Free Almost Alive (The Beautiful Dead Book 3) by Daryl Banner Page B

going to tell you all about your mother and why she isn’t here, but I … prefer to save that for a better time, really.”
    That’s not the answer I wanted to hear. “Hel, I’ve waited long enough.”
    “Tomorrow, after your job assignment.”
    “No.” We stop right under the walkway connecting two bland warehouse-like buildings. “You’ll tell me before we get to my surprise party I don’t know about. You’ll tell me right now. Where is my mother?”
    “ After the party.” She lifts two pencil-thin eyebrows, her pointy nose seeming pointier than usual. “ After the party, I will tell you everything, you insufferable girl.”
    “Swear it.”
    “Sworn.”
    “Good.” We resume walking. But I’m not done. “Can you also explain to me why Shee still exists, why Shee ate one or two people, and why everyone has to call her Empress?”
    “Seriously, Winter, who in Undead hell have you been talking to?”
    “Ann. Pair of kids on the street. Who cares. Why is Shee here?”
    “She isn’t.”
    “Then where is she?”
    “Somewhere far away.”
    “I need more than that, Hel.”
    “After the party.”
    “You’re going to tell me about my mother after the party. You can tell me about Shee right now.”
    “No. After the party.”
    “You can’t tell me about both of them after the party.”
    “Yes I can, and will.”
    “But they have nothing to do with each other!”
    “They have everything to do with each other.” Helena faces me, her eyes fierce and black. “Your mother went after Shee. She’s gone because of Shee.”
    I stop. “What??”
    That’s when the assault of a thousand happy cheers commences, and the rosebushes and the innocent trees and the bushels of grass become people. “Surprise!” screams a tall man. “Surprise!” shouts a gaggle of girls in unison. “Surprise!” From ladies I’ve never met to men I’ve never seen, I’m attacked in all directions by cuteness.
    And at that cuteness, I scream to make blood curdle.
    From the crowd of merry partygoers, Marigold’s round, plump face emerges. I might still be screaming, I don’t know. Her choice of eye shadow today is a rather scary shade of green and her lips are shiny and blue, and she’s grinning at me, positively thrilled with my screams of terror—which she is likely taking to be screams of joy.
    At last I’ve stopped screaming, my hand clutching my chest where there ought to be a racing heart on the verge of cardiac arrest, and I sputter: “M-M-M-M—”
    “Marigold, silly! You’ve forgotten my name!” She giggles, all her chins wiggling. “How I’ve missed you!”
    Helena leans into me. “You didn’t have to overdo it on the ‘acting surprised’ bit.”
    I ignore her, run a hand through my hair, then put on a shaky smile and say, “Thank you, Marigold. This is quite a surprise.” I survey all the eyes that are on me. Some of them are glistening with excitement. Some of them are squinted in concern or suspicion. Others look dismayed, curious, confused, quizzical.
    “Aren’t you simply excited to see everyone? I’m so excited to see you. I make steel things now!” She gives a wave of her hand and I notice a large, frightful bend of metal that I think is supposed to be an archway. Flowers are set in little grooves in the metal, pink and yellow and white ones. If I were the flowers, I wouldn’t trust the strange contraption I’d been set in and beg for a wind to carry me to safety.
    “You’re very creative,” I decide to say, choosing my words. “And … I’m really glad to see you again. I’m …” I turn, facing all the people that have come for the party. Sadly, I recognize zero of them. “I’m glad to see you all again,” I announce, praying some person I do know returns a kind glance. The only eyes that meet mine are cold, confused, or wary ones.
    “Tell me, dear. Would you like to cut into your cake now? It’s a triple-layered French vanilla crème!”
    I will not venture to guess what