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The cemetery. “Why? Hordes take weeks and months to form, and we left nothing of the last one. At least, I’m assuming you weren’t dumb enough to leave the parts behind.”
“I ashed them, but...there was something odd about these zombies. They were more rotted than usual for first-timers.”
“Here’s an idea. They weren’t first-timers.”
“But they rose from graves. Why would zombies return to their bodies, just to rise again?”
“How would I know? I’m not a zombie.” But fine, whatever. “We’ll go to Shady Elms.” I grab my keys and head to my truck.
The moon is full, the sky completely black. No clouds, no stars. Just a sense of gloom and doom.
Nothing new.
Wait. A rabbit cloud whisks overhead, and I stiffen. Rabbit clouds—Emma’s way of warning Ali. Zombies are stirring tonight.
Adrenaline jacks me up. “There will be a battle tonight.” All I have to do is find the nest.
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
Camilla jumps into the passenger seat rather than the back bed and casts me a mutinous glare, daring me to comment. I don’t. What good will it do?
We maintain terse silence the entire drive. I continually scan for any sign of zombies. Nothing...nothing...for a moment the scent of roses and pecans distracts me. A scent that clings to Camilla no matter where she is or what she’s doing.
When we reach the cemetery, I park between two towering oaks, surprised to find Cole’s Jeep there. Camilla and I exit, and I use my phone to shine light inside the vehicle. Cole, Ali and Gavin are sitting inside, as still as death, their spirits obviously elsewhere.
“Great,” Camilla says. “Now I have to fight the living and the undead.”
I know the words aren’t a threat, but I react as if they are. “Go after my friends, and I’ll end you.”
She sucks in a breath. “I’m not going to hurt them. I just—”
“Save it. Don’t want to hear it.” I stalk forward, listening for an indication a battle is waging. Searching...searching...
The sky is even more ominous out here, the sense of doom and gloom stronger.
A twig snaps about ten yards away. I palm two .44’s just as Bronx steps from behind a statue of an angel, .44’s of his own extended. The second our identities click, we lower our weapons.
“Frosty the Ice Man. You don’t call, you don’t write. You just show up to the battlefield unannounced.” His gaze flicks to Camilla and narrows. “At least you’ve spoken with Kat.”
He knows what’s going on? “What are you doing here?”
“Guarding the Jeep and the bodies inside it.” Bronx isn’t stupid. He knows I asked why he’s in the cemetery; he simply chose not to answer. “I’ll guard you and yours, if you want to join the others. But don’t be surprised if you have a few cuts and bruises when you return.”
He’s pissed at me. I get it. “If using me as a punching bag will untwist your panties, go for it.”
He flips me off, but he can’t hide the amused glitter in his eyes.
“Any zombies?” I ask.
“A few.”
I step out of my body as easily as breathing. As I wind through the cemetery, Camilla’s spirit catches up to me. We come across Cole first. He’s leaning against a gnarled tree, the limbs seeming to embrace him and push him away at the same time. His arms are folded over his chest.
“What the hell is going on out here?” I ask.
Just like Bronx, he flicks a glance in Camilla’s direction. I know he’s debating what to say in front of someone so untrustworthy.
Camilla notices, lifts her chin and squares her shoulders.
“We were on patrol and spread out all over the place,” Cole says. “Bronx found and cleansed three zombies, but more and more began to rise from the graves so he texted the rest of us and we rushed over.”
“You cleansed the rest.” Otherwise he wouldn’t be standing here. He’d be at Ali’s side. “So where are the other slayers?”
“Walking through the graveyard, watching for other zombies. Ali and I had a vision and we think at least a dozen more will rise tonight.”
“They shouldn’t. We obliterated a couple hordes just last night.”
“If we’re lucky,” Camilla says, “we’ll get to obliterate another one.” She withdraws two daggers from the zips in her pants. “Why don’t I start with the one sneaking up on Cole?”
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I reach the zombie, but he’s already writhing on the ground, restrained by an arrow in each hand. Realization dawns. Cole knew all along that the creature was rising, without ever turning around. He’d been stealthily aiming his bow as he spoke to us, and I’d had no idea. Ugh. These slayers are more dangerous than I ever realized.
I crouch beside the zombie and summon my fire.
“There’s no need for that,” Cole says.
I ignore him, pressing my hand against the creature’s sunken torso. A minute passes, my light working through the rot. Frosty stomps to the other side, bends down and punches his blazing fist straight into the chest cavity. Ash rains a few seconds later, the scent of death suddenly replaced by burning flesh.
I’m not sure which is worse.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You were taking too long,” he snaps.
No kind words for me, ever. Got it. “You should consider becoming a motivational speaker. In two seconds, you’ve inspired me to kill...everyone.”
“Funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
Cole steps between us and shoves us apart. “Enough.”
How did I not realize we’d gotten in each other’s face?
“Zombies can be saved,” Cole says. “This one didn’t have to die.”
Saved? Excuse me?
Not just no, but hell, no.
Frosty shrugs, his “I don’t care about anything” attitude firmly in place. “I’m sorry...that I’m not sorry. I didn’t want the bastard saved.”
“I’m still your leader.” Cole is more intense than the night, like a predator about to pounce. “You’re subject to my rules.”
Tension grows between them, so thick my swords couldn’t cut through it.
“Cole!” Ali calls, her agitation echoing from the trees. “It’s happening...worse than we thought... So many. Too many!”
In an instant, Cole is bounding forward. Frosty follows him, and I follow Frosty, determined to keep him in my sights at all times. He won’t die on my watch.
We grind to a stop as we take in the scene now before us. Zombies, so many zombies, all hovering in the air above Ali. Beside her is a guy named Gavin, and Gavin’s girlfriend/nongirlfriend Jaclyn. Ali’s arms are extended and trembling, the motion of her fingers controlling the motion of the zombies.
I’ve seen her do this a few times before, and it always amazes me.
“I’m expending too much energy...out of serum,” Ali gasps out.
“Drop them.” Cole moves beside her. “I’ll let them bite me.”
Bite him? Uh, what the what now?
“No.” Ali shakes her head. “Too many for that...we can’t—”
“There’s only one way this plays out successfully.” Frosty’s tone is hard as steel. “For our entire group to walk out of this alive, some of the zombies have to die.”
Tears well in Ali’s ice-blue eyes, making me think she actually cares about the creatures. And maybe she does. Her dad, adopted mom and grandfather died by zombie toxin. Good people dealt a crappy hand. Maybe she sees their final hours in these monsters. Maybe she sees who these monsters used to be—and who they could be again.
Not that I believe they can be “saved.”
Cole gives an almost rigid incline of his head. “You and Camilla do what you have to do,” he tells Frosty. To Ali, he says, “Gavin, Jaclyn and I will save as many as we can. You’re on empty, gator, so you need to work your way to the sidelines. And don’t you dare cross me on this.”
A minute passes, then another, and I suspect she’s holding out as long as she can, trying to come up with a different plan.
Finally, a sob escapes her. “Ready?”
“Do it.”
The moment she drops her arms, the horde crashes into the ground. They don’t stay down for long, jumping to their feet to glom onto Cole, Gavin and Jaclyn, who have formed a shield around Ali.
I’m stunned senseless as the trio just stands there, willingly allowing multiple creatures to use them as pot luck dinner. At least eight sets of yellowed teeth sink into Cole’s neck...shoulders...arms and legs. He’s going to be ripped apart.
As commanded, Ali begins to work her way out of the fray, stumbling and crying—but she isn’t trying to avoid being bitten, either.
I’ve seen enough, the urge to slay, to do what I was born to do, too strong to ignore. I launch forward. Or try to. Frosty grabs me by the waist to hold me in place.
“Not yet.”
“We have to help them.” Why can’t he see that? “Let me go or I’ll...I’ll...”
My eyes widen as, one by one, zombies begin to vomit and fall away from slayers. The soft glow of our cars’ headlights are powered by a special battery and illuminate what happens next, allowing us to witness the tinge of gray leave their skin and the red fade from their eyes. When the transformation is complete, all hint of rot gone, actual human spirits float into the air like balloons, ascending higher and higher before vanishing in the darkness.
I am baffled as the process repeats...and repeats. “How...” I begin. Only I don’t know what to ask. Slayers are actually saving zombies—Cole used the word literally—and they are doing so without becoming infected by the toxin or needing an antidote.
Cole stretches his arms wider, offering both limbs as snack packs to the next line of hungry fiends clamoring forward.
“I don’t think the slayers can take much more,” Frosty says. “Work your way in front and force zombies to back off.” He isn’t done issuing the order before he’s pounding forward, shooting every creature he passes in the back of the head. The undead drop like flies.
I pull myself from my awed stupor and stay close to his heels, slashing at any teeth and hands aimed in his direction. Along the way, the fine hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I stiffen. I’m being watched again, I know it, but I can’t pause to look around.
We make it in front of the slayers without a scratch, but I see zombies coming in hot from behind the group and keep going, meeting the newcomers head-on. I slash, elbow and kick, always ducking to avoid fingers snagging in my hair, hopping to the side to avoid being grabbed by the ankles.
“Gavin,” Cole calls. “Car!”
They’re leaving? Yeah, probably for the best. By now, they have to be as weak as newborns. I only fight harder. Retreat isn’t in my wheelhouse. A few minutes later, the sound of squealing tires registers, then high beams are shining up close and personal. Zombies stumble backward to avoid being burned by the light, and suddenly I’m without an opponent.
Panting, I take stock. The horde has backed away from the slayers. Ali and Jaclyn are lying on the ground and moaning in pain, more riddled with bites than the others. Guess they tasted better.
Girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Boys are made of snakes and snails and rattlesnake tails.
The childhood song plays through my head as Cole, Gavin and Frosty fire up their hands. The group wasn’t abandoning ship, after all. And now, I’m once again awed as the flames on Cole and Gavin extend to their shoulders...correction, all the way to their rib cages. All three boys crouch beside the girls and flatten one hand on the chest of one girl and the other hand on the chest of the other. The girls catch fire and scream, bucking and fighting to get away, but eventually they settle down, their wounds healing right before my eyes.
“Sorry about this, my man, but you need it whether you agree or not,” Cole says, then flattens his palm against Frosty’s chest.
Frosty grunts and lurches backward, quickly severing contact.
“Hey,” I shout as I bound over. “You don’t get to touch him without his permission.”
“This isn’t any of your business,” Cole snaps at me. “Stay out of it.”
I open my mouth to reply—
“Stay out of it,” Frosty repeats. With less heat, but still. A rebuke is a rebuke.
Boys!
I look away, the hairs on the back of my neck practically dancing now, and spot a girl standing beside a tombstone. Her face is cast in shadows, but I can see her hair stretches all the way to her waist, where the light shines. The strands are so black they gleam blue. Is she a civilian?
When I take a step toward her, she scrambles backward. If she can see me, she’s not a civilian. One of Cole’s new recruits, here to observe the battle? To learn?
“Hey,” I call, and she bolts. Nope. Not a recruit. I give chase. Anima wouldn’t be stupid enough to send someone to observe us so openly. Right?
Right, because Anima no longer exists. I wonder how many years I’ll have to remind myself of that fact before it actually feels real.
Maybe the girl witnessed the fight but doesn’t know she’s a slayer. Maybe she’s freaked out. Or, maybe she’s a spy from my brother’s camp, because River still cares about me and wants to know I’m okay.
A pang of homesickness nearly slices me in two.
