The Queen Of Zombie Hearts. Gena Showalter
fetish.”
“You didn’t ask. But yeah, he does. I’m threatened with a spanking daily.”
“Lucky,” she whispered, skipping past me, heading toward the entrance to the secret passage.
We climbed in the golf cart, Reeve at the wheel.
“Where do you want to go first?” she asked. “When we’re topside, I mean.”
“I...don’t know,” I said. There were too many options. Gavin’s car. Was it still there? Frosty’s house. Justin and Jaclyn’s house. Actually, any of the slayers’ homes.
“Then it doesn’t matter which road we take,” Kat pointed out. “With nowhere to go, we’ll never reach a destination.”
A nice way of saying make a decision already, dummy.
“We’ll go to Cole’s gym.” Or what was left of it. Any slayers on the run might have gone there. Might have stuck close by after the fire had died, hoping other slayers would show up.
Reeve parked at the back of the room, the one with the gurneys, and we walked to the ladder.
“What happens if we get separated?” she asked.
Hope for the best, plan for the worst. “If you can, get your butts back here. If you can’t, hide and call me. If you lose your phones, don’t panic. I’ll find you. Whatever it takes.”
But I couldn’t help wondering if I’d just made the worst decision of my life.
EAT YOUR HEART OUT
The gym was a pile of charred rubble, as expected, but the sight of it made my heart fester and ooze with an infected wound in need of tending. Shouldn’t be this way. The air, heavy with smoke, painted the surrounding landscape an eerie gray. There was something very postapocalyptic about it. As if we were the only survivors and we now had to figure out how to navigate a new world.
At least there wasn’t a rabbit cloud.
The authorities had already come and gone, leaving barricades behind.
Reeve hid our car at the side of another house. The gym was—had been—a large red barn planted in the middle of a neighborhood with homes spaced apart by acres of wheat and surrounded by a forest.
Any one of my friends could be waiting in the forest. Possibly injured.
Possibly being hunted.
“Reeve, you’re with Cole,” I said, taking charge. “Kat, you’re with me.”
“Prison rules?” Kat asked. “Kill first and ask questions later?” She withdrew a .38 revolver. It had no safety, but it did have a laser at the end to help her sight whatever she wanted to hit. Plus, the trigger was coiled tighter to prevent her from shooting accidentally.
Yeah. It had happened. She startled easily.
Reeve pulled a .22 from her purse. The gun had very little backlash, was more likely to irritate a target than kill it, but with halfway decent aim, she would be able to slow even the biggest of men.
“Actually, we’re going by Holland rules,” Cole said. “The best safety is this.” He wiggled his index finger in front of their faces. “Don’t put yours near the trigger unless you’re ready to fire. Side note. You aren’t ready to fire unless Ali or I say you’re ready.”
“But keep your weapons out and ready,” I added.
Cole kissed me before we disembarked, sending a warm pulse through me. With the girls at our sides, we ran toward the forest, tree limbs seeming to go out of their way to slap us. When we were deep enough inside that we were concealed from prying eyes, everyone slowed and moved in the direction of the gym.
“Ready to split up?” I asked. “You guys come in from the west, and we’ll come in from the east. We’ll cover more ground.”
“Sounds good.” Cole held out his arm, stopping me. Which in turn stopped the girls. His gaze pierced me. “Don’t get hurt. I mean it.”
“As if I’d dare. But you’d better be careful, too. You aren’t just a pretty decoration for the world to enjoy, you know. You’re my decoration.”
“And you’re my toy.”
We shared a look ripe with amusement and promise before branching apart.
“You guys are weird,” Kat said, “but the good news is, Cole is probably stronger than ninety-nine percent of the population, even with his arm in a sling.”
“A perfect description for Frosty, too.”
“True story.” Worry in her eyes, quickly extinguished.
With every exhalation, mist formed in front of my face. A signal trained trackers would pick up on, but it couldn’t be helped. We made our way to the east side of the gym and...saw footprints! Excitement mingled with hope, filling me up and giving me new purpose. Who had made them? Bronx or Mackenzie?
But...why not both? Why was there only one set?
Some of my excitement drained.
“Come on.” We followed the prints for a few yards. They were big. Too big to belong to Mackenzie. One—the right one—dragged. And there was a drop of blood beside that one...and that one. Bronx, if that’s who had left these, was injured.
I stepped through one line of bush after another, remaining on alert, my .44 at the ready. The drops were getting thicker, and I thought the person responsible must have begun to drag his other foot, too...only to stop. I looked around. Saw nothing. Up. Down. Left. Right. Where the heck—
“There!”
My excitement returned in an instant. He’d camouflaged himself with mud and leaves, and if not for the green of his eyes, I would have missed him. He was leaning against the tree, and “he” wasn’t Bronx. He was Gavin.
Kat and I rushed to his side. He didn’t respond. He was still, too still, his head resting on his shoulder. On closer inspection, blood was clearly mixed with the dirt, and my heart sank. His mouth was tinted blue, and, despite the cold, his teeth weren’t chattering.
My hand shook as I felt for his pulse....
“Please, tell me he’s alive,” Kat pleaded.
“Yes,” I nearly shouted. “He is.”
“Thank God!” She exhaled with relief. But she was paler than she’d been a moment ago, and I wasn’t sure if the problem was stress or her kidneys. Or both.
“Gavin,” I said, gently patting his cheeks, willing my warmth into him. “You’ve got to help us get you to your feet. We may be strong, but we’re not strong enough to carry you to safety fireman-style, so you’ve got to walk. Come on, Barbie. Please. Do it for your favorite cupcake.”
He didn’t even blink.
Very well. We’d do this the hard way. The riskier way. The same way I’d helped Cole.
“Watch my back,” I told Kat. “In a few seconds, Gavin might grunt or scream. Don’t touch him. Don’t touch me.” She wasn’t a slayer. She wouldn’t be able to see me in spirit form, and she wouldn’t be able to feel my fire—until it was too late, and she was dead.
She didn’t bother asking questions. Trusting me, she got into position behind Gavin, on the alert for any signs of an ambush.
I closed my eyes, drew in a deep breath. Held it, held. As I exhaled, my spirit emerged. I quaked from the newest increase of cold, ice crystals buying prime real estate in my chest.
“Light,” I commanded my hand.
This time, it did not obey.
Okay.