Christine Bell - A Valentine from Harlequin: Six Degrees of Romance

A thick shard of wood splintered and sailed over their heads.

“You ready for this?” he asked as they turned to face the growling horde.

“With you at my side, I can handle anything.”

They smiled at one another. And then the hordes tumbled through, decaying appendages clawing and gaping jaws moaning.

John caught the first one in the eye with a heel, and shoved the creature off. Charlotte lobbed a Jimmy Choo at a growling matron in purple taffeta, which managed to take off her ear smartly. Shoes were tossed, thrown and lobbed into zombie skulls, faces and guts. They went down easily, which Charlotte was thankful for as she twisted to grab more ammunition from the shoe rack beside her.

“This isn’t exactly my idea of wedded bliss!” she shouted as hands groped at her skirt.

“I’ll make it up to you. I will get you to safety if it’s the last thing I do.”

She hated hearing him put it that way. It would not be his last thing. They’d live to see tomorrow.

“Follow me,” John directed, and she fit herself against his side, beating at the clawing hands and teeth with a metal-spiked black leather number she remembered helping Tina pick out at Macy’s. “Stay close.”

“I am close! Oh dear, I really hate to destroy this one. It’s Manolo!”

Charlotte felt something tug at her ankle. She shook her foot, and brought the shoe down, beating the zombie who was attempting to chew on her. She screamed and John swung about, taking out her attacker with a thigh-high boot.

“Come on, they’ve thinned out, we can make a dash for it!”

She grabbed his hand as he tugged her through a slew of lurching zombies. Limping from the attack, Charlotte managed to keep up and they soon landed in the hallway. Alone, they huffed and clutched at one another.

“Down the hall,” John said. “I think there’s another bedroom.”

She suspected that was the master bedroom, which Tina had said was where her parents spent most of their time because it was private and cut off from the noise of servants and kids. But if Charlotte and John went in there, they would be trapped, with no means of escape. It could become their grave.

“John, I’m not sure.”

He stopped at the bedroom door. His broad shoulders heaved. His determined gaze reached out and grabbed her firmly, reassuringly. “Trust me?”

Charlotte nodded, giving him permission and promising him her trust. He gripped her head and kissed her long and deep. Hungrily. She knew he loved her, and would stand before her when their final moments arrived.

Opening the door, they slipped inside the bedroom, done in soft violets and pink damask. The low glow of a night lamp illuminated their tattered attire and bloodied arms and faces. They looked as if they’d been battling zombies.

Charlotte started to laugh.

John joined her, and they both fell into each other’s embrace as their laughter segued into tears. 

“I knew you were the only girl for me,” John said as he stroked the hair and tears from her face, “the moment you sat on my lap in the coffee shop.”

“That chair was empty when I was going for the sit.”

“I do have the moves, don’t I?”

She managed a small laugh, then nuzzled her head aside his neck. He was feverously hot now, and she worried he might grow too weak to fend off another attack. She thought she heard him sniffing at the crown of her head, but he was probably sniffling back tears. They had been through so much today!

“I’m glad we were able to say our vows,” she offered.

“I’m glad we were finally able to make love.”

“Men,” she said. “Is that all you think about? Sex?”

He stepped back and, taking her hand, he spun her around in a dance move. One of their favorite pastimes was watching the dancing competitions on television together.

“Mostly. And football, and pizza, and…” He twirled her and she collided with his chest. He kissed her forehead, muttering, “…and brains.”

“Stop it.” Charlotte pushed away from him, having lost her patience for his humor. “I don’t want to hear you make another zombie joke.”

“Sorry, I— I’m under a little stress here, Charlotte. You know humor helps me deal.”

She sighed, acknowledging the truth of that statement. It was one of the things she loved about him. “Let’s problem solve. Are there fire escapes outside the windows? There must be a balcony.”

He shrugged and wandered over to the patio’s French doors. It was odd that he was being so nonchalant when zombies were likely sniffing them out at this very moment.

It was the stress. Or maybe he’d become very comfortable with the undead. After all, he had to be. He studied them.

But he’d never brought his work home—until now.

Charlotte winced at the pain stinging her ankle. She didn’t want to look at it. She would not. Lifting her chin, she decided to go the stoic-heroine route. Nothing would come of mourning what could have been. She’d face the future with the cards she’d been dealt.

John stopped in the patio doorway. “No fire ladders, but there are bushes with big fluffy flowers below. We can jump for it.”

“They’re hydrangeas. Those’ll provide a softer landing than the thorny rosebushes.”

She tilted her head, noticing how the moonlight shimmered over his livid face. But that niggling worry still hadn’t left her. When she’d found him out on the balcony…

“John, who was that woman I saw you kissing earlier?”

“Kissing? You think I was kissing her?” He chuckled and made an exaggerated effort to grimace and wince it all away. “I wasn’t kissing her, Charlotte.”

“Sure looked like it to me.”

When John had seen the zombies and thought the world was going to end—and apparently couldn’t find her, his fiancée—had he grabbed the first woman to hand? Because she’d denied him sex for six months?

“I need to know, John. No matter what the answer is, I won’t judge you or blame you for a thing. Promise. What were you doing with that woman?”

He approached, his slow, easy gait that had once enraptured her, now irritated her. “Charlotte, don’t do this.”

Squaring her shoulders, and hiding another wince from the pain at her ankle, Charlotte insisted, “Tell me now, or I’ll shove you outside for the zombies.”

His I’m sorry face switched to utter shock.

She continued, “Did you think you could fit in a quickie before the zombies attacked?”

“Charlotte, I would never— Seriously? You believe I’d be unfaithful to you? I love you.”

“But you two were in an embrace.”

With a nod, he bowed his head, letting the silence hang. Finally he exhaled heavily, and then confessed, “I was gnawing on her.”

Charlotte’s jaw dropped open. John’s words pounded in her ears. Her gut swirled. She shook her head frantically.

Her new husband walked closer. Suddenly she noticed how bloodshot his eyes had become. And his skin…it was livid and turning blue. And he was so hot to the touch. She’d thought he was coming down with a fever, but in reality he’d been…

“No, you can’t be. You’ve been…?” Even while they were being chased by zombies, the man hadn’t been able to put aside his hunger for her skin, to touch her, and—taste her. “All this time?”

Charlotte’s heart stopped beating.

“I was bitten out in the garden when I was looking for you, wanting to apologize for our fight. I’m sorry, Charlotte. I love you so much. I thought once I got you to safety it would be best for me to leave you. But now that we’ve made love, I can’t imagine ever being apart from you. We belong together. Until death.”

She put up her hand to stop his approach. “Don’t touch me.”

“But your brains…” He winced and she could see he struggled to keep from touching her by clasping his hands to his chest. “…they smell so good.”

Reality gripped Charlotte by the throat. Who was she trying to fool? The future would never be as she’d dreamed. The brick mansion, fancy sports car and 2.5 children? No longer. She had married a man who studied zombies—and had become one himself—for heaven’s sake. Nothing would ever again be normal.

“John, you have to make me a promise. You’ll never go after my brains.”

His sorrowful eyes glistened.

“You promise me that, and I’ll make the same promise.”

“The same… Charlotte?”

Dropping her shoulders, she inhaled then lifted her tattered skirt to reveal the festering bite wound on her ankle. “They got me in the closet. I can feel the heat overtaking my body already. Is this how you feel? So hot, and so…wanting.”

“Wanting. Yes. Like I need skin and flesh and brains.”

“Anything meaty and warm.”

“That’s exactly the craving. Charlotte, I’m so sorry.” He pulled her into a hug, and she allowed it, because he was all she had, her only salvation—and her death. “I promise, I won’t go after your brains. Not even a nibble. Consider it an addendum to our marriage vows.”

“Agreed. But I’m so hungry. Oh, John.”

Suddenly the bedroom door slammed inward. The frantic, tiny form of a white-satin-clad debutante staggered in, huffing, her body trembling, her eyes wide and manic.

“Tina!”

“Oh, thank God, Charlotte.” Tina rushed to them, and the threesome embraced. “They’re everywhere. This is a disaster. They’ve torn up all the bouquets and changed my grandmother into a freaking zombie. And now I’ll never get my picture in the society page. It’ll end up in the obits section. I don’t want this to be my funeral dress. And my hair! One of those creatures tore out a chunk when he tried to bite me. Oh, Charlotte!”

“I’m so glad you’ve found us,” Charlotte said. “Everything is going to be fine now.”

“You think so?” Tina sniffed and squeezed the twosome closer into the hug.

John nuzzled his nose across the top of Tina’s red hair, messily tangled within her bloodied tiara. “You smell good, Tina.”

“She does smell good,” Charlotte agreed.

He met her eyes over Tina’s head and winked. The man was hers until the end of the world. Till death…and ever after. 

Charlotte winced as an inebriated party-goer stepped on her foot, but she kept moving determinedly toward the doors that led to the balcony. The Duncans would be delighted with their party; it was clearly the event of the season, and their daughter had been successfully launched into society.

Unfortunately, the noise, the heat, and the crowd combined with Charlotte’s pounding headache to make her want to escape for a breath of fresh air. Reaching the balcony doors, she opened them to find two people engaged in a passionate kiss.

“I’m sorry.” The words escaped her mouth before she realized it would have been better to make an exit without being noticed. The couple jumped apart.

Charlotte felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at her fiancé.

“John! I thought you were dead!”

The stormy blue eyes gazing back at her flashed with surprise for just an instant before growing so cold, she flinched.

“How did you recognize me, Charlotte?”

She pushed through the shock and confusion clouding her thoughts, trying to make sense of this astonishing turn of events. “False mustache or no, I would know my own betrothed, John. I’m not a fool. But I don’t understand why you would let me believe you perished in the fire…” she trailed off as the truth hit her like a slap. “You never wanted me. This was about the purviewers from the very start.”

It wasn’t a question. She was as sure of it as she was of Faraday’s law of induction. Maybe she’d always known, somewhere deep in her bones, that John’s interest in her had been false, but pride had kept her from admitting how thoroughly she’d been duped.

Though she understood why he’d gone to such lengths to procure the purviewers. The brass goggles were certainly a temptation for the greedy. They allowed the wearer to see exactly five minutes into the future. She and her partner, Alistair, had created them almost by accident during an attempt at unlocking the mysteries of time travel.

They’d been set to unveil them before the Alchemists Tribunal when a terrible fire had broken out in their laboratory. The blaze had consumed her home, her work—and her fiancé. The purviewers were replaceable, but John’s death had left her paralyzed with guilt for the past six months. The Duncans’ Ball was the first social event she’d attended since the “tragedy.”