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Phobetor must not like it when mortals criticize the authenticity of his villainous quips or his taste in TV shows. A thin woman leaps at Felix with a meat tenderizer.
Puck. Without his robot suit, he might not be able to take her on.
She swings the tenderizer at his head.
Felix sidesteps, but just barely.
Heart pounding, I aim and shoot.
The woman drops to the ground.
Ariel knocks out the Overtaken next to her, then casts an exasperated glance at Felix. “Star Trek? Seriously?”
Felix shrugs and dodges a colander flying at his head while I shoot the person who threw it.
Behind me, Rowan appears with her daisy chain of zombies.
Finally, some reinforcements.
Problem is, the zombies are still clearing the gate, and I don’t think Rowan can let go of their hands, else she’ll lose most of them.
For now, we’re still on our own.
Phobetor must see the writing on the wall because the Overtaken attack with renewed vigor. My teammates retaliate. Ariel knocks a woman out with a blow to the temple, while Fabian breaks a few arms and legs. Through all this, Dylan is staying back; she appears to still be coming to terms with the shock of her second chance at life.
Rowan’s last zombie clears the gate, and she has them unlock hands and leap at the Overtaken.
I shoot a few of our enemies to help, but it’s no longer necessary. Within seconds, the Overtaken are on the ground, held down by zombie hands.
Wiping the sweat off my forehead with my sleeve, I lower my gun and turn to Dylan. “We should give these Overtaken the cure for the virus. Our zombies might be contaminated.”
Dylan’s face doesn’t change in any way to indicate that she’s heard me. However, she takes out an ampule and proceeds to pour the liquid down the throats of Phobetor’s victims.
After the cure has been distributed, Valerian walks around and methodically knocks them all out with his gun.
Meanwhile, Dylan trudges over to the body of the Overtaken whose skull Fabian crushed. Once there, she kneels, as if in mourning.
Felix cocks his head. “Has her resurrection made her more compassionate?”
Rowan sucks in a breath. “I hope it’s not what I think.”
We rush over to where Dylan is kneeling, and just as slurping sounds reach my ears, I realize this must be what Rowan was hoping against.
Dylan isn’t mourning the woman.
She’s eating her brain.
Chapter Three
I fight a gagging sensation. So, so gross. “Brains can contain infectious prions,” I say out loud. “Think mad cow disease and the like. Eating is how you get them into your body.”
Felix tears his gaze away from Dylan. “Is that the only reason not to eat them?”
“Well, no.” I shudder. “I’d rather starve to death.”
Fabian turns back into a person and looms over Rowan in all his naked glory. “What’s happening?”
Rowan steps back. “I didn’t want to bring her back, remember? Sometimes taboos exist for good reasons. I told you there would be side effects.”
“That’s not a side effect,” Fabian growls. “That’s a full-blown effect.”
Rowan glances at the sack where she’s keeping her pet. “Frank’s appetites also changed in that direction. He prefers the brains of his own kind, but since those are hard to come by, I substituted the brains of domesticated animals and he’s been thriving on that.”
Ariel runs her hand through her shampoo-commercial-perfect hair. “Monkey brains are eaten as a delicacy in some places. This isn’t that different, I guess.”
Yep. And that’s the reason I only eat bananas when I’m on Earth.
Frank sticks his head out of the sack, the curious expression on his furry face seeming to say, “Did someone say yummy brains?”
“I can see why your people don’t like to call them zombies.” Itzel nods toward Rowan’s helpers. “They want to save that term for where it’s more applicable.” She looks pointedly at Dylan.
With a growl, Fabian rushes over to where his clothes are, puts them on, and sprints over to Dylan.
Gently, he puts a hand on her shoulder.
Did Dylan just growl at him?
Nah. Must be my imagination.
“We did this to her,” I whisper, looking up at Valerian.
His chiseled jaw tightens. “Don’t beat yourself up. I was the one who pushed Rowan, and I’d do it again if I had to. So Dylan has an eccentric diet now. Still better than being dead.”
The slurping noises stop, and Dylan stands up.
Fabian rips a chunk of cloth from the dead woman’s nightgown and wipes the remnants of brain matter from Dylan’s face.
“Thank you,” Dylan says haltingly.
“Are you okay?” Ariel asks her, looking remarkably ungrossed out.
“I feel very strange.” Dylan’s tone is robotic, though a hint of her former intelligence glimmers in the empty pools of her eyes. “I see a lot of potential for research in this area, and that pleases me.”
Uh-huh. Is she talking culinary research?
“We’re going to get you a top-of-the-line laboratory,” Valerian tells her. “Whatever you need. You’ll be taken care of, I swear it.”
