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The Lingering Dead
The Lingering Dead Read online
Also by J. N. Duncan
Deadworld
The Vengeful Dead
THE LINGERING DEAD
J. N. Duncan
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Also by J. N. Duncan
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
DEADWORLD
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
This was the most difficult book to write thus far, mostly due to time constraints and the stress that the real world can bring at times that can make everything else so difficult. A big thanks to Martin, my editor for editing on the fly to help me get this book finished on time, and to my agent, Ginger Clark for offering some timely, early feedback on the manuscript. A bigger thank you to my wife, (author Tracy Madison), who had to deal with my deadlines while I simultaneously looked for a new job. Vida, thank you for all of your efforts behind the scenes there at Kensington. Also, to the mysterious folks at the art department. I don’t know who you are, but the covers get better every time, which makes me happy. Also, big thanks to everyone else who has supported and encouraged my writing along the way here. Writing stories is both a blessing and a wonder, which I hope to continue to do until I no longer can. Happy reading/ writing everyone.
J.N. Duncan
Prologue
Jessica Davies’s face was numb. The motorcycle helmet provided little protection against the cold October air, but she did not care. Hunkered down in the sidecar of Charlie’s roaring machine, her gloved hands gripped the lip of the shell, and she squealed with fearful delight every time Charlie took a curve too fast and the wheel of the sidecar lifted off the ground. She was miles from nowhere with the coolest girl in the world and no clue where they were going. It was glorious, terrifying fun.
It sure beat the hell out of doing meth on Petey’s dilapidated old couch that smelled like piss and vomit. There was more warmth in this wind-whipped sidecar than she ever got from his rusted out, charcoal hibachi. Not to mention the bonus of being miles away from his grimy hands and a mouth that tasted like rotted ass. Wherever Charlie was going, it had to be a million times better than that wretched dump.
The tree-lined highway gave way to another small town. Charlie eased off of the accelerator and they came to a stop at the single stoplight in the center of the town. Her pert, red mouth spread into a grin, and she stared down at Jessica through the gleaming, mirrored lenses of her aviator goggles. If the light was just so, Jessica swore she could see Charlie’s otherworldly eyes behind them.
“Doing OK down there, Sis?”
Jessica nodded. “This is so fucking great! I love you.” God! Where had that come from? But what else could this tingling, energized feeling be? No boy had ever managed to spark these sensations in her before. Warmth, comfort, desire. The feelings had been almost instantaneous. Charlie oozed cool out of every pore, and that little blond curlicue on her forehead was to die for. And the whole “sis” thing made her smile inside. They would be just like sisters.
The corner of Charlie’s mouth curled up. “Good. We’ll be home soon. Mom’s making us lasagna.”
“Sounds fabulous. My mom can’t stand up long enough to cook anything.”
Charlie’s hand reached down and covered hers. “Well, mine will just love having you.”
The heat from Charlie’s hand seeped right through the glove, sending goose bumps up Jessica’s arm. “Cool. I’ll just be happy to have a place with heat.”
She gave Jessica’s hand a squeeze. “You’ll love it here.” The smile softened. “Trust me.”
The light changed to green and Charlie turned them off the highway toward the edge of town, winding back toward the oak-lined hills. Jessica sat up straighter, watching the rustic, brick buildings rush by. It looked quaint, almost old-fashioned, and a far cry from the burned-out, South Side Chicago tenement she had been holed up in. Even in the frigid, dying light, the town looked peaceful.
On the back edge of town, an entire three blocks off of the highway, Charlie brought them to a drive heading up into a stand of oak and maple, a stark, black web of limbs shielding the lighted windows of a house. A simple, wooden signpost next to the mailbox read in white block letters: THATCHER’S MILL.
“You live in a mill?” Jessica shouted.
“A house, next to the mill, silly,” she said. “My family has lived here for over a hundred years.”
“Oh, wow.” Jessica nodded and stared up the drive at the looming, two-story house. Over a hundred years. She couldn’t remember ever living in a place longer than two. This was a place with real family. People who cared.
They rolled to a stop in the gravel drive that circled in front of the wood-sided house. A shingled roof overhung a wide screened porch running the length of the house. Jessica had barely managed to get her helmet off when the porch lights flooded the drive and the front door flew open.
“Charlie!” A woman came bustling across the porch and knocked open the screen door, the hem of her ankle-length dress balled up in one hand. A face-cracking smile reached nearly to the edges of the white bonnet on her head. “You brought her home!”
Charlie pushed the aviator goggles up onto her head and swung off the motorcycle. “Of course, Ma-ma. I always do.”
Home. Her home. How did that work? Jessica returned Charlie’s irresistible smile. “Brought me home?”
“Yes,” Charlie said and reached down to take her hand. “My home is your home. You belong here now.”
A corner of those still-perfect red lips curled up, and even in the halogen glow of the porch light, Jessica stared into those bright, iridescent eyes and knew the absolute truth of her words. The momentary knot in her stomach melted away. “I really do love you.”
Charlie squeezed her hand, but then the exuberant clapping of Charlie’s mother interrupted the moment. “Come on, girls. This is just so wonderful. Dinner is almost ready. Do you want to change, Charlie?”
“Um, yeah. We better. Becca smells a little ripe.” She reached down and hooked her hands beneath Jessica’s underarms and lifted her out of the sidecar.
Before she had an opportunity to say a word, Charlie’s mother embraced her. She smelled of soap and garlic and a hint of lavender. “You had us so worried, Rebecca, love. I thought you’d died.”
The hug left Jessica breathless, and then Charlie’s husky whisper blew into her ear. “Just roll with it. I’ll explain later.” Charlie took her hand again. “Ma-ma, chill out. I told you everything was fine. So, go get the table ready. We’ll be down in like fifteen.”
The mother sobered up. “Of course, sweetie. Everything is almost ready, just the way you like it.”
Charlie nodded toward the house. “Come on, Becca. Let’s go clean up.”
A male voice yelled out from the kitchen. “Charlie? That you?”
“Yeah, I’m home, Pa-pa,” she yelled back. “Just getting cleaned up. We’ll be down in a few.”
Across the dining room, where slender candles burned and a setting for four adorned the table, the kitchen door opened and a tall, fortyish man wearing crisp black pants and a white shirt smiled at them. His sleeves were rolled up and there was a dishcloth in his hand. “Rebecca?”
Charlie pulled her toward the stairs. “Yep. Just finish up. We’ll be down in a minute.”
Jessica leaned toward Charlie. “Who’s Rebecca?”
“It’s you, of course. Now come on. I’m hungry.”
The bedroom took up one end of the upstairs, two expansive Persian rugs covering most of the floor. Parked on each one was a full-sized canopy bed, draped in silky, gauze curtains. An ornate, gold-inlaid chest pushed up against the foot of each. Tiffany lamps gave off a diffused glow from the nightstand of each bed. A faint scent of lavender suffused the air.
“Holy shit,” Jessica said. “Is this really your room?”
Charlie walked over to a walk-in closet, disappearing inside. “Duh. But it’s our room now. Your bed is on the left.” She came out a moment later, a floor-length, deep blue dress in her hand. “Bathroom is at the end of the hall. Wash up and then change.”
Jessica stifled a laugh. “Into that? But it’s so ...”
“What?” Charlie brought it over and tossed it on her new bed and then stepped up to Jessica, her face inches away. “Old? Is that what you were going to fucking say?”
The depthless eyes intensified, freezing Jessica in place. “N-no, not that. I’m sorry, Charlie. It’s just not the kind of thing I usually—”
“It’s Rebecca’s,” she snapped back. “It’s yours. You are Rebecca now.”
Jessica swallowed and nodded. “OK. That’s cool. Is it because—”
Charlie grabbed her arms and walked her over to the bed. Jessica’s toes barely brushed the floor. “Ow! Fuck, Charlie. That hurt.”
The slap came out of nowhere, snapping Jessica’s head sideways, which then was forcefully pulled back by Charlie’s hand gripping her jaw. “You don’t talk like that, not ever!” The twisted mouth abruptly softened. “Rebecca is a good girl. She doesn’t talk like that. Got it?”
Jessica whispered, blinking away the tears, “Got it.”
Charlie let go of her chin and sat down next to Jessica on the bed. “You are Rebecca while you’re here. No more Jessica. You”—she smiled, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek—“are my sister now.” Charlie reached into her pocket and pulled out the switchblade Jessica remembered from earlier in the day when Charlie threatened to castrate Petey if he mouthed off any more. The blade flipped open.
Jessica stared at the keen, shining blade. “What’s that for?”
Charlie held out her other hand and drew the tip of it across her palm. A thin, dark line of blood oozed out. “Blood,” she said. “We’re sisters now, you and me. Now and forever, I swear upon this oath in blood.”
“What do you mean?” Jessica stared in lurid fascination at the trickle of blood slipping down Charlie’s wrist.
“Give me your hand.” When Jessica hesitated, Charlie heaved a sigh. “Do I have to ask again?”
This was crazy. Jessica could not believe she was going to do it. She held out her hand. “Like blood sisters or something?” Charlie took her hand, the point of the blade pushing at the skin. Jessica wanted to watch, but could not pull her gaze away from Charlie’s. Her hand seemed so far away.
Charlie’s face softened. “Exactly. My sister, my blood.”
Jessica felt the knife score her palm but could feel nothing. “You really want me to be your sister?” Their palms pressed together and Jessica gasped at the rush of tingling heat that washed through her, much like that moment when Charlie had first touched her, only this time it went right to places she had not expected it to go.
“Now and forever,” Charlie whispered. “Our blood is one.” She squeezed and Jessica felt a cold chill brush across her face. “Say it, Becca.”
Her voice struggled up out of her throat, hollow and distant. “Now and forever. Our blood is one.”
Charlie grinned and lifted Jessica’s blood-smeared palm between them. “We’ll be together. Always.”
Jessica returned the smile. She was perfect. How could she feel so well suited to this girl? It was fate. It had to be. Then, Charlie’s tongue brushed the skin of her hand, the lightest, feathery touch that traced its way across her palm. Jessica closed her eyes. It should not have felt so good. It made no sense, but nothing had ever felt so right as this. Charlie was her sister, now and forever.
When Jessica opened her eyes, the wound upon her palm was barely a pink line, and her skin shone white with a glistening sheen.
Chapter 1
Jackie walked back to the kitchen area of the new Special Investigations office to make herself yet another espresso, the third one in two hours. What else was there to do? Cynthia had everything in perfect order. She had spent the entire previous day nodding in agreement to every suggestion Cynthia made about setting up the office. It was a showroom office straight out of Architectural Digest, and Jackie wasn’t even sure how to operate half the shit around her. All funded, of course, by everyone’s favorite millionaire vampire, Nick Anderson.
Worst of all, they weren’t actually doing anything yet. Her former FBI boss, Belgerman was having the “special flagged” cases sent over at some point during the day. Cynthia had offered to train her on the needed software programs, but the last thing Jackie wanted was to start her first full day on the job as the head of Special Investigations with lessons in just how underqualified she was to do it. She could not even handle sitting in her own office.
In a matter of days after being forced out of her FBI position thanks to her involvement in the death of a Chicago detective, Jackie had gone from a cubicle with barely enough room to turn around in to a three-hundred-square-foot cavern with its own bar and big screen television. Nick had even had them put in a floor-to-ceiling corkboard along one section of wall to mount her case info upon. The space completely overwhelmed. She felt like a child invading her parent’s private space.
“Agent McManus!” Cynthia’s voice rang throughout the office.
Thank, God! Jackie made her way toward the front, around the dividing wall to where Cynthia’s grand, curving slab of mahogany greeted all who entered.
“Ms. Forrester,” McManus said, with a more-than-friendly smile. “How are you today?”
He leaned against a dolly stacked four high with file boxes. Jackie’s greeting froze upon her lips. “Shit, McManus. Tell me those aren’t all full of files.”
Laurel’s voice interrupted her shock. Look at that! I can’t wait to see what’s in there.
“Nobody asked you,” Jackie muttered.
McManus stood up straight. “What?”
“Nothing,” Jackie said. She needed more practice at the whole notion of keeping internal and external conversations separate. It was getting really old.
“You talking to Agent Carpenter?” When Jackie rolled her eyes, McManus grinned and waved at Jackie. “Hey, Agent Carpenter. How are things going, um, in there?”
I’m good, thanks.
Jackie sighed. She really did not want to be the go-between while Laurel was riding around in her head. “Just quit, OK? It’s too damn weird. How many files did you pack up?”
He shrugged. “Going by weight, I’d guess a few hundred at least.”
“Lovely,
” Jackie said. How many hours would it take to sort through all of that crap?
Days. We’ll need to build a database. Laurel was clearly far more excited by the prospect than Jackie.
“Just put them over there against the wall, Agent McManus,” Cynthia said and pointed. “We’ll figure out where we want them later.”
At that moment the door opened again, and in walked Nick, carrying a cardboard box with an Annabelle’s Coffee Shop label emblazoned upon it. Shelby was on his heels. At least there would be pastries.
“Morning, everyone,” Nick said. “I bear gifts. Agent McManus. Good to see you again.” He set the box down on Cynthia’s desk. “Help yourself if you like. Looks like we’ve finally got something to work on around here.”
“Pfft! ” Cynthia huffed, and opened the box. “Speak for yourself, cowboy. I’ve been busting ass all week long getting things ready for you guys.”
Nick reached in after Cynthia and looked at Jackie. “Croissant?” The chocolate-filled pastry was offered before she had a chance to reply.
She wanted to turn it down for stubbornness’ sake, but her stomach was rumbling. “Thanks.”
“Take a breath, Jack,” Shelby said, her softly glowing eyes twinkling with amusement. “This’ll be fun. Aren’t you at all interested in seeing what kind of craziness we’ll find in those boxes?”
Through a mouthful of croissant, Jackie replied, “Do I have to answer that?”
Shelby walked by and patted her on the shoulder. “Relax, babe. This is where the real work begins.” She held the bear claw in her mouth and picked up a box, heading around toward the back.
“Agent McManus? You’re welcome to stay,” Nick said.
“Much as I’d prefer the company, I’ve got to head uptown to meet with some gang taskforce people.” He stared at Cynthia as he spoke. “You all have fun, and try not to work too hard. This place looks real rough.”
“It’s pure hell,” Cynthia answered with a soft laugh.
McManus backed toward the door. “Good to see you all again. Good luck with this stuff, Jack. Let me know what you come up with.”
The Vengeful Dead
Deadworld
The Lingering Dead