The White Rabbit Chronicles

by Gena Showalter

  A chorus of “What’s wrong?” erupted behind us.

  I shouldered my way past Cole and crouched in front of Collins. I patted his face. He didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. Desperate, I slapped him.

  “No,” someone croaked. “No!”

  “Not Collins, too.”

  “I can’t...can’t deal...”

  “Tell me he’s all right!”

  I pressed my forehead against Collins’s and blindly felt for a pulse in his neck. A minute passed as I waited, hoping, praying; it was the longest minute of my life. Of all our lives. But...no. I never felt a beat.

  “He’s...he’s dead.” There. I’d said it. Made it real. Stinging tears brimmed in my eyes. “But maybe all he needs is a little fire to get him going.” We didn’t know everything the fire could do. “Let’s put our hands on him.”

  “Ali,” Cole croaked.

  I looked up. The anguish in his eyes...the regret...the hate, a mirror of mine. “We have to try.”

  And we did. Each of us. All at the same time. But again, there was no change.

  I punched his chest, once, twice, my every emotion worsening, wild. Cole pinned my arms to my sides.

  “Enough, love.”

  But...but...this wasn’t fair, wasn’t right. “We can’t—”

  The rattling of chains cranked up the volume; the moans of hunger became more frenzied.

  “We have to deal with the zombies,” he said.

  I laughed bitterly. Had Anima made a list of all the ways to torture us before ending us? Kill their friends one by one. Pit them against zombies while they’re mourning.

  What would they do next?

  No. Here was a better question: What would I do next? I was still in this game, still a force to be reckoned with—still capable of doing damage to their forces. I straightened, palmed my axes.

  Cole pounded down the remaining steps, a .44 in one hand, a dagger in the other. The rest of us weren’t far behind, our determination a palpable force. Today, it wasn’t kill or be killed. It was simply KILL.

  We hit the bottom and turned the corner. And there they were, an extension of the greater enemy. I took stock. At least a hundred sets of bloodred eyes watched us. Each zombie had sagging, paper-thin skin that was grayer than I was used to seeing. Not a single creature had a full set of hair, and very few had more than a handful of strands. They were older, then. Stronger.

  Time to catch a few butterflies.

  I braced my feet on the floor and prepared to separate the two halves of myself—to go total mad hatter. The zombies darted toward us...only to stop several feet away, as if they’d hit an invisible wall.

  My mind whirled with questions as I searched the room. Why would... Ah. That was why. While slayers used chemicals that caused inanimate objects to become solid in the spirit realm—Blood Lines—to prevent the zombies from being able to enter homes or cross into specific areas, Anima used electric pulses. A poor imitation, but an imitation nonetheless. There was a stand on each side of the room, both with small red dots glowing in the center.

  We had a moment to breathe and decide the best course of action.

  “I don’t care about the pulses,” Bronx snarled. “I’m going to kill each and every zombie.”

  “We don’t have time for you to go on a rampage,” Jaclyn said. “Justin is out there. He needs our help.”

  “We can’t leave the zombies here.” Cole rolled his shoulders. He was pure aggression, ready to be unleashed. “You know that.”

  We all did. Anima would only use them against us later. “The pulses could weaken, and the zombies could escape, kill innocents, create even more creatures for us to fight.” While the Z’s preferred slayers—we were tastier, I guess—they wouldn’t refuse an average citizen, especially if they were starving. And these zombies were definitely starving. “We could pour a Blood Line in front of the door, but someone could come along and wipe it away.”

  “This is happening.” Frosty stared at the zombies and licked his lips, as if he could already taste their second deaths.

  “Don’t be foolish. There isn’t enough room to do what we need to do to win,” Veronica said.

  “We can even the odds.” Cole released the safety on his gun.

  Zombies clawed and kicked at the invisible wall. It must have shocked them, because the first line fell back...only to have the second line march over them and do the same. The pattern repeated again and again, but one thing stayed the same. Black saliva oozed out of their mouths. They’d scented a meal and wouldn’t rest until they’d gotten one.

  Boom, boom, boom. Cole fired into the crowd of Z’s, and one by one they dropped. “Enough talking. More doing.”

  We shot and injured as many as possible, until we ran out of bullets. But there were still too many red eyes trained on us.

  Jaclyn shook her head, dark memories dancing behind her eyes. “I can’t... The pain...”

  I wasn’t sure what Anima had done to her all those months she’d been locked up, but after what they’d done to me, I knew it had been horrifying. Since our escape, she had barricaded herself inside her house, afraid of the world.

  “You don’t have to fight,” I told her. “You can go up and wait.”

  She was too far gone for my words to penetrate.

  I looked to Frosty. “She can’t stay here. Will you carry her out? Maybe pour a Blood Line in front of the door?” That way, zombies wouldn’t be able to leave the room and get to her. But then, we wouldn’t be able to leave in spirit form, either.

  “Done and done.” He jumped into action.

  The moment he returned, I said, “I’ll light up. You guys concentrate on throwing the zombies at me.” We could shoot, stab and even decapitate the creatures, slowing them down, but none of that would lead to death. As our hail of gunfire had just proved. We had to ash them.

  Cole met my gaze. “I won’t be far from you.”

  “I know.”

  “If your fire dies out...”

  Which had happened. Multiple times. “Don’t worry. I still know how to fight.”

  “Of course you do. I taught you.”

  Arrogant sexy beast.

  “Let’s do this.” Frosty stepped out of his body.

  The others did the same. A miracle made flesh—or spirit. One version of my friends shimmered; the other remained frozen, no longer capable of movement.

  I rose to my tiptoes and kissed Cole. “I love you, and you had better come out of this alive.”

  “I will. We all will.”

  Trusting him, I kicked over one of the stands.

  Chapter 10

  WAR AND PIECES

  Zombies surged forward en masse, a gruesome, fearsome sight.

  The real me emerged, leaving flesh and blood behind, a shell the zombies would ignore. They cared nothing for literal brains and meat. They wanted the good stuff. The essence of me. The source of my every breath. My spirit.

  Well, they wouldn’t get it.

  The spirit wore and carried whatever the body wore and carried, so I remained loaded down with weapons. I disregarded the colder air, the chilling sounds—now louder—the brighter lights, the ranker smells, and hacked through a zombie’s chest.

  Turned. Slashed through a Z-head. Turned. Swiped a Z-throat. Turned. My blade cut through a Z’s mouth. Black goo oozed and splattered over my hands, burning. I disregarded the pain, too. I had to remain in a constant state of motion as the creatures surrounded me and closed in—or else.

  I swung the axes and arced back to avoid snapping teeth, then circled back around to nail the culprit in the throat. He fell to the floor, minus his head. Hands reached for me—I removed them. More teeth snapped at me—I knocked jaws together, grinding already decaying enamel into powder. Then I finish
ed one creature’s fight with metal through the brain.

  I cursed my inability to properly multitask. I needed to light up. Now, now, now. My light was our only hope for victory. But one thing became clear. I wasn’t going to get a moment of peace.

  Work with what you’ve got.

  Light up, I commanded, even as I swung at another zombie. Light—

  One of the creatures tangled his fingers in my hair and yanked. There was a sharp sting in my scalp, but I ignored it just like everything else and went low, twisting and raking one of my blades across his middle. Rotted guts spilled on the floor, making it slippery.

  Steady.

  Because the crowd of zombies had separated us, Cole had to work his way back to my side. His features were strained, and I suspected his injury, though healed on the outside, was sensitive and tender inside. But still he motored on, protecting me here and now, protecting others later.

  Frosty worked his way beside Cole, the two forming a wall of muscle in front of me. Then Bronx was there, another wall. Then Veronica. Suddenly I was surrounded. These slayers, my friends, were giving me that moment of peace.

  I stilled, closed my eyes. Breathed deeply. Told myself I could do this, building my faith.

  I straightened my fingers, curled them. I can...light up...now!

  But there was nothing. No heat.

  Come on. Light up!

  Again, nothing.

  Worry tried to sneak in and break me down. This might be the one time the ability failed me. The rest of my friends would die and it would be my fault.

  Shut up, Downer Ali!

  I held fast to my faith, knowing I had to believe I could do this, despite my feelings, despite the circumstances, despite what seemed to be happening—or not happening—before I could actually do it. Because that’s how faith worked. If everything came easily, I would never be tested or exercised, would never grow stronger.

  Like working out at a gym. At first, my puny limbs had been able to lift only the baby weights. The more I’d trained, the stronger I’d gotten. The longer I held on now, the hotter and brighter my fire would be when it finally arrived.

  And it would arrive.

  “You can do it,” Cole urged.

  My eyelids flipped open as he broke a zombie’s neck.

  “You’ve got this, Als.” Frosty swiped his sword across a zombie’s middle.

  Yes. Yes, I thought, reminded that words were a weapon right now. Whatever a slayer said while in this form, this realm, he received.

  Well...as long as he believed it.

  Thank God the others believed what they were saying; a lance of strength shot through me.

  I closed my eyes, concentrated. Light up.

  “You can do it,” Veronica repeated.

  “This?” Bronx said. “This is nothing for Ali Bell.”

  Their faith hooked with mine, undergirding me, shielding me from any more worry. You will light up, Ali Bell! Right...now!

  At the ends of my fingers, flames flickered to life, quickly spreading to my wrists, elbows and shoulders.

  Time for a good old-fashioned butt kicking.

  I basked in the heat now stroking higher...lower...everywhere, and focused on the battle.

  But...how... In just a few seconds, everything had changed. A zombie had Veronica pinned on the floor, and he was chomping on her neck. Bronx was trying to pull the creature off her, but the thing was like a dog with a bone, its teeth sinking in deeper as it shook its head. Finally, though, Bronx succeeded...but three others quickly took its place. He fought, but four others jumped on his back, tossing him to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

  I rushed over and touched the creatures with my fingertips. Instant ash. But the small victory wasn’t as sweet as it should have been. Veronica and Bronx were out for the count, already overcome by toxin and writhing in pain.

  I touched them, too, and both screamed. It hurt worse to burn out evil than it did to heal a wound, but it had to be done.

  Frosty rushed to their sides, intent on helping, but a horde of zombies seemed to come out of nowhere and he collided with them midway, ricocheting backward. Another pair tackled him while he was off balance and pinioned him to the ground, where the entire group gnawed all over him.

  Again I rushed over and swiped my fingertips over the creatures. Again they ashed, and again I saw one of my friends writhing on the floor.

  I touched him, and like Veronica and Bronx, he screamed. Only, he cursed me, too.

  He would thank me later.

  “There,” Bronx groaned, pointing to a group of zombies that were dog-piled in the corner.

  I sprinted over. Swipe, swipe. Ash, ash. Swipe, swipe. Ash, ash. Jaclyn! She’d come back to help us, only to be overcome. Now, she wasn’t moving. As I pressed my palm against her chest, a growl sounded behind me. I whipped around. A female zombie lunged at me, ready for dinner. I punched her, and she ashed.

  Where was Cole? I combed the room... There! On the other side. He had no bites and remained steady on his feet, good, good, but his motions were slow, sluggish.

  A zombie clawed at his cheek. I raced over, determined to help. Or tried to race over. Other zombies moved into my path.

  A second creature snuck up behind him.

  “Cole,” I shouted.

  A mistake.

  He looked my way, what was happening behind him forgotten.

  I wasn’t going to reach him in time. The zombie was able to grab hold of his arm, lower its head and bare its teeth, ready to feast on his spirit.

  “No!” I stretched out my arms, willing to take the bite for him. But, dang it, I still wasn’t close enough to do it.

  Then the distance ceased to matter. A bolt of electrified power shot out of me, the air actually crackling with tiny zings of lightning.

  Every zombie in the room catapulted into the air...and they stayed there.

  What the heck had just happened? How? I tripped over my own feet and fell to my knees. Panting, shocked, I jumped up and spun. Slayers were on the floor, and zombies were still floating above us.

  Impossible.

  Reeling, I finished the journey to Cole and gripped his arm. My fire seeped past his clothing, past his skin, and did its healing thing inside him. He hissed in a breath, collapsing, crashing hard, but didn’t stay down long. He leaped up. Sweat trickled down his temples as he looked at the zombies, then me, then at the zombies again, probably trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

  Good luck. I hadn’t yet managed it.

  “Heal any slayers in need of fire.” I wasn’t sure how much longer the Z’s would remain suspended in the air. “And I’ll kill these suckers.” But...how? I couldn’t reach them.

  As he hurried over to our friends, zombies kicked at him, but couldn’t make contact. They were too high up. He clasped Jaclyn’s hand with his fiery one and helped her to her feet. She hissed, as he had done, but remained upright.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. She would be all right.

  Then, knowing Cole would be taking care of the others, too, I focused on my opponents. I stretched out my still-glowing hands toward the one closest to me...and gaped as the others twirled.

  I rubbed at my eyes...and the entire nest of zombies crashed into the floor, slamming into slayers, knocking them down, and curses erupted throughout the room. I threw my arms into the air, and back up the zombies went.

  Seriously! What had...how did...

  Zombies shadowed the movements of my hands? As if the bolt of power I’d felt leave me had created some kind of link between us?

  Testing my theory, I rotated my wrists. Zombies spun, mimicking the motion. I rotated my wrists in the opposite direction. Again, zombies spun.

  There was a link.

  Could this be anot
her ability? Maybe. Probably. Who was I kidding? Definitely. I’d never heard of anything like it, but that hardly mattered.

  I made a mental note to check the journal I had at home. Written in some sort of spiritual code by one of my ancestors, a slayer. Through an ability of his own, he’d known secrets about our kind, our talents.

  Beads of fatigue collected in my shoulders, snapping together, growing bigger and stronger, before rolling all the way to my fingertips; suddenly my arms felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds each. My hands began to sink down...down... The zombies inched toward the floor.

  “Not yet,” Cole shouted, helping Veronica to her feet.

  I gritted my teeth, focusing on one zombie in particular. I crooked my finger at him. If I truly controlled these creatures, I could end their torment—and my own. He flailed and fought...but actually inched closer to me. Excited, I jumped up and touched him.

  He burst into ash—white ash, like snow, and good glory, it was beautiful, glistening as it descended.

  Why such a significant change?

  Did it really matter? I’m Super Ali.

  I grinned and skipped to one creature after another, touching, ashing, touching, ashing, utterly enjoying my job.

  Finally, there were no zombies left.

  Can’t pout.

  The fire in my hands died, and my tired arms dropped to my sides.

  “You have to be careful with this particular skill.”

  The voice jolted me. It shouldn’t be here, in this room. Baffled, I spun and came face-to-face with the mysterious blonde.

  “You,” I gasped out. “How’d you get here? Did you follow us?”

  “Ali,” Cole said, his voice dripping with confusion. “You want to tell me who it is you’re talking to?”

  “Her.” I pointed. “Sami.”

  “Ali,” he said, gently now. “There’s no one there.”

  Wait. He couldn’t see her? But...she was right there. I knew she was there.

  I reminded myself that he hadn’t seen Zombie Ali anytime she’d separated from me, either. But this wasn’t Zombie Ali, a spirit capable of shielding her presence.

  Was this woman a spirit, though? A Witness, like Emma? That would certainly explain why Mr. Ankh’s security cameras hadn’t recorded her presence.