“Maverick,” Nick greets as he swings the door open. “I thought we’d never see you again.”
“You took my book, I had to see where you placed it,” Maverik says with a sly grin. The sparkle’s returned to his irises, like all the heaviness has dissipated.
Nick lets out a hearty laugh and ushers us inside.
“I thought we were going to see my mom,” I whisper tersely to Maverick, who gives a small wave.
“We are. Nick’s been away on a personal call and apparently just got back.”
“And what an insanity to come back to,” Nick says from up ahead as he ushers us deeper into the mansion. “I guess what I saw in Transylvania was the aftermath of whatever’s been going on down here in the south.”
The question blurts out of my mouth before I can catch it. “What’s happened in Transylvania?”
“There’s a vampire council up there. I’ve brought news of what you, Zeke, have told me and presented it to them.”
Maverick gives a snort. “Let me guess. They want to keep their hands clean as well.”
“Actually, they’ve begun researching Mount Rook and all the branches it has at its beck-and-call. I wouldn’t be surprised if they found traitors amongst themselves. There’s been strange activity in the shadows lately, not to mention a surge in werewolves in Romania. They’ve always been scavengers, but the sudden growth is suspicious. It’s as if Rome and Greece are crawling with them. I don’t think I tracked a single purebred human.”
My ears perk up. “You found hybrids though?”
Nick flashes a grin over his shoulder as we pass the stairs to the feeding room. “Insurmountable.”
We come across another set of stairs and descend.
“America isn’t the only country experimenting.”
The stairwell opens to a square room with wall-length windows. The floors are made of dark gray stone, looking like a medieval chamber as the lights dangling from the center give the place a warm glow. In front of the window-wall to the left is someone sitting in a chair. He stands, and I immediately recognize his face.
My dad.
“I told you time and time again, Anne is not a Guinea pig.”
He cuts himself short as he notices me.
“Hi, dad.”
The color seems to drain from his face as he grows tongue tied. “What are you doing here?”
“Maverick had a few questions for you.”
He crosses his arms over his broad chest. “I’ve already answered all his questions.” He turns back to Nick and Maverick. “That girl Mikey got better without any drugs or testing.”
“That’s because she had her shroud,” I respond, forcing his focus to me again. I’m his son, but he shouldn’t overlook what I have to say because of that, right? Parents are known to disregard what their kids say are important. “She had me to fight with her.”
My dad’s shoulders roll back, as if he’s offended. “And what do you think I’m doing, Zeke?”
“I think you have some explaining to do.”
My dad narrows his eyes as the vampires leave the room. I glance into the window to see my mom sleeping on a comfortable bed, still Mindlessly Raged Out.
I walk closer, trying to figure out what I want to say as I study his features. There’s a hint of gray in his hair, but not as much as one would think for an older zombie, nor is it as thin as expected. His skin doesn’t peel, and there aren’t any patches of gray, tearable flesh anywhere on his exposed skin. There’s a blackish-yellow tint to his nails, but that’s normal for zombies. Growing older leads to darker nails.
He’s never left behind any goo when he walks barefoot, which sometimes happens. It’s like when a body dies and all the blood coalesces at the base and seeps out. He’s never smelled super rotten, and I’ve never noticed an increase to the scent, but I’ve lived with him my entire life. I wouldn’t notice slight changes.
He’s silent as I study him.
“Why haven’t you and mom aged?”
There’s a shift to his skin as the ichor in his veins rises, a zombie’s version of flushing. He recovers quickly. “Your mom and I have gone over this. We age like any other zombie. It’s only different because we were hit by the radiation from the—”
“You’re lying,” I interrupt. I’ve never been one to question, as previously learned, but maybe I should have. I should have paid more attention to my parents and the other zombies around me. Sure, we didn’t go around asking if we were created by the Surge or (un)natural means. I don’t believe I’ve met a single zombie as old as my parents claim to be. They’ve lived through a whole apocalypse and a war. They’ve seen Bleeders in all their glory when they first rose. They watched the second-worlders mesh themselves with twentieth-century technology and reclaim the world, albeit lazily in most areas.
“I found a book about Mount Rook in your room. And in it, there was a note.” I stare him down, watching for any reactions. “It was addressed to an Ophio.”
I don’t miss the twitch in his eyes.
“Are you—”
“No,” he responds. He tenses for a minute before exhaling. “Yes, we have a book about Mount Rook. But you can’t seriously think we’re a part…”
He trails off, staring at my unconscious mother.
“Dad?”
He turns back to me, his face crestfallen as he runs one of his large hands over it. “There was a note?”
I nod.
“I didn’t know there was a note.” He pauses, sitting in the chair. His expression makes me believe some kind of metaphorical rug has been ripped out from under him.
He turns to stare at my mom again, resting his cheek on his fist. He doesn’t share his thoughts for a long minute, boring holds into her. My bones start to ache from standing so still.
He inhales deeply. “I wasn’t a part of Mount Rook,” he says, wringing his hands. “But I’m starting to think she was.”
Cold fingers work their way into my gut, kneading my intestines into knots. I follow my dad’s gaze to my mom as she stirs, opening her eyelids like she senses us watching. She crouches, like she’s ready to attack me.
My mom’s the gentlest person I know. So kind and sweet and loving and caring… There’s absolutely no way she could have been a part of Mount Rook. I refuse to believe she’d be the Ophia the letter pertains to. But I’ve learned a lot about people I thought I knew.
Why would my own mother be any different?
I stride to the window and place my fingers against it. She slams her fist into the glass, making it shudder under the impact.
“She saved me once,” my dad says, walking next to me, but she ignores him. They’re locked on me. “I was starving, close to becoming Mindless. Close to attacking people I’d grown up with, people who thought I was human. She made me eat something… and I’ve barely aged since.”
“Do you know what it was?”
He shakes his head. “I have no idea.”
My mom slams her fist into the glass again.
“And you think mom…?”
He’s silent, letting my mom’s muffled grunts take up the airwaves as she cracks the glass.
“She couldn’t have been.”
“Your mom was different back then,” he says, almost as if he’s in a trance. There’s no doubt he’s replaying their life together. “Your girlfriend reminds me of her. Overeager. Easily excitable. Constantly in motion.” He pauses. “Secretive.”
There’s a weariness to his body that makes me see him for how old he really could be.
Bang.
The crack splinters.
“She’s already been tested on,” he whispers, worry lacing his irises. “That’s why they had her in that place, isn’t it?”
It’s my turn to keep my mouth sewn shut.
“What… did they do to her?”
I grit my teeth and swallow hard, boring holes into the ground. “If it’s anything like what they did to me… then you don’t want to know.”
My mom shouts, the sound like a low bellow as sorrow enters my bloodstream.
“You came down here to talk me into letting them experiment on her too.”
“It could save her, dad. The last time I spoke with them about this Mindless Bleeder stuff, they took Mikey’s blood to study. If anyone can figure it out, I’m sure it’s Sonny and Maverick.”
He exhales, the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Do you really believe that, son?”
I turn to see him watching me, digging deep. She’s not only my mother. She’s his wife. They argue sometimes, but the way they’ve always looked at each other… I’ve always wanted that kind of love.
“I do, dad.”
He takes a step back to pace slowly, scratching his neck as he wrestles with himself. Mikey came out of it on her own, but she had me in her head. All my dad can do is speak to her, but words fall on deaf ears when speaking to the Mindless. This… is all we have.
Finally, as a shard of glass hits the floor, he halts. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s do it.”