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Gravely Yours

Tamara LeRoy zipped her coat up to her chin and stuck her hands into her pockets. She’d forgotten her gloves and her fingers were already like Popsicles. It was freaking cold. It was October, after all, which meant Oklahoma winter would soon arrive. The Old Sass Cafe had killer hot chocolate, and she really wanted to go sit in the warm restaurant with her boyfriend and have a mug. With marshmallows.

“We shouldn’t be out here,” said Tamara.

Durriken grinned at her then looked around the cemetery. Okay then, oh mysterious boyfriend. She studied the night sky. The crescent moon offered very little light. Durriken had that great werewolf vision. Her? Not so much. She was a plain ol’ human, unlike most of the residents of Broken Heart. She might’ve left her gloves at the house, but at least she’d remembered to bring the flashlight. She flicked it on and shone it around the gravestones. She didn’t like the smell of this place. It was ripe earth mixed with that odd mold smell. A couple years ago, one of her mom’s friends had raised a zombie army from the cemetery. Things had never really gone back to normal after that. She knew better than anyone that the dead didn’t always stay dead.

“Are you scared?” Durriken had a slight accent, which she usually found sexy. Not that she would tell her mother that. She turned seventeen last month and Eva O’Halloran was wallowing in that whole “my baby is growing up” emotional goo. Tamara loved her mom, so she put up with the extra hugs and the semi-clingy behavior. Luckily, her step-father Lorcan managed to intervene when Code Red Smothering threatened.

“Not scared, Durry. Bored.”

“Liar.” He swooped her into his arms and kissed her. She tingled all the way to her toes. He moved back slightly. Their breath in the chill air created little puffs. “You know you want to see it.”

“A zombie?” Her heart, which had been beating with excitement from Durry’s kiss, dove down to her toes.

“What?” Durriken looked genuinely surprised.

“Sometimes the bodies here go zombie again. They claw up from their coffins and the dirt and meander around until someone puts them back.” Tamara looked around, spooked. “It’s something about the residual magic.”