Poison Princess

Hundreds of Bagmen. All in one place.

“Nom de Dieu,” Jackson murmured, booting the Ducati’s kickstand into place. We’d just driven up on a rise to get the lay of the land around Matthew’s home, an isolated ranch-style house situated in a valley below.

And found a horde of zombies teeming around it.

Selena pulled up behind us. Naturally, she’d been up for the trip. She drew off her electric-blue helmet, shaking her long hair free. “What are you guys staring at?” When she caught a look at the swarm, she whistled low.

The nearly full moon was high in the sky. Almost midnight. It’d taken me forever to home in on Matthew.

Once we neared the space center, I’d listened for his voice, directing Jackson closer. Sometimes we’d make a turn, drive for a mile before I realized Matthew was growing fainter. Then we’d be forced to backtrack. The winds —though still not nearly as bad as usual—hadn’t helped.

Jackson had told Selena that we had to make a stop on our way to North Carolina, and the girl had said nothing about our fitful progress. She seemed to trust Jackson implicitly—while I probably would’ve been mouthing off in the same situation.

“Is this our ‘stop’?” Selena asked with a hint of amusement.

Could she not sense Matthew’s closeness or hear his call? Or was she again fishing for information?

“There’s a boy inside,” Jackson said. “Somebody Evie was supposed to check on.”

Her eyes lit up. “A boy for Evie?”

“It’s not like that,” I hastily said. “I haven’t even met him.”

She adjusted the bow strapped over her shoulder, popping the top on her quiver. “What do you think the Baggers down there want?”

They were mindless with thirst, banging their hands against the door, the boarded-up windows, even the melted vinyl siding.

“There’s got to be water inside,” Jackson said, shooting me a look. “Maybe a flood.”

—Running out of time, Empress.— Matthew’s voice rang clear with our proximity, but I could tell he was weakening. “He’s trapped in there. We’ve got to save him.”

“We’ll wait until dawn, till the Baggers scatter for cover,” Jackson said.

Considering their frenzy, Matthew was going to be done for soon—water or not. “They’ll break in way before then.” Already they were denting the garage door. “We have to go now!”

He gave a harsh laugh. “Not in a million years, Evangeline.”

When Selena hopped off her bike, heading to the very edge of the cliff, he muttered to me, “You didn’t mention anything about Bagmen.”

“I didn’t know about them! But I do know he’ll drown soon.”

Selena called, “I don’t see any lights or movement.” Rejoining us, she asked, “Are you sure somebody’s even home?” But again I got the feeling that she already knew the answer.

Jackson smoothly said, “Right before you drove up behind us, we saw a flashlight signal.” He would lie to her for me? I eased closer to him.

“Then let’s go save him,” Selena said.

We both turned surprised glances to her. She was . . . agreeing with me? Immediately, I tried to work out her angle. She must know that one of the Arcana was inside, must believe Matthew would prove valuable to her in some way.

Selena plucked her bowstring over her shoulder. “You planning on living forever, J.D.?”

“I thought we were of one mind about some things,” he told her. “Like survival being foremost. Us goan down there is the opposite of survival—it’s suicide.”

“If you guys can come up with a plan, I’m in.” At his disbelieving look, she shrugged. “Maybe I can’t stand the thought of some kid, in the dark, thinking he’s counting down the last minutes of his life. He’s got to be pissing himself.”

Jackson turned to me again. “Evie, come on!”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “With or without you, Jackson.”

He ground his teeth, shoving his fingers through his hair. “Jack Deveaux ain’t ever goan to argue with two women. Always come out the loser on that score.” He paced. “If you got any ideas, Evangeline, now’s the time to share them.”

I gazed down at the structure. One-story with vinyl siding. Older-looking. “I have one, but you’ll just ridicule me.”

“Sans doute. But let’s hear it anyway.”

* * *

“Stupidest, coo-yôn idea!” Jackson snapped as he sped down the highway in our freshly appropriated van, an older Econoline. “Risking my hide for a stranger!”

He was livid about this, but at least he was cooperating.

We’d found the van in the closest subdivision. As Jackson had swiftly done repairs, he’d said, “If I actually do this before coming to my senses, there’s no reason for you to go with me, Evie. Or you, Selena.”

“You’ll need an extra bow.” Selena had patted hers proudly.

“I’ll need you to stay here and take care of Evie.”

As I rolled my eyes, Selena had defiantly flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Save it, J.D. I’m going. Which means Evie is too.”

When he opened his mouth to protest, I’d said, “Sounds like ole Jack’s about to argue with two women . . . ?”

We’d siphoned some gas from the bikes, hidden them to pick up later, then headed toward Matthew’s again.

Now Jackson yanked the wheel, careening onto the hilly dirt road that led to the house. The sharp ruts bounced the van so hard my teeth clattered.

“Easy, J.D.,” Selena protested from the back. “No seat belts back here, remember.”

Jackson had been adamant about sticking me in shotgun for this jaunt, had met my eyes as he’d yanked on my seat belt to test it. At once, Selena had started bitching that the only seat belts were in the front.

Now he said, “I want this remembered, peekôn. You holding the hell on?”

I nodded. “Bagmen ahead.” Already we were driving past stragglers, the crowd of them growing thicker and thicker.

He didn’t try to dodge them. The first we struck gave a guttural wail as it ramped up over the hood and into the air. The second one must not have fed recently; its body exploded into dusty chunks, coating the windshield.

When the house was in sight . . . we still didn’t slow. “Kids, doan try this at home,” Jackson muttered, his expression intent. Did he possess no fear? Instead, he looked as if the house had personally insulted him and he was about to make it pay.

I swallowed. As our targeted exterior wall loomed, I suddenly doubted this plan, wanting nothing more than to call it off.

Too late.

Impact. We crashed into that wall. Through it. Siding and boards battered the hood as Jackson slammed on the brakes.

Halfway inside the house, the van jolted to a stop. My body pitched forward, the seat belt wrenching the air out of my lungs.

As I fought for breath, I cracked open my eyes. One headlight remained intact, casting a muted glow over a living room. Drywall plaster clouded the air, but I could still see the outdated carpet and furniture. And cardboard boxes—they were everywhere, piled high against every wall, stacked throughout.