Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 182

182 Jack–Eye: The Infestation in Question

182 Jack–Eye: The Infestation in Question

As quickly as it appeared, the fire vanishes. I’m left standing there, pristine and clean, not even the smell of those nasty bastards lingering.

JACK–EYE

Owen and Lyre call them “ghouls,” but who the fuck are they kidding? Rotten flesh. Vacant stares. Arms outstretched while they moan and shuffle toward us like it’s an all–you–can–eat buffet and we’re the prime rib. 2

Come on. Zombies. Seriously?

Behind her, Owen nods sagely, like he understands perfectly. It sends a surge of irrational jealousy through me. Exactly when did those two get so cozy? Since when

turned into a toad–act like her

does he–who nearly pissed himself after bein

confidant?

She glances at me, her expression completely untroubled as she admits, “I muted him.”

“So… are we going to talk about this?” I

“Because this doesn’t seem like your gesture broadly at the carnage around us.

standard home invasion, no?”

And that’s it. That’s all she offers while she wipes her blade–another dagger conjured out of fucking nowhere, which

s would be real fucking handy for me but no one fucking

offered–on what used to be someone’s shirt. I stare at her, waiting for more, but she just continues cleaning her knife.

“The mission is related,” she says, and he nods like it makes perfect sense.

“Thank you,” I mutter, cleaving another zombie–ghoul–whatever from shoulder to hip. Thankfully, since they’re dead and basically rotten, it’s easy to tear them apart.

Huh.

I probably look worse.

“It’s fine. There are plenty of showers where we’re going,” Lyre says, sheathing her knife.

My expression surpasses unfriendly into downright hostile. “Pass

182 Jack–Eye: The Infestation in Question.

All around us, the dismembered ghouls catch fire too, the blue flames reducing them to ash in seconds.

“That’s expected.” She pats at his head like he’s a dog, and he preens a little under her touch. “You did well. Stop the tracking for now; we already know where to start looking.”

Doesn’t take away the unclean feeling underneath it all, though.

“The same damn thing!” I duck as one lunges at me, swinging my half–shifted claws “The same damn thing!” I duck as one lunges at

through its neck. The head tumbles off, but the body keeps coming. “If it walks like a zombie and tries to eat me like a zombie-”

“Obviously.”

Actually, their shuffling is pretty fucking speedy, and their arms are only outstretched because they’re trying to tear our heads off, but the point is, the visual’s there.

Lyre and Owen exchange a look, and my hackles rise. They keep doing that, this silent conversation between them.

“Thank you,” he gasps, his voice hoarse. “They’re moving, but the signal’s too fuzzy to pin them down. I just know they’re underground.”

I’d rather live in a landfill than smell this shit.

She looks over at Thom, who’s still bent over but seems to have fini ed emptying his stomach. “Is the signal still

ng from the tunnels?”

Lyre pauses, studying me for a moment. Her eyes are all slitted and feline again. Finally, she answers. A miracle.

“I’ve been hacking apart the undead for hours without knowing why they’re here or who sent them. Throw me a damn bone here.”

His mouth keeps moving, but the sound cuts off instantly.

Silence.

She says we, but clearly the plural isn’t the case, because I have no fucking idea where we’re going. “Where?”

But life after death is… new.

<

182 Jack–Eye: The Infestation in Question

I kick at a severed hand, still crawling toward Lyre. “So anyone want to tell me why Batman’s secret lair is full of the walking dead?”

She tilts her head, considering me for a moment. “Robin?”

She stares at me blankly for a moment. “I’m Batman. If anything, Owen’s Alfred.”

Not really complaining, but maybe she should remember that before asking him questions.

Of course. Why ask?

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