So now that there are two new villains - one major, the other secondary - there's gonna be a repeat of history as well as the introduction of a new character who is related to someone unpleasant from Herbert and Dan's past. She makes things even more complicated.

Chapter Fifteen

The Boston Horror

Heather wanted nothing better than to run after him, so she drew the knife from inside the neck of her dress. But the sight only made Jacobs smile more. "Very brave of you, girl, but a simple knife won't last so long in a situation like this. Especially when your lover is back there with my partner handling him."

She stopped there, her mind suddenly going back to Herbert. Oh, God no. Without thinking about it, she turned and ran back in the direction of the mortuary, speeding through the front door and down the small hallway – it wasn't that big of a building, after all – and back to the door to the lab at the very far end, hearing the rapid banging on the door and Herbert shouting.

She did not hear Dr. Moreland's voice at all, so he must have gotten away. Great, now that means more zombie carnage in the streets. Just not far from the town it all began. Quickly noticing that he'd gotten out through here and locked the door to keep Herbert from following him, Heather hurriedly undid the steel lock and threw it open only to be wrapped up in a suffocating embrace totally unlike Herbert. "He's got it, Heather!" he shouted, setting her down, bristling her. "That's the third time in a row someone took my work!" What, I lost a good friend and partner, and he's screaming about his work?! "Well, come on!" he shouted over his shoulder when she stayed there. Action snapped her bones before she was following him out through the front door of the building, throwing it open to show night and gravestones, and the smell of earth, but no signs of life other than themselves. Jacobs and Moreland escaped.

And the body of Dr. Leslie Coburn was nowhere to be seen.

"Leslie's dead," she told Herbert's back as he searched high and low. "The new Warden from the prison has been working with him; they're partners, friends. He killed her, and she begged me not to bring her back, made me promise to take Eric down."

He nodded. "And we will. Moreland!" he shouted to thin air, his voice echoing and risking attraction of late night visitors, perhaps the police. "Moreland, where are you?! I'll find you and get you for this! I'll give you the treatment I have Hill, Chapham, and the Warden!"

Heather stepped up to his side. "Herbert, someone else could be out there if not him or the police –" She was cut off when his voice boomed in the air like an unseen God, hyperphysical and superhuman.

"Oh, the police won't know of this. At least, not who was responsible, but I think we all know they'll catch up sooner or later once word gets out."

Heather gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, turning behind her and looking around for any sign of him, seeing no shape in the black shadows, not even behind the tombstones and statues of angels, or the trees and gated areas. Hiding like a scared little boy in re-animated form now, are we? He and Jacobs have Leslie's body...and Herbert's formula. Bring on the bad zombies, would you? That was a bad joke, but the irony in it was so obvious. "We're the only ones who know, Eric," she called out, "so give us back Leslie and deal with us like a man instead of a wimp who hides."

"A wimp like me? How dare you call me a wimp, bitch!" he seethed, making Herbert snap. He came up behind Heather and pulled her close to him. His warm body against her back, despite covered, sent electrical jolts through her and secured her if only temporarily from their unseen adversary. She never saw herself as the damsel in distress, never saw herself weak just because there were times she needed help, so she really needed him close to her right now.

Herbert's hold around her waist tightened with his words. "Call her that again, Moreland. I dare you to."

Eric laughed, the sound harsh and echoing deeper than a Chinese gong. "You dare me; that's new I hear from you, old friend."

"We're not friends any longer," Herbert countered hotly. "My one true friend is Dan Cain –"

"But he turned police evidence on you and sent you to life imprisonment!" Eric meant to sound offended and disbelieved, though it sounded mingled with vague amusement. "What kind of friend does that?"

Now it was her turn to step in. "And what kind of friend steals his life's work, and kills his ex-wife as part of his plan in it?"

"Because Leslie didn't want me anymore when I needed her the most. She promised we'd be together as long as we both lived. Knowing Herbert's genius invention would break through the boundaries of science, life and death – and it did – I also wanted her back with me in a way I knew would never tear us apart again. Now she'll be back with me again...for the second time, and the second time's the charm."

Heather's stomach lurched, and she fell against Herbert. "You and your dead wife together? That's sick."

"And as bad as a severed head tongue-kissing a girl on a morgue table."

Her head whipped around in surprise at Herbert. "Oh, God, where did that come from?" she asked, forgetting the situation for the moment. His smile was half humorous, half serious.

"When Dan's girlfriend, Meg Halsey, died that night; before that, she was kidnapped by her re-animated father and Dr. Hill, the latter's severed head performing a literal form of oral ministrations. Funny to some, not so to so many others." She giggled, though the image conjured up was indeed disgusting.

"Neither of you will find what I have in store next funny. What I plan to do will not be a pretty picture in any of the newspapers. In fact, it will devastate all of Boston, spread word back to Arkham and dredge up familiar past memories."

"And what is that?" Heather spat.

There was no answer. It made both her and Herbert's temper threads snap. "MORELAND!" they shouted at the same time. Still nothing. Herbert shoved her aside and picked up his flashlight he'd grabbed somewhere before they came outdoors, flashing it around from tree to tree, spot to spot, finding nothing. He'd snuck away again. Heather followed Herbert everywhere, both of them meeting dead ends. She cursed aloud with him; part of her felt like cursing him for bringing him back to life.

"You should have left him dead, you know," she said once they were inside so he could grab what had been left of his formula. Eric left what he didn't take as a last act of "kindness" for his "friend". But that still didn't make either of them any better. And at least he didn't take Herbert's NPE device.

But that means more mindless freaks. Like Moses and the others before him.

Herbert angrily stuffed his vials into his black bag. "I would have, but you know if his body were found, the police would have eventually found out I did it. I had to bring him back, put the formula to good use."

"Good use on someone who's your adversary!" Heather argued. "He's no better than Dr. Hill or Brando, and he's going to unleash an army of zombies onto Boston and perhaps Arkham...and maybe the whole world! We have to fix this before he does it!"

He rounded on her and glowered her down. "I know all of that. Let me be clear that he taunted me about you just before I finally killed him."

She stiffened. "What about me?"

Herbert's face remained stone-mad, before it softened and uncertainty at whether or not he should tell her took place. "You honestly need to know when I'm not sure myself how to put it into words?"

Underneath the surface of those words was hinted something much deeper, and Heather wasn't stupid. "He knows about us, and he set you off."

He nodded, abandoning his packing for the moment. "He did, and it was a wonderful reason for killing him. I never kill a human being unless they deserve it, or whether I protect myself or someone else." He began to walk around the table so he stood before her. "Hill tried blackmailing me and wanted Dan out of the picture, Lt. Chapham was a violent man who bludgeoned his wife to death and tried killing me because Hill did her a favor in the morgue, and you know very well what a heartless monster Warden Brando was."

"You killed Eric for me and for Leslie." Even though you had to bring him back so he could go on a rampage.

"I did." He was leaning in now, almost enough to touch her lips, but she moved her face away now that a new thought crossed her mind.

"Eric said you loved me."

He wasn't denying it. "Yes. And he was correct."

Giggling, Heather brought her head up to kiss his lips slowly, warmth soon heating into something more. "And it's so hard to just say it?"

He chuckled against her mouth, at this change of the mood so fast. "What a time, to admit to undying love, Dr. Phillips. Since we have a dead man on the loose and half of my re-agent stolen once again. And so many lives at stake."

She'd seen him so enthusiastic about conquering death, saving millions of lives, but the way he did it had seemed devoid of emotion, though she always knew there was a heart deep down when nobody saw it. Now she saw he really did care, but in his own form. And her feelings for him were reprehensible, because he was a wanted man back in Arkham, but she didn't care. She never cared about what anybody said; if she wanted something, she went for it. "Herbert," she spoke softly, "please say it before we go for the major issues ahead of us."

His dark eyes bore into her lighter ones, hazed with longing. "I never thought I would say this words for real," he replied, voice lower, deeper...huskier, "but Heather..." His arms wrapped around her waist. "...I think I...love you."

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his thick neck. "You think or you know?" she teased.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"I've been in love with you for forever, long before the prison. It was a girlish crush at first, but the more time passed, the more irresistible it became. Yes, we won't always agree, but I'm the one with the pants and I'll put you in your place." She meant it, and she would.

His face was a mask of pure amusement. "You would keep me in line while I proceed, checking me up like a mother keeping her child in line but still giving me unconditional support, boost my ego..."

"...and we both work together as one, not one of us outshining the other," she finished for him, "together as a single being with no start and finish, like a Celtic knot, bound eternally even if one of us dies." This brought her closer to his body and another long, hot kiss before he answered her.

"If you die, I promise I'll bring you back, no matter what. Would you do the same for me...my love?"

Her heart was fluttering more than it had the last couple weeks, over the last thirteen years. "My love"...it's perfect. "I sure as hell will, my love," she returned without shame. "We were meant to be together on that fateful night our eyes met." Their eyes were certainly meeting now when she made the confession; his were shining not with maniacal bloodlust or insane genius, but warmth and devotion a single-minded person who saw only his "loathsome" work instead of the man himself could not and would not care to glimpse.

~o~

"God, Herbert, you did it again!" Dan roared, picking up a china dish and throwing it off in the distance; it shattered against the wall. He and Francesca – his doctoral impulses kicking in that whatever was wrong with Leslie had to be critical – were still at Eric's house when Herbert and Heather returned, but Leslie not even with them. Now he knew the worst but wished it hadn't been true when the pair broke the story to them: starting with Leslie choking up blood and dying from the poison in her system, but Herbert and Heather saved her, and she'd made it through.

But that was before Eric came in and ruined everything.

"I didn't want to kill him, for sure, Daniel," Herbert said calmly, "but it had to be done. He tried to do what Hill tried to do to me, and he threatened you and Heather, and it was no more, no less than that."

Dan's temper was burning with all the vengeance of a raging forest fire. "You killed a friend of ours, Herbert! You're never going to stop this! Is there ever going to be a time you'll stop bringing back people who attack you?!" He crossed the living room and wanted nothing more than to strangle the life out of him when Heather stepped in, and the stinging aftermath of a slap to the face stopped him there, and Francesca was right behind him, taking him by the arm and leading him away from them.

"Damn it, Dan, calm your goddamn ass down!" Heather shouted. "We have a dead man out there planning something big, so just stop yelling at Herbert over his mistakes so we can work this out!" Her blue eyes, glassy and threatening floodgates which made him regret his temper loss, switched back and forth between him and Herbert on the sofa. "Herbert saved Leslie; she would have been set free happy and healthy again if Moreland hadn't stepped in and betrayed us. Dan..." Her gaze hardened when it settled on him. He felt like he was shrinking under everyone's eyes.

"You knew that he had his eye set on the re-animation experiments, but you let it get to you so easily that he was still the guy you were close to back in college. This is never to be taken lightly; I know that from experience. Laura was my friend – or so I thought, because all this time, she was using me to get information on her story, publish it and ruin both Herbert and I. Friends never betray each other."

"You barely knew her," Dan said, remembering the story. But then again, I still barely know Herbert, and that story in the paper about his family...

"Herbert knew she was a menace to it all, but I didn't realize it until too late when she went to the hole where Moses was held, and the Warden killed her. He found us and got what he deserved. And Laura wasn't strong enough to willpower him." She stopped talking there and walked over to sit beside Herbert, putting her hand on his. "He might not always listen, but he knows he's right, and that's what I love in a man. Herbert is a brilliant man and doesn't care how anyone else thinks of him."

His head snapped her way. "Except for the fact they speak of my work as monstrous," he hissed, clenching his hand around hers. "They'll never understand no matter how hard I try."

"But does that stop you?" This was the first time Francesca had spoken, and it surprised them all. "You're still at it, West, without a care. You're a real man like this one right here." She looked into Dan's eyes and smiled, leaning up to kiss him on the lips; never failed to work its magic through his body. "You both know what is right no matter what; that's what makes you a team."

God, what is wrong with me? He shrunk on the inside again like those many times he lost patients, lost the people of his former life, and so many other things. And here he was, relapsed back to denying they were doing a cause. What had happened to him and his old friend making up in the car? He never knew what he did half the time; he hated himself for it. And Heather was there again. "So, what now, Daniel? You going to stop whining like a little girl and put your foot down, help us take down Eric and how many other freaks he's making at the present?"

"Yeah," he answered with a grin. "I'm more than ready to put an end to the traitor once and for all." Then he frowned. "But how exactly will we start?"

~o~

Now that the question came up, Herbert was unsure of where Eric would be. He would try to come back here, but if he had, he would have done so already. Perhaps he would be at the hospital, he decided, before second-guessing. No, he wouldn't copy Hill's work. He wants it to be an absolute surprise. "He wants us to do this the hard way," he spoke. "He certainly won't repeat it at a hospital, or here at the house. He wants us to find him in circles."

"Exactly, genius," Francesca said. "So, what do we do now while he lets loose a horde of the undead on innocent, unsuspecting civilians?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking!" he snapped at her. "I don't know, but I know for sure that he's going to hide out somewhere we don't know, but it certainly won't be back at the cemetery. Or maybe he will return here, but not while we are here. So in the meantime, we head back to the house and work on our plans."

"Leave me out of it," Francesca scoffed. "I've had enough zombies and cadavers to last me a lifetime."

However, by the time they were back in the car and at last reached their neighborhood, there were a couple of cop cars with their lights blaring, and a crowd of neighbors gathering around something on the ground. Dan had been driving, so he stopped it and got out first. Herbert followed, having the right to see for himself. "Stay here," he told the women, following Daniel through the parting crowd and bestowing a terrible sight to their eyes...a sight Herbert had fought so hard to prevent. A young woman of around mid-twenties, black-haired and green-eyed, her orbs wide but devoid of life, and her neck to the right had a bite out of it not in any way that could be human; deep vermilion gore poured over the concrete and stained her clothes ranging from bright red to red-orange in a sickening rainbow hue. As a doctor, blood and guts never bothered him, but with this sight here, that monster debasing his work... He activated Leslie Coburn into one of his own personal killing machines.

"Okay, people, back away and don't disturb the scene." He looked up when he saw the woman in a black suit dress and white blouse, similar to him. She was of middle years, brown hair with specks of gray at the temple, and a stern face which reminded Herbert of another certain face years ago – a certain snooping police officer who knew he and Dan were involved with the first massacre. Not to mention, she bore a resemblance to Chapham's wife. And her badge read M. Chapham, confirming it all.

Her eyes landed on him and Dan. "And that includes you, too, gentlemen."

"Well, if I may, Captain –" Dan began.

"Detective," she cut off firmly. "Detective Miranda Chapham, Boston Police Department."

"Detective," he repeated, putting his hands in his pockets and standing straight. Herbert glared at her, and she returned it but said nothing. "Dr. Daniel Cain. What happened here?"

She snorted. "Not much, Doctor, but someone reported to have heard screaming and called the department right away, and we had a family find the body. But nobody saw the perp, much less seen him or her get away."

"Or it," Herbert said. "There is no way those bites can be even remotely human."

Her steely eyes drilled into him. "And you are...?"

"Frances Dexter. I run the local mortuary, and a good friend of Dr. Cain's."

"Pleasure, Mr. Dexter. Now that I have told you two gentleman all there is right now, I suggest you go head on home to your families while we have this covered up." She scoffed and shook her head, turning her back to them. "God knows I've never seen anything like this in all my years."

Nobody's seen this in years, Herbert corrected in his mind, looking at the corpse of the young girl for a few more moments before turning his gaze back up to Dan, whose face was pure melancholy. Neither of them said a word to each other when they walked back to the car, wondering who was next and how many more deaths until they caught the undead doctor and his growing army of cannibalistic monsters.

~o~

Herbert's face was the same as it was on the way back to the house: a mask he put on when he was in his own little world, lined with rage beyond belief. Heather tried asking him what was wrong, but he said nothing to her. Dan didn't say much either, although it was clear he was hiding something, too. She and Francesca were watching the scene from the window of the car. There was something about that woman police officer – correction, detective – that made her skin crawl, and no doubt upset Herbert somehow.

By the time they got back to the house, pulled into the driveway, Herbert was the first out, not speaking to anyone and choosing to walk to the front door, waiting with agitation for the rest of them. "Herbert, would you please tell me what that was about with that woman?" Heather demanded, not understanding why he was keeping quiet so suddenly.

He fixed his blank scowl onto her, warning her to not make his temper snap, then flicking it over to Dan and Francesca, the latter scoffing and brushing past him to insert the keys into the door and went in first without regard to the guest. Dan groaned at his wife's sudden change of attitude, but it was understandable. "Fran, come on, let's just go to bed, you and me," Heather heard him say, "and we'll talk this over tomorrow."

Herbert groaned himself. "Oh, please, the less I hear that of those two, the better."

Oh, now you're back to yourself. "Care to elaborate, honey?" she asked, allowing a smirk to creep to her face. To use that nickname was a little foreign, but at the same time, it tasted as sweet as honey itself. He looked down and cracked a little smile.

"I heard enough of them back in the old days to last me a lifetime, even had a glimpse from their opened door to get a visual of what an intimate bonding really was," he answered without any trace of humility. She blushed.

"Give you an idea for...us someday?" she asked slowly, anxiously, her heart thumping with nervous anticipation.

His handsome face split into delight. "Now that I think about it, I believe so." He started inside. "For now, we must make our plans. I need to return to the lab and get back to work as soon as possible, because I know he won't go down without a fight. Moreland is the last obstacle between us and the work."

She followed him upstairs. "But what about that woman you and Dan were talking to?"

They were halfway up the stairs when she asked him, he ahead of her, and he paused halfway and turned around to her. "Detective Miranda Chapham is her name, Heather," he answered. "I believe her surname might ring a familiar bell."

"Leslie Chapham...oh, God," she gasped as the connection dawned on her. "Think she's – was," she corrected, "related to him and his wife. Like...daughter or niece, or something?" Guess she takes after him then, with that attitude and being on the force. But how bad is she really? And then she remembered the hostile look she gave both him and Daniel. She must either not like them both, or... She paused right there, fear suddenly overtaking. Maybe she suspects something.

Think maybe she knows?

"It's possible," Herbert answered, "which is also why this is going to be harder than ever. She came from Arkham possibly, so chances are as she's enforcing the law, she might follow Lt. Chapham's footsteps and conduct her own personal case. We can't be too careful now." He turned and continued up the stairs until they were both at the top. Heather didn't see Dan and Fran anywhere, automatically assuming they were now in their shared room, leaving Herbert to his and made way for hers.

She'd been wanting to do this for a while, because Herbert was always so tense whenever he came back from work, even late into the night now that he was out of jail. He used to work late before that, too, but he needed beauty rest, especially tonight, because the massage method Heather planned to use worked wonders into putting the person to sleep...but the side effect was to activate the sex drive, which she didn't want to for obvious reasons. Changing into a long t-shirt, she grabbed the bottle of aromatic oil and slipped back out only to bump into Francesca, who was just leaving her and Dan's bedroom. She was about to ask until she saw the bottle in Heather's hand and cracked a grin. "You think it will work on him?"

Mind reader as ever. Heather blushed again and nodded. "I hope."

"Have fun," Francesca sang as she started off in the other direction, and down the stairs; she was going down for a late night snack, Heather assumed before opening Herbert's door, not wanting to knock this time and went right on in...

...just as he was once again standing there half-naked in front of her.

"Heather, your manners!" he scolded, wrapping his arms around to cover himself up. She rolled her eyes; she'd seen him before, so he had nothing to hide. As a doctor, she saw exposed skin on live patients and cadavers each day.

"My manners? That a way to greet me when I came to give you some bedtime treatment?" she said with feigned wide-eyed innocence, holding up the oil and waving it like a flag. He stared at it without flinching or a blink.

"Now why would I need that?"

"Because it is getting late, and you need rest as we all do. Our plans can wait for now." More people out there are in danger, but for tonight, we need some shut-eye and then continue tomorrow. She walked over to him and swatted his bare arm playfully. "So, lay down so I can get this on your body. You'll love my massaging techniques." She batted her lashes. "Francesca taught me."

Herbert dropped his arms and did as he was told, laying on his stomach so his back was to her. When he did, she took in the sight of his smooth back and slightly rounded backside through his briefs, the heat getting to her cheeks again, but she walked over there and got up onto the bed, straddling him just on the backs of his thighs so that she had his rump against her, the two firm hills just rubbing and pressing against her. But she concentrated on her task by dumping a handful of the oil into her hand; it was a serene, calming blend of lavender and herbs, and the moment it touched Herbert's skin, her hands kneading and rubbing his muscles and shoulders, his moans were so irresistible and magical to her ears. All her life, as she made Herbert enjoy her ministrations, she had purposefully avoided all contact with boys her age not only because she thought her career goal in life was important, but it was also because in high school, there were a couple guys who made rude passings at her which ultimately made her decide all teenage boys were the same, and the real Frances Dexter from college tried to get her to go out with him multiple times before finally giving up. Besides, in those days she thought herself a brainiac men were daunted by; those men wanted a woman with an ample rack and behind, and the ability to breed and cook for them, showing them who was boss because their genitals were larger.

She almost lost concentration on her task, because now that she'd kneaded Herbert's left shoulder a tad too hard, he let out a little exclamation and forced her back to the present. "Sorry," she told him.

But Herbert, the man her attention had been all aimed for, he didn't treat her the way those boys did. He was more man than they were, and he treated her like an independent woman. He encouraged her. This was the type of man she wanted to spend her life with.

Francesca had also taught her that men were sensitive about being touched at the backside, but at the same time, it was a response. "Tension-reducing for foreplay," she'd said with a naughty wink that made young Heather, going through her own maturity stages at the time, flustered. "But always make sure you don't do it crazy like going straight for that part of him." But now she felt like she'd stepped the boundary, except it was too late to turn back now. Heather had done this like a normal massage, as it should be, and now she was down further south, at the bottom of Herbert's lower back and massaging both his hips, discovering how sensitive he was when he giggled almost like a little girl. He stopped when she moved inwardly to halfway down the right side of his butt, and back up in a painfully slow motion which made him moan. Bingo! Heather thought with a feral grin. Thank you, Fran, you genius.

"Heather, are you trying to kill me?" Herbert asked, starting to laugh again, but not as much now.

She smirked. "Not exactly. Just doing as I told you I would: get you all nice and relaxed so you won't leave this bed tonight."

~o~

Six horrible, bone-crunching thuds to her ears – and the splattered red behind Emily's head on the painted white, brick pillar – as well as the rivers of red running down Emily's bare legs and dripping off her feet, finally burst her forward when the monster finally let her go. She held Emily close to her when pleading blue eyes like her own begged her to help her; what could she do as much as she wanted to?

And then she heard her dying sister's whispered words, "Don't...let me...go..."

A series of gunshots was heard, bringing her attention up to the policeman who had just come in and got the beastly man down; now Heather knew he was a zombie, from the movies and stories. But she'd been told over and over zombies didn't exist, and she'd seen so herself they did.

Then she noticed her sister wasn't breathing anymore. Her eyes were still opened, staring up at her. "Emily..." Now she was crying; she'd let her sister die and did nothing to save her. Her parents would be home in two days, and they would blame her for this. They would say that she was too scared to save her, and that was true. Staring down into blank eyes with her own flooding ones, Emily's last image was her own little sister too scared and helpless to stop the demon of hell.

"Emily...don't go..." she whimpered. "Come back..."

Nothing but a good old, sensual massage. ;D But a nightmare leading to something more. And yes, Miranda Chapham, a relative of the late Leslie Chapham. She is now soon to play a major role, though I assure you all, not as bad as the last one.

Up next: nightmares and proposals should give the hint.