Sins of the Undead Patriot. a.c. Mason

along. “If you need someone to talk to about anything, I’m only ten digits away, or one, if you program me into speed dial.” Chemicals wouldn’t mend her broken heart, just as his had never recovered from the loss of her. He cupped her face in his hand.

      She leaned into his caress. “I appreciate the offer, Rowley, really I do. I’m just not ready to talk about him.” Her lips parted.

      How he wanted to kiss her, take her. Stiff need pressed to his pants.

      Her once-lush body had withered. “You’ve lost more weight.” He brushed a curl from her face.

      She shifted her feet, which forced him to step back. She stood upright and crossed her arms.

      “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious. I’m concerned.” The house was meticulously immaculate. Nearly unlived in. Did she spend her nights shining the shine?

      “I know. I exercise to clear my mind. The meds weaken my appetite. The doctor is monitoring me closely.”

      So was he. Best for him to leave the subject alone. “Any suggestions on a birthday gift? It’s less than a month away.”

      “You don’t need help coming up with great gifts. I was hoping I could skip this one.” She brushed his forearm with warm fingers then stepped back. “Sorry.”

      “Don’t be. I enjoy your touch.” How would he break through the walls she’d built up around her? “I should get going. I hope you have fun tonight.” He set the glass on the counter.

      “Thanks for stopping by.”

      “It’s always a pleasure.” If things went his way, it would be even more pleasurable soon.

      “Liar.” She smiled.

      “I’m serious. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t keep coming.”

      She leaned in, arms open.

      Hands around her, he scooped her to his chest and whispered, “God, I miss you Lee-lee.”

      Stiffening in his arms, she pulled back. “I do appreciate the effort and the company.” The hint of loneliness was present once more.

      She’d ignored his comment. His insinuation. The name he’d used when she’d been his, once upon a time. All he wanted was to be the one who filled the void. Nearly everyone she’d known had faded out of her life but him. Demonstrating the depth of his attachment. Despite her withdrawn state, he could weather the storm.

      He released her. “I’ll be by in a few.”

      “And I’ll be here as always. Good night.”

      “Good night.” Maybe he’d been seeing this all wrong. With the snitch gone and a new ally, he’d soon turn the tide in his favor. No more zombies. At least not in America.

       Chapter 4

      “The President will see you now, Mr. Louchian.” A bright-faced young man stopped a few feet away. His tailored taupe suit draped strangely. Not so much that a human would notice, but either the cut of the fabric was off or one side of the man’s body was minutely higher than the other.

      Vaihan stood. Let this be good news. If the Bill was buried in committee again, another long process of revival would start all over. With the instability of the country and the last term of the current president coming to an end, Vaihan would need to begin from scratch with the new president-elect, whoever that would be. Not the kind of news he needed right now.

      The long dim corridor stretched before him. Each step held more trepidation than the last. The Oval Office was saturated with uneasy feelings, impressions left behind by others. Many dark times were survived by the decisions made in that very room.

      “In here.” The young man opened the door and gestured him in.

      She stood and walked toward him, holding out her hand. “Vaihan.” Dark, wavy hair flowed around Kirsten Yamaguchi’s slender face. Rouge coated her lips, accenting their fullness as her mouth quirked to one side. The navy fabric of her tailored dress lay snug on her figure.

      There was always that moment, a fraction of a second pause, when he questioned what he should call her, when he remembered her not as the commander-in-chief, but as the vibrant young senator from Hawaii.

      “President Yamaguchi.” Vaihan gripped her soft hand.

      The lines around her beautiful slanted eyes creased. “It’s Kirsten, same as always.” She shook his hand with a firm grip.

      An outgoing, energetic young woman transformed into an assertive yet calm, mature leader. Now and again, he saw glimpses of the person she was, but those were less frequent. Though he’d found her physically attractive when she was younger, the passage of time had aged her into a swan.

      “Of course, Kirsten.” Vaihan bowed, hands behind his back. The gesture had become a reflex, as it always eased humans’ tension around him.

      “Would you like a drink?” She smiled, stopping by the nook. “Scotch, right?” A mind for details was an asset in her line of work.

      He checked that the door was closed and the windows were vacant too. An eerie quietness hummed in the air. There was no such thing as being too cautious when it came to the president’s life.

      Four forty-five in the afternoon, earlier than he usually drank, though he wouldn’t refuse her. “I appreciate the offer.”

      “Good, as I refuse to drink alone.” She filled two glasses with doubles.

      He wondered what this talk was about. “Rough week?” Two violent hate crimes against zombies caught on tape with the police force of jurisdiction standing by, watching the attacks, had fueled further tensions between the undead and the living.

      She tossed back the contents of her glass and refilled it. “You might say that.” With a smile, she handed him a glass, took a seat and patted the spot next to her. “I did appreciate your call for calm as the investigation into the two horrific cases got under way.”

      Humans didn’t understand that though his kind didn’t die, they felt pain one hundred times greater than they did. Due to a zombie’s constant state of renewal, nerve endings never dulled. “Retaliation won’t advance our cause. We must show empathy even when none is afforded to us.”

      “Did I ever tell you who you remind me of?” The corners of her eyes softened.

      As he sat, he shook his head. A lesson was at hand. She always used relatives to illustrate points.

      “My great uncle Jimmy Yamaguchi. The first Japanese American senator. You’ve probably heard me speak of what my family faced during WWII when martial law was enacted in Hawaii? The hatred.”

      He nodded.

      “Despite all that, Jimmy worked to make a difference. You embody many of his qualities, controlled power and a presence that draws everyone in.” She sipped her drink. “People who contain their power are often revealed to be out of control in one aspect or another. He hid a gambling addiction that eventually ruined him.”

      Vaihan lifted the rim of the glass to his lips. The liquid burned a trail down his throat.

      “Humans need to see each other’s flaws. Weaknesses. When we don’t, we will dig, poke and prod, until we find some.” She gulped back her Scotch. “We’ve never been this close to the approval of the Bill of Undead Rights. The pressure is going to mount and the temptation for whatever dark side of you exists is only going to escalate. If you don’t think you can handle the pressure, tell me now, and I’ll pull in Isay or Lev while you take a leave of absence.”

      At least she cut to the chase. He liked that about her. “Have I conducted myself in a way that has given you reason for concern?”

      “Yes.” She nodded.

      What could he have done? “I have?”

      “Yes,