Succubus Trials (The (un)Lucky Succubus Book 6) by L.L. Frost

Author:L.L. Frost [Frost, L.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Small Bites
Published: 2020-08-14T16:00:00+00:00

A moment later, the mortician’s wife sits up, too, her arms stretching over her head as if working out kinks from tired muscles, and I let out an undignified shriek as I hyper-speed out of there.

I’m halfway out the door to the viewing room before I know it, and Kellen’s footsteps thunder from the hallway that leads to the office.

My storm demon comes running, lightning crackling along his arms and his eyes searching for danger. His steps slow when he sees me hovering in the doorway. “Sweetie? Something wrong?”

A glance back into the mortuary shows the mortician and his wife now standing and hugging each other.

Shuddering at the sight, I scamper toward Kellen with a pathetic wail. “You said zombies didn’t exist!”

His arms fold around me, static snapping against my skin. “Well, now, I didn’t actually say that.”

I lean my head against his chest. “Don’t let them eat my brains.”

He rubs my back in soothing circles. “They wouldn’t want your brains.”

At that, I pull back far enough to glare up at him. “Are you saying my brains aren’t delicious?”

He drops a kiss on my forehead. “I’m sure they’re the most delicious brains in the world.”

I sniff. “Damn straight they are.”

“You know, that’s a really hurtful misconception,” Flint says as he walks into the viewing room, the two zombies trailing behind him. “There’s no point in eating brains. It’s not like they bring life back to the bodies.”

I moved to put Kellen between us and peek around his arm. “So, you’re saying zombies don’t eat brains?”

“Well…”

At Flint’s hesitation, I grab Kellen’s arm. “I want to go back to the bakery. I want sugar and sprinkles, and I want to forget this night ever happened.”

He pats my hand. “Flint’s not going to sick his zombies on you.”

“No, nothing as dramatic as that.” Flint heads toward the door that leads to the front. “We’re just going to have a nice stroll down the block, make sure people see them walking around, and then they’re going to go home and peacefully die in their sleep as old people should.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “I don’t think the police will believe that.”

“No?” He peers back at the mortician and his wife. “They’re old enough to die in their sleep.”

“Their throats are slashed, and they were drained of blood,” I point out.

“And that’s why I make the good money.” He cracks his knuckles and faces the zombies.

The air practically vibrates as he lifts his hands. Like a conductor, his arms dance through the air, and slowly, the wounds on their necks close, life returning to their faces. The grayish-blue tinge of their skin pinkens with the blush of blood, and the milky film over their eyes melts away.

In only a matter of minutes, they look like they’re alive again, and my stomach twists in horror. If I passed them in a store or on the sidewalk, I’d never know they were dead. Are there zombies walking around town daily, passing for living beings?

I pull in a shaky breath, and the scent of decay fills my nose.

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