The White Rabbit Chronicles

by Gena Showalter

  As if! Right now, those flames were the only thing preventing me from giving a full-on peep show to our audience. Mortified, I beat feet over to Cole, and though he hissed when he clasped my wrist, he drew me against the wall and shielded me from prying eyes.

  “I’m going to give you my fire,” he said.

  “But that’ll just make everything worse!”

  “Or better. Mine might give you the strength you need to control yours.”

  Risky, but okay. I didn’t have a better idea.

  He split only long enough to press his fiery hand into my chest. I felt it, despite my condition, which shocked me, and met a new part of myself. Sailor Ali. She had a few things to say about the pain it caused.

  But my fire did begin to wane.

  “Don’t put it out yet,” Cole said, rejoining. “I’m going to take off my jacket and shirt. The moment I’m free of them, then you douse the flames. I’ll dress you.”

  I kind of wished I’d died in the zombie fight.

  “Ready?” He waited for my nod, then dropped his jacket and jerked off his T-shirt. “Now.”

  I closed my eyes to shut off the heat—shut off, shut off, freaking shut off. Success! Cole tugged the shirt over my head and fit my arms through the holes. The material hit me midthigh. He then tied the jacket around my waist, letting it double as a skirt. And, humiliatingly enough, underwear.

  “All covered,” he said and kissed the tip of my nose. Short and sweet. An offer of comfort. “You did good, Ali-gator. Real good.”

  “Th-thank you,” I said, my teeth now chattering.

  He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. “And now,” he said with more volume, turning and facing the crowd, zeroing in on River, “we talk.”

  A dumbfounded River crossed his arms over his chest. “How did she do that?”

  “Here’s a better question,” I said, just to be contrary. “Why can’t you do it?”

  He flicked his tongue over an incisor, and for a moment, I was certain he would vow to leave us in the pit until his curiosity was satisfied. But he nodded to one of his boys, and a ladder was dropped inside. Cole climbed out first, then helped me over the ledge, making sure all my girlie parts stayed covered.

  “She needs clothes,” Cole said, his command unmistakable.

  “She’ll get them.” River reached out and pinched a lock of my hair. “Impressive work down there.”

  I jerked away at the same time Cole pushed him back.

  “No touching.”

  Unfazed, River grinned. “This way.” He pivoted on his heel and strode into the building.

  Tattoos and Knuckle Scars flanked him, both casting curious glances my way. How wonderful. I was now a circus freak.

  Wouldn’t be the first time.

  Inside, the warm air still managed to prickle against my exposed skin, and I broke out in goose bumps. Cole kept me tucked in tight, and that helped, but it also undermined my image as a cold-blooded Z-killer.

  Oh, what did I care?

  The journey ended inside a spacious sitting room. There were several couches and chairs in varying colors. The coffee table was scattered with weapons and various parts to weapons. I saw the makings of a .44, a .22 and some kind of spiked sword.

  Tattoos took off but returned quickly with a stack of clothes. “Here,” she said, thrusting the bundle at me.

  “Be courteous to our guests,” River admonished. To me, he said, “Please, forgive my sister. Milla doesn’t make new friends easily.”

  I snorted. “Really? Hardly noticed.” But in a snap, I realized something important. River was shrewd. The zombie cage fight had nothing to do with proving our loyalty or our dislike of zombies and Anima. He’d wanted to know what we could do—if we were worth aligning with or better off culled. He’d clearly decided we were, in fact, worthy, because he was pure sweetness now.

  “Take her to your room,” he said to Tattoos—Milla. A delicate name for such a hard-core girl. “She can change there.”

  Milla shook her head in protest, only to nod when River glared at her.

  Cole squeezed my hand before releasing me. Indecision warred within me. Leave, and miss out on some interesting conversation, or stay, and possibly flash everyone in the room.

  In the end, I trailed after Milla.

  “How did you do that?” she asked. “Can all of Cole’s slayers do it? What else can you do?”

  “I don’t know you, and I don’t trust you. Watch me as I don’t answer those questions.”

  “Fine.” She opened a bedroom door and glared at me. “Touch my things, and I’ll kill you.”

  You could try. “Same to you, Milla.” If she read between the lines, she’d know I’d just made a declaration. Cole was mine.

  Up went her nose. “My friends call me Milla, and as you pointed out, we aren’t friends. You will call me Camilla. Or better yet, Miss Marks.” With that, she sealed me inside the room with a hard slam of the door.

  Whatever. I hurriedly pulled on a pair of shorts for underwear and sweatpants, looking around. The room was small, but clean. Nothing was out of place. The twin bed was made, the comforter a princess-pink. I’m not the only storybook character in town.

  “Over here,” a voice whispered.

  I stiffened as the speaker’s identity registered.

  Helen.

  Arrows of dread and excitement hit me. She stood at the side of the desk, still dressed in the black tank and jeans. Her features were pale, and she was wringing her hands together nervously.

  Expecting me to blast her?

  “Why do you keep appearing?” I asked softly. “No. You know what? Don’t answer. I wouldn’t believe you anyway.” Maybe. Probably.

  Ugh. I would, wouldn’t I? And Cole would be beyond ticked about it.

  Ignoring me, Helen pointed to a stack of papers and said, “Read.” Then she vanished.

  I took a step forward, stopped. Took a step, stopped. To invade Milla’s privacy or not?

  If Helen was a liar, like Cole thought, she could be setting me up for a fall. But...if not...

  My heart galloped. As I tugged on my socks, I hopped my way to the desk. I read the top page and realized it was written in code. Lines, numbers and symbols all woven together. The same code my five-greats grandfather on my mother’s side had used to write his journal. This paper was crisp and fresh, obviously a copy of something. But it couldn’t be a copy of the journal—that had been buried in boxes of my mother’s childhood things for years.

  Why did Camilla have these?

  A thousand possibilities rushed through my mind all at once. The one I couldn’t get past: my five-greats grandfather could have taught other slayers how to write in code, and the skill could have been passed down from generation to generation.

  This paper could have come from anyone.

  Why would Helen want me to see it?

  I was taking pictures with my phone, when a hard knock sounded at the door.

  “Hurry up,” Camilla commanded.

  “Sure, sure.” I snapped a final photo, raced over and opened the door before she could burst inside and catch me in action. I tried not to pant.

  She gave me a once-over as I pulled on the boots and scowled. Why? The clothes weren’t hers, I knew that much. She was way short, and these items were actually a little big on me.

  “Those belong to River,” she informed me. “You’ll have to return them. After you’ve had them dry-cleaned.”

  Such a sweet girl. “What’s your problem with me, anyway?”

  She stared into my eyes for a long while and finally sighed. “Lookit. It’s just like you said. I don’t know you, so I don’t trust you, and I’m leery of things I don’t trust. It’s nothing personal.”

  I could hardly argue
with her—especially since she’d just quoted me! “Well, one thing you’ll learn about me is that I never lie. I don’t care what it costs me, I always tell the truth.”

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “So easy to say, so impossible to do.”

  “I agree that it’s easy to say, but I disagree that it’s impossible. It’s a challenge, and I happen to like challenges. Never have run from one, never will.”

  She studied me again, some of her animosity draining. Then she nodded, as if she’d just made a decision. “River has his faults, but he’s a good guy. You better not do anything to harm him.”

  “I won’t—unless he messes with me and mine.”

  “Fair enough.” She motioned me forward. “Let’s get back and make sure our boys haven’t killed each other.”

  Chapter 13

  GREAT MINDS

  TASTE ALIKE

  I returned to the sitting room to find Cole on a couch, River settled comfortably in the chair across from him. Knuckle Scars had taken off.

  “—your problem. You play by their rules,” River was saying.

  “I don’t put my people in unnecessary danger, you mean,” Cole countered.

  “Some risks are worth taking.”

  “No life is worth losing.”

  Tone wry, River said, “Then you haven’t met the right people.”

  Camilla cleared her throat. Neither boy displayed an ounce of surprise as they glanced over at us, proving they’d never lost awareness of their surroundings.

  I smiled at Cole, and he smiled back, the air between us crackling with electricity. There’d always been an undeniable awareness between us, like calling to like.

  “Well. This isn’t awkward at all,” River quipped.

  Cole waved me over; I walked to him, wanting to tell him about the papers, and when we were alone, I would, but I wasn’t sure what to say about Helen. If she was, in fact, helping me, I couldn’t allow him to discount the papers just because she’d been the one to point them out.

  What a mess.

  He tugged me beside him and anchored his arm around my shoulders. Once again his warmth enveloped me, and this time, it was like a drug. I had to fight the urge to lean closer...closer... Heck, why not just climb into his lap?

  Camilla moved behind River, forgoing the empty chair and choosing to stand. She was unwilling to give up the advantage of height, I was sure, because she so rarely had it.

  “So,” I said, taking over the conversation, “what do you know about our friend Justin?” Camilla and Stocky had mentioned River had some inside info.

  “She’s all business, this one.” River grinned at Cole. “I like that.”

  “Justin,” Cole prompted.

  Leaning back in his chair, River sipped at a glass of amber liquid. Something alcoholic, judging by the potent scent. “I have spies inside Anima, and while they didn’t know what the powers that be were planning, they knew something big was about to go down. We’ve been watching their warehouses.”

  Plural. Not singular. “We will want the address of every warehouse you know about.”

  He nodded. “Of course. But they’ve already been emptied out. All of them, not just the one you checked out.”

  So agreeable now. He’d want something in return, guaranteed.

  “You should have given me a heads-up,” Cole said.

  “Would you have given me a heads-up?” River asked, brows lifted.

  “No,” Cole admitted. “But that’s something we should change, isn’t it.” A statement, not a question. “We’re on the same side of this war.”

  River blinked in astonishment. He’d clearly thought Cole would be unreasonable. “Over the past week, activity increased at all four warehouses, but we saw nothing else out of the ordinary. Until two nights ago.”

  I tensed, not really wanting to hear the gory details of Collins’s death, but knowing I needed to. We needed to.

  Cole was as tense as I was.

  “They brought in the guy with the shaved head first,” River began.

  “Collins,” I whispered.

  “Where were you, that you saw this?” Cole asked.

  I blinked back tears.

  “In the rafters,” River said.

  I pictured the warehouse, looking at it through the eyes of memory. The ceiling...had thick wooden rafters, I realized.

  “They took him to the center of the warehouse,” the slayer continued, his tone grimmer by the second, “and forced him to his knees. The other one, the dark-haired one, arrived a few minutes later. He was so drugged he couldn’t stand, so they dumped him beside the other guy—Collins, you called him.”

  Stay strong.

  “The Anima men talked amongst themselves for a bit. They decided they only needed one slayer.” It was like River flipped some sort of switch. One second he was animated and the next he was utterly emotionless. “They took out a gun and shot your boy point-blank, then dumped him in a hole in the ground. I’m sorry.”

  Cole sucked in a breath.

  I knew he’d been picturing everything River explained; I knew, because I’d been doing the same thing. We would forever have a mental video of Collins jerking from the force of the bullet. Gray matter exploding through a hole in the back of his head. He collapsed to the floor.

  No wonder there’d been sand. They’d used it to absorb the blood.

  What a cruel and horrific death. Wrong on every level.

  My nails bit into my thighs. I wished I could comfort Cole, but I couldn’t even comfort myself. It took every ounce of strength I had not to curl into a ball and sob.

  “They loaded the dark-haired boy in a car and drove off,” River said. “I had a slayer on the road, waiting, and he followed, but I haven’t heard from him since. A few of my guys are out looking for him.”

  As much as I hated to think it...River’s guy was probably dead. Otherwise, he would have checked in.

  “We’ll want to know the moment he’s found,” Cole said.

  “Of course.” There was a pause before River added, “But I’ll expect something in return.”

  Cole nodded, flipping the same switch, going emotionless.

  Had I not known him so well, I would have thought him heartless. But I did know him, and I knew he was struggling to hold it together, just like me. I leaned my head against his shoulder. My eyelids instantly grew heavy, and I had to blink faster than usual to keep them open.

  “Normally I charge a very steep price for this type of info,” River said, “but all I want from you is an equal exchange. Whatever you learn, I want to know.”

  Please. He’d want more, and soon, no question. He had gimme written all over him.

  “Done,” Cole agreed. “What about your spies on the inside? Have they learned anything else?”

  “Not really. They aren’t all that high on the totem yet, but they’re digging for information, and they’re not going to stop until they’ve got something. Because here’s the thing. Anima hurt your people, hurt them bad, but they blamed my people, which means they’re determined to take us both out, and fast.”

  “And if they can’t do it,” Cole said, rubbing his fingers over his jaw stubble, “they’ll be satisfied if we take each other out.”

  River nodded. “Exactly. By the way, the second you cleared the warehouse, I had a team go through it, as well as the alleyways, and wipe your prints. They’ll move your boy and bury him here with our slayers. If that’s agreeable to you.”

  Had they gotten up and walked away from me? They sounded faraway, as if they’d moved to the other side of the room. I tried to open my eyes, to no avail. And then even their voices were lost to me. I was floating...drifting away...

  And, oh, wow, there was Helen and the little girl. They were inside a sm
all bedroom. The girl, perhaps five now, sat at the edge of an unmade bed while Helen shoved toys and clothing inside a bag.

  “I don’t want to leave you, Momma. Please.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you must.”

  Tears ran down the girl’s cheeks.

  “Mommy’s made so many mistakes. This is the only way to make things right, to give you the life you deserve.”

  “I don’t want a life I deserve. I want you.”

  Helen froze. Her back was to the little girl, but I could see her face. She was choking back quiet sobs, and it was breaking my already tattered heart. Her inner pain was so staggering, I didn’t know how she would be able to bear it much longer.

  But she pulled herself together somehow, wiped her eyes and turned to give her daughter a faux bright smile. “Think of this as an adventure.”

  “No,” the girl said, petulant.

  “You’ll finally get to meet your father. I told him about you, and he’s excited to see you.”

  “Don’t care.”

  Helen crouched in front of her. “Listen to me. I know you hate when we visit the people in the lab coats. Right? They stick you with needles. They strap you to tables, and no matter how hard you fight, you can’t get free.”

  The little girl shuddered.

  I had to look away. My attention snagged on a calendar hanging on the wall. According to it, this had happened eleven years ago. The girl had to be a year older than I’d been at the time.

  “Well, they want to keep you now. They want to take you away from me forever.”

  A continuous shake of that white-blond head.

  “I don’t want that for you. That’s why you have to go away. Your daddy will keep you safe.”

  “Come with me. Stay with me and my daddy. Please, Momma. Please.”

  Pain...desperation...so strong even I felt them soul-deep. Don’t send her away, I thought. She needs you, just as you need her.

  But Helen was made of sterner stuff and returned to her packing. “I’ve already made the arrangements. I’ve planned everything, down to the last detail. They’ll think that you’re... Well, all you need to know is that you’ll never have to worry about them again.”