Gena Showalter - A Mad Zombie Party

A twig snaps behind me, and my first thought is that she’s come back to finish what she started. I spin, a short sword palmed and raised. Not a girl, but a zombie on his hands and knees. He’s closer than I would have guessed, as if he just rose from the grave at my feet. He looks to be my age, maybe younger, a boy who never really had a chance to live. I hesitate—the younger ones always trip me up—and that single second of inactivity allows him to yank my feet out from underneath me.

I fall, landing with a thud, losing my breath. Having trained for this, I roll backward, into the light still shining from the car, and spring into a crouch while reaching out to swipe my sword across his neck.

His head tilts to the side before flopping onto a fresh mound of dirt. Frosty arrives on the scene, his entire arm already engulfed in flames. I blink, and his face, neck and chest are consumed, too. I gape at him. I think he gapes at himself. It’s hard to see his expression underneath all that fire.

“This is your fault,” he says as he turns to point an accusing finger at Cole, who spreads his arms, all I love you, so get used to it .

Oh, to be loved that way.

Frosty touches the zombie, just touches him—a brush of his fingertips against the creature’s head and body—and the pieces burst into black ash. The flames on Frosty’s arms die. He stares at the limbs as if he’s never seen them before.

“Thank you,” I say, only to remember he doesn’t want my thanks. But this time, he doesn’t reply. I guess he’s ignoring me again.

I push to shaky legs. Frosty’s shirt is unmarred by the flames but ripped at the collar, gaping all the way to his navel. You’d think I’d never seen a tanned, toned, tattooed guy before, because I suddenly can’t tear my gaze away, too star-struck by the beauty of him. An angel. A fallen angel. He’s my tormentor and my salvation—and what the hell is wrong with me? Did I hit my head when I fell?

“I could have saved that zombie.” Ali marches over to frown at me, as if I’m the problem. I hate how tall she is, and how tiny she makes me feel. “I could have turned him into a witness.”

“Could you really?” Gavin mentioned seeing toxin underneath Jaclyn’s skin, and I can see it underneath Ali’s, black lines branching from her eyes and mouth. “You were almost completely tapped before you started fighting. Now you’re telling me you’re good as gold?”

Up goes Ali’s chin—a defensive action I know well. “I’m not the problem here. You were supposed to stay by Frosty’s side, not run off to—”

“I told you. I saw someone. A girl. She watched the battle and bolted when I noticed her. I chased her. She shot me up with darts. We need to catch her and question her.”

“If there is a girl out there, and I’m not saying there is—we both know you could have brought those darts with you, intending to feed us this story—she probably doesn’t know she’s a slayer and that there’s a war waging all around her.”

I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste the copper tinge of blood. “She was in spirit form. She knows what she is.” Slayers can separate spirit from body naturally, but it’s something we have to learn. Anima long ago found a way to force the action through electronic pulses.

Ali gives me a once-over. “You don’t look like you’ve been tranqed.”

“That I can’t explain. Unless she shot me up with something else.” Like...what? The opposite of a tranq—happy juice? But I’m not exactly happy. Medication of some sort? Poison?

Oh, crap. Bile rises, burning again my sternum. The possibilities are endless, and very few are actually good for me.

“Take these,” I say, shoving the darts into her hand. “Have them tested. Tell me what she’s done to me.”

My panic must penetrate Ali’s suspicions, because she pales. “As soon as I get home, I’ll give them to Reeve and Weber, our new medical advisor.”

Cole massages the back of his neck. “It’s late. It’s dark. We’re all in bad shape. We’re in no condition to go after the girl. I’ll follow her tracks tomorrow.”

I grit my teeth, but also nod. He’s right. We’re all operating on fumes.

“One more thing. Don’t go running around just because you see someone,” Ali tells me. “Next time stick to Frosty’s side as if you’ve been glued.” Like Kat, she has trouble maintaining eye contact while discussing this particular subject. Why? “I want you with him every second of every day. Got it?”

“Am I allowed bathroom breaks?” I ask drily.

“No. Wear a diaper.”

I give her the finger. I’m not wearing a diaper. Ever.

Frosty closes in, the heat he radiates enveloping me, causing goose bumps to break out from head to toe. What the hell kind of reaction is this? I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other, rubbing my arms to pretend I’m cold.

“Were you bitten?” he asks.

“Why, are you worried about me?” I hear the hope in my voice and cringe. I think a part of me longs to hear yes , someone—anyone—cares that I exist.

Fury claims his expression, twisting his features. “You are a means to an end. A way to see Kat. Never doubt it.”

Bile rises again, only hotter, but I manage a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t.” Did I really expect him to soften so quickly—or ever?

This is my penance, my only means of atonement, and I’ll see it through to the end. No matter what.

“Let’s go.” His expression is softer, at least. But of course, he takes off without looking back to ensure I’ve followed.

I race after him.

“Don’t forget,” Ali calls. “Hash Town. Seven a.m. If you’re late, I’ll post naked pictures of you all over the internet. And I promise you I’m not bluffing. Kat told me where to find one of her old phones.”

He waves without looking back.

“You and Ali are having breakfast together?” I ask.

“Yes. You’re not invited.”

Ouch. “Try to leave me behind. See what happens.”

He has no reply, but then, he rarely does with me.

We reach our bodies and with a single touch, we’re paired back up. As he stops to answer a question from Bronx— what happened out there? —I pile inside his truck and buckle my belt.

Yesterday, Frosty demanded I walk to his apartment. Tonight, I’m not taking any chances. He’ll have to drag me out of the vehicle kicking and screaming—and then he’ll have to crawl back inside it, because I won’t leave him unscathed.

When he settles behind the wheel, he doesn’t even glance in my direction. And yet, it isn’t until he pulls out of the cemetery that I relax. Or try to. Every muscle I possess is knotted and trembling, the stress of not knowing what’s been done to me jacking me up.

“Great fight,” I say, hoping to make conversation and distract myself. “You worked magic out there.”

He turns up the radio.

I jab my finger at the button, switching the music off. “We’re partners, Frosty. You have to start—”

He speaks over me. “I don’t have to start anything . And we aren’t partners. You and I will never be partners.”

A painful burn returns to my chest. “Look. I’m sorry for my actions in the past. I am. You’ll never know how sorry. I hate what I did, I hate the outcome, but I was backed into a corner. Anima would have killed River, and he’s my only family. I wish I could go back and protect Kat with my own life, but I can’t. All I can do is protect yours now. But if I’m going to do so, you’ve got to start trusting me. At least a little. You can start by talking to me as if I’m a real person with feelings.” Because I am .

“That will happen in never. You aren’t a real person to me. You’re a murderer.” He sounds as cold and merciless as his navy eyes appear. “And just so you know, an apology means nothing without action to back it up.”