Page 62 of The Undead

The sound of scraped gravel and heavy footsteps distracted me before I could speak—no, scream—my reply. Maggie sat up, suddenly self-possessed, and one hand disappeared into the folds of her jacket. It came out with her gun. Her face was hard and unsurprised under the tearstreaks. Her finger twitched on the trigger, then suddenly jumped away as she realized the intruder wasn’t who she waited for—whoever that was.

“Maggie?” Adam asked as he rounded the corner. He gave an elaborate sigh of relief when he saw her. Sylvia came around to join him. “Maggie, I saw you come in. I’m sorry to disturb you, but this is no place for you to be alone.”

He meant that in more than one way, I knew. Maggie swore under her breath and shoved the gun back in its holster.

“And what the hell are you doing here?” she snapped. There was a little tremor in her voice, not much, not much at all unless you knew her as I did. Her eyes were wet and glittering. “I could have taken your head off.”

“Sorry,” Adam said softly, and crossed to one of the ornamental marble benches that faced the willow tree. His dark eyes, concealed behind the glasses again, lingered on me without seeming to. “He was my friend, Maggie. I’m so sorry. I wish—”

“Yeah,” she interrupted, and wiped at her face with an impatient weary hand. “Look, it’s late, let’s go on home, huh? I just had—had something to do. It’s done now. If the night watchman catches us, I’ll be bailing us all out, you know?”

“I know,” the vampire smiled. Maggie got to her feet and walked past him. “Have you met my friend Sylvia Reilly?”

“No, I don’t think—”

Maybe I made some sound, I don’t know—or maybe it was more than that, some connection that I couldn’t have predicted or believed. Whatever happened, Maggie suddenly cut herself off, spun, and faced straight toward me, toward the shadows where I hid. And her eyes widened.

“Maggie?” Adam asked, alarmed for more reasons than just the obvious. She didn’t seem to hear him. Her face was white and strange, marked with tear-trails and bleached by moonlight.

Her lips formed my name, trembling. And I knew, in that instant, that somehow shecouldsee me, shadows or not. Sheknew.

We stood there, frozen, the four of us, and then Maggie turned like an automaton and walked away past Adam, past Sylvia, who mouthed a question to Adam in confusion. He stared at me, frowning; I made a helpless gesture.

Maggie never looked back.

“Stay with Mike,” Adam ordered Sylvia softly, and went after my wife. I came out of the shadows. Sylvia stumbled backward and hissed a shaking, half-laughing curse—of course, she hadn’t seen me, hadn’t sensed my presence. No more than Maggie could have. Paranoia, Mike, plain and simple.

I stood there looking after her, my wife, my love, and distantly felt Sylvia put her hand on my shoulder. Adam came back down the path, alone. I heard the roar of a car—my car?—start up in the distance, the squeal of tires as Maggie put it viciously in gear. I could imagine her face, stone-still, chalk-white, eyes wounded and angry and swimming with tears. Oh, baby, don’t go …

I shook Sylvia’s hand off and dropped to my knees next to the grave, digging feverishly through the loose cool ground until I touched the metal circle Maggie had left me. I held it in my fingers and pressed it to my lips, pretending for one fevered second it was her skin I kissed.

Adam and Sylvia didn’t make a sound. I mastered the agony again and slipped the ring on my left hand, into the groove where it belonged. Sylvia suddenly turned around and walked away, human footsteps squeaking in damp grass and clicking unexpectedly on a marble plaque. The sound of her heartbeat receded in my ears and left me unexpectedly lonely.

I smoothed over the hole I’d made in my grave. Adam’s voice came from behind me, eerily quiet.

“Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.”

I paused, one hand still in the dirt. “That a quote?”

His pause was longer than I expected. “From a poet named John Donne. But the first time I heard it was from William.”

I turned around, wiping my hand on my blue jeans. His face betrayed something intense and private.

“He laughed when he said it,” Adam finished softly. A cloud passed over the moon, veiling it as it slid out of sight behind the city’s artificial horizon. Adam’s face passed into shadow, except for the dim red sparks in his eyes. “You can’t get her back, Michael. Please believe me. In some ways William is the only sane one of us. We can’t be involved. We die too easily.”

The moonlight, sliding briefly out of the stranglehold of the cloud, caught the gold on my finger like a slice of sunrise. I stared at it in transfixed fascination.

“It’s too late for me,” I whispered, not to him. “I need her.”

Adam didn’t say anything at all. The wind picked up and tossed the branches of the willow tree. I stood up and walked with him to the side gate, where the lock showed signs of inhuman bending. He shrugged when I indicated it and pushed it back together. A piece came off in his hand.

“Oops.”

“You were in a hurry.”

“I had to do something. No telling whatyoumight do, buddy.” Adam shoved his hands in his pockets and walked with me back to the car, where Sylvia had already taken her place in the front seat. I climbed in and slid over to the middle as Adam got in and turned the key.

Nothing happened.

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