Squealing, I clap and jump up and down. "You did? When?" Never mind when. Time passes differently for those in spirit and those in body. "How did you know we'd need her? What was the verdict?"
"Helen has been watching over Ali, and she found out about the vision." Emma
fluffs her hair. "And what do you think the verdict was? I told you I'm the best of the best."
I throw my arms around her, hugging her tight. "Thank you. I concede. You are the best. The cream of the crop. The elite."
"I know. During the case about Milla, we reminded the court that Frosty was granted another chance, so Milla deserves one too."
Guilt rises like a tide, flooding me. A second chance... to die. That's what I'm giving Camilla, what I'm expecting her to do.
But... but... death doesn't have to be a bad thing. Being a willing sacrifice to save someone else is the ultimate act of love. Of course, for Camilla to be truly willing, I'll have to tell her everything. What if she says no?
Can't risk it.
I relay none of my inner turmoil to Emma. "What are my terms?"
"You have twenty hours. During that time, Milla will be able to see and hear you," she says. "But... even if her memory returns, she will not remember your visit once your time ends. Her decision to help Frosty--if that is her decision--will be fair and unbiased. Knowing you aided her today could make her feel indebted."
Exactly! She should feel indebted.
But maybe I'm biased?
"I'm rooting for you both." Emma pats me on the cheek and vanishes.
A shuffle of feet sounds behind me. Does Camilla see me now? I turn. She isn't looking at me. She's looking beyond me. I do a full-on spin and spot two zombies headed toward us. I groan. They're roughly two hundred yards away, no obstacles in their way.
Zombies sleep during the day, or maybe they hide out. Whatever! They avoid light; it's too rough on their rotting spirit-flesh.
Can Camilla see the zombies? Probably. She lost her memory but not her slayer abilities.
Those abilities... Only slayers and witnesses can see zombies. And only slayers can push their spirits out of their bodies to fight them. Spirit to spirit, like to like. But any human can be bitten or infected.
Does she know what the zombies are? Probably not.
I can't allow the fiends to roam free and infect innocents. Or her!
One hundred away...
I've never fought a zombie, much less two zombies at the same time, so I lack the proper skill. "Camilla." Her name leaves me in a rush.
Success! She glances in my direction, frowns. "Who's Camilla? Who are you? Do I know you?"
She doesn't even recognize her own name? Poor girl.
No, no, no. No more pity. "My name is Kat Parker. We've met. You don't remember me because your mind got sprayed with mental Windex. And FYI, I'm about to throw a whole lot of knowledge at you because I need the old, bitchy Camilla back, not this new un-beta-tested version."
Her eyes widen.
Sorry, but I'm not done. "You used to fight zombies. Like the ones currently closing in behind me. You're really good with knives, guns, and betrayal. Oops. How'd that last descriptor get in there? Anyway. Are you equipped to go to battle tonight?"
I glance over my shoulder. Fifty yards away...
The color drains from her cheeks. She stares at our enemy as she croaks, "Zombies?"
"Spirit zombies to be exact, not the brain creepers you're used to seeing in movies."
"They aren't real," she says, shaking her head. "I'm crazy, and I'm out of here." She pivots.
She's going to leave? Oh, heck no. I take a step, a single step, and suddenly I'm whisked directly in front of her. Spiritual laws supersede physical laws, and dude, I can break the sound barrier!
She scrambles backward, the knife outstretched. "How did you move so quickly?"
Twenty-five yards away...
"Would you believe me if I said I'm your fairy godmother?" She shakes her head more adamantly, but I continue anyway. "I'm going to need you to disconnect your spirit from your body, disable those zombies, and create fire in the palm of your hand. Without a match! By the way, that fire is the only thing capable of killing the undead." True story. Only slayers can produce the necessary flames and not burn to death.
Tonight's eager beavers lock their eyes on Camilla and quicken their steps.
"Do yourself a favor and--" She places her free hand on my shoulder, intending to push me aside, but ghosts through me. Her frown returns, and she bats at me. "I can't... You can't..."
The scent of rot saturates the air, stinging my nostrils.
"Look out!" she cries and shoves me out of the way.
I straighten, watching as she throws herself at the zombies.
She wanted to save me? My, how times have changed.
My guilt redoubles.
If she had her memory, she would have used me as a shield.
She and the duo of undead topple to the ground. Teeth snap at her, but I rush over to kick out my leg. Contact! A zombie's jaw snaps out of place. So cake! Despite the self-defense lessons Frosty gave me... or rather, tried to give me while his muscles distracted me... I'm clearly a master.
Considering Camilla is stabbing the zombies in the eyes... the temples... and cutting their throats, she moves with fluid grace and shocking elegance. But the fiends never stop clawing at her. I perform another kick, miss, and just start punching. And okay, okay, I'm actually slap-fighting while squealing, and I look ridiculous, but she still manages to extract herself from the tangle of limbs, so I consider my moves a win.
"This is happening," she says, her tone heavy. "This is really happening."
"I know! So do us both a favor and ash these Zs!"
As she kicks the zombies, she says, "How do I create fire without a match?"
I've heard Ali say she "summons" her flames, but what does that mean exactly? "Maybe picture yourself burning?" My dad used to say: If you can imagine it, you can do it.
The zombies stand. Like all their brethren, their flesh is paper-thin, pitted, and gray. Open wounds have caused sagging, revealing rotted muscle and bone. Both creatures are bald with only a few strands of hair hanging limply at their temples; they have red eyes and yellowed teeth.
Camilla shakes her hands. "Come on. Come on!"
"A little faster," I tell her, doing my best to fend off the Zs.
Finally a flame sparks at the end of her index finger. She looks at me and grins, only to hunch over with a cry of distress. When she presses her palms against her temples and squeezes her eyes closed, the flame spreads to her hair but doesn't burn the strands. Her knees give out and she collapses.
"I... I am Camilla. And my brother... River!" Hope in her eyes... quickly dashed. "No, no, no, he hates me."
Is her brain being flooded with memories?
Sweet! That was fast. Kat Parker, master of everything, strikes again.
The zombies lunge for her, but she's not ready. I act on instinct, jumping in front of her, blocking any contact. I don't know what will happen if I'm bitten, if the Z-toxin will affect me or simply fizzle. I mean, I'm dead and the creatures crave life.
Guess we'll never find out. I'm batted and kicked as the two do everything in their power to move me out of the way, but I'm not bitten. I take the blows like a champ, only cringing and yelping a few times. A few thousand times. Whatever.
I always hated when Frosty battled zombies. I let fear get the better of me, imagining the worst. I tried to talk him into abandoning the war. Staying indoors, staying safe. I even did the whole guilt-trip thing. All this stress is making my kidneys worse.
Dude. I sucked. Maybe he's better off without me.
Frosty always did his best to comfort me. What he didn't do? Abandon the war or his friends. He kept fighting, determined to make the world a safer place for his friends, his family, and even for people who would lock him up and call him crazy if they discover what he's doing. He's a hero.
"A little h
elp here," I grate.
Eyes narrowing, Camilla stands. Her lips press together into a grim line as the flames crackle from her hair and fingertips. She looks like a mass-murdering doll, beautiful but deadly. With one leg in front of the other, her knees braced and at the ready, she spreads her arms. The flames thicken, smoke billowing from her.
"Move," she commands.
I scramble out of the way, and she pushes her spirit out of her body. Suddenly there are two Camillas. One immobile. The other a spirit, like me. She throws herself at the zombies, once more taking the pair to the ground. This time she punches into their chests. The zombies scream and writhe in pain until... Boom!
They explode. Ash thickens the air, raining in every direction.
Relief surges through me. "We did it! Well, mostly me. I did it. You swooped in at the end."
"I'm surprised you didn't leave me to die." The flames extinguish. She moves in front of her body. In her spirit form, her clothes cover her private parts, but the edges are burned and covered in soot. When she brushes one form against the other, the two join together. "Why did you help me?"
Well. She remembers me... and what she did to me. But she won't remember this conversation, so there's no reason to ply her with details just yet. "Look. I did what I came here to do. You'll get no answers out of me." Cruel of me, yes. I don't really care.
She takes a step toward me, her hands fisted. "Tell me."
I smile at her. "Don't worry. Tomorrow everything changes."
CHAPTER FOUR
Camilla's memory--check. It's back, and she's once again her normal witchy self. She'll forget my aid, if she hasn't already, allowing me to return to her and ask for a favor without bias on her part.
Now it's time to deal with Frosty.
I focus on my ex only to find myself in the middle of Hearts Nightclub. Seriously? This is where he comes to get over me?
Well, why not? Grief has hollowed him out, and he's searching for ways to fill an empty void.
I hate that he's suffering.
He's sitting at the bar, watching the patrons with hate in his eyes. As if he blames everyone else for his pain.
He stands and takes a step toward a girl on the dance floor. Thinking about nailing her? Something, anything, to forget losing me?
I allow myself to materialize in the natural realm right in front of his target. His gaze meets mine, and he goes still.
I offer him the best smile I can, considering I'm so sad for the state of affairs, even while I memorize every detail about this precious boy I've loved for so long. He's well over six feet of muscle and brawn. He has pale, shaggy hair and eyes a mix of blue and brown. Like chocolate-covered blueberries. His skin is bronzed to perfection, and his features are straight-up girl porn.
The first time I saw him, I finally understood why some women throw their underwear at rock stars. Frosty devastated my senses, and all I'd wanted to do was rub up against him--a kitty with a new scratchpad. But I resisted him because we were in junior high and he scared the pee out of me. He was always covered in bruises, and the intensity he radiated... Well, I had a gut feeling all things Frosty would overwhelm all things Kat. But he continued to pursue me, as if no other girls existed, and eventually my attraction to him overcame my reservations.
Now he stalks toward me. Knowing we can't have a proper conversation in front of all these people, I whisk myself to the back door. A glance back proves Frosty is following me. I wave him over, a little--lot--impatient to get him on board Operation Save Frosty's Stupid Life. The mission title is a work in progress.
When he's almost within reach, I whisk outside. I'm in a dark alley with a row of disgusting dumpsters and a mouse that's scurrying between them. Bits of shredded paper float through the air like zombie ash.
Frosty plows through the door and stops to scan the area. "Kat!" His voice is ragged and sends a blackbird flying away. "Kat!"
I need to wow him with my first words. Or, you know, just get his attention. "Dude. I prefer your indoor voice. Let's tone it down a notch--or twelve."
I'm behind him, and he turns. He tenses. He trembles as he reaches out. I remain in place, letting him do his thing and figure this out. If I tell him, he won't believe me. When his fingers ghost through my hair, he shouts enough F-bombs and creative curses to bring down a city.
"Wow," I say with a grin. "I'm not sure some of those things are anatomically possible."
He calms. "You're here." There's awe in his voice. "You're really here."
"Yep. But you, Frosty, are an idiot."
His lips quirk at the corners. "Even your hallucination is mouthy. I like it."
"I'm not a hallucination, dummy. I'm a witness, and--get ready to be humbled by my greatness--I've come to help you." I fist-pump the sky. "Super Kat to the rescue!"
He frowns. "You want to help me? You stay with me. Don't leave my side."
I wish! I could be the one to save him from certain death without putting anyone else in danger. "Tsk-tsk. Thinking only about yourself." I walk around him, letting him know I'm in charge. The cat who has a mouse in her sights. "I know you've had trouble parting with me. Who wouldn't? But du-u-ude. I didn't expect a total meltdown. You used to dine on prime filet, and now you're nomming on old cuts of mystery meat." That is not okay.
He bows his head, projecting sorrow and guilt. "I'm sorry, kitten. I'm so sorry."
I've always loved his nickname for me.
"You were gone... I think I tried to punish us both," he says. "But I hate what I've--"
I hold up my hand to silence him. "Enough. I don't want to hear your excuses. You're ruining your life, and that is not acceptable to me."
"Are you kidding? Ruining my life? Kitten--without you, I have no life." The words explode from him, his expression agonized. "I would rather cut off my left nut than yell at you. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice."
"Well, you are not forgiven!" I place my hands on my hips. "Since I've been living up there"--I hike my thumb toward the sky--"I've had the opportunity to watch you behind the scenes. And guess what? You've turned Beefcake TV into Bama's Crappiest Videos. Starting today, you're going out there and doing good deeds."
He projects determination that puts mine to shame. "What do you consider a good deed?"
"To begin with, you're going to help your friends by participating in the zombie-human war. And you're going to do it with a smile!" I stomp my foot. "Do you hear me?"
"Yes. Help friends. Fight. Smile. If I do these things, you'll stay with me?"
Stubborn boy! I close my eyes for a moment and pray for patience, then sigh. "And I told the council I had this in the bag. Bad Kat. Bad!"
"Council?" I can see a multitude of thoughts rolling through his mind, and they must bring him to the conclusion that I'm a hundred percent the real deal because he jolts, joy flooding his features. "Never mind." He marches straight for me.
I back into the brick wall. A wall I know he has doused in Blood Lines, a chemical used to make the intangible to spirits tangible again. That way zombies can't ghost inside the building and infect everyone.
When I'm almost within reach, he pushes his spirit out of his body, an action that requires faith. I know why he's doing this. Like to like. Only a spirit can touch another spirit. But as he stretches out his arm, I jump to the side to avoid contact.
"Hold on there, grabby." I shake my head. Gotta get us on the right track. "I haven't always followed the rules--or ever followed the rules--but all that's behind me." Maybe. Probably. For a little while at least. "You have no idea what I had to do to get here, or what will happen if I mess up, and there's no time to explain. Not during this visit. Just know that one touch of your spirit to mine will ensure I'm never allowed back." That was lesson one from Emma.
He clenches and unclenches his fists as he returns to his body.
Affection flows through me. Only want the best for him. "I'm your past, Frosty, and for now, I'm your present. But you need to come to grips with t
he fact that I will never be part of your future."
"You are my past, present, and future, kitten."
Stubborn! "Frosty--"
"Kat." He flattens his hands at my temples. "Why am I just now seeing you? Why did you stay away so long?"
Memories rush up and overtake me. When I first woke up in the holding zone, Emma was with me. She explained that time ticks by differently in the spirit realm. Only a few days have passed for me. Or so it seems. For Frosty, four months have passed.
Concentrate. Right. "Like I said, there's no time to get into the nuts and bolts during this visit."
"But you will visit me again?"
All depends on you, buddy. Still, I give a sharp incline of my head because I know he'll come through. He always does. "For the next few months, you'll be the lucky recipient of one visit a day, every day."
A muscle tenses in his jaw. "I won't be satisfied until you're surgically attached to my side."
I roll my eyes. "This isn't a negotiation, and you didn't let me finish. I will visit you once every day... as long as you've done something productive for our cause."
He arches a brow. "You're bribing me?"
"Oh, good. You understand." Good boy. "And no, tonight wasn't a bonus. You still have to earn the privilege."
His expression softens, and his gaze locks on my lips. I think he's imagining kissing me.
Once, I would have been all over him. I would have risen on my tiptoes and planted a dirty kiss straight on his dirty mouth. He would have loved it, but he would have taken over quickly--my boy likes control--and soon we would have been pulling at each other's clothing. But... the urge just isn't there anymore. Seeing him hadn't caused my feelings to revert to what they used to be, and it makes me a little sad. And yet it's probably for the best. Probably? Ha! Now he needs someone unafraid to go into the dark with him... someone who will bring him back into the light.
"Get ready to see a whole lot more of me, kitten. I'll do anything to spend time with you."
"Duh. I'm so cake I'm the cake." I begin to lose my hold on the natural realm. I feel the strength of the connection dwindling and know my fellow witnesses need me for something. Dang it! I haven't done what I came here to do.
Frosty shakes his head violently. "Kat!"
"Listen, Frosty, I'm almost out of time, and I haven't told you what you need to do. It's imperative--"
"No. You stay with me. Do you hear me? We're not done."
Kat in Zombieland Page 3
