Undead to the World (38 page)

Down to me. I’ve got to keep Mr. Dangly there busy long enough for Cassius to finish
the spell, or it’s all over. There’s only one thing I can think of to do, and it didn’t
work out so well for the African Queen.

But I have an advantage that she didn’t. My pelt comes off a whole lot easier.

I skin out of my clothes as fast as I can and throw them as far away as I can manage.
They don’t come to life and try to return, for which I’m thankful; either the Gallowsman
hasn’t figured out what I’m up to or he doesn’t care.

Then I grab a scythe, clamp the handle between my teeth, and sprint for the edge of
the precipice.

Everything seems to slow down as I run. My mind is perfectly clear, perfectly focused.
Yes, I’m about to throw myself off a cliff, one that seems to be perched over a dimensional
gulf. Yes, the being I’m aiming at has plenty of time to prepare and is vastly more
powerful than I.

I launch myself into space, wondering if this is how I’m going to finally die: naked
in midair, a silver-bladed, monster-killing weapon between my teeth.…

Nah. Not bizarre enough.

It’s a long jump, but I’ve got momentum, adrenaline, and desperation on my side; it
looks like I’ll be able to reach him, barely—

My head comes to an abrupt halt. He’s mystically latched on to my hair, yanking it
back the way he did the African Queen’s fur. But the rest of my body keeps going,
just like I knew it would; my legs swing up, on either side of the Gallowsman’s body,
and wrap around his torso. It feels like clamping my legs onto a cold, damp burlap
sack filled with bones.

I reach up and grab the handle of my scythe. My eyes are no more than a foot from
the Gallowsman’s, which are very dark and very dead. This isn’t a person; this is
an elemental force given human form. It can’t be reasoned with, it has no pity or
mercy or compassion. It just is. The reason it was summoned was simple: to collect
despair, and dump it into me. To make me suffer.

But not to kill me.

I see a look of consternation cross his face as the scythe begins its arc, not toward
his neck but toward the rope above his head. He wants to strangle me, or maybe drop
me into the pit the way he did the Queen, but something’s stopping him. The rope around
his neck isn’t just a noose; it’s a leash, one Ahaseurus placed there to ensure his
attack dog didn’t go too far. Killing me was a pleasure the wizard had reserved for
himself.

It’s also the conduit the Gallowsman’s using to channel energy from the storm.

Sorry, baby. Time to cut the cord.

The blade bites into and through the strands. There’s a brilliant flash of crimson,
but I was expecting that. With my other hand, I lunge for the end of the rope I just
severed.

My hand closes on it. Cut off from the mystic maelstrom that was feeding him, the
Gallowsman drops straight down without a sound. In a second he’s vanished into the
darkness of the pit beneath us.

I put the scythe back in my mouth and grab the rope with my other hand. Twenty feet
away, Cassius has stopped chanting and is now studying me quizzically.

“Libble helb?” I manage.

*   *   *

Rescuing me turns out to be easy; the storm, and the portal beneath it, are now under
Cassius’s control. He directs the dangling rope to move, and it deposits me on the
edge of the cliff before zipping up into the clouds and disappearing. Whichever reality
the Gallowsman disappeared into, he’s no longer connected to a storehouse of mystic
energy.

Charlie Allen looks the other way as I get dressed. Cassius doesn’t.

“Okay,” I say. “Now what?”

Cassius doesn’t reply for a moment. When he does answer me, he sounds hesitant. “That’s
up to you, Jace.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“When he brought you here, Ahaseurus eliminated the condition that would have prematurely
aged you if you tried to return to your own reality. You’ve captured Stoker, fulfilling
the terms of your contract. There’s nothing to stop you from going home—and I can
send you there from here.”

I blink. The evil witch is dead, I’ve reached the end of the Yellow Brick Road, and
I can finally get the hell out of Oz—or in this case, Kansas.

But do I want to?

I glance over at Charlie Allen. He stares back at me with a guarded expression I know
too well. He’s not worrying about himself, he’s worrying about me. I know he’s not
my
Charlie, but …

But he could be.

I look back at Cassius. His face, by contrast, isn’t guarded at all; it’s just sad.
He thinks he knows what I’m going to choose, and he’s getting ready to say goodbye.

I think about home—the one I was born and raised on, the one without thropes or pires
or golems. The one that has butterscotch ice cream and shooting ranges and the house
I grew up in.

I take a deep, deep breath.

And then I tell them what I’m going to do.

Don’t miss the other novels in the spectacular Bloodhound Files series by

DD BARANT

BACK FROM THE UNDEAD

BETTER OFF UNDEAD

KILLING ROCKS

DEATH BLOWS

DYING BITES

Available from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

Also by DD Barant

Back from the Undead

Better Off Undead

Killing Rocks

Death Blows

Dying Bites

Praise for DD Barant and THE BLOODHOUND FILES

“Snappy writing, a page-turning story, and fresh world-building make
Dying Bites
a satisfying meal of a book.”

—Kelley Armstrong,
New York Times
bestselling author of
Men of the Otherworld
and
The Awakening

“
Dying Bites
is wacky, unpredictable, fresh, and amazing. I would kill to write as well as DD
Barant. Seriously.”

—Nancy Holder, author of
Pretty Little Devils

“This engrossing debut adds another captivating protagonist to the urban fantasy ranks …
Barant’s well-developed world offers intriguing enhancements to mythology and history.
Jace is remarkable, strong-willed, and smart, and she sets an unstoppable pace. Look
for the Bloodhound Files to go far.”

—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

“A heroine with plenty of guts, moxie, and a sense of the absurd. [A] fresh and original
take on urban fantasy … Huge kudos to Barant for spicing things up with a story that
expertly integrates detective work, kick-butt action and a wacky sense of humor. Make
sure you get in early on the outstanding new Bloodhound Files series.”

—RT Book Reviews

“DD Barant builds a strong world and fills it with fascinating characters that will
delight and entertain.
Dying Bites
is a well-written urban fantasy with a gripping plot and a heroine who is quite believable
with her very human flaws. I’m looking forward to seeing more in this captivating
world.”

—
Darque Reviews
(starred read)

“Five stars. An exciting new series. It has humor, mystery, and adventure. A great
book!”

—Affaire de Coeur

“Barant does an excellent job introducing a whole new world where vampires make up
the majority of the population … quick and engrossing … a great new series.”

—
Romance Reader

About the Author

DD Barant
lives in Vancouver, BC, and loves monsters, chocolate, animals, reading, comics and
lying naked on the beach, while hating bullies, narrow-minded people, Sea Urchin Sushi
and gluten. Awful, terrible gluten.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed
in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

UNDEAD TO THE WORLD

Copyright © 2012 by DD Barant.

All rights reserved.

For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

www.stmartins.com

eISBN: 9781466814936

St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / December 2012

St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New
York, NY 10010.