The White Rabbit Chronicles

by Gena Showalter

  Gavin stumbled backward and scrubbed a hand down his face.

  “What did you see?” Cole demanded. “Tell me, before I—”

  “Get control of yourself, son.” Mr. Holland grabbed him by the arm and thrust him toward the door. “If you can’t, leave.”

  Cole took only a moment to decide. He stormed out of the barn, the door slamming shut behind him. Frosty and Bronx tossed me a sympathetic glance before following him. A few seconds later, I heard the squeal of tires and the spray of gravel.

  “The rest of you need to leave, as well,” Mr. Holland said. “Except you, Gavin. You stay.”

  All of the slayers filed out, except for Gavin. Mackenzie threw me a puzzled glance.

  I’d left her in danger last night.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, wrapping my arms around myself. Tears beaded in my eyes. “Did anyone get hurt?”

  “No.” Mr. Holland stared at me, his crystalline gaze boring into me like a laser. “I’m not going to ask what you and Gavin saw in your vision. Judging from your expression, I can guess. What I want to know is what happened to you last night.”

  Not too long ago, this man had found me utterly unreliable. He hadn’t wanted me here. What would he do if he learned the truth, that I was rotting from the inside out?

  Soon I could very well be a hazard to everyone we loved.

  “I blacked out,” I said.

  “I was told the zombies wanted nothing to do with you.”

  “That’s right.” I shuddered with revulsion. They must already consider me one of their own.

  “I want Ankh to check you out,” Mr. Holland said.

  I wouldn’t protest. “Okay.” Just what would he find? Would he discover the source of the problem? He hadn’t yet.

  “And I want you off rotation until this is figured out.”

  A denial rose immediately. One I quickly swallowed. I’d almost hurt Mackenzie and Gavin. I’d left my team to engage in battle without me. I deserved this, and worse.

  I looked down, ashamed, and nodded.

  Mr. Holland faced Gavin. “Drive her home.” Then, having said his piece and issued his orders, he stomped out the door.

  As soon we were trapped in his car, alone, Gavin said, “Why do we keep having the same vision?”

  “I don’t know. With Cole, we usually only had the same vision a few times before a new one took its place.”

  “Maybe this one is important.”

  I knew he didn’t mean that in a conceited way. His tone was too confused. “Maybe we’re not getting whatever it wants us to get.”

  “So the visions are alive? Sentient?”

  “No,” I said with a shake of my head. “But our minds are at work here, and they know what we get and what we don’t.”

  He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Let’s forget the vision for a minute. You remember grabbing your ears during the fight, as if you were hearing something you shouldn’t?”

  I squirmed in my seat. I’d either heard Zombie Ali—Z.A., I thought, because I hated pairing my name with that description—or the other zombies. Both options sickened me.

  “Yeah.” He turned the key, gunned the engine. “You remember. What’d you hear?”

  “I’m not going to talk about it.”

  “Fine. Whatever. Just know I won’t rat you out. You’re a good girl, I can tell, and I’m sure you’ve got your reasons for keeping quiet about such an interesting development.”

  An unlikely ally. I desperately needed one. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged, and merged into traffic. “I guess I owe you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “After the way you were going at me, acting like you were on life support and my body had the oxygen you so desperately needed, I—”

  Suddenly feeling a little more like my old self, I reached over and smacked him in the chest. “Shut up.”

  He grinned, his entire face lighting with amusement. “We have another vision like that, and Cole might just kill me in my sleep.”

  “Highly doubtful. I think he was just upset that I stayed out all night, making everyone worry.”

  His snort echoed through the cab. “Yeah, that’s why he spent hours looking for you.”

  He had? Not for my benefit, surely, but for the team’s. “Plus—and please hear me when I say this—I’ve been serious every time I’ve told you I have no interest in you.”

  His grin only widened. “You realize you’re just making yourself more attractive to me, right? First, do you really not understand how beautiful you are? Even to a guy like me. And second, there’s never been a female I couldn’t win over.”

  Me? Beautiful? “Maybe you’ve gotten the women you’ve wanted in the past, but there’s always a first time for failure.”

  He clutched at his heart, as if in pain.

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t pretend you like a challenge. I had you pegged at moment one, remember?”

  His laughter proved to be infectious, and I reveled in the burst of hilarity with every fiber of my being. I wasn’t sure I’d have many more opportunities.

  “A guy can change, you know.”

  Change.

  “Yeah. A guy can. So can a girl.” I cast my attention to the hills outside and ignored him for the rest of the drive.

  * * *

  Gavin followed me inside the mansion, citing, “I was told to see you home safely, and I’d be remiss in my duties if I failed to walk you to your bedroom door. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even try to kiss me goodbye.”

  “Stay away from my bedroom, you dirty he-slut.”

  He grabbed my hand and twirled me, as if we were dance partners. “I’m liking you more with every second that passes, Als. Maybe there’s some truth to the visions, after all. Seriously. Think about it.”

  “Will you shut up about the you-knows? This isn’t a conversation safe zone.” I stalked to the staircase and found a note taped to the banister.

  My office, Miss Bell. Now.

  Guess I wouldn’t be reading the journal right away. I balled up the paper and threw it at Gavin. “You’re dismissed. Apparently I already have a date.” Mr. Holland must have called Mr. Ankh, and his other personality, Dr. Blood and Guts, must have jumped into action.

  “Dismissed,” he said. “That’s another first.”

  “You’re welcome.” I switched directions and trudged inside Mr. Ankh’s office.

  “Shut the door,” he commanded from the desk.

  I obeyed without protest or comment.

  “Take a seat.”

  Again, I obeyed, my nerves razed more with every second that passed.

  He walked around the desk to claim the seat across from mine, then opened a black bag filled with needles, tubes, cotton balls and a ton of other paraphernalia I was sure I didn’t want to know about. There was another black bag in the far corner of the room, filled with vials of the antidote. He kept it there for emergencies.

  “Try not to scream,” he muttered, reaching for the tourniquet.

  “Sure. You try not to poke something you shouldn’t.”

  “I’m a doctor. I know what I’m doing.”

  “You’re a surgeon. You know how to cut and sew.”

  He pursed his lips the same way Reeve did. “After a thousand years of medical school, as my daughter says, I think I can do a little more than cut and sew.”

  He set the needle in place and pushed, and my vein rolled. My entire arm felt the sting, and I hissed in a breath.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, trying again. And wouldn’t you know it, he missed a second time.

  I could only bite my tongue and content myself with glaring at the top of his head.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. Finally he succeeded.

  A few minutes later, he was labeling the packed tubes. “I’ll have the results tomorrow.”

  What would he find? I rubbed my hand over the second heartbeat and forced myself to breathe. “Thanks.”

  My stomach grow
led, embarrassing me. I snuck into the kitchen and searched for my bagels. They weren’t where I’d left them, and they weren’t in the pantry. Someone must have eaten them. I gazed longingly at the boxed desserts and even the jars of vegetables, but still backed out without touching anything I shouldn’t and made my way to Nana’s room. I’d never thanked her for the journal. I knocked, waited.

  “Your grandmother went to church,” a soft voice said from behind me.

  I turned and saw one of the maids dusting a side table. “Thanks.”

  Nana and I always went to church together. I hated that I’d missed. Especially since it probably seemed like I’d blown her off. Again. I hoped she wasn’t upset.

  I trudged to my room. Avoiding the mirrors, I sat at my desk and thumbed through the journal. I expected to start by rereading what had already been decoded. Instead, I found that every word was once again hidden from my understanding. But...how could that be?

  Frowning, I went through every page slowly, line by line, studying every symbol, every number. Nope. No miraculous unveiling.

  Must simplify the to-do list: Learn how to kill the zombie inside me without the journal. Actually kill her.

  Where to start? My sister? Maybe she’d learned something else about my situation. “Emma. If you can swing another visit, I’d love to see you.”

  I had to wait longer than usual, but she did, eventually, arrive. “Hey there,” she said.

  I smiled at her. “You came.”

  “I told you. I’ll always come.” She stood beside the desk, fingering the ends of her skirt. “You look better.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So...whatcha doing?”

  I lifted the book. “Apparently our great-great-great-grandfather wrote a journal about zombie slaying. Only he wrote it in some kind of code, and I can’t decipher it. So I started to wonder whether you’d learned anything new.”

  “Not yet.” She rubbed her hands together. “But let me take a crack at the journal.”

  Leaning over my shoulder, she scanned the pages and pouted with disappointment. “I was hoping to crack the code with my genius mind and rub it in your face forever, but I can read the words no problem.”

  I stared down at the still-coded pages. “How?”

  “I don’t know. I just can. Everything just looks normal to me.”

  “Read something to me, then.”

  “Okay...how about there?” She pointed. “The words are flashing at me.”

  Flashing? I nodded.

  “‘I’ve heard we need darkness to balance light,’” she read, “‘and light to balance darkness. I say we have no need of darkness, period. It confuses. It hurts. It tortures. It ruins. And really, darkness cannot remain with light. Light will always chase it away. Think about it. We kill the zombies with the fire from our hands—fire produces light. And they, the zombies, are the ultimate darkness. With a touch, they can be extinguished for eternity.’”

  I let the words settle in my mind before turning them over again and again. Could Z.A. be killed by the fire the slayers produced? My fire? If so, if a slayer pressed his—or her—palm against my chest, would I die, too?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Was it worth the risk, though?

  “Want me to read more?” Emma asked.

  “Not right now.” There was a tremor in my voice. Crap. I didn’t want her to know what I was contemplating.

  “Well, then, I better get back to my research.”

  I nodded, offering her as bright as smile as I could. Then she was gone.

  Put-up or wuss-up time. I eased to the foot of the bed and rested the backs of my hands on my knees. My breathing was fast, too fast, as a bead of nervousness rolled through me, picking up steam.

  I was a slayer. I could produce the fire.

  I could kill Z.A.

  And maybe myself...

  Yeah, but maybe not.

  I closed my eyes to concentrate. Before I could step out of my body, a thought bloomed, and I couldn’t shake it.

  Would Nana come in here and find a pile of ash, then blame someone else? One of the other slayers?

  Should I leave a note?

  Shaking, I scribbled a quick goodbye at my desk. Did this to myself. Love you so much. Just in case. And maybe I should have spent more time on it, explaining everything, but I didn’t want to take a chance I’d talk myself out of such a necessary action.

  So...without further ado, I forced my spirit to rise. I looked at my hands, and willed the fire to come. Little white flames sparked at the ends of my trembling fingertips. Not giving myself time to think, I turned and pressed those flames into my body’s chest. Then I waited. I watched my own face as a muscle ticked under my eye...but nothing else happened.

  Disappointed, a lot angry and just a little relieved, I dropped my arms to my sides.

  Why hadn’t that worked?

  I rejoined spirit and body. Maybe...Z.A. had left my body with me?

  Would she always?

  I had to find out. But how?

  Temples throbbing, I stalked out of my room and hunted for Reeve. I needed a distraction. Only, she wasn’t in her room. Or the kitchen. I headed to the second floor, bypassing antique chairs and tables, each surrounded by colorful vases and paintings of flowers. The closer I got to my gym, the more grunts, groans and girlish laughter I heard. She was there.

  I reached the open doorway and ground to a halt.

  Veronica was in the process of teaching my friends how to defend themselves from an attack.

  “—proper fist,” she was saying. “Like this. That way, when you throw a punch, you won’t break your thumb.”

  Reeve and Kat nodded eagerly.

  “Show me,” Veronica commanded.

  The pair spent the next few minutes punching air.

  “Excellent.”

  “I feel sorry for whoever makes a play for me,” Kat said, flexing her arms. “Do you see the amazingly sick biceps I’m developing?”

  Grinning, Reeve said, “So, how did you learn to fight like this, Ronny?”

  Ronny. Just like that, I felt utterly betrayed. This was my home. They were my friends. And I’d had enough. Before the girl could reply, I stepped deeper into the room. “What are you doing here, Veronica?”

  Three sets of eyes looked over at me.

  “Frosty sent me,” Veronica explained, tone now cold.

  “He said you were fine with it, that you’d suggested he take care of it,” Kat said with a frown. “But, uh, judging by your expression, I’m thinking he must have misunderstood.”

  Veronica glared at me. “Would you care to join us and learn something, Ali? A few skills could give you the confidence you need to actually engage in battle rather than run away.”

  I sucked in a breath. Such a low blow.

  “What are you talking about?” Reeve demanded.

  Kat threw the girl a dagger-sharp glare. “Oh, no, you didn’t.”

  “You have no idea what went down, Veronica,” I gritted. “Therefore, you have no right to comment.”

  “What went down?” Reeve asked. “And how do you know our self-defense instructor?”

  My attention remained on Veronica. “You can leave now. I’m taking over.”

  “Uh, that would be a big fat no. Frosty wants these girls trained right.”

  Are you going to let her speak to you that way?

  I didn’t have to think about my answer. No. No, I wasn’t.

  Threatening her won’t do you any good. You’ll have to force her to zip her lips.

  Yes. I could. I would.

  Then do it. Here. Now.

  A strange, almost stinging anticipation wound through me as I stalked forward. “I don’t know about you, but I teach through demonstration.”

  Chapter 10

  Mirror, Mirror on the Bloody Wall

  I’d been taunted by one of Cole’s exes before, and there was no question I would be taunted again. I’d always—okay, mostly—chosen
to walk away. I’d had what the other girls wanted: Cole. They’d just been lashing out, and I’d understood.

  In that moment, I didn’t understand anything but rage.

  This girl thinks you’re weak, someone to scare away.

  She would learn better.

  She probably spent the night with Cole.

  She would suffer.

  She probably laughs at you behind your back.

  She would never laugh again.

  I increased my speed. Kat and Reeve backpedaled, moving out of the way. Not Veronica. She met me in the middle. I threw a punch, but she leaned to the side, avoiding impact; I swiped air. She returned the gesture, and I lifted my arm, blocking her, and went at her with my other fist.

  Finally. Contact.

  Impact sent her stumbling to the side. Unfortunately she recovered quickly and as I approached, threw a right. I ducked, and she nailed me with a left in the center of my scar, using my own trick against me.

  As I struggled for purchase, she clipped my jaw with every bit of her strength—as serious as I am—and I whipped to the side. I stumbled back, but caught myself before I went down. Didn’t matter. She threw herself at me, and we flew to the floor. I took most of the impact, and whatever oxygen I’d managed to suck in was once again stolen. Don’t care. I rolled on top of her and landed a blow to her chin before she was able to kick me off. We stood.

  Panting, she circled me.

  “You’ve proven yourself to be toxic,” she spat. “I’m not going to let you hurt my friends.”

  That stinging anticipation pulsed in my chest, almost as if it were a living thing. Hurt...

  The rage magnified.

  Hurt HER.

  When she made her next move, I was ready. She launched at me, throwing another punch. I twisted to avoid her fist, moving behind her, and, with my back to her, kicked out my leg, buckling her knees. As she dropped, I elbowed her in the back of the head. Yeah. Forget honor. I’d go with dirty.

  She attempted to rise. Grabbing a hank of her hair, I rolled her over, then wasted no time straddling her waist, pinning her shoulders to the floor and whaling on her. Again and again...and again.

  “Stop,” Kat called. “Ali, you have to stop. She’s bleeding. There’s blood. Ali, stop. Please!”