Through the Zombie Glass
Page 33

In that moment, I truly hated myself. How could I have attacked Cole in such a way? At such a critical time?
The zombies encircled him, reached for him. I grabbed two of the creatures by the arm, ripping them away from him, my target, and tossing them into the trees.
Wait. Maybe I’d been helping him, after all.
The red flames spread from my arms to the rest of my body, engulfing me. I grabbed two other zombies, repeating the toss. When they recovered, they paid me no heed, keeping their sights on Cole. I closed the distance and flattened one hand against a tree—the leaves turned to ash in an instant—and collared one of the zombies with the other. He didn’t turn to ash but flopped around. I leaned down...and bit into his neck.
In the here and now, a scowling Mr. Ankh stepped in front of me. I stuttered around for the right words—found none. The horror of seeing myself do something like that... To know I’d ingested zombie rot...
“Miss Bell, I’m not sure I believe you about being both human and zombie, with the zombie part of you able to manifest outside your body. But I do know I can no longer allow you to live in my home, with my daughter. I want you out within the hour.”
Chapter 15
You Had Me at Goodbye
I went into the bathroom and dressed, then packed up what few belongings I had. A couple of shirts, a couple of pairs of jeans, my daggers and the journal. That was it. Didn’t take me long. Ten minutes, maybe. Tears burned at the backs of my eyes, but I blinked them away. No way I’d cry over this. I’d lost a home before, and one I’d loved with all my heart.
This? This was nothing.
Then why does it hurt so much?
I think a part of me had always known this day would come. I anchored the bag’s strap over my shoulder and strode out of the room, bypassing the cold-blooded Mr. Ankh and the stone-hearted Mr. Holland.
Nana paced at the front entrance, her bag resting on the floor. Her anxious gaze landed on me as I pounded down the stairs, and she looked as if she’d aged ten years overnight. Her hair was a mess. Her blouse and slacks were wrinkled. She wore no makeup.
Someone had woken her up and forced her to hurry.
I gnashed my teeth, noticed the second heart pounding ferociously in my chest and forced myself to breathe, to calm before the hunger had time to hit.
“Are you all right?” she asked me.
What had she been told? I forced a small smile. “I’m...stable. You?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” Her gaze shifted to Mr. Ankh and narrowed. “What’s going on? Why are you doing this to us?”
“I’ll allow your granddaughter to explain. But there’s no reason for you to fret. I’m not leaving you homeless. I’ve rented you a place in your old neighborhood. The address has already been programmed into your car’s GPS.”
I hated that he was paying our way and wanted to refuse. I didn’t. Not yet. I’d let him spend his money only as long as it took me to find a new place—our place, one we could afford on our own. One he couldn’t ever take away from us.
I picked up Nana’s bag. As she struggled to understand what Mr. Ankh hadn’t said, I ushered her outside. Her sedan was waiting in the driveway, the keys already in the ignition, the engine purring.
I threw the bags in the back of the car and buckled into the passenger seat. Nana claimed the driver’s seat, and a few minutes later, we were soaring down the highway.
“Tell me what’s going on,” she said with a tremor. “Please. Lately I feel a lot like Reeve, desperate for answers but getting none. You’re gone all the time, and I’m used to that, but when you’re home, you’re moody and distant, even violent. And now the men who were supposed to help you with your cause want nothing to do with you.”
“Nana, I’ll talk to you about this, I promise. Just not in the car.” What I had to say would upset her, more than she already was. Cars and emotional drivers were not a good combination.
“Ali.”
“Please.”
“All right. But the moment we’re inside...”
Ten minutes later, we reached the house. She parked in the driveway. It was a two-story in the shape of a C, with redbrick and white shuttered windows. A step up from Nana’s home, definitely newer, but colder—and a dump compared to Ankh’s. Keep it together.
I carted the bags into the living room, surprised to see the place was empty, and surprised by my surprise. What? I’d expected the guy to keep us in style? The walls had been painted in bold, bright colors. Red. Blue. Green. I figured there was a Blood Line around the property, but I wouldn’t be relying on a supposition. I’d talk to Nana, then get to work.
“Ali,” Nana said, her voice breaking at the edges.
Calm. “I was bitten,” I explained. “I was given the antidote, and that helped, but it didn’t destroy the zombie toxin. I’m doing terrible things. Dangerous things. Becoming what I hate most. Mr. Ankh feared for Reeve. And Nana... I fear for you. I think it would be better if I—”
“No!” she said with a violet shake of her head. She closed the distance between us and grabbed me by the forearms. “You’re not staying somewhere else, or whatever you were going to say. You’re my granddaughter and I love you. We will stay together and I will help you.”
My chin trembled. I so did not deserve this woman.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“At first, I wasn’t sure what was happening to me. Then...” Man, this was difficult to admit. “I was just too scared of what would happen.”
“Oh, Ali.”
I placed my hands over hers. “If ever I do something to frighten you, or my eyes turn red, or I stare at you too long, run. Run and don’t look back.”
She gave me a small shake. “You’re not going to become a zombie, young lady. I won’t let you.”
A small laugh escaped me. I wish I had her confidence.
I leaned forward and enfolded her in a hug. “Thank you for loving me. And I really am sorry about dinner. If I’d kept our plans, last night wouldn’t have... Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m just so, so sorry.”
“Don’t think another thing about it, A-diddy. You have responsibilities, and I know that.”
A-diddy? I laughed again. Nana used to love to keep up with what she considered popular slang, but she’d stopped after Pops had died. Knowing she was finally picking up the pieces of her shattered life delighted me.
“Nana,” I said, hopping on the counter that divided living room from kitchen. “Did you know the journal you gave me is all about zombie slaying?”
Her eyes grew wide. “No. I didn’t.”
“Has anyone in your family ever... I don’t know, talked about invisible monsters no one else could see? Or been committed to a crazy house, maybe?”
“Well,” she said, peering down at her loafers. “My mother was an alcoholic, and she used to babble about creatures of the night desperate to steal her soul. My dad forbade us to discuss her condition with anyone, and as embarrassed as we were, we were more than happy to agree. Of course, when I was dating Pops, he would sneak over and...well...” She cleared her throat. “Never you mind. He witnessed one of her episodes.”
Slayers. On my mom’s side of the family. How could I not have known?
How many other slayers came from a double lineage?
“It’s one of the reasons Pops and I were so adamant about your mother staying away from your father, and oh, Ali, I should have known, should have realized, the two were connected. In my mind, Mother was a drunk, pure and simple. And then, of course, your dad started drinking, and, well, you know the rest.”
I did. She and Pops had hated my father, had never welcomed him over. I’d never blamed them, though, and still didn’t. There’d been quite a few days I’d hated my father, too.
“How did your great-grandfather die?” I asked.
“He disappeared one day. At least, that’s the story I was told when the journal was handed down to me.”
Huh. Disappeared. I remembered a passage from the pages of his journal.
Some slayers have inklings of the future. Some can see the Blood Lines and recognize our sanctuaries. Some can destroy the zombies one by one, then two by two, after being bitten a single time. Something in their spirit infects the zombies and spreads from one to another like a contagious disease, with no more action on the slayer’s part. Some can do none of that. Some can do all of that. I can do all. That’s how I know about the war that’s coming. That’s how I know that not a single slayer—or civilian—will survive unless something more is done. That’s how I know what needs to be done.
I need to die.
Then, a few chapters later, he’d written, Are you willing to give up your own life to save others? Have you realized that dying is the only way to truly live?
Had he given up his life to save others? Had he died to truly live?
If so, great. Wonderful. But what did any of that mean? I hadn’t known before, and I certainly didn’t know now.
I tweaked my newest to-do list. Pray for the best. Hope answers rain down.
Outside, tires squealed. A door slammed.
I frowned and stalked to the window to peer out.
Because of the shape of the house, the driveway was hidden and I couldn’t see the car. Or, apparently, the person who’d abandoned it to stomp to our porch and pound on the door.
“Ali,” a voice called. “I just heard.”
My heart nearly leaped into my throat. Cole? He hadn’t cut me from his life?
I rushed to the entrance and opened up. He burst inside, paused in front of me. He looked me over, and I did the same to him. His eyes were bloodshot—clearly, he hadn’t slept. His face was battered and bruised, his stitches stark. His clothes were wrinkled and it was obvious he’d pulled them on hastily.
“I didn’t say a word to them,” he said.
“I know. They had a video.”
One of his brows rose into an arch. “So you got to see what happened?”