Queen of the Dead by Ty Drago Page A

smelly cadaver against a large bronze plaque that was mounted into the stone wall of the hub. Both girls had their Ritters out. As Helene feigned a thrust, drawing the Deader’s attention, Katie moved in and smoothly planted hers into the Corpse’s belly, right through the raincoat.
    Hissing—yeah, they hiss sometimes—he swiped at her, forcing her to jump back, leaving the syringe’s plunger unplunged. Seeing this, Helene stepped up and executed a solid roundhouse kick, slamming her sneakered foot into the Type Three’s middle section.
    Both girls jumped back.
    â€œWatch this, Katie!” I heard Helene say.
    The Corpse exploded—a wet popping sound.
    A moment later, I heard a similar sound—though drier and raspier. I looked back to see that Chuck had found my fallen Ritter and used it on the flaky guy I’d zapped.
    Apparently, the only one who had a problem killing these things was me.
    But the good news was that five of the six were down.
    For one glorious moment, I actually thought we had this battle locked up.
    Wrong.
    The giant, maybe reacting to what had just happened to his buds, went completely off the rails. He threw himself at Sharyn, who lifted her blade to meet him. Vader went right into the big guy’s chest, undoubtedly piercing his heart. But what good was that when the darned thing wasn’t beating anyway?
    Cursing, Sharyn tried to pull it out. But once again, the enormous Type Two proved himself to be amazingly fast. He snatched up the Boss Angel, wrapping his bloated, putrid hands around her upper body and pinning her arms. Then, lifting her off her feet, he squeezed brutally.
    Sharyn cried out and dropped her sword. The giant kicked it away.
    Then he threw her.
    This wasn’t the offhand slap he’d given Burt, who still lay dazed on the floor. This was vicious and deliberate, and it had all the monster’s strength behind it. Sharyn flew across the room, her arms and legs flailing.
    Then she slammed headfirst into the far wall. I actually heard the crack , and the sound of it made my blood go cold.
    Katie screamed, “Sharyn!” Then she ran around the giant and toward where the Boss Angel’s broken body lay in a heap on the tiles.
    The huge Type Two whirled on Helene.
    He spoke in English, his voice as deep as thunder. “What did you just do , girl?”
    Helene stared up at him, her face pale. Bravely, she raised her Ritter. “The same thing I’m gonna do to you!” she exclaimed.
    She jabbed at him, but he knocked the syringe from her grasp with a single swat of his massive paw. Then he grabbed her by the throat.
    â€œNo!” I screamed. I tried to rise to my feet only to lose my balance and fall back. I didn’t vomit this time, just heaved a little, which I suppose was a sign of improvement. But my head still swam.
    Fortunately, Chuck and Burt were in better shape. They closed in on the giant from behind. Chuck delivered a well-placed kick to the monster’s lower back that he completely ignored. Then Burt pushed Chuck aside and slammed his Ritter into the Corpse’s unguarded kidney.
    An instant later, he stepped back, his face reddening.
    The plunger was gone from the syringe and all its saltwater drained off. It must have broken when he’d been knocked down.
    â€œCrap,” I heard him mutter.
    The giant lifted Helene off the floor, one of his bloated, snow shovel–sized hands locked around her slender throat. At the same time, his other arm swung like a baseball bat, catching Burt in the side of the head and knocking him into Chuck. Both of them went down hard, the wind knocked out of them.
    Then the Type Two looked over at me, and reading the horror on my face, he grinned.
    There were no bugs in his teeth. In fact, he had no teeth at all. His mouth looked like a twisted black pit that had been dug into the purplish, slimy surface of his face.
    In Deadspeak, he said, “Watch. Girl.