Night Resurrected (25 page)

Remy,” Jade said with a smile. “Wyatt’s

. . . well, he’s not an easy—”

“He’s got an ass-crap-sized boulder

on his shoulder big as that fucking

building there,” Zoë said.

“He’s a wonderful man,” Sage put in.

“A very
good
one. He’s just got some

. . . stuff. To deal with. Like we all do,”

she added, spearing Zoë with her eyes.

“All of us.”

“Right,” Zoë replied with great

insincerity. “Anyway, Remy just arrived

here, and I was going to show her

around, get her settled—”

“That’s wonderful,” Sage interrupted

with a sunny smile. Her voice was soft

and sweet, but firm. “She can join us in

getting freshened up for the party tonight.

Would you come with us?” she asked,

looking at Remy. Her aqua-blue eyes

were guileless, and concern lingered

there too. She probably wondered about

the bruises as well.

Looking from Zoë to Quent to Jade,

Remy had the sense that Sage would get

her way even if she tried to refuse. She

had no reason to do so. These people

were not only friends with Ana and

Wyatt—and would be the first ones to

know when and if he arrived—but she

loved the idea of freshening up. Ever

since the zombie attack, she’d been

wearing the same loose shirt she’d

planned to sleep in and jeans. It was too

bad she’d been forced to leave her new

clothes behind at the truck rig, but at

least she was still wearing the new pink

and white bra. “Yes, thank you.”

“Traitor!” Zoë hissed at Remy. “I

saved your ass from Ian and his father,

and this is how you fucking repay me?”

Sage and Jade laughed, and Remy

shrugged. “Sorry. It’s been a few days

since I showered.” She smiled.

“I’ll see to . . . Dantès, is that his

name?” Quent offered. Clearly, he was

willing to do whatever it took to get Zoë

sent off and taken care of. “If you’re

comfortable with that.” He glanced up at

her.

Remy nodded. She crouched and

hugged Dantès, saying, “Friend. Go with

Quent.” She made the hand gestures and

her dog immediately transferred his

attention to the blond man. Remy turned

back to Sage. “So who is this sadist

named Flo and what is she going to do to

me?”

“Torture,” moaned Zoë. “A shitwad

of
torture.
”

I
t wasn’t torture at all.

In fact, although her agreement to go

with Sage and Jade had been more

practical than anything else, Remy found

herself completely enjoying Flo and her

ministrations.

The so-called sadist was a soft, fluffy

woman of about fifty, with hair the color

of moonbeams except for a wide pink

streak. This breach of color went from

the front of her part around to the nape of

her neck, where it was twisted and

pinned up into a puffy coiffure that

looked like clouds coming out of her.

Zoë took one look at Flo and covered

her own head. “I don’t care what Quent

says, you are not doing anything to my

fucking hair!” Blue-black wisps stuck

out from between her fingers.

“I’m not going to touch your hair,”

Flo said mildly. “Don’t want to try

anything that might hurt the baby, you

know. Skin and hair absorb things, you

know.”

“Seriously?” Zoë’s eyes popped

wide. “You mean the kid means I’m safe

from all that shit you’re putting on

them
?” She cupped her stomach, her

face a study in sudden bliss.

Baby?
Ah. Now some of the

comments she’d heard between Elliott

and Wyatt back in Yellow Mountain

made sense. Zoë was pregnant. Remy

looked at her and frowned. She couldn’t

be too far along—the woman looked

slender and fit except for the slightest

rounding of her belly.

A baby.
Wonder what that would be

like
.

She’d not given it much thought

before. How could she? With the life she

had, moving around, running and hiding

all the time, it was an impossibility.

Remy didn’t know if she’d
want
to

have a baby, even if she could. Even if

she found someone to have one with. It

was a dangerous world. A bleak one, at

times. Would she want to bring a child

into a place like this?

A little shiver surprised her. Thank

God Ian had always been very careful

when they had sex. The last thing she

would have needed was to be pregnant

with his baby.

God. Or Seattle’s. Remy felt weak.

She stopped that horrifying thought

abruptly, pausing only to give thanks it

hadn’t come to pass.

Flo was smiling. “I have something

in mind for you, Zoë.
Not
a dress. But

who is this?” She turned to Remy.

“A friend of Wyatt’s and Theo’s,”

Sage said in her smooth, modulated

voice. “Her name is Remy and she’s just

arrived. Jade and I brought her along so

she could freshen up.”

“Yeah,” Zoë said. “Feel free to

torture the shit out of her with all the

crap you were going to do to me and

leave me the hell alone.”

Remy looked around the spacious,

well-lit room, which had a collection of

mismatched mirrors lining one wall and

a row of cupboards on another. A

variety of chairs and tables littered the

area, pieces of clothing hung everywhere

on hooks and hangers, and beyond, she

could see a bathroom with a large tub

and shower. There was also a curious

item that looked like a large metal

helmet on a stand. She’d seen one in the

Legally Blonde
DVD. It went over one’s

head, for a purpose she wasn’t

altogether certain about.

“Just a little lip gloss, some nail

polish—and definitely something other

than those ratty pants,” Flo said to Zoë.

“No damned way am I wearing any

ass-crap dress,” she warned. “Those

assholes in Mecca had me all suited up

in a skintight dress and shoes that just

about fucking killed me. And I told

Quent he was going to have to remember

that, ’cause there is
no
way it’s ever

going to happen again.”

Mecca? Remy looked at Zoë. What

had she been doing at the island

headquarters of the Strangers? She

opened her mouth to ask, but then the

short, fluffy whirlwind that was Flo

descended upon her.

“I’ve never seen anyone with eyes as

amazing as yours, dearie,” the older

woman said, taking her by the chin so

she could get a better look. “Like

Elizabeth Taylor’s, but a touch bluer.

And your lashes! So long and dark, you

don’t even need mascara. A little

eyeliner would be good . . . and what are

we going to do with your hair . . . some

fancy updo would be good.”

“Yeah, try the pink on
her
,” Zoë

suggested. “She’s one brave-ass chick.

She’s the one who threw the snake at

Wyatt.”

“And lived to tell about it?” Flo

looked at Remy consideringly. And then

hummed in a way that made her nervous.

“Interesting.”

“Now who’s the traitor?” Remy said,

suddenly worried that Flo might actually

turn her hair pink.

Jade laughed. “Looks like Zoë might

have met her match here, hey, Flo?”

“No, no pink for this young lady,” the

older woman muttered, as if she hadn’t

heard any of their conversation. Her

fingers—adorned with too many rings to

count—tapped her chin. “And something

red
to wear. That’ll give them—no, no,

w a i t .
White.
You’re going to wear

white, dearie. With your eyes and your

hair, and you’ve got the perfect dusky-

peachy-rose skin to offset the white . . .

Oh, this is going to be fun!”

Remy was relieved that Flo didn’t

make a big deal about her bruises and

cut, although obviously she noticed them

as

she

continued

her

rapturous

commentary. Nevertheless, she looked at

Sage and Jade. “Are you sure about

this?”

“No,” hissed Zoë urgently. “Don’t let

her touch you! Escape while you still

have time!”

Sage giggled and flapped a hand at

her friend. “I’m going to get in the

shower. Flo has
the
best showers here,”

she added, looking at Remy. “That’s

because she’s—wink, wink—
friends

with Ana’s dad, George. And he can

figure out pretty much anything.”

At the same time, Jade rolled her

eyes at Zoë and said, “Don’t worry,

Remy. You just have to let Flo do her

thing. She’s what they used to call a

cosmetologist, and she’s got quite a

collection

of

old
Vogue

and
Elle

magazines, most of them courtesy of

Theo and his travels. She experiments

with making all her own cosmetics right

here—lipstick,

mascara,

hair

dye,

everything. And when she gets her hands

on a new person, she can go a little

crazy.” Jade gave her a sidelong look. “I

promise, she’ll make you look so hot

even Wyatt won’t be able to keep his

eyes off you. Or—better yet—his

hands.”

Remy’s face went warm and she

shook her head. “I could care less what

Wyatt thinks.” But her heart gave a little

bump at the mental image of his strong,

tanned hands on her bare skin. Then she

reminded herself she was
pissed
at the

man for
taking her crystal.

“Holy fucking crap, don’t tell me

you’re banging
Ian
?” Zoë demanded.

“Um . . .” Remy’s cheeks threatened

to get even warmer, but she managed to

stave off the blush. “No. Hell no.”

“It’s not that it wouldn’t be a hella

good jump in the sack,” Zoë continued.

“I even considered it once. But I don’t

trust that man anymore than a hair ball.”

She prowled the room like a caged tiger,

but Remy noticed she made no effort to

escape the so-called torture even when

she came near the door.

Minutes later Remy was ushered into

a shower stall next to the one Sage was

using. Both had real running water that

ran not warm but
hot
. The redhead was

right—it was heaven.

If she’d wanted privacy, Remy was

bound to be disappointed, but at least

there was a curtain hiding her from

view. Still, the conversations bounced

around with an occasional outburst from

Zoë. Sage passed Remy a bar of pale

pink soap over the top of the divider. It

smelled unbelievably good and looked

like it had tiny pieces of flowers and

leaves in it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever smelled so

good in my life,” Remy confessed as she

stepped out, wrapped in a towel. “Or

felt so relaxed and clean. Hot running

water is such a luxury. We didn’t even

have it in Yellow Mountain; it got warm,

but that’s it.”

“Oh, that’s right! You were in

Yellow Mountain with Theo and

Selena,” Sage said. Her blue eyes

danced and her freckled, peachy skin

was flushed from the shower. “You have

to tell us all about Selena. We haven’t

met her yet, and—”

“And Sage wants to make sure she’s

good enough for her old flame Theo,”

Jade put in. She had curlers in her hair

and was sitting in a chair with her head

tilted back. Flo was painting something

bright and pink around her eyebrows. As

Remy watched curiously, Flo dabbed a

white cloth over the pink gunk and then

ripped
it away.

Jade didn’t even flinch, but Zoë

shrieked. “Holy mother assload of
crap
!

I told you! She’s a freaking, ass-kicking

sadist
! You are
not
doing that to me,

Flo. Over my cold, dead, zombie-meat

body!”

“Ugh,” Sage said. Her hair was in a

towel, with only one bright coppery