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They ping-pong like that until Keyser lands on his back with a loud splat, his arms and legs splayed in unnatural positions.
Shockingly, he’s somehow still alive and in control of his zombies.
Leaving Rowan’s side for the first time since the battle began, Frank scurries over to Keyser and covers the necromancer’s face with his furry body. Keyser’s arms must be too broken to move because he just lies there as the opossum-like creature slowly smothers him into oblivion.
With Keyser unable to interfere, Rowan takes over the zombies around us. She starts with the ones holding Valerian. As soon as he’s free, he rushes to my side and pries away the hands of the zombies holding me.
“Thank you,” I say, panting, when the last zombie is off me.
“Here.” Valerian rips off his sleeve, wipes the gross spit off my face, and holds the hygieia device over it for triple the required time.
In the periphery of my vision, I see Rowan taking over the zombies that our friends are fighting. My full attention is on Valerian, though. He cleans himself in the same fashion, then pulls me to him and holds me tight, his strong hands stroking my back as if I were his pet cat.
I’m grateful for the kindness. Though I’m mostly numb, I can feel the horror gradually creeping in, and I wrap my arms around Valerian’s waist, pressing harder against him.
A flash captures my attention, and I turn around in Valerian’s embrace to see Fabian back in his human form—and completely naked. Casually, he locates his pants on the platform and struts over to check on the rest of us.
I step out of Valerian’s embrace and start toward Felix, but Ariel is already checking on him.
“He’s fine,” she says, seeing my concerned face.
“So is she,” Stanislav reports, kneeling over still-unconscious Itzel.
Ariel, Fabian, and Stanislav appear uninjured also, apart from some minor cuts and bruises.
Fabian peers into the distance with a frown. “We’d better go. The spectators are moving in.”
Sure enough, the humans who were watching the battle from afar are starting to draw nearer.
Rowan, who’s having a zombie help her get to her feet, eyes the approaching mob with a gloomy expression. “Frank,” she calls out. “Enough!”
Unpeeling himself from Keyser’s face, her pet skitters over to Rowan’s side with what seems to be a smug expression on his furry face.
“Is he dead?” Ariel asks, looking at Keyser.
In lieu of a reply, Rowan shoots Keyser with her necromantic energy and his eyes reopen.
The fiery glow is gone.
“Oh, good,” Ariel says. “It would suck if a corpse stayed Overtaken even after becoming a zombie.”
Rowan looks to be straining, but Zombie Keyser can’t seem to stand up.
“Too broken,” she says through her teeth, then has a couple zombies pick up Keyser’s corpse and place it on the platform where we’re all gathered. The rest of her helpers lift our platform and launch into a run, leaving the mob of humans behind us.
After a few minutes, Itzel comes to, as does Felix, and Ariel and Dylan render what first aid they can.
As I take all of this in, Valerian stands by my side, stroking my back—which might be the only reason I’m keeping it together.
“I don’t understand something,” Ariel says, looking from Keyser to Frank. “Why didn’t he take over your pet to save himself?”
Looking uncomfortable, Rowan nevertheless shares the secret about Frank—how she broke the most sacred taboo of her kind and created an atypical zombie with free will.
“Oh, I get it now,” Felix says with a faint smile. “Frank is short for Frankenstein, isn’t it?”
“That would imply that I fear and hate my creation,” Rowan says. “But I love my fuzzy-wuzzy.”
“Please keep this a secret,” I tell everyone. “If the rest of the necromancers find out, Rowan is screwed.”
“Oh, it’s too late for that anyway,” Rowan says. “I killed my betrothed. A member of the Parliament. In front of witnesses. I’m already beyond screwed.”
“You got his body.” Ariel nods at the reanimated Keyser corpse. “No body, no crime.”
“No, I’m as good as dead,” Rowan says, then walks over to her chair and collapses into it.
“I don’t mean to add to your distress, but you’d better stay away from Bailey and Valerian,” Dylan says to Rowan in a low voice. “They may be infected.”
May be infected. My heart skips a beat, and my legs begin to shake as I gulp in shallow breaths. I’ve been desperately trying not to think about the implications of my mask being gone and that glob of spittle landing on my face, but I can’t ignore it any longer.
“Shh, don’t panic.” Valerian pulls me to him, but my shaking only intensifies, and after a moment, he picks me up and carries me to the bed farthest away from Rowan’s.
I curl into a ball on my side.
“It’s going to be okay,” Valerian’s voice states in my ears. He must be using his power to make it sound as though it’s coming through headphones.
