Gena Showalter - A Mad Zombie Party

The place doesn’t have a kitchenette or a microwave, so I slap peanut butter on two pieces of bread and call it good. Quick and easy with a decent amount of protein. Welcome to my breakfast, lunch and dinner. I think I’m single-handedly keeping Peter Pan in business.

I’ve consumed half the sandwich by the time I make it to the bed and sit. My back and feet ache like freaking crazy.

“For a villain, your evil lair sure does suck donkey balls.”

The voice startles me. I’m on my feet in a blink, the precious sandwich on the floor and a 9 mm in my hand. I’ve stashed weapons all over the room to ensure one is near wherever I happen to be.

A short brunette stands in front of the door. The closed door. Overhead, the bells are silent. I frown. I...know her. She’s the girlfriend. Frosty’s girlfriend, Kat Parker. But she’s...she’s dead. I secretly attended her funeral—glimpsed the body in the casket—and cursed myself for a past I will never be able to change.

I shouldn’t be seeing her here and now.

Is she my tail? The reason the hairs on my neck reacted? No, no, she couldn’t be. Otherwise I would’ve had a similar reaction before she spoke. And what the hell am I doing? I can’t afford to be lost in my head right now.

“How are...what are...?” Wait. Earlier, Frosty mentioned Kat—a witness. I’ve heard of witnesses appearing to loved ones from both slayers I trust and people working for Anima, so I know spirits of the dead do come back to the land of the living to proclaim good news...or issue warnings.

“I’m not a zombie, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m a witness,” she confirms.

“I know you’re not a zombie. If you were, I’d have already removed your head.”

“Well, well. Someone thinks highly of her skill. Too bad for you, I’ll never again be an easy target.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.” Keeping the gun trained on her, I close the distance. I reach for her with my free hand...and encounter only air. My eyes widen. She is what she says she is. I lower my arm, my heart thudding wildly in my chest. “You weren’t supposed to be harmed.”

“And that makes everything you did okay? Intentions mean nothing. Actions are everything.”

She isn’t wrong. “Are you here to punish me?”

As a witness, does she know what happened behind the scenes? Why I did what I did?

Does she care?

Anima had captured my brother weeks before. I broke into the facility, desperate to free him, but within minutes agents had me surrounded. Their leader, Rebecca Smith, had kept tabs on me for years. She knew my habits, knew what I’d do if River was threatened.

And she wasn’t wrong.

We were in different rooms, River and I, and while I could see him, he could not see me, a blindfold over his eyes. Rebecca ordered a gun be placed at his head, and I agreed to do whatever was asked of me, on two conditions. River could never know—he would have rather died than let me aid Anima—and none of our people could be hurt.

To this day, my brother thinks he escaped that facility on his own.

And yes, I could have backed out of my promise to Anima. I could have warned Ali instead of targeting her. But Anima wasn’t led by an idiot, and I’d already been informed what would happen if I failed my mission. River would be targeted in Ali’s place and no expense would be spared in the quest to end his life.

“I’m supposed to forgive you, and I have,” the girl finally says. “And shockingly enough, the worst of my anger has been washed away. When I died, I became part of something greater than myself, and the wrongs done to me no longer seemed—or seem—as significant. But I still don’t like you. You rid the world of a national treasure.”

Her overconfidence used to annoy me. Now? I kind of get it. Winning a guy like Frosty is a miracle feat. She’s in a class by herself.

I return the gun to the nightstand and sit on the edge of the bed. “Not to be rude, but why are you here?” If she wants a pound of flesh, I’ll give her a pound of flesh. Let’s just get it over with.

“How adorable. You actually think you’re in charge of this conversation.” She motions to my arms with a tilt of her chin. “Question. Why are all your tattoos black and white?”

Why not tell her? “River and I learned at a very young age that there’s right and there’s wrong, and there is nothing in between. The tattoos serve as a reminder.”

“Black and white,” she says and taps her chin. “No fifty shades of gray.”

I shake my head and realize I’ve just admitted there is no reason good enough to do what I did to her. Right: protecting the innocent. Wrong: putting them at risk. End of story. Shame floods me, sharpening already razorlike claws inside my chest.

“I want you to keep that lesson in mind as I get down to the nitty-gritty.” She prances throughout the room, looking over my meager belongings with an air of distaste. “I know you fought alongside Frosty tonight.”

“Yes.”

“And he saved your life.”

I sigh. “Yes.”

“So in a way, you owe him yours. Right?”

I don’t like where this is headed. “What is it you want from me? Spit it out.”

The very picture of determination, she crosses her arms over her chest. “All right. You asked for it. My friend Ali—you know her, right? The girl you betrayed. Well, she had a vision, and her visions are never wrong.” Kat looks away for a moment, her shoulders hunching in. A telltale sign of guilt. I know it well.

She has no reason to feel that way, but me? Yeah. Every reason. My shoulders sink in, too. “I’ve heard about the visions.” Anima also tasked me with finding out more about them, but in that regard, I’d had no luck. “Go on.”

Kat runs her tongue over her teeth. “In this one, you stop a woman from shooting Frosty. You save his life.” Again, she looks away for several beats of silence, and I have to wonder why.

She wouldn’t lie about something like this—would she?

“For that reason and that reason alone,” she continues, “I’m here to ensure you never stray far from Frosty’s side.”

I...don’t understand. “ You , as in me ?” I hike my thumbs at my chest for emphasis. “Guard Frosty?”

Her lip curls with a return of her distaste, but she nods. “Trust me. I’m as surprised as you are.”

Well, her weird behavior finally makes sense. She’s annoyed. “He can take care of himself.” He’s more than proved it. “Besides, he hates me. He’ll never allow me to get close to him.”

“We’ll just have to make him. I can ensure he tolerates your presence, but I don’t think I can stop him from killing you. That’s your part.”

Great. Wonderful. “Why don’t I lasso the moon while I’m at it?”

Kat’s eyes narrow on me, her hazel irises focusing with laser sharpness. “When did you become such a baby?”

Ouch. “You’ll trust me not to betray him?”

“Yes, but only because of the vision. Meanwhile, I’ll be watching you, and if I suspect you’re doing anything wrong, my next visit won’t be so pleasant.”

I rub at my wrist. I didn’t lie to Frosty. I’ve learned my lesson and won’t betray him. More than that, Kat is right. I owe the boy my life. He saved me tonight. I’ll gladly stand guard over him.

“I’ll take care of him as if he’s my brother.”

This soothes her, but only slightly.

“Do you know when he’s going to be attacked? Or where?” I grab a notebook and pen from the nightstand. “Any details you can give me about the vision will help.”

Silence greets me.

I glance up, but she’s already gone.

Sighing, I fall back on the bed. The mattress creaks, blending with the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of my neighbor’s headboard. Frosty isn’t going to like having me as a shadow. He’s going to protest. Loudly. He’ll insult me, and it’ll hurt like crazy, and like Kat said, he might even try to kill me, but I’m tough and I’ll handle it.