Chapter 6

       Yari's shoulders sagged with exhaustion as Darla's tires crunched onto the gravel of the spa's parking lot. The inside of her mouth was plastered in mountain road dust, her bruised throat felt swollen and tight, and the bank run had been a disaster of near biblical proportions. Oh, and the rotting dead guy who wanted to talk to her? He'd been the cherry on the whole fucked-up outing. Already a fabulous day, and it couldn't be past noon.

Edging Darla into her spot on the employee bike rack, she wondered if the day could get worse. Then she noticed Rick's thin figure lurking in the rear door of the spa. Of course it could.

"Do you know what time it is?" He pointed to his watch and tapped his foot.

Heat rose to her cheeks. The prick. Maybe she would have a clue about time if she could find a clock that didn't explode around her like the bank had. Or better yet. She gave Rick a slow smile. "No idea. Can I see your watch?"

His eyes grew large in that bugged-out-anger look he'd been working on while Carmen, the Spa's Owner, was out. "Well then, I'll tell you miss-fifteen-minutes-late for her appointment."

"Oh shoot." While she could give a damn if Rick got pissed off, she really did try to take care of her clients.

"Hey wait." Rick tried to step in front of her. She breezed past him heading towards her treatment room in the basement. "What of the bank receipt?"

She winced but kept moving. A fifteen-minute delay could throw off her whole day. Her schedule never had openings, and she often stayed booked weeks out. This would never do.

Her touch kept her fed. While technology broke around her, the human body performed better. People came from all over Teller County, even Colorado Springs, and even as far away as Denver, to get one of her massages. Which meant by the time her last appointment had finished, and she started closing up the spa, it was late.

Packed with appointments and behind, she didn't have time to reflect on her encounters with the mystery man – if he was, in fact, a man.

Now, while rubbing her room down with a mineral disinfectant, she had time to think. Maybe she should she go to the police and report the crime. She sucked in her bottom lip as she wiped across the massage bed. The thought of entering a police station gave her hives. She bet it would be just as bad as going to the bank. She closed her eyes and shivered. No, she didn't want to think about that disaster again.

Could try to call the police, occasionally phones worked for her, but she didn't know what to say about the uncomfortable question of why, or how, she was in the house to begin with. She made it a regular habit of sharing other people's homes when the residences were not in use, it wouldn't do to have the local law enforcement in the know.

And then there was Mr. Scary himself. She knew what she saw last night. Him and his ghastly group. She bit down on her lip.

But he changed and stayed human-ish at the bank. Normal looking didn't fit because that man'd been darn hot. She stopped to wipe her forehead with her sleeve.

Not that physical appearance was any reason to like a guy. Rubbing harder on the bed with a towel she chided herself. But he had the gamut covered for extremes in appearances. Very mysterious.

She liked it.

Figures, she stood and draped the towel over her cart, then went to the door. Bending over, she picked up the trash bag then flipped the room's door closed with her elbow. Her life stayed too messed-up to be attracted to the normal ones.

She climbed the back stairs, lugging the trash over her shoulder. Maybe that's why she didn't date. Regular guy's bored her, which was easier to say then regular guy's liked gadgets and cars, none of which survived near her. Or that typical guys expected a girl to live in a permeate house. In short, regular boys didn't prefer freaks.

Early on, she'd learned to lump such things like a stable residence, non-sparking electrical plugs, cooked food, and a boyfriend into a grouping of things she knew to be impossibilities. Life was complicated enough, better to keep going, and continue jumping residence, so there was not another accident. After all, life taught her that sparks were what she should be watching out for, not undead cute boys.

Leaning into the door to push the bar down, she swung it open. The cool night air flooded in. She loved the fall. The smells changed up on the mountain. Instead of the aroma of flowers, the crisp mountain air carried the scent of drying grass and bark. More musky than fresh. Also the temperature chilled. In the next few weeks, the mountain towns would get their first dusting of snow.

She walked the dark path from the backdoor. Really, Rick should have been working on replacing the light behind the dumpster, not yelling at her. A light would sure make it easier to take the trash out at night. Well, until she stood near it on a bad day and the light blew apart again, but never mind that.

A tall, rock-like figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking her return to the spa. Her hand froze in mid air from throwing the trash into the bin. A scream caught in her throat.

One light from the parking lot still reached the side yard of the building. Its glow cast a shadow over the man's stone chiseled features. Yari's shaky eyes slid to the deserted parking lot. Her focus returned to the man and her palms moistened.

He still appeared to be human, from what she could see in the small light. A very good-looking guy dressed in blue jeans and a black turtleneck.

"How did you find me?" Her throat choked off her words even while she tried to portray confidence. The bank might have been an accident, not this.

His wide hand raised and he pointed to the spa logo on the pocket of her work shirt. His clear blue eyes unwavering as his jaw clinched. A hard expression that was cold enough to stop even a murderer's heart, let alone her's.

"Oh." She paused. Her eyes skimmed the darkened ground. Maybe she could grab a rock and use it to protect herself. Blood surged to her panicked limbs. She could use the stone to bash in his brains if he took another step closer.

She examined his thick shoulders and arms, then up to his face that loomed a foot above hers. A rock would be about as effective as a fruit fly on this guy. She adjusted her shoulders. Okay, maybe she could talk her way out of this.

"Why are you here then? I said I wouldn't go to the police."

The man tilted his dark head to the side, like if he found her curious. The most human expression she'd seen him give.

"I was sent to kill you." He said it in a hard voice that sent chills sweeping over her. An ice block formed in her chest, her heart kicked it up a notch or twelve, and her hand went to her bruised neck.

Think, think.

Her gaze shifted around. All the interior lights were out in the building, and the employee bike rack only held Darla. She took a step in retreat and glanced over to the woods, a few short feet away. Might make it before he reached her, but Colorado mountain forests were not thick. She would need to cover a lot of ground to lose him. Oh, and not fall into one of the forgotten prospector hole that littered the surrounding hills.

From their meeting at the bank it seemed that he could move extremely fast, or he was a ghost – either way, not going to be good for her chances.

She took a breath preparing to lunge for a nearby rock when his cool voice interrupted her. "But I don't think I have to."

"Don't have to..."

"Kill you." His eyes skimmed her body. "I have to do what I'm told, but not around you. Or at least not now." He almost purred the words.

Not exactly a comforting reassurance. Yari took a breath to control her shaking.

"What are you?" she whispered.

His brows crossed, like the question confused him. The second human expression he'd shown. The more natural look chipped away at his rock exterior and made him less monster-like.

"At the house, last night, I thought I saw, well something else. But now you're sort of normal?"

He smiled. A surprising gesture that seeming to fully crack his hard outer shell. He gave a small shrug. "Oh that, well, I'm a zombie."

"Oh."

He waved his hand casually and he shifted his weight. "An un-dead soldier, a walking dead guy, a Tommy, or such, you saw my other form in the moonlight."

Yari blinked at his sudden change to a more natural mannerism. "You only look dead in the moonlight?"

"Or direct sunlight."

"How inconvenient."

"You're telling me. Darn good thing today was cloudy, huh?"

She shook herself. Could she really have a conversation with someone who may be there to kill her? Only a minute ago he had the practiced stance of a homicidal murderer.

She gestured. "So what do you want with me if you're not here to, yah know."

He shuffled his feet and, kicking a small pebble, he looked away. "I thought I should ask your permission to see you more."

Wowa. Not what she expected. She stammered, lost for words. Her mind spun. "I don't date zombies."

He laughed. At first, only a small chuckle, but it grew. He grabbed the door for support while holding his side. His laughter making him wheeze. Yari blinked. She didn't think it a funny statement. Really she didn't.

"I guess," he gave one last chuckle. "Jack's right, I don't make very good first impressions with women." He shook his head. "Sorry, I haven't laughed since..." His face fell blank. "Well, it's been a turn. Didn't know it was still in me." He wiped his hand on his shirt then offered it to her. "Name's Damien Winters, Ma'am."

She looked at his outstretched hand. Was he kidding? Then, with a shrug, she shook it. If it kept him from killing her, she could at least attempt pleasantries.

"Ah, Yari Applegate."

His strong grasp enveloped her with his callused hands. His grip surprisingly warm and gentle against her palm.

"Your skin's hot." She should know, touching people being her profession and all.

Damien pulled his hand away and ran it through his black hair. "Oh well, you know a warm day, I guess, and I've been out and about more." She squinted. In the dark, it appeared he blushed.

"So you're normally a cold zombie?"

He sidestepped into the shadow of the spa's roof, right as the waning moon peeked from behind a cloud. She cocked her head and pointed up. "And you're shy?"

He shook his head. "I'm trying to get you to spend time with me. Changing will scare the bageeves out of you. I know, it scares them out of me. So will you?"

"Will I what? Get scared?" Because she'd basically got that nailed the moment he'd appeared.

"No. Will you let me see you again?"

She looked at him while he pushed himself against the side of the spa. Even standing against the wall, he appeared well, frankly, handsome. Talk about being miles beyond weird. She couldn't believe that she would even consider taking him up on his offer. This was crazy. She should be running in the opposite direction—while screaming.

"I guess, but only if you promise to not kill me." Oh, yah, really smooth.

He smiled. His shoulders seemed to relax and he gave a little laugh. "Deal." He nodded towards her. "And I'm really sorry about your neck. It wasn't my idea."

"Um, sure okay." What to say to that?

With a last lingering look, he moved around the side of the house and angled past the woodpile. Glancing over his shoulder, he grinned again showing off hidden dimples. Darn the boy was cute, zombie or not.

"I'll see you tomorrow." His form blurred into a streak and disappeared into the woods.

Her legs buckled and she collapsed to the brittle grass. What the hell did she agree to? From the front of the spa, she heard a pop as the parking lot light exploded in a spray of glass.

She didn't date – or whatever. Her stomach gave an uncomfortable twist. With that swift piece of work, she'd have to see him again, great job old Yari girl. The burnt out light over the trash bin snapped and crackled. What if he brought his rotting friends for a double date? Their image from the night before flashed into her mind, and the light near her hissed blue sparks.

The flash caught her attention. If she didn't get a hold of herself one of those flares would catch, again. The thought brought a memory of a far away house, a fight, her emotions raging unchecked, the air think with the smell of smoke, and her mother's screams.

She swallowed and with a deep breath, stood. She needed to focus on her immediate issues. Like finding a place to crash tonight, and dealing with Rick in the morning when he asked about the bank receipts. That ought to be a good time.

While she made her way into the spa, she still shook and had an overriding need to find a drink that wasn't herbal. Then she would construct a plan for how to handle Damien the Zombie.