Chapter Eight: Present Day, Hyde and Seek
Annabelle’s cold fist smashed
through the zombie’s ribcage. With her
other arm she wacked off the creature’s head, sending it spiraling into a
tombstone. If she were human, these
things would scare her, but she hasn’t been human for a long time.
Her brother Roland, laughed as he
ripped a zombie apart and began to move at top speed around the graveyard,
smacking the undead with a firmly held corpse.
His weapon of choice crumbled in his pale hands. “Darn.
These things just don’t hold up like they used to.”
She smiled as she slashed a zombie
in two with her nails. “Whoever
reanimated this horde didn’t take their time with the spell.”
Annabelle looked across the misty
graveyard. Gross bodies continued to
shuffle from their graves. Grey fingers
clawed to the surface, revealing more decrepit enemies to fight. So far none had escaped the sacred grounds of
the cemetery, but with the sheer amount of undead, she knew it wouldn’t be
long.
“And why zombies?” Roland asked as
he unsheathed his silver cutlass. “It’s
so last week. Why couldn’t it be living
skeletons or mummies?” He began to slash
away at the horde, the moonlight reflecting off his sword.
Annabelle took to the air, hovering
just out of the grasp of an undead man in a tux. Half his rotten flesh seemed to fall off on
its own. “Could be worse. They could be gremlins.” She brushed off pieces of shredded corpse
from her clothes.
“Ugh! Please not those again.” Roland flew into a mass of petrified bodies
and began to slice them to shreds. His
blood-red eyes flickered and a wicked grin stole across his pale face.
Annabelle continued to hover ten
feet above the graves. She focused on
anything unusual.
“You’re enjoying yourself. Not a bad way to do our ‘sibling night’
patrol.” He smiled as he continued to destroy
more zombies.
“Still,” she continued from eight
feet above, her red jacket flapped in the cool night breeze, “Something’s not
right. Zombies are normally weak, but
these are pathetic.”
“Are you going to hang up there all
night while I do all the work?” His
black jeans and sweatshirt began to turn grey with zombie remains. “I’m working up a thirst. We haven’t even gone hunting for breakfast
yet.”
“You and your stomach. I’m sure we’ll find a plump cat or dog to
feed on soon enough. Do you smell that? There’s a hint of magic in the air. I think one of our enemies left some kind of
voodoo trinket somewhere in the graveyard.
If I could just spot it...”
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