Through the Zombie Glass wrc-2

by Gena Showalter

  I’d wanted normal, give-and-take relationships more than anything. Now I had them, but I might have to walk away from them.

  I was a menace. Dangerous.

  Look. See who you’re becoming.

  Slowly I pried my eyelids apart. The mirror—and my reflection—came into view. Revulsion made me shudder. My eyes were red. The girl peering back at me wasn’t me. Not anymore. Not in any way. She couldn’t possibly be me. The smudges had spread, grown darker, and a black spiderweb of veins stretched over her forehead.

  That. Quickly.

  Her cheekbones were gaunt, her hair tangled.

  Tick. She reached toward me with a smudge-stained hand, and I reared backward. Trembling, I waited for her next move, part of me expecting her to mist through the glass. But she merely pressed her palm against the surface, and I calmed enough to ease back into my seat.

  Tock. “It is nice to finally have the strength to speak,” she said.

  Tick.

  Oh. Good. Glory. I could hear her voice. My voice. But I wasn’t speaking. “I know you’re a zombie.”

  Tock. She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You say zombie, I say better half.”

  Tick. What was that? A clock? Yes, I realized. That was exactly what the strange tick-tock represented. A clock, and time was running out.

  I steeled myself to ignore it.

  “What do you want from me?” I demanded.

  “What do you think?” she said with a grin. “I want everything.”

  Everything. My body? My life? “I won’t let you win.” I have a to-do list, and failure isn’t on it. Shaking, I reached out and pressed my fingers against the coolness of the glass.

  She laughed. “You won’t be able to stop me. I grow stronger every day.”

  “That means strength is measurable. So, if you can grow stronger, you can be made to grow weaker.”

  That wiped away her amusement. “Look how easily you gave in to my desires. Soon biting will be second nature.”

  “No.” Never.

  “Once your human spirit has been destroyed, I’ll have control of your body. I’ll be the first of my kind.”

  Breath crystallized in my lungs. “You can’t—”

  A knock sounded at the door, and a sweet, trembling voice said, “Ali. Is someone in there with you?”

  Kat.

  “No,” I shouted a little too loudly.

  A pause. “Will you let me in, then? Please. I need to know you’re okay, and we need to talk about what just happened. I’ve never seen you act like that, not even when you were beating up those boys, and it scared me.”

  “I’m okay, and I’m sorry I scared you. But we’ll talk about it later. I just... I need to be alone right now.”

  I heard her sigh even through the obstruction. “You’re upset, and I want to comfort you—it’s my specialty. Just don’t hurt me, okay?”

  I think she meant the words as a joke. I hoped she did. “I would never hurt you,” I said, tears beading in my eyes.

  “Ali, I know that, but you have to—”

  “Please, Kat. Not now.”

  I waited several seconds, heard only silence. I turned back to the mirror.

  My reflection was just as grotesque but no longer moved contrary to me. “Are you still there?” I whispered, watching my lips move.

  My reflection offered no reply.

  I bit my tongue as I injected myself with the antidote, just to be safe. Then I withdrew the business card from my desk drawer and peered down at the number. This man knew something about what I was going through. Maybe he could save me.

  How sad. Right now a stranger was my best shot.

  Alter list: however proves necessary, kill Z.A. ASAP.

  Though I didn’t like the idea of using my cell and letting caller ID reveal my number, there was no other phone I could use. Not without alerting Mr. Ankh, and therefore Mr. Holland, and therefore Cole. I dialed before I could change my mind.

  A man answered after the third ring. “Hello, Miss Bell.”

  He freaked me out, his welcome too much, too soon, and with a gasp, I hung up.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. I redialed.

  He answered on the second ring. “I hope you’ll actually say something this time.”

  “Who are you?” I demanded.

  “Your new best friend,” was the casual reply. “I am Dr. Bendari.”

  I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the vanity and squeezed, trying to relieve a little of the pressure building inside me. “Enough games. You should know straight-out that I don’t trust you.”

  “Believe me, I received that message loud and clear when you slashed my tire,” he replied drily.

  “You’re probably wondering why I called.”

  “No. I know. You’re desperate.”

  Well, okay, then. We were on the same page. “How do I know you have the answers I seek?”

  “Were you bitten by a slayer who’d been bitten by a zombie? Are you now seeing things? Hearing things? Experiencing unusual emotions and reactions?”

  He knew. He really knew. “Yes,” I whispered. “How did you know that?”

  “I have a source on the inside. I also have the answers you seek.”

  “Tell me.” A command. “And who is your source? Is he one of my friends?” Who would betray me?

  “The source matters little. I will tell you everything else you wish to know, but I won’t do it over the phone. You won’t believe what I tell you. Not without pictures.”

  Anger infused every cell in my body. He could be lying, trying to draw me out, make me an easier target. “You want to meet,” I said flatly.

  “I do. Tonight. Midnight.”

  He could be playing me, could be planning to murder me. But honestly? I didn’t care. Right now death was preferable to uncertainty. If I walked into my own personal horror movie, oh, well. “All right. Where?”

  “There’s an all-night Chinese buffet in Birmingham called the Wok and Roll. Come alone, and I’ll be there. Come with someone else, and I’ll leave before you can spot me. That happens, and you will never hear from me again.”

  He hung up before I could agree. Or yell at him.

  I paced my room for the rest of the day. Nana came to my door with lunch, then dinner, and both times I asked her to set the tray on the floor. Earlier I’d wanted to talk to her—I still did. Now just wasn’t the right time. At the moment, I couldn’t trust myself to behave.

  “You’re going to tell me what’s going on, Ali,” she said through the door. Never before had she spoken so sternly with me. “The boy, Gavin, he told me you beat another girl unconscious. How could you do something like that?”

  “I’m asking myself that same question,” I replied, my chin trembling.

  A heavy pause. “Let me in the room. I want to look into your eyes while we talk about this.”

  She would see was my horror, my remorse. My tears.

  My new nature?

  “I...can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Is it the upcoming holiday?” she asked, hesitant. “Are you missing your parents?”

  “No.” To be honest, I hadn’t given Thanksgiving a single thought.

  Another pause, this one writhing with tension.

  “Ali, you’re shutting me out and it’s hurting me.”

  Yes, I could hear the pain in her voice.

  I stepped up to the door, reached for the knob, stopped myself. Hot tears cascaded down my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I would rather die than hurt you, but if I open that door I could hurt you worse. I just... I need a day to work through this, okay?”

  Several minutes passed in silence before she said, “You’ve got one day.” Footsteps resounded.

  I picked up the tray, placed it inside my room, my stomach a twisted mess. I couldn’t bring myself to eat.

  Finally eternity came to an end and eleven-thirty arrived. I loaded myself with weapons and sneaked through the secret passages Mr. Ankh had built throughout t
he house. He’d wanted his daughter to have an escape route if ever it proved necessary—not that she would know what chased her.

  Reeve. I frowned. My nose wrinkled after I inhaled. I smelled her perfume. She must have used the passage, and quite recently.

  Huh. The passage led to a hatch just beyond the front yard, seconds from the road. Still. I’d have to be careful. Mr. Ankh had cameras everywhere and—as I eased my out, I caught movement several yards away.

  Gaze zooming in, I palmed a blade. Was that...Reeve? Had to be. Dark hair swished as a slender girl matching Reeve’s height and build walked north. She’d sneaked out.

  Dang you, Reeve! No matter how badly I wanted answers, no matter how dangerous I currently was, I couldn’t let her wander the streets without backup.

  As I followed her through the shadows, I dialed Bronx.

  “What?” he snarled.

  “Reeve snuck out. I’m a few yards behind her. I just thought you’d like to know.”

  He spewed a mouthful of curses. In the background, I heard a girl giggling.

  “You’re with someone?” I asked, shocked.

  At the same time he said, “Where are you?”

  I gave him our current location, and he hung up.

  Thank you, Ali, I inwardly mocked. I appreciate your help.

  A car drove past, and Reeve darted behind a tree trunk. I did the same, only to stiffen when the car slowed, stopped.

  Reeve stepped from the shadows. “Ethan?”

  “It’s me, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart. Hello, new boyfriend.

  “Thank goodness! I realized the car was slowing down, and I almost peed my pants.” She walked around the car and opened the passenger side door. “I thought you were meeting me at 7-Eleven.”

  “You were late, and I worried.”

  Bronx, who was in spirit form, moved through the trees and swept up beside me. The hair he’d dyed blue was now green, but it wasn’t spiked. Tonight, it shagged over his forehead. There were several lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt—and not all of them were the same color.

  “She just got into the car,” I said, beyond grateful a slayer’s ability to see spirits extended to human ones. Although...

  Would this make my dark urges worse?

  I tensed. Backed away.

  No hunger pangs.

  I stopped, unsure. I was...better? Once more safe to be around?

  Look how easily you gave in to my desires.

  That was what Z.A. had said. And she had been right. I did. Because I’d been mad at Veronica, my defenses weak. And every time before, I’d been a mess about Cole.

  If I remained calm from now on, focused, I wouldn’t have to ditch my friends or my grandmother. I could be around them without worry.

  I wanted to shout with the force of my relief.

  Scowling, Bronx waved me away. “Go home. I’ve got this.”

  His tone grated—my first test. Calm. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to bed and cuddle?” I asked sweetly.

  He leveled me a look that would have frightened the most violent criminals. “The girls caught me at a bad time.”

  Girls. Plural, as I’d suspected. “Pig,” I muttered. Could no guy stay faithful anymore? Sure, Bronx and Reeve weren’t actually dating, and she was currently seeing another guy, but come the freak on.

  “Whatever.”

  I heard the self-castigation in his voice and flinched.

  “Sorry,” I said on a sigh. “I didn’t mean that.”

  He shrugged. “Do you really believe I’d be with anyone else if I could be with Reeve?”

  No. I didn’t. And when I thought about it, I understood. Sometimes the loneliness probably got to be too much and anyone seemed better than no one. He had no parents. They’d dropped him off in a forest, at night, when he was just a kid, hoping the wild animals would kill and dispose of him. He just wanted to be wanted, to have someone to call his own.

  Earlier, as unstable as I’d been, I might even have settled on comfort from Gavin.

  The driver—Ethan—turned the car around. Bronx stiffened, gearing to pursue.

  He shouldn’t do this on his own. I knew that. He could call for backup, but I also knew he wouldn’t.

  I looked behind me, in the direction I needed to go. I looked back at Bronx, at the anger and frustration shining from his features. He was distracted. He would probably get into trouble.

  As the car sped away, Bronx arrowed forward.

  I couldn’t leave him.

  With a mental push, my spirit left my body, which would remain hidden in the trees. I trailed after him, maintaining proper speed, just as Gavin and Mackenzie had taught me, keeping up without a problem.

  We ghosted through other cars, and yeah, it freaked me out every time.

  “Where’s Cole?” I asked, barely panting.

  “Taking care of Veronica.”

  I flinched as if I’d been punched.

  “You really messed up, Ali,” he continued, unaware of the pain his words had caused. “Beating on one of your own is never okay.” His gaze raked over me, and he finally became aware. “He’s not with her for that. He doesn’t like her the way you think.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “To you, I think it does.” But he offered no other words of encouragement.

  About ten minutes later, the car parked in the driveway of a secluded house. Ethan emerged—leanly muscled, with blond hair and a handsome face—then rushed around to open Reeve’s door.

  “Thank you,” she said with a grin.

  He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “My pleasure, sweetheart.”

  Bronx growled low in his throat, a feral sound. He stalked forward, as if he planned to attack the guy, but crashed into a tree and ricocheted backward. He came up sputtering.

  “Blood Lines.” He looked left, right. “The guy has Blood Lines.”

  So...the guy knew about the zombies. And yet he couldn’t see them. Otherwise he would have seen us. And if he’d seen us, he would have reacted.

  Ethan ushered Reeve into the house. Bronx trailed close to their heels, but the door closed before he could sweep inside, and he once again ricocheted backward. He cursed.

  Bronx tried to bypass the walls and windows to no avail. We paced the front yard in unison, waiting for Reeve to come out, ticking off the nearly unbearable seconds.

  “I have his address,” Bronx snarled. “I’ll find out who he is. Every detail. Every girl he’s ever banged.”

  Only he didn’t use the word banged.

  “I’ll know every secret.”

  Man. Bronx really liked Reeve, really wanted her. Her protection mattered to him. He was simply trying to respect her father’s wishes, as well as the needs of the slayers.

  Watching him, I knew this was how a boy should react to the idea of being separated from his girl. The way I’d wanted Cole to react.

  The way Cole hadn’t reacted.

  Had he ever felt so strongly for a girl? Had it ever bothered him to walk away from one? Or was self-preservation wrapped so tightly around him it strangled any of the deeper feelings he had?

  I wondered what he thought of me—if he thought of me at all.

  “Ali,” Bronx snapped, and I jolted back to awareness.

  “Yes?”

  “Go home. I’ve got this.”

  “No.”

  “You’re making little growling noises in the back of your throat, and it’s distracting me. Not in a good way.”

  Fear began to claw at me, because I knew what those growls meant. I had to do a better job of focusing—or else. I squared my shoulders. “I’ve already let one slayer down today. I’m not letting another. I’m staying.”

  He glanced at me, and I could see a new gleam of respect in his eyes. But all he said was “Whatever. Do what you want.”

  That respect...

  It meant more to me than money.

  And I knew how to get more. The list. However proves neces
sary, kill Z.A. ASAP.

  You’re going down, fiend.

  When dark went against light, light always won. I was light—as long as I didn’t let my fire get snuffed out.

  I would win. Right?

  Bronx bumped my shoulder. “You panicking over something, Bell?”

  “No, I’m calm,” I said. “From now on, I’m going to be a walking sedative.”

  Chapter 11

  Rot in Peace

  The next morning, I climbed into Reeve’s Porsche and bucked my seat belt. Our ten-minute drive to school couldn’t end fast enough. I was ready to hide in the back of my first class and fall asleep.

  She clearly concurred, gunning the engine as she shot from the garage. I wanted to rapid-fire questions at her, now that we were alone, but I was too tired. I leaned against the door instead, the sunlight streaming through the window warming me, lulling me.

  Singing along to the radio, she merged into traffic. There were shadows under her eyes, and for once, she wore wrinkled clothing, as if she’d just rolled from bed and called it good.

  I happened to know that she had.

  As promised, I hadn’t left Bronx alone. I’d waited for Reeve to exit Ethan’s house. And she had, at 3:00 a.m. Ethan had driven her home, dropped her off in the same spot he’d picked her up and kissed her on the mouth before driving away. Bronx hadn’t said another word. His body language had said plenty, though.

  Ethan was lucky to be alive.

  The first moment I’d been alone, I’d called Dr. Bendari to reschedule, but the number had been unavailable. I had screeched with frustration, knowing I’d blown my best chance to talk with the only person with concrete answers.

  Then I’d chastised myself for letting an emotion get the better of me.

  Walking. Sedative.

  “Wishing you hadn’t gotten the tattoos?” Reeve asked.

  “Of course not,” I said. “Why?”

  “Well, look at yourself.”

  I gazed down. I was absentmindedly rubbing my thumb over the daggers. Oh. Well. “They comfort me.”

  Reeve gasped and stomped on the brake. The car jerked to a stop, throwing me forward as much as the belt would allow.

  “What the—”

  “Bronx,” she screeched, tearing off her belt and stepping into the daylight.