Dead Of Winter (The Beautiful Dead Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

notice a skinny horizontal window at the top of the wall. It reveals an endless, silver, nothing sky. I think about how winter skies always look grey, and how the cold is so like death, warm summers so like life.
    Helena must’ve named me Winter for a reason.
    I think about Gill … and realize I’m not putting my hands under the running water of the faucet. I’ve brought one to my mouth instead.
    I part my lips.
    I press a red finger to my tongue. Two red fingers.
    I don’t know what I’m doing.
    You did this to yourself, I remember mom saying.
    The only one left to blame is you … Yes, I remember, I remember it all.
    And I know exactly what I’m doing.
    Blood … I can taste it.
    The silver of the sky turns grey-blue, then full-blue, then a blue so burning bright it threatens to dislodge my senses, or already has, and I’m brought to imaginary tears.
    Almost alive.
    The running water of the faucet is long forgotten, and instead, I’m licking my hands clean, gazing longingly through that tiny window, imagining what my own heartbeat might sound like if I had one.
     
     
     

 
     
    C H A P T E R – T W O
    H A P P Y
     
    Helena joins me on the trek back home. It’s like my first day as an Undead all over again.
    “You don’t mind if I call you Hel?”
    She smiles wanly. “If you insist. Hell. What else has our Second Life become?”
    I appreciate so much that she’s taken a kinder attitude toward me, especially after what happened at the hospital. “I can’t believe she died.”
    “Birth and death,” murmurs Hel. “They go hand in hand. Sort of like—oh, what’s the word—rotting carcasses and unrequited love.”
    “Yes, that’s it.” I can never tell when she’s joking, or if it’s another of her strange Undeadisms.
    We pass a couple of ladies chatting on their porch, both of them wrapped up ridiculously in thick jackets and scarves and puffy hats.
    “I don’t think some of the Undead get it,” I whisper quietly to Helena. “They look ready to brave a blizzard.”
    The two ladies lift their chins as though they heard my remark … then give us a polite wave. We wave back, though a tad less enthusiastically.
    “Most of the Undead are simply excited,” Hel explains. “They see the Humans bundling up, and they want to join in. You’d think they were celebrating the winter.”
    I laugh, and the laughter dies quickly. “Laura almost said something to me,” I suddenly confess. Helena lifts a brow. “I didn’t hear what it was. She died before she … Well, I thought maybe she was going to thank me. I’m not sure. She seemed so happy in that last instant.”
    “Not all of us get the joy of being so happy in our last instant.” Helena’s remark is laced with venom.
    “The husband blames us,” I point out unnecessarily, as Hel’s already plenty aware. “I’m worried about that. So many Livings already hate us enough.”
    “We’re steadily improving Human-Undead relations. We have the Chief’s full support. Nothing to worry on.”
    I’ve been told that before: don’t worry, just relax, smile, everything’s fine. I’m so tired of being lied to. “There’s plenty to worry on , Hel.”
    “I suddenly prefer Helena again.”
    We’ve already reached my house, much to my surprise. I wasn’t paying attention; the whole journey home, I’ve been marveling at the rich blue of the sky, Gill’s blood still affecting me. Even now, I can smell the dust of the Trenton outskirts. I feel the wooden, dry aroma of my own house filling my senses for the first time. I think I can even taste it … the taste of nature.
    I also know that soon, and sadly, it will wear off.
    When the door permits us and we’re seated across from one another at my tiny table, I hear her let out a big, dramatic, unnecessary sigh. “Oh, the nature of politics. I never wanted to be Judge.”
    Judge Helena. I keep forgetting that’s her official title now. “You can still turn the position over. I’m quite sure we