He opened his mouth, then hesitated. “May I know your name?”
“Oh.” Surprise at his words lit through her, the normalcy of the question releasing some of the tension pitted in her stomach. “Larissa. Larissa Miller.”
“Larissa,” he said, and she wanted to close her eyes and listen to him repeat those three syllables on an endless loop. “Why were you attacked by the zombies?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
There wasn’t any disbelief in his voice – none that she could detect, anyway – but there was still something in the spacing of the words that made it clear he didn’t fully believe her. “No, I don’t know. It was probably some random occurrence, though they shouldn’t have been able to get into the city.” Like you was added in her head, but once again, self-preservation kept her from speaking those words aloud.
“It wasn’t a random occurrence.” His voice carried absolute conviction.
“And how would you know?”
Once again that small hesitation before he spoke. “In the past, my Clan has had dealings with necromancers.”
Zombies meant…
Necromancers. The word she been avoiding all night was now spoken, drifting through the air on icy currents. The sound alone had her rubbing her arms for warmth. “Dealings, huh?” she asked, more in avoidance than actual interest. She didn’t want to talk about them, didn’t even want to think about their existence, not while an image of one eyeball hanging out of its socket waited behind her eyelids.
“While I claim no intimate knowledge, I know enough to say the zombies I fought tonight were created by a master necromancer. Masters of that level do not make mistakes.” He crouched before her then, so close she could reach out and stroke his face. “Are you involved with the necromancers?”
“What? No! Gods no, never!” She jumped up from the couch as though she could run away from the words. “Necromancers? They’re… no, just no.”
“Then why did the zombies target you?”
Maybe that was why he brought her here, thinking she was somehow connected with necromancers. “Listen, I don’t deal with anything like that. I’m a history teacher. I work, tutor kids, and the most exciting thing I do is play card games with my dad on the weekend – that’s where I was headed tonight when all this started. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Somehow those things got past the city’s security and went after me.”
She shook her head. It couldn’t be real, zombies attacking her. Her? She was always the good kid. While her brothers had given their dad many grey hairs over the years, she never got into fights or broke curfew or lied about who she was hanging around with. How does someone like that get attacked by zombies? Why would they come after her?
Why would they touch her?
Hold her?
Trap her?
An eye hanging out of its socket…
From far away a long, keening sob.
And Larissa realized…
…the sob came from her.
Her body betrayed her, legs giving out, limbs trembling and twisting and the hard inward jerk of torso to protect her, the curl that would shelter from the outside world, outside pain. Teeth chattered with an echo that resonated through skull, through bone, through marrow.
Weightless. A second of air. A second of vulnerability. A second of alone.
Then warmth seeped into her skin, burrowing into damaged spaces, replacing danger with safety, shame with forgiveness. She was immobile against an immovable surface, but as long as she could bask in that warmth she didn’t fear her imprisonment. The smell of newly cracked stone washed over her, an unknown language sounded, spoken in a deep, resonant tone that promised protection.
The shaking eased, the sobs stuttered and hiccupped their last, and she opened her eyes to find her fingers digging into Terak’s chest, his leathery wings curled around her, holding her close to him.
The hard planes and grey tone to his skin gave the impression of cold, but his body was a furnace, a warm blanket on a winter day. His skin was firm but supple, the texture inviting her to stroke where her fingers lay against him.
She nuzzled deeper into him when awareness of her situation slammed through her. Cloaking herself with the trailing ends of her dignity she straightened and leaned back.
The first attempt to get away from him was unsuccessful, his arms still tight around her. Clearing her throat, she looked up at him, glancing at his wings when his gaze met hers. “Thank you, but I’m fine now. You can let go.”
He followed her gaze, his brows coming together once again. The wings opened and he set her down.