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I half-expected to be turned away despite my VIP pass, since I hardly looked like a Very Important anything. But the security guard simply flashed a UV light at my pass then waved me in. I walked between the statues and stepped from bright afternoon into an incredible moonlit graveyard. Clever lighting transformed the top of the tent into starry blackness, and a full “moon” high in the center cast pale light over everything. Props, plants, and landscaping combined to create a realistic and creepy graveyard about the size of a tennis court and ringed by a wrought iron fence. People milled beyond it, crowding around exhibits and clustering in social groups. I followed a gravel path through the graveyard and a creaky gate, and then into the main affair of food and fun.
A scan of the other VIPs showed me that this was the Rich People tent, no doubt about it. Perfect teeth and smooth skin, trim bodies honed beneath a surgeon’s knife or a hot-yet-stern trainer’s eyes, jeans that cost what I made in a week, elegant manicures on both genders, and not a split end or bad dye job in sight. Even the people in costume were in niiiiiice costumes, hunters and zombies alike. I also noted way too many men making idiots of themselves over actress and zombie-hunting heroine Justine Chu, which proved once again that money couldn’t cure stupid. Then again, she was plenty gorgeous—almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones and full lips, and an athletic figure that still had enviable curves. Fortunately for her, two crew members kept the line moving and discreetly intervened whenever it looked as if a fan was getting a bit too adoring.
I spied Andrew near a giveaway table stocked with zombie farmer dolls riding Saberton farm equipment. To my amusement, he was damn near as popular as Justine even though he wasn’t quite as pretty. I spared a moment to watch him deftly handle a variety of wannabe business partners as well as several women who were wannabe Mrs. Andrew Sabers, each angling to become the heiress-by-marriage of the Saber fortune.
Oh, if they only knew they were fawning over a real zombie.
I helped myself to a sparkling juice and several way-yummy crawfish canapés, and watched Andrew in my peripheral vision as he talked to people and smiled the kind of smile you put on when you don’t feel like smiling. Standing a dozen feet to his left was a woman in a crisp pantsuit and a serious expression. Thea Braddock, the Saberton head of security from New York. During our raid, Pierce had spared her life because he considered her a decent person and believed she’d been unaware of the atrocities inflicted upon zombies in
the Saberton subbasement.
Her gaze skimmed over me and stopped. She recognized me from the New York showdown. I gave her a polite nod. Her eyes narrowed, but she offered a micronod in return which clearly said I’m watching you, and if you pull any stunts I’ll flatten you. Off to Andrew’s right stood another Saberton bodyguard, Tom Snyder, dressed in a tailored dark suit. As far as I knew, he hadn’t been involved in the zombie lab shit. Good thing. If he was one of the fuckers who’d helped torture and abuse zombies, I’d be starting a whole different kind of zombie hunt at this shindig. In any case, neither of them knew their boss was a zombie.
The gaggle of hopefuls around Andrew finally moved on, and his smile dropped away as if it weighed a hundred pounds. He reached behind a sign on the table, retrieved a blender bottle and gave it a shake. He took a long drink—of brain shake, I figured—then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. My stomach growled, and I gave it a pat. Hush now, Mama will give you a brain packet as soon as I have a little privacy.
I sidled to within a couple of feet of him, well aware that Thea Braddock had her eye on me. “Ohhh, Mr. Saber!” I purred in a mockery of the women who’d been fawning over him. He startled and snapped his eyes open. “You’re so handsome,” I gushed and fluttered my eyelashes as he glared. “And RICH!”
Braddock moved toward us but stopped when Andrew waved her off. She eased back but continued to give me the stinkeye.
“You’re a laugh a minute, Angel,” Andrew sneered, putting on a scowly face which was as much a show for onlookers as it was directed at me. It wouldn’t do for the Saberton security peeps to see two supposed enemies acting cozy. He continued more quietly, “Did you get my message?”
Crap. That must have been the text that came in when I was talking to Nick. “Things were hectic after you called. What’s up?”
“I found out that my mother is flying to Portland today.”
Double Triple Crap. I nibbled at my canapé. “Kristi Charish is in Portland.” And, as of yesterday, so were Pierce, Marcus, Brian, and Kyle.
“From what I’ve heard, Charish has notes and documentation from the Dallas lab.”
“So?” I frowned. Surely a lab like that had copies of documentation all over the place. “Were all the backups destroyed? And why doesn’t she just FedEx them to Nicole?”
“I’m not in the loop, but it’s clear there’s more going on. When Charish esca—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “When she disappeared the week before your people raided the Dallas lab, she took files with her. This is the first we’ve heard of her since then.”
Escaped? That was damn interesting. Sounded like Saberton had been holding her as a captive researcher in their Dallas zombie lab. I’d last seen Kristi Charish right before New York, when she was working with Dr. Nikas—as our captive researcher. Saberton was responsible for her escape from the Tribe, and I would have bet anything that she’d pounce on the chance to work with Saberton—and their resources. Orrrrrr maybe she had pounced on the chance and then, once she discovered that she wasn’t going to be top dog at the Dallas lab, got pissy and had to be locked down. That sounded like the Kristi Charish I knew and loathed. “Are you telling me Saberton had no idea where she went after she fled Dallas?”
“That’s right. I notified Naomi yesterday when Charish contacted my mother. That’s all I know.” He took another long pull from the bottle and gave a barely perceptible shudder. I doubted it was because of the taste of the brains in his “protein drink.” Way more likely that he was having a tough time adjusting to the scent of so many fresh live brains around him. I remembered how crazy hungry I’d been as a new zombie. Poor dude was going through the same shit. I could sympathize since my own brain hunger clamored as if I hadn’t eaten in days and days. If it wasn’t for the pesky fact that Ms. Braddock would have me face down on the grass with a knee on my back in the blink of an eye, I’d probably try to snag the bottle out of his hand and chug it down.
I lowered my voice more. “Top off more than you think you need when you have to go out in public.”
His hand tightened on the bottle, and his eyes flashed in frustrated outrage at his situation. Yet he took another long slug. “What the hell am I supposed to do if my mother brings Charish to New York?” he muttered.
I crammed the rest of the canapé into my mouth, chewed and swallowed before speaking. “You get up in the morning, take a shit, eat breakfast, work out, shower, or whatever the hell you usually do, then go to work and do the same crap you’ve always done. Charish has worked around zombies, but she’s only human. She can’t smell brains and doesn’t have any superpowers that’ll tell her you’re different.”
Andrew didn’t look convinced. “No one has suspected so far.” He took another drink from the bottle as if drawing reassurance. “If I get outed, I’ll end up as a test subject. My mother is heartless.”
“No one’s outing anyone,” I said with absolute certainty. Too much at stake. For me as well. If Andrew got outed, it would push the Tribe closer to exodus. “No one will suspect.” I shut up and plastered on a bland smile as Braddock approached.
She touched Andrew’s arm. “Mr. Saber? You’re on in ten minutes, and the promoter would like to go over a few things with you beforehand.”
Andrew nodded. “Thank you, Ms. Braddock.”
Braddock gave me another pointed once-over then returned to her former position.
I finished my juice and tossed my cup into a trash barrel. My bladder politely informed me that I was going to need to do something soon about all the juice I drank, which in turn reminded me of Andrew’s porta-potty call. “How do you know Grayson Seeger?”
“Only in passing from Saberton’s association with the movie.”
I gave Andrew a stiff smile. “You mean Saberton’s abuse of extras for unethical zombie experiments?”
