Ruby Red and the Undead

Ruby Red and the Undead

By Robert Wright Jr.

Copyright © 2018 Robert Wright Jr

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

Cover design by: Sherrie Wright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned are the property of their respective

owners.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

Dedicated to all the people who have been after me to complete this story, the second Ruby Red book. This one is for you!

Also By Robert Wright Jr

Witch Way Series

Witch Way Home

Witch Way Back

Witch Way to Have

Walk the Stars series

Walk the Stars

Walk the Earth

Ruby Red series

Ruby Red and the Wolf

Demon Child series

Into Darkness

Children’s Books

Monster Under The Bed

Acknowledgments

Thanks to my wife and youngest for sharing me with the voices in my head. You’re also great sounding boards – without your love and support these books wouldn’t be possible.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

About the Author

Chapter 1

Bellingham, Washington:

As usually happened this time of year, a storm had moved through the area cleansing and cooling the night. The summer moonlight glistened off the raindrops hanging on the leaves lining the urban trail. The calm after the storm was broken only by the tiny drops of water puddling beneath the trees and the soft whispers of the inebriated young lovers who staggered down the dark path.

The couple stopped in the middle of the dirt path and clung to each other, their lips meeting as their bodies intertwined in their passion as a pair of white-filmed eyes peered out from the bushes and then disappeared into the shadows.

The girl’s intoxicated giggle echoed through the night air as she pushed away from her lover and rushed down the path and into the darkness before the boy could recover. His laughter echoed her own as he caught himself and stumbled down the path after the girl.

Staggering side to side, he paused as a muffled sound beat against his dulled senses. Gazing drunkenly around, he tried to pierce the surrounding darkness. No longer amused, his fright began to counter the alcohol. Sarah? Sarah, are you okay? He tried to penetrate the shadows thrown around by the moon shining down through the trees and could just make out movement down the path.

Sluggishly he moved toward the sound, his senses more attuned to the dark as he anticipated his lover jumping out and scaring him as she had done in the past. Sarah, this isn’t funny anymore. You know I don’t like it when you scare me. A few feet down the path though he stopped as a yellow piece of cloth fluttered in the breeze and a cloying, sickening scent tickled his nose.

A smile of anticipation crossed his face briefly as he recognized the girl’s top, but it faded as he grasped the light fabric stained with a dark tacky wetness. He looked around, fear gnawing at his insides now as a single cloud took that moment to fly across the moonlit path elongating and merging the shadows.

Sarah, stop this. I’m going to go home and leave you here if you don’t show yourself. I am telling you this isn’t funny anymore, he whimpered. His voice cracked and quivered betraying the fright seeping through his body. A branch to the side of the trail cracked causing him to spin as the cloud fled and what little light there was filtered down to the path once more.

Six shadows stand under the trees, the semi-darkness obscuring their features. The breeze shifted toward him and that slight smell from before slammed into his face causing him to step back as he gagged from the weight of it. Who . . .who are you? We don’t want any trouble . . .

He never finished the sentence as the shadows fly across the path and hit him. The force and weight taking all of them into the brush behind the boy. The bushes shook violently back and forth. A stifled scream changed to a wet gurgle, then stopped. Soon there was only the sound of crunching bones and wet slurping noises. Then silence.

Mack watched from the other end of the path as the boy was attacked and dragged into the bushes to be consumed by his master’s pets. He had been sent out by Davey to collect this small band of zombies that had wandered away from their hiding place that night and had finally found them as they were finishing off the girl.

He waited as the creatures devoured the boy and returned to the path hopeful that their hunger was now sated for the night. He smiled nervously, the zombies watching him walk down the path. Their dead white eyes tracked his every movement. Slobber from their feed rolled off their lips. Stopping five feet away, he took in their grossly distended bellies and the gore that hung off various parts of their bodies and nodded at them.

Yeah, they should be easier to control now. These creatures tended to move more slowly and to listen to commands after a fresh kill and feeding. The smell of fresh blood and other nasty things drifted from the bushes as Mack wrinkled his nose in disgust and whispered. Come, your master wants you back home.

A tiny whisper of his master’s voice echoed inside everyone’s head. The six undead stood there for a few seconds, not a sound passing their dead lips when as one they slowly moved toward the rat shifter and then past him headed in the direction of their new home. Mack let out a small breath that he hadn’t even realized he had been holding as the zombies shuffled past him.

He looked back at the dark liquid that stained a few leaves and shrugged, a few humans here and there was no big loss. He turned and followed the master’s pets back home, not at all worried about the mess left behind.

Seattle, Washington:

The wolf shifter nervously got off the elevator and stepped down the hall under the watchful eyes of the two guards standing outside the penthouse door. His possible death sentence was crumpled in his sweaty hands. Ever since the death of the Seattle alpha three months ago all the wolves had been on edge.

After Marcus’s death, his second in command should have stepped up in his place. But the alpha’s ruthless mate, immediately upon learning of her husband’s demise, had purged the pack of anyone that would take her power. Now all that stood in her way was the Shifter Council. And they had been quiet – until now.

Both of the massive guards moved to block the double doors as he stopped before them. I have some important news for the um – alpha.

The guards stood there silently looking down on the wolf shifter, their eyes narrowed, and their arms crossed over immense chests that strained their suit jackets. Sweat gathered under the shifter’s arms and both guards wrinkled their noses in disgust. Listen, she needs to see this. I . . .

Dismissively, one of the guards growled. She is playing.

Now fully resigned to his fate, the shifter’s shoulders fell for a second then he perked up as he looked at the two before him. It doesn’t matter. I have a communique from the Council. I need to see her now.

The two guards glanced at each other then, stepping aside to clear the doors, the larger of the two grimly whispered, Your funeral.

The shifter sighed then knocked once before opening the door and walking into the spacious penthouse living room. He startled as the door closed behind him and a sweet voice with a slight southern twang sounded from another room. I thought I told y’all that I wasn’t to be disturbed.

The shifter froze and for a second considered fleeing the room when, from a back room, the alpha slinked out. She stopped and looked him up and down with grey smoky eyes. Who are you? Her throaty whisper floated across the room, sending a chill down his spine.

He took in the blonde hair and the barely covered body coated with a red viscous liquid then diverted his eyes as he answered in a nervous rush. I’m from the communication center. I have an important message from the Shifter Council, Alpha.

The alpha stood there and laughed, long and loud, before walking over to the shifter, leaving a bloody trail of footprints in her wake. So, the damn old farts have finally decided to take notice of me have they, honey?

Uhm . . . well, sort of . . . I mean . . . He stopped as her eyes flashed from that smoky grey to a deep dark purple. Without another word, he fell to his knees, his head lowered exposing the back of his neck. He extended his hand, the damp wadded up paper peeking out.

With a deep calming breath, she tenderly pulled the paper out of his loose grasp and unfolded it, ignoring its condition. Silently she read the message, irritation flaring within her. She took a breath – the message from the council could have been worse. Have you read this note, honey? The slow whisper of her voice washed over the shifter.

He nodded, his eyes locked on the white carpet below him as a drop of sweat hit the fabric. He waited for the killing blow then startled at the low laugh above him. Now, darling, do you think I kill every messenger that brings me bad news?

Brief hope flared in his heart as the shifter looked up at his alpha then quickly died as the claws of her half-formed paw tore into his throat ripping through flesh and bone. He fell back choking on his own blood, his hands groping at the raw bloody mess. Bad news I can tolerate, honey, but fear in my men is another thing, she whispered as she reached down grabbing the struggling shifter and tossed him across the room and through the window.

The shifter felt the glass shatter behind him and then the empty air as he hung in space for a second before he silently fell his arms windmilling until he splattered on the sidewalk ten stories below. The alpha stood at the edge of the broken window a cruel smile on her face while a gentle breeze played with her hair. The two guards rushed into the room and stopped, glancing between the broken window and their leader. Get out and send someone down to clean up that mess below, she whispered.

She listened to the sound of the feet behind her and the click of the closing door then tossed the paper in her hand out into the cool night air. It fluttered down. The air currents carry it past the crowd gathered below and out into the darkness.

Fae Castle (somewhere in the Ever After):

The golden torch lights flicker from the passing bodies, throwing shadows against the stone walls as the sound of marching feet echoed down the hall. The eight armed fae surrounding the little girl ignored the tinkling sound of silver enchanted chains. The chains that hung from her neck, wrists, and ankles quelled her magic as they marched toward their destination.

Reaching a set of tall golden doors, the group stopped as other guards encircled them. The doors slowly opened. Now with twenty fae around her, the group marched into the throne room.

They all halt below the queen’s throne and in a flurry of activity, all the guards moved as one turning and pointing the tips of their short spears at the child in their midst. She doesn’t move, her eyes locked on the ground. An evil little smile playing across her lips at the fear she feels permeating the ranks around her.

A harsh whisper from above makes that smile vanish. Cindy, Cindy, whatever are we to do with you, little one? The young girl looked up at the figure lounging against the throne, fear and hatred warring within the depths of her eyes. Then her eyes went dead as they drop to the floor again.

A quiet laugh floated down from above, ratcheting up the anxiety in the surrounding guards. The fear now was focused on the silver-headed women who slowly climbed from the throne and moved down the steps toward the young girl. She was tall and beautiful except for the lone scar that runs from the left side of her nose through her lips to the right side of her chin. The guards in front of the dais moved aside leaving a path open for her to slither up to the girl.

She stood there looking down upon the girl, a frown touching her lips as she leisurely caressed the little girl’s hair and whispered, her lips twisted into a nasty sneer by the scar she wore, Do you know why you are here, young lady?

The girl, her eyes still locked on the ground, doesn’t say a word but hunches her shoulders at that soft voice as though from a hard blow. The silver-haired lady bent over, snaking her fingers through the girl’s hair and yanked her head back. She leaned in, her mouth only inches from the girl’s ear and whispered softly. I asked you a question, little one. Do – you – know – why – you – are – here?

A single tear lay a path down the girl’s check as a soft, scared, Yes, slipped from her mouth.

The lady smiled and released the little girl’s hair as once more the girl’s eyes zeroed in on to the smooth floor of the throne room. Good. Very good, little one, she said as she moved behind the girl, her hand once again stroking the soft hair under it. Now since we have come to an understanding perhaps you can tell me then why you have killed my mage?

That little evil smile flickered across the girl’s face as a tiny fire of resistance showed in her eyes. It was gone so fast that none see it. It disappeared and was replaced by the look of stone that she wore while in the presence of the silver-haired lady. He bored me, she whispered as she straightened her hunched shoulders just a fraction.

The lady noticed and nodded with some small satisfaction at this. She wanted the girl before her under her control, but not so broken that she would be useless. Still, though, she must be taught a lesson. Besides, mages weren’t a dime a dozen and this was the second one that the child had killed in the last three months since she had been pulled out of