Soul Legacy: A Supernatural Ghost Series (The Windhaven Witches Book 2)

hurl the stand in Wade’s direction like a javelin. It misses him by a foot or two, but he manages to plant a forceful kick straight in the face of the undead woman. The impact removes the rest of her flesh, exposing her skull down to the bare bone. Luckily, it’s enough of a hit for him to break free and crawl to the side to retrieve it.
As he swings back around, the male zombie shifts gears and takes the opportunity to go after Wade as well. He clutches at Wade’s jeans, trying to make his way up the leg. Wade shifts the wreath stand in his grip, aiming the pointed end that would ordinarily plant into the ground, toward the creature. With absolutely no fear to stop it from advancing, the man continues to lurch forward, groping for Wade with terrifying fingers. Without hesitation, Wade thrusts the metal stand directly into his eye sockets.
Following the momentum from the creature as it lunges forward, Wade hoists him up and over, using his right leg to give himself more leverage. The dead man lands in the snow behind him with a sickening crack, but it doesn’t regain animation.
The female, on the other hand, reaches out and grabs Wade’s foot. Her grasp must be insanely strong, as she yanks hard and drags Wade across the snow like a rag doll. His arms go up and over his head as he twists and turns, trying to grab onto anything to break free. Finally, Wade bends forward and clutches at her bony fingers, pulling off chunks of flesh with each attempt to make her release his foot.
Without thought, I limp over to the motionless creature a few feet away and try to pull the wreath stand from its head. I bite down on my lip to avoid screaming out in pain, but it’s no use. The steel is embedded deep into the other side of the bone and refuses to let loose.
“Dammit,” I curse, twisting around to see if I can find another one—or at least something like it.
Unfortunately, being in the older part of the cemetery means fewer people paying their respects through decorations. The closest wreath stand, or anything moveable for that matter, is far beyond my ability to grab it and get myself back to help.
Making the split-second decision to head into the fray, I limp over as close I dare and yell, “Hey, this way—you don’t want him. Come here.” I wave my hands wide, trying to draw her attention my way.
The creature pauses long enough to look in my direction but doesn’t change its trajectory. However, the distraction is enough for Wade to plant a fierce kick to her wrist. With a deafening crack, the brittle joint severs, leaving her hand still clutched onto his boot but no longer attached to her wrist. Scrambling backward, he clambers to his feet and races in my direction, with the zombie seconds behind. She moves decisively, completely ignoring the fact that she has only one hand.
“Quick, behind that headstone,” Wade yells, pointing to a large piece of granite to my left.
The thing is massive, nearly as tall as I am, but it offers little in the way of protection. I have no idea what he thinks we’ll accomplish hiding behind it, but regardless, we both race toward it.
I hobble-run as fast as I can, but the pain is almost debilitating. As we come up on the tombstone, I skitter to a quick turn, and my footing gives out again. I plummet into the snow, rolling sideways in a totally ungraceful maneuver. Wade is nowhere in sight, but the zombie is on me in seconds, dropping to the ground as it latches onto my thighs with its leftover hand and stump.
Scurrying backward, I try to get far enough away so I can stand, but the creature claws at my legs, digging in and pulling herself farther up my body with her good hand. Biting my lip, pain tears through my right ankle from both the sprain and the bony fingertips as they bear down on my flesh. With my good foot, I rear up, kicking down as hard as I can at the place between her neck and shoulder. The momentum is enough to loosen her grip as she skitters down my leg and nearly falls off.
A loud, thumping sound reverberates through the otherwise-still cemetery. It starts off low, but then starts to grow louder until a grinding sound takes its place. Terror rises, as does a scream in the back of my throat, as I try to get upright and see what’s causing the sound.
Somewhere close by, Wade yells, “Get out of the goddamn way.”
Using all the remaining strength I have in my left leg, I plant another kick on the creature’s face and struggle completely out of her grasp. I no sooner pull back my legs than an enormous granite headstone comes crashing down onto the zombie’s outstretched form. The weight of it flattens her upper torso, severing her head from the rest of her body. It rolls forward unceremoniously and lands face-up in the snow.
Shuddering away the adrenaline, I scoot back another foot or two for good measure. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to break my gaze away from the severed head.
“How did you know that was going to work?” I say, clutching at my chest and sucking in large gulps of frigid oxygen.
Wade plops down into the snow, knees first, then drops onto his back, gasping for air. After a moment he says, “Years of watching way too much TV.”
I stay seated upright, scanning the graveyard for any more signs of moment. At first, everything is all calm and quiet, but suddenly, the dead body in front of me begins to turn a strange ashen color. Large chunks of it begin to break apart, disintegrating from the bone until all that remains is a pile of remnants that no longer resemble a human at all.
“What the—?”