Wolf at the Door

chapter Twenty-eight



She was in enough of a hurry to drive, and parked her car on a slant in the driveway. She hurried up the driveway and, to her relief, didn’t even have to ring the doorbell or knock on the door. The dead man had opened it for her.

She slowed. She stared.

The man was not a vampire, and he sure as shit wasn’t Pack. He was dead. Newly dead. Newly dead and walking around. But not a vampire. She . . . she didn’t understand it.

“I don’t understand this.”

“Ah, you’re back. Tina told me you’d be coming by. I’ve got Antonia’s things right in here, if you’ll—”

“Someone is murdering humans to make your friends fight with my family, I think.”

The zombie blinked. He was quite handsome for a corpse, with black hair and eyes the color of wet leaves. He was wearing surgical scrubs, which added just the right surreal note to their odd meeting.

“Oh. Well. In that case”—holding the door wide for her—“you’d better come in and talk to Betsy and Sinclair.”

And in she went.