The Blood Masquerade: The Lost Ones Trilogy, #2

By J. Peter W.

The carousel is destroyed.

The Collector is defeated.

The world of the dead has been opened.

When Makin Riley went down into the world of the dead with his friends, Frankie and Marcus, they hoped to rescue his little brother, Stevie’s spirit and bring him back to life. They never
intended to unleash something evil into the world of the living.

Now the living must come together, both human and fey, in order to figure out a way to return the dead back to their world. But a rogue elf named Echron sees this as an opportunity to get revenge on the courts that banished him.

Book 2 of The Lost Ones Trilogy

• Language: English
• Publisher: DP BOOKS
• Release date: Feb 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781975813895

Book preview

The

BLOOD

MASQUERADE

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J. Peter W.

(into my doom the soldiers march)

A voice moves silent through

the twisted city streets

The eyes from tangled gardens peer

He grins a broken smile

Through shattered teeth

he brings the darkest time of year

And he will save us now

And he will take us underground

Where we'll never be bound by love

Or the nightmares above

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-The Birthday Massacre, Nothing and Nowhere

CHAPTER

ONE

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What’s wrong with me?

I don’t know.  I don’t understand.  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, Makin spoke to his younger brother.

Stevie felt both wrists and then his neck before returning his right hand over his heart.  It’s gone.  I don’t have a pulse.  I don’t have a heartbeat.

Makin looked his brother up and down.  It was clear that his spirit had made it back into his body.  He was talking and moving.  There was life in him.  But it was also clear that his skin tone wasn’t right.  He had no body heat.  He had no light behind his eyes.  They just stared out like two bottomless wishing wells.  Empty and dark.

Behind them approached Makin’s friends, Frankie and Marcus.  They bent over huffing and gasping for air, locking their eyes on Stevie, amazed at what they saw.

He’s alive! Frankie cheered once she had gathered herself.  We did it!

Not quite, Makin said as he helped his brother up from the ground.  The touch of Stevie’s cold hand sent a chill through him.  He’s not alive, but he’s not dead either.

Wait, what? Marcus said and then hocked up something from the back of his throat.  He spit it off to the side.

I don’t know what we did, but it wasn’t right.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Makin replied.

Just like at the cemetery, Frankie said with a far off look in her eyes.  They were coming up out of the graves.

We released the dead, Makin said.  The spirits are going back to their bodies no matter what condition they are in.  But they aren’t alive.

Stevie felt his legs wobble.  He felt worn out and tired.  Having no heartbeat was a strange sensation.  He could feel the lack of blood flow.  Feel the way it made his muscles weak and stagnant.  He didn’t need to breathe.  His body didn’t crave oxygen, but still tried to take deep breaths instinctively. The others watched him in disbelief.

Shade was right, you guys, Frankie spoke.  There was no way to save him.

No, I don’t accept that.  Makin turned to her.  Look how far we’ve come.  We have him back.  He’s here.  There must be a way to bring him back to life.

You came after me, didn’t you?  You came down there, to that world?  Stevie asked his brother, figuring it out in his head.  He pictured the black, dark world.  He remembered riding on the carousel, forced to sit on the back of a horse skeleton.

We all did, he replied.  It was my fault you were in danger.  I had to get you back.

You guys risked your lives for me? 

Marcus and Frankie nodded. 

Makin that was dumb.  You could have gotten everyone killed.

At least we would have all been together, Makin said.

Stevie looked down at his hands.  The skin covering them had lost all of its color.  The tips of his fingers were nearly white.  He wondered what the rest of him looked like, if his face was as pale and lifeless as his hands were.

What happened to the carousel?

Frankie and I did a little bit of remodeling on it, Mucus Marcus said with a chuckle. 

When it came crashing down, I felt something pulling me, Stevie explained.  Something from inside me pulled me through the darkness until I opened my eyes and saw I was here, back in my body.

That’s so crazy, Marcus replied.

In the distance they heard screams.  They turned in the direction that it came from, expecting the worst.  The screams came again, and then once more.  They were getting closer and louder.  Whatever was causing the terror was coming their way. 

Through the setting sun, they saw the silhouettes of two dozen people running down the street.  Just feet behind them were stumbling, limping things that resembled humans.  Some looked so skinny it was hard to believe there was any flesh left on their bodies., while others looked to be made of nothing but bone.

The people ran, screaming for their lives.  Husbands were holding their kids with one arm and pulling their wives with the other.  Single parents were trying their best to lead the small children away before the limping corpses could get their rotting hands on them.

In the back of the pack, they could see a family of three, all overweight and struggling to keep up.  Two large parents and a small, thick-set boy were just ahead of the horde of zombies and skeletons.  They were breathing heavily and barely able to move any longer.  Their slow run turned into a slower jog and then finally a collapsing walk.  The mother was grabbed from behind first, just before she fell from exhaustion.  She tumbled to the asphalt, rolling once before a crowd of undead swarmed her.  Both her husband and child screamed out, but it was too late for her.

A man just ahead of them turned back and saw the husband gesturing for his help.  He hesitated but then ran back, grabbing the chubby child from the father’s arms.  In a quick swoop, he had the boy and was running again.  The child looked over the strange man’s shoulder as his father tried to pry the things away from his mother’s flesh, but soon he too went down, overwhelmed by the attackers.

Makin, Frankie gasped.

They all wanted to help, but were too shocked to move.  These weren’t the same spirits from the carousel, desperate for another shot at life.  They couldn’t be.  It didn’t make sense that they would go back into their bodies just to rise and kill the living.  Sure, it was understandable that they wanted revenge but killing the living didn’t make sense.  They should be targeting the creatures of the dead world.

What have we done? he whispered back.

They could see the undead gather around the two fallen parents.  They could see the things ripping into flesh and bringing it to their mouths.  Blood and bits of flesh flung into the air and rolled onto the street, staining it a crimson red.  The undead fought, shoving one another to get the last bits of meat.  Soon after, the woman sat up.  Some of the undead were still chewing on her stomach, pieces of intestines hanging from their mouths.  She swatted them away and stood.  Half of her body was gone, chewed away, leaving nothing but bone in its place.  She leaned over and joined in the others that were eating on her husband until he too stood up.

Why didn’t they die? asked Marcus, spotting the two amongst the crowd of undead.

They did.  We destroyed the carousel so there is nowhere for them to go, Makin said.  This is where the dead go now.  Their spirits are staying in their dead bodies.

But zombies?

I don’t know.

Why isn’t Stevie a zombie? Marcus asked.  They could see the mistrust in his eyes.

Marcus, I don’t know!

I’m not a zombie! Stevie said. 

Guys!  Frankie tried to get their attention.

How do we know that?

Because I said so, Stevie shot back.

Guys!

Yeah but-

Marcus, he’s not a zombie! Makin said.

Guys!  We need to hide! Frankie shouted. 

They looked back at the street and saw their neighbors run past.  Not far behind was the horde of flesh eating zombies.

In the house!  Now! Makin directed.

They ran toward the front door of Makin and Stevie’s house.  Makin opened it and let Frankie and Marcus inside.  Stevie was lagging behind, staring out into the horde of oncoming undead.  Towards the front of the pack was a teenage girl.  She was close to his age and had most of her flesh still intact.  Stevie didn’t recognize her but he was staring at her as if he did.

Stevie! Makin cried out.  Come on!

He finally broke his gaze away from her and ran inside.

When Makin slammed the door shut the zombies were just feet from the front porch.  He leaned his back against the wooden door, sighing with both relief and regret.  It was starting to sink in how badly he had screwed up.  How many lives would be lost because he had to save Stevie?  He was questioning every move they had made.

What’s going on in here? Mrs. Riley came rushing into the room.  She was wearing only a night gown and holding a half empty bottle.  Her dark, brown hair was ragged and unkempt.  The smell of vodka radiated from her as if she had been bathing in it.  Where the hell have you two been? 

Mom, stop, Stevie said.  There are bigger things going on.

Excuse me?  She moved towards him lifting her arm as if she was about to backhand him across the face.

Mom, this is Marcus and Frankie, Makin spoke up, hoping to distract her.

She dropped her hand and glanced over at them.  Is this where you’ve been?  Shacking up with these two?  And now you show up after three days and expect to what?  To get some money from me?  You’re lucky I didn’t call the cops on your asses.

Behind Makin they could hear the undead barging into the door, trying to claw their way through it.  The sound of their moaning and grunting was cutting through the conversation. 

Mrs. Riley saw Makin’s back still against the door as if he was holding it shut.  She took a swig from the vodka bottle and then said, Open that door.  What are you doing?  Who’s out there?

Mom, I can’t.  You don’t understand.

Don’t understand what?  Is that the police out there?  I knew it was only a matter of time before you two got into a world of shit.  You’re just like your father.

It’s not the police, Frankie spoke up.  But that’s a good idea.  Let’s call them.

Mrs. Riley walked over to the door and shoved Makin out of the way.  She held her head against the door, looking out the peephole.  The undead were so tightly packed against the door she couldn’t make out anything.  What the hell is out there?

Mom, I know you’re not going to believe us, Stevie said, but those are zombies.

She took another mouthful of liquor and then started laughing.  It sounded like a witch’s cackle, more sinister than joyful.  I don’t know how I got stuck with two pathetic, fuck-up liars like you two.

He’s telling the truth, Marcus said, finally speaking up.

Oh is he?  Well then, maybe I should just open this door and see for myself.

No! they all said in unison. 

Mom, stop!  This is real.  They'll kill us! Makin shouted.  Don’t open that door!

She ignored him and went for the knob.  Makin jumped forward and grabbed her arm, trying to pry it off the door.  Mrs. Riley battled him back until the vodka slipped from her other hand.  It shattered on the floor, splashing all over their feet.

God damnit, Makin!  Look what you did!

She slapped at him as he ducked away, most of the strikes landing on the back of his head and shoulders. 

It was an accident.

She dropped down to a squat, then began sifting through the broken glass and puddles as if she was trying to find something to salvage.

Outside they could hear the moaning of the undead getting louder.  The front door began to bulge and crack.  The hinges were straining, starting to bend under the pressure.

Stevie ran to the window and moved the blinds, looking out at the intruders.  He spotted the young girl he had seen earlier.  She was standing on the porch watching the others push and scratch at the door.  Stevie saw how disinterested she looked.  There was nothing ravenous about her.  She seemed just as undead as them but she didn’t seem to have the hunger that they had.  He wondered if they all became hungry zombies over time or if some of them like him, and possibly her, could avoid it. 

The girl turned her head and spotted him in the window.  Stevie didn’t shy away.  He stared right back, looking into her lifeless eyes.  He searched them, looking for anything that resembled a living person, hoping she would still be in there like he was.  Her eyes never wavered from his. 

Stevie wondered if she could still talk.  He smiled at her the best he could.  The muscles on his face barely lifting no matter how hard he tried.  The girl’s face began to quiver.  The right side of her mouth twitching until it slightly rose into a half grin.  They smiled at each other with undead faces, still hanging on to some form of humanity.

The door suddenly splintered, a large crack forming straight down the middle.  Mrs. Riley fell back and landed on the floor, startled.  Below her blood droplets mixed with the spilt vodka.  She was too drunk to realize she had fallen on glass pieces.  She sat cursing the door, oblivious to the pain of the punctured glass shards.

Makin, we need to do something.  That door won’t hold much longer, Frankie said.

I know, I know.

Screw this, I’m calling my dad, Mucus Marcus spoke.  He grabbed the phone off the wall, dialing with clumsy-panicked fingers. 

Dad, it’s me, he said into the receiver. 

He told his father where they were and how they were in trouble.  Right as he hung up, the front door broke in two with a loud splintering crash.  The first line of zombies was crushed and flattened, their bodies squashed from the weight of the horde pushing on them.  They toppled in on top of Mrs. Riley as she screamed.  Before Makin could react the second line of undead were climbing through and ripping at his mother.

Mom!

Makin’s shout caused Stevie to look away from the girl outside.  He turned and watched as his mother was ripped open with rotted fingernails and yellowed, broken teeth.  He didn’t move or react to her screams.  He just stood and watched the flesh come off of her in bloody strips, unsure of how it made him feel.

Makin! Stevie!  Come on!  Frankie called out.

Both brothers stood watching as Mrs. Riley looked to them for help.  They waited until the last bit of life was eaten from her body and she lay completely still. 

Makin!  Now!

He turned to a frantic Frankie and then pulled on Stevie’s arm.  They followed her into the kitchen and towards the back door.  Marcus stood there looking out into the woods, waiting to see his father come plowing through and save them.

Where is he? Frankie asked.  She looked back to the zombies climbing over one another to get inside. 

He’s coming.  He’s coming.  I know he’ll be here, Marcus replied.

CHAPTER

TWO

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Makin and Stevie stood by the back door looking at the pile of zombies that covered their mother.  They both knew what would happen next.  They had seen it in the street earlier.  She had been a monster while alive.  They couldn’t image how awful she would be when she came back as an undead.

There he is!  I told you he would come! Marcus shouted. 

Mr. Tibble ran out of the woods and into the backyard.  Marcus had never seen him move that fast before.  Both he and his father shared a larger physique and were prone to limiting their running to the bare minimum. In his dad's hands was a twelve-gauge shotgun.

The zombies were beginning to move past Mrs. Riley now, limping their way towards the kitchen.  In the center of them popped up a deformed, faceless thing.  It was wearing Mrs. Riley’s blood-soaked nightgown.  Where the face should have been was a red, dripping skull.  Its teeth chattered like it was practicing for a meal. 

We have to leave, Makin said.

We’re going right now! Frankie said.  Marcus, go!

She pushed on his back until he opened the door and fled onto the patio.  Frankie was right behind him, her hand clasped in Makin’s and yanking him.  Makin grabbed onto Stevie and pulled him out, completing the chain of terrified teenagers.

Dad!  Marcus jumped on his father, hugging him tight. 

Their embrace was cut short when the zombies burst out onto the patio.  Mr. Tibble moved Marcus to the side and took aim.  He blasted off a shell at the leading undead.  Its head exploded onto the horde behind it before it collapsed, folding in on itself like a dropped doll.  The horde stepped over it, not in the least bit phased.  From the center, where the headless, now-trampled zombie had fallen a ghostly figure rose.  It no longer took any interest in them.  The hunger for flesh and destruction it had was gone in an instant. 

Stay behind me, Mr. Tibble called out, directing them. 

Stevie looked back once more for the undead girl he had seen on the front porch, but he couldn’t find her.  He then moved behind Marcus’s dad with the others.  Mr. Tibble fired off two more rounds, dropping the next closest, before backing away.  They all watched as the destroyed undead became transparent spirits.

There’s too many, he said.  We’re going to have to outrun them.

The zombies were still spilling from the Riley’s house.  It looked like the horde had grown to thirty or forty by now.  The leading few were nearly across the backyard as Mr. Tibble led Marcus and the others into the woods and toward his house. 

Depending on the years of decay, some of the zombies moved with just as much speed as they did, while others had to battle just to stand up.  The ones that had been dead for even longer where complete skeletons, all the flesh and clothing worn from their bodies; they seemed to be more stable than the zombies.  Makin kept looking behind them as they ran, watching the skeletons move with cartoon-like motions.  He wondered if the spirit itself held the bones together, somehow acting like a glue of remembrance.  The whole idea was fascinating to him. 

Makin, you’re lagging behind!  Come on! he heard Frankie belt out.  She squeezed on his hand, breaking his thoughts from the pursuing creatures. 

Mr. Tibble led them through the woods toward his home.  They were about halfway in when he spotted the tree fort he had built Marcus shortly after his wife’s death.  It had been both a gift for Marcus and himself.  The therapy of working hard on something to keep his mind off of the loss was an important part of his grieving.  When he had finally completed it, he knew it was okay to move on from his late wife.  Without that project he might not have ever been able to fully recover. 

Dad! Marcus spoke, pointing to it. 

You read my mind, Mr. Tibble replied. 

They were both aware of how close the horde of undead and skeletons were.  The chances of them making it all the way through the woods and to their house without another confrontation were getting slim.  Mr. Tibble veered toward the fort’s tree, directing the others to follow. 

Marcus was the first to reach the tree and begin climbing up the makeshift ladder that was nailed directly to the trunk.  His father stayed back a little and took aim, firing off a shot at the horde.  Frankie started her climb next, quickly getting on the heels of Marcus. 

Go! Go! Go! she said from below him.

Makin and Stevie made it to the tree together and Makin insisted his younger brother go first, but Stevie was hesitant.

What’s wrong?

I don’t know if I can do it, he said.

I’m the one with the fear of heights, Makin replied.  Besides, you’ve done it before.

No, I mean, I can feel my muscles weakening.  I can’t move like I used to, Stevie explained.

You have to try!

Stevie nodded and then lifted his right hand up, grabbing onto a chunk of two-by-four.  He had to strain to get his left leg up high enough to place his foot on the bottom piece of wood.  Makin got behind him and gave him a boost until he was off the ground. 

Hurry!  They’re closing in fast! Mr. Tibble shouted and then fired his shotgun once more.

Stevie could still move his arms high and grab a firm enough hold with his hands, but it was evident that he was having issues lifting his legs.  Makin started to climb under him, pushing up on the