Gena Showalter - The Queen Of Zombie Hearts

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. So. Starting a fire was going to be difficult this go-round. Noted.

But I didn’t give up. Strength to summon the flames came by faith. A spiritual weapon for a spiritual power source. I didn’t allow myself to worry, either. Worry actually weakened faith.

“I can do this,” I said. “I will do this. Now. Now! Now!”

Words were another spiritual weapon. They could be used for my good or my bad. Positive or negative. Today, I focused on the positive and flames sprang from the ends of my fingers, slowly spreading to my wrist. Slow. Not what I was used to, but okay. I could work with this.

Unsure of Gavin’s injuries, I pressed my hand into his chest—his sluggish heart.

He didn’t ash, thank God, but he did unleash a broken scream, his back bowing. At any other time, the sound of his pain might have made me flinch. Now? I smiled.

I maintained the contact for several seconds before withdrawing, dismissing the flames and returning to my body.

“You can touch us now,” I told Kat.

Gavin groaned.

“Good boy,” I said, wanting to dance and sing. I hadn’t lost him. “I know it hurts, but you’re stronger than a little pain, right? And if not, well, you’ll soon get to enjoy Mr. Ankh’s vast array of drugs, so it won’t matter.”

He tried to focus on me, but his eyes were rocking back and forth, unable to stay locked on any one object. A sign of dizziness. “Ali?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Kat, too.” She moved to his left, squeezed his hand.

“Kat, I need you to text Cole,” I said. “Tell him to return to the car, that we’ve found Gavin, and he’s hurt pretty bad.”

“On it,” she said, withdrawing her phone.

Now for the hard part. “We can help you, Barbie, but we need you to stand.”

He didn’t act as if he’d heard me. “Wreck...was chased, shot at...ran, lost tail...got to gym...fire...”

“I know. Everyone but Cole is missing,” I said as gently as possible. I’d tell him about the deaths after he was stabilized.

“Frosty,” he said, then grimaced and clutched his side.

Kat pocketed her phone and pinched his chin, forcing him to face her. “What about him? Have you seen him?”

“Ali,” he repeated, as if he hadn’t heard her. “Help.”

Disappointment could have felled her, but my friend squared her shoulders, determined to motor on.

I was beyond proud of her. “Let’s get him to Mr. Ankh.”

With a major effort from both of us, we finally maneuvered him to his feet. As he swayed, we positioned ourselves under his arms, becoming his crutches. Had to be a comical sight, two sticks trying to balance a grade-A manimal. My legs juddered under his weight, and I’m sure Kat’s did, too.

As we lumbered forward, Gavin said, “Saw...Frosty. He came to gym...men chased us...he led them away...from me...but not before he told me...meet him...Wok and Roll.”