Brotherhood of Cain (Werewolf/Mafia)

Chapter Fifty-One: How To Train Your Zombie

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain." -Frank Herbert, Dune

Chapter Fifty-One

Ethel's POV

"Are you fucking serious?"

  Flashes of Citadel flew behind my eyes, like an old movie with dozens of clips, over and over. Shady images of the dock, dark alleys in the Banks, flickers of the castle, faceless men in bandanas with guns. Another hotel room, hot, sticky, the smell of blood and sex. Except, everything was bigger, seen from a child's eyes.

  "I waited in the car for hours!" Footsteps roused me from my light sleep, and bleary eyes took in Tamal's tall figure casting a shadow across the tomb. "While you three are what—playing happy families and sleeping!"

  If only he knew playing happy families was the last thing we were doing. More like playing highly dysfunctional homicidal families.

  A heavy weight shifted on my lap, and I looked down, finding Draven's head cushioned on my thighs. The rest of his bulk was settled down against the ground and booted feet were crossed. Tycho laid against my other side, passed out, his chest rising and falling steadily. Just like me, he could crash anywhere.

  I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, stretching my arms. "What time is it?" My voice came out like nails on a chalkboard, rough and piercing. I cringed from the sound, trying to cough out the dryness in my throat.

  "Two in the afternoon," Tamal answered, his eyes raking Draven in disgust. I think anything involving any form of relationship that meant more than sex disgusted him. "Have some dignity man. If anyone saw you curled up like a little puppy they'd boot you out of the pack."

  "Anyone has a fuckin' problem, I'll stick my boot up their ass," Draven responded gruffly. He repeated my earlier motions, rubbing at his eyes and letting out a yawn that scarily resembled a lion opening its maw.

  Green eyes rolled. "Jeez, sorry, cranky." He sobered up immediately when he finally noticed the dried blood on Draven's hands. He tracked it back to the coffins. Tamal heaved a heavy breath. "So, Roman's gone."

  I waited for Draven's venomous reply, but all he did was sit up, responding simply, "He is."

  Tamal's stare shot to mine, and he widened his eyes as if to ask why Draven wasn't flipping out. Had he been here earlier he would've seen Draven doing exactly that. I shrugged.

  After Draven had let out the last of his rage and we'd gotten hot and heavy in a dead guy's tomb, he'd promptly passed out. I knew it happened with werewolves when they fought off an emotion-fueled shift. Since his body couldn't rip apart and let out the blood-thirst, it just shut down. Seeing as there wasn't a chance in hell I could haul him up and drag him to the car, I'd plopped down next to him and dozed off. Tycho had no problems joining the sleep-fest either.

  Draven stood in one fluid movement, his eyes gleaming in excitement. Well, someone was refreshed. "Have a plastic bag?"

  Tamal thought about it, then nodded. "Yeah, one in the car." Without prompting, he jogged back up the stairs and went back to the car.

  "Plastic bag?" I questioned, rolling my neck. It gave a sickening pop. Definitely shouldn't have napped using the wall as a pillow.

  Draven held his hand out to me. I took it and he brought me to my feet. Had I known my legs had also fallen asleep, I would've stayed down longer. But, I didn't, and I wobbled, crashing into his chest.