which was, in its own backward way, her answer.
Holding his gaze, she whispered, “No…one…”
“I swear to all the gods and goddesses, Edie, I’ll kill those girls myself if you—”
“…cares like Gaston, strokes through hair like Gaston,” she singsonged below her breath, distantly noting the house’s sudden silence. “In a zombie scare no one shares lairs like Gaston!”
“He has a lair?” someone said, their voice hushed. “Is he Batman or just really emo?”
Lorraine’s fork scraped against her platter. “Are you sure he’s a vamp? Because caring and sharing aren’t exactly hallmarks of the species, to be frank.”
Well, if everyone could hear Edie’s song anyway, she might as well belt it out, right? “As a vampire man, yes, he’s soag-gra-va-ting—”
Max held up six fingers, and Edie kicked him lightly in the shin.
“But my, how he tries, that Gaston!” she finished grandly, then swept a bow in response to the resulting applause. “Thank you. Thank you very much. For an encore, I’d like to introduce a different, macramé-related version of the song, one I think you’ll find edifying in a variety ofmmphmmm—”
With his palm firmly but painlessly covering her lips, Max marched her toward the kitchen, where Kip and Lorraine had plowed through half the food already and were still going strong.
