Page 30 of Such a Feral Little Lamb
“What is it?” Blake drawls.
Dane’s eyes devour me, but he doesn’t speak. Giving me the silent treatment, then.
“Nia’s told me we can go hunt today,” I reply.
Blake bristles immediately, and Dane’s expression stiffens. Autumn gives them both a fleeting glance, then takes a minute step to the right.
“Said there hasn’t been a zombie here for years before the ones we saw the other night.”
“She gave you conditions?” Dane asks.
His voice is a knife’s edge, and Otto’s face darkens as he steps up between him and Autumn. Rae tightens her grip on her axe.
“She’s sending people along with us.” I shrug. “The help won’t be unwelcome, will it?”
Dane opens his mouth, but his gaze flicks past me, and he snaps it shut again. I don’t glance over my shoulder. There’s no point. Already, I know Mason is standing there. I feel the electric pressure that comes before a storm. I never take my eyes from Dane as I take a breath, letting the feeling wash over me.
“No, it will not,” Dane says finally. Blake glares at him, but he doesn’t argue, either.
Mason scares them. I don’t quite know why, but then I don’t think they’d be able to articulate it if they even cared to.
“Are you all ready to go?” Mason asks, breath hot against my ear. He’s so close, the heat of him sears my back. “I’ll be accompanying you.”
A polite cough comes from Rae’s right. Emma is standing there, and she raises an eyebrow when I look at her.
Mason chuckles. “And Emma, of course.”
“Sal and Lucas are joining us too,” Emma says. She gestures at two men standing by a pew. The white man—Sal, from the way he perks up at his name—has the same mark as she does on the side of his throat. If Lucas does, it’s not anywhere I can see.
“I’m ready,” I say, and the others all murmur their assent.
“Let’s go then.”
Mason strides past me, not looking back, and when the others hesitate, I follow, listening to the thump of our boots on the stone floor of the church. I blink rapidly when we step out into daylight. It isn’t terribly bright, but the sky is overcast, white and dappled grey as far as the eye can see.
“Good day for it,” Mason says, apparently following my gaze.
“Is it?” I follow him through the ruined graveyard, forcing my eyes ahead so that I don’t look at the grave that fascinated me the other day.
“Lots of shadows. Easier for them to hide.”
Dane huffs behind us, apparently inclined to catch up. I hear Rae murmuring further back, though I’m unsure whether she’s speaking to Autumn or Otto or Emma.
“They don’t care about hiding,” Dane snarls, and Mason doesn’t even look at him. Dark eyes slide to me, sparkling like he wants me to share in his amusement. “They don’t have the mind for it.”
“Oh, really? Had many conversations with them, have you?”
“And you have? Apparently, you haven’t had a zombie around here in years.”
“We haven’t.”
Dane comes to a stop, boots scuffing on the cobblestones underfoot. I halt on instinct, and Mason does too, though his mouth pulls downwards.
“You need us for this more than we need you,” Dane says. “You don’t know shit about zombies. No wonder Isaac had to save your arse yesterday.”
Mason doesn’t appear ruffled by that. No. His gaze moves lazily from Dane to me, and the heat in it makes my stomach swoop. I swallow hard. I know better than to chase that feeling.
“Yes, he did,” Mason murmurs, voice curling around me like smoke.
