Read Online Death 07 - For the Love of Death by Tamara Rose Blodgett - Free Book Online Page A

undead fam to deal with the bot bruisers a few kilometers back as I make my way to the clinic where Mom takes me when shit gets saucy.
    Like the time I thought I had telekinesis when what I had was a good case of gravity.
    That’d been awesome, one broken arm later.
    Same one as now. And the hits just keep on coming.
    I send out an undead search beam. I’m barely here, the clinic should be just a half mile away, but I can’t make it.
    I lower my chin to my chest.
    I wait.
    They come.
    A man, woman and daughter.
    I feel guilt.
    “Master?” the father says.
    I have to ask, “How’d you go?”
    “Automobile wreck,” he answers swiftly.
    A tooth tumbles out like a decaying pearl and rolls, hitting my kneecap. I take a deep breath.
    The little girl sucks her thumb and clutches a teddy bear in her other hand.
    She lowers her hand, and the thumb’s gone. Her brows come together, the flesh hanging there like a stripe.
    “Your thumb…” I sway, falling on my ass, and the motion sends pain so awful it bugs my eyes.
    She notices it’s still in her mouth. “Thank you,” she says as it falls out, and stoops over to pick it up. She looks it over then slides it into her dress pocket.
    Disgusting.
    I look behind me, panting. The zombies watch my stare.
    “ I need medical attention.”
    The man moves forward.
    I did a shit job of raising him. Half his face is gone and one eyeball hangs by a thread.
    Can't have that.
    I shoot him between the eyes. The bolt of death energy slides out of me like a punch. He stumbles backward, falling to the ground, and his wife and daughter gasp as residual hits them.
    Dad’s voice talks to me in memory.
    Bind them. Focus, Paxton. It’s like fishing, son. You have the pole; reel them in. Snag then reel.
    I do that now. Breathing slow, getting my undead Zen on.
    The man comes off the ground like a stiff plank.
    He is perfect.
    Human and alive. Vital. His clothes are mid-twentieth. Damn , that’ll stick out.
    I shift my attention to the wife and daughter. They’re pretty rough around the edges, but they’ll do at a distance.
    I don’t tell him what to do. He picks me up as though I weigh nothing. I’m two hundred ten pounds, but a feather in his arms.
    He carries me to the clinic. It’s a half-kilometer. I feel his family trail us.
    He kicks open the clinic door and takes me to the receptionist desk.
    It’s a fucking bot.
    It stands while I despair. My feelings choke me.
    < Paranormal! > it croaks loudly.
    With one arm, my zombie decapitates it. The head slams into the wall behind its headless body and sticks in the drywall like a hunk of beached driftwood.
    My zombie lowers his arm. Broken.
    I close my eyes.
    When I open them, I’m emptier but the arm is whole again. There’s nothing as powerful as my AFTD and Organic powers working together.
    “Organic,” I toss out in an incoherent command.
    He moves from room to room. All Organics.
    “There.” I point to one door in particular.
    Jezebel, reads the door placard.
    Thank whatever is holy there’s a Jezebel in this world, too.
    He swings through and there she is. My Organic from home.
    Shock and bewilderment wash over her features.
    “Paxton Hart.”
    Sweat runs into my eyes.
    “Set me down,” I say.
    My zombie lays me on the bed, and I yell when the thinnest of cotton sheets grazes my arm.
    “You’re dead,” she whispers, clutching at her heart.
    I bark out a laugh, catching the irony.
    I shake my head, and my vision swims. I take deep breaths. “No.” I jerk my thumb at my zombie. “He is.”
    Jezebel moves her gaze to the zombie.
    He tips his hat. “George,” he introduces.
    She pales in front of my eyes.
    Panic surges. “Jezebel, don’t you dare pass out on me!”
    She falls on her ass to the chair and throws her head between her knees.
    Precious seconds float by.
    Finally, she looks at me. “How much time do we have?”
    “Not much. My zom— George disabled the bot at the front desk.”
    “The ALB?”
    I nod