Mattie swung up onto the stage and went straight to the spotlight. She stood there, dangling her leather coat in one hand. Light streamed across her, illuminating her skin, brightening her face. She reached for Hayden.

She dropped the jacket, grabbed the hem of her skirt, lifting it slowly with none of the urgency he'd come to associate with her and sex. There was no green glimmer in her gaze. Instead, her eyes were a warm brown, framed by long lashes he'd never noticed before. Her hair, its usual mass of tangles, outlined her face and made her skin pale and delicate.

She'd once been more than walking sex, a creature with unavoidable tits and the kind of long legs a man fantasized about having wrapped around him. She hadn't always been the kind of woman who made a man feel right in all the wrong ways.

Hayden gritted his teeth, grabbed his belt, jerked it open then let his pants drop to his knees.

"You aren't hard," she reached for his cock.

He meant to push her hand away and take care of it himself, but he found himself watching her hand wrap around him, slowly curing her fingers around his soft shaft. Her palm was cold, but his body welcomed her touch. He braced himself for the fierce carnal hunger, but it didn't wash over him or even drip down his spine. "Put your hands on her tits."

Mattie winced but stuck her breasts out the strips of wool were dry, and he tugged them down, freeing one breast and then the other. He let the weight of her flesh fill his hands. She arched her back and he flicked his thumbs across her nipples. She closed her eyes, dropping her head back to reveal the soft skin of her neck. She wrapped one leg around his waist.

She rocked, using the tip of his shaft to caress her clit. "Fuck me, Hayden." Then she guided his dick into her pussy. He curved one arm around her.

Still holding her breast, he drove into her, feeling the wet, cool tightness squeezing over his shaft. She moved against him. He matched her rhythm, rocking into her, sliding in and out, feeling the inside of her as though it was the first time. She groaned and held on to him, arching her back.

The voice came through the darkness. "Give me something to watch. Make it hot."

Hayden froze then moved back.

The voice came again. You want the books? Start fucking like you mean it."

Hayden moved his hand around to her back and then lifted her skirt and grabbed her ass. He pulled her closer, grinding into her pubic bone.

Hayden fell into a different kind of abyss.

Even before the last pulses of cum left his cock, Hayden jerked up his pants and hooked his belt.

Mattie lowered her skirt and adjusted the red wool straps. "I'll meet you out front." She said then hopped off the stage and headed to the door, her boots hitting the floor with a heavy smack. Her jacket trailed behind her.

The guard was already marching down the aisle. "It wasn't hot like before."

Hayden jumped off the stage. "Fuck you, asshole."

"No, fuck you."

Hayden grabbed the man's arm and twisted it behind his back. "You got what you asked for. The books."

"What if I don't?"

Hayden lifted the man's arm, shoving it up between his shoulder blades. "Start walking, I'm right behind you."

Even wonder kids had their limits.

* * * * *

Clutching the straps of his backpack, Hayden rounded the corner then paused, taking his time to admire the white blink of the tiny lights hanging from the trees lining Commonwealth. Some of the snow was gone from the branches, so the lights glowed more brightly than the last time he'd bothered to notice.

He was a long way from being done with the undead, but he would soon have new information that should satisfy Mattie. Thanks to an all-access press pass Bob had given him for the comic convention, Hayden would be able to get to every event—including the cocktail party put on by the publisher of that book. The author was going to be there, probably downing custom drinks served to match the party theme. Maybe the man would drink enough to tell Hayden every little thing he knew. If the drinks didn't do the trick, Hayden would find another way to get the information.

Once he got more, Bob Keeler was going to be thrilled, out-of-his-mind ecstatic. It was almost time to get Bob to deliver on that promise.

In a couple months, Hayden might not be dodging those nosy questions at parties. Shit, he'd like to see the looks on his cohorts' faces when his feature stories started showing up in the Globe.

No, his life was far from perfect, but considering how things could've turned out, he was ready to pretend it was damn near close at least for a couple hours. A couple strolled the boulevard, swinging their arms as they walked. Four kids, bundled up so much they could barely move, circled a lumpy snowman. The hat they'd brought for him was an oversize straw sombrero embroidered with flowers, probably a souvenir from Mexico. Across from them, an old man sat on a bench, huddled into his coat and scratching his collie's head. Picture-perfect Back Bay Boston on a dark mid-December evening. Snowmaggeddeon was a memory and the harsh blizzard forgotten.

A nasty gust whipped across Hayden's face, grabbing his scarf, making it fly out in front of him. He tucked it back into his coat, and started toward his place, thinking about whether he'd be celebrating with a beer or if he'd finally open that bottle of Luis Felipe his uncle had given him for graduation. He was deciding whether to invite himself over to Rachelle's or invite her to his when he spotted her coming down the apartment steps. She was carrying a cardboard box, her gaze on the ice-covered steps.

"Hey," he said when she nearly slammed into him.

She stopped short, looked up. "Hey."

The sleeve of her favorite sweater hung down the side of the box. An old pair of sweatpants, a pile of books and her favorite coffee mug—the one she always drank out of first thing in the morning when she spent the night—were crowded together.

Hayden opened his mouth to apologize, again, for what he'd pulled her into, but a familiar voice stopped him short.

"Yo, Hayden."

Matthew brushed past him, shoving his bony shoulder into him.

Rachelle's gaze darted from the box to Hayden to Matthew then back to Hayden. "I'm— I—"

"It's obvious, isn't it, Hayden?" Matthew said, standing beside Rachelle.

"Fuck you," Hayden replied. As soon as the words were out of mouth, he took a step back, out of Matthew's quick reach and spoke to Rachelle. "You're leaving? With him?"

Rachelle shrugged. "Semester's over, I can just hang out for a while. So, yeah, I am."

He stared at the coffee mug. "Why?"

Her hair caught in the wind and she reached up to brush it from her face. "I want to."

Hayden's stomach tensed then rolled. "You're going back to the camp?"

"Yeah." She shifted the box so it sat on her hip, creating a barrier between them. "They like me. And it's fun."

Matthew put his hand on Rachelle's back, guiding her down the steps.

When Rachelle reached the sidewalk, she handed the box to Matthew then came back up the steps. "I know about the tea, Hayden. Mattie told me. She told me everything."

Matthew came up, his long fingers pale against the brown box. "You're the one Mattie didn't tell everything." Matthew kissed Rachelle on the side of the face. She smiled. It was a smile Hayden recognized.

Hayden set his hand on her waist. "Rachelle, you don't remember what happened there."

She blinked and moved back from him and closer to Matthew.

"Fuck off, Hayden." Matthew smirked and walked away, heading back to the battered green Chevy parked between a black Audi A4 and Mercedes wagon.

Rachelle turned and jogged after him. Matthew put the box in the truck bed, dug around until he came back with a coil of rope and a thermos. Rachelle drank what he offered then lifted her hands, putting her wrists together. Once the rope secured her wrists, she climbed into the truck cab, scooted over to the passenger side then stared straight ahead.

Hayden turned. The doorway of the brownstone was empty, the steps clear. Even though it was dark outside, it wasn't that late, so most of the windows of the building were yellow with light. There was nothing unusual there, except a long narrow shadow on the roof. It wasn't a shadow, Hayden realized. It was her, lying across the steep roof, her long legs stretched out behind her, her body still and stiff with cold, her eyes growing green.

The end for now.

#####

Note to the reader:

Thanks for reading SERVANT OF THE UNDEAD. I'm currently revising and expanding this story for publication later in 2017. 

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