Through the Zombie Glass

Chapter 9 Drink Me

Gasping, I jolted upright. Panic cloaked me as I scanned surroundings I didn’t remember stumbling upon. I was...

On the cold, hard ground in front of my old house. The house I’d lived in most of my life. The house my father had built. The house I hadn’t visited since the death of my family.

Tremors rocked me. How had I gotten here? I’d run from Cole, from the zombies and the voices, yes, yes, that was right, and then I’d...blacked out, maybe. I remembered nothing else.

Now the sun was in the process of rising, though it was hidden behind a thick wall of clouds—one of which was shaped like a rabbit. I gulped. Looked away. The tree swing my dad had built for Emma had been removed. The rose garden my mom had poured her blood, sweat and tears into maintaining was now a pile of rocks.

Corrosive acid filled my veins, threatening to spill over. Change, change, all around, here and there and everywhere, reminders that nothing and no one was safe from its clutches.

Familiar sensations pricked at me. The speeding up of my heartbeat—both of them—the beading of sweat on my brow, the constricting of my lungs. Knowing I was losing control of my body and my reactions only made everything worse.

Stop! Just stop. I wasn’t this girl, wasn’t some scared little mouse. I was stronger than this, forged from fire and sharpened by steel. In—I inhaled. Out—I exhaled. In. Out. Good.

Something soft shifted through my hair, tickling my scalp. “Oh, Alice. I hate to see you like this.”

My gaze traveled up a pair of ballet slippers, stockings, a fluffy tutu and a glittery pink leotard. The remaining panic went head-to-head with a sudden burst of happiness, and, miracle of miracles, the happiness won.

“Emma.” I leaped to my feet and gathered my baby sister in my arms. Wait. Something wasn’t right. “I can touch you,” I said. “I can actually touch you.” Shock sent me careening backward. “How can I touch you? Am I dead?”

Golden eyes twinkled merrily, and perfect heart-shaped lips edged into a smile. “You’re in spirit form, silly.” She flicked the end of her pigtails over her shoulders, a familiar gesture. “Your body is waiting at Cole’s barn, and your friends are, like, superworried.”

The barn. That’s right.

I didn’t care. “I want to stay this way forever.” I couldn’t lose the feel of her again.

“You can’t. Your body will die.”

Just then, I didn’t care about that, either. “Your point? We’ll still be together.”

Her smile slowly fell. “I don’t think we would.” Looking down at her ballet slippers, she said, “Once we promised never to lie to each other, and right now I’m going to keep that promise.” A pause. A sigh. “You’re in trouble, Alice, and it’s getting worse every day.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m handling things.”

Her gaze met mine. “I can see the smudges.”

I gulped. “What are they?”

Expression filled with tenderness, she reached up and brushed one side of my face. “I told you I would talk to people, and I did. But, Alice...I don’t think you’re going to like what I learned.”

“Tell me anyway.” I had to know.

“Very well. Have you ever heard the story of the two hungry wolves living inside every man? One is good, one is evil and both are fighting for control. In the end, the one that’s fed will end up the winner.”

I shook my head.

“Well, that is what’s happening. That night inside Anima Industries, when you were stabbed, you had so much zombie toxin inside you the antidote couldn’t eradicate all of it. Your spirit was strong enough to fight it, though, keeping that part of you safe, but not your already weakened body. And the toxin, well, it was a mutated version and created something new, something born of you. Another spirit. That means there are now two spirits battling to the death for rights to live inside you. Yours, the human Alice. And the other...zombie Alice.”

Pausing, she waited for those words to sink in.

I wrapped my arms around myself, as if I could protect myself from such a terrible invasion. Zombie Alice. Fighting for control. My smudged reflection... The desperate whispering voices... The sickening urges... I nearly dropped to my knees.

“You’re saying I’ve become a host to a...to a...zombie. But that can’t be. I’ve had long moments without the darker urges. Like now. I don’t want to bite you.”

“That’s true, but you have to think of this as a disease. Your human spirit is fighting the zombie spirit, even though you may not be aware of it, and the human one is mostly winning right now. But because your human spirit, and therefore your body, produces a poison for the zombies, and you now have a zombie inside you, you are basically poisoning yourself. You’re allergic to yourself and weakening because of it.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

“You know I’m right,” she said, and I could tell she was battling tears. “The darker side of you is sometimes strong enough to manifest outside you.”

No. “I’ll use more antidote.”

“And that will help in the short term, but it’s not a solution.”

“What is?” I croaked.

“I...don’t actually know. When Justin bit you, he woke this new side of you. Breathed life into it.”

Finally I did fall to my knees. I couldn’t deny her words anymore, could I? Seconds after Justin had bitten me, the new heart had started beating.

The new heart.

For the new me.

“What happens if she wins?” I asked.

“You know the answer to that.”

I did. I just hadn’t wanted to admit it.

I would become what I hated most.

“How long do I have?” I asked, trying not to sob.

“Longer than most. Do you remember when Mom put her hand on your leg after the crash?”

My eyes widened. I couldn’t form words, could only nod. The dreams hadn’t been dreams, then, but memories. Having it confirmed ripped me apart. She’d suffered. My mother had suffered.

“She didn’t realize she was doing it, but she passed on her zombie-slaying abilities. Her...power, I guess is as good a word as any.”

Hers. Not my father’s. “But she never exhibited any abilities.”

“You know better than anyone you don’t have to see something for it to be there.” She settled in front of me, squeezed my hand. “You inherited Dad’s abilities, too. That’s why you’re so strong, and one of the reasons you can do things others can’t. One of the reasons your body hasn’t already died. If anyone can beat this, you can.”

“How?”

“I don’t know that, either,” she said. Her shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry.”

I tried to smile. I wasn’t sure I succeeded. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I’ll find a way.”

She nodded, and I could see that she wanted to believe me. And then she kissed my cheek, said, “I’m still searching for answers. I’ll be back,” and vanished.

I crouched there, breathing in and out, my hands fisted. No matter what, I wouldn’t allow myself to become a zombie. I would fight this, and I would try to find a cure, but if I failed...

No. Not an option. I formulated a to-do list and calmed. Find a way to decode the entire journal. Learn how to kill the zombie inside me. Actually kill her.

Simple, yet amazingly complex. Whatever. I’d done worse.

“Ali!”

My brow furrowed. That was Cole’s voice.

I stood and turned left, saw a car speeding through the neighborhood. I turned right, saw a woman walking to her car, a cup of coffee in hand.

“Ali!”

Suddenly a sharp sting pierced my cheek.

Had Cole just slapped me? I marched forward, setting a collision course for the barn and all my problems, annnd...the world around me blurred, only coming back into focus when I spotted the big red building where I’d left my body. Someone had left the door open for me. Inside, I caught a glimpse of Cole, Mr. Holland and all of the slayers crowding in front of my chair.

Cole lifted his arm, palm flat, ready.

He had. He really had.

I slipped into my body with a gasp. “I’m here.”

He straightened. His gaze found mine and narrowed. It was a new day, but I was no longer surprised when a moment passed without a vision.

His father pushed a needle into my neck. “Antidote,” he explained.

“Are you okay?” Cole demanded.

Okay? No. Even with my to-do list hovering in the back of my mind, I wanted to curl into a ball and cry. I wanted to tell him what I’d learned. I wanted...everything I couldn’t have. His arms around me. His voice in my ear, telling me everything would be all right.

He was the only person I would believe.

It was odd, and probably just the moment, or my shock, but now that limits had been placed on my future, none of the fury I’d harbored for Cole remained. I was still hurt by what he’d done, and the way he’d been treating me, but none of that mattered just then.

A single night had changed me irrevocably.

Change.

I laughed without humor. Another change had come for me.

“Give the girl some breathing room.” Mr. Holland shoved the slayers out of the way.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice nothing more than a whisper.

Cole shrugged off his dad’s attempts and planted his hands on the arms of my chair, leaning into me, putting us nose to nose. “Where were you? What the hell do you think you were doing out there? Do you have any idea how much worry you caused m—us?”

I blinked at him. Gone was the gentle Cole, the one who had tended me after my panic attack. The one who had sweetly covered my hair with the bandanna.

“I can guess about the worry,” I said, and looked away from him. I was too raw, too susceptible to his concern and his mood, torn to shreds all over again. “And I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“Where were you?” he demanded a second time.

“At my old house.”

“Why did you go there?”

“I don’t know. I woke up, and there I was.”

Mr. Holland opened his mouth, but Cole cut him off.

“You don’t know?” Cole snorted, his anger far from assuaged. “How can you not know?”

What had brought about this transformation in him?

Gavin slapped him on the shoulder. “Dude. Let’s give her a minute to explain.”

Cole whipped to him, snarling, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh...yeah. We’d all like that.” Confused, Gavin looked to me, probably expecting me to explain Cole’s odd behavior. I couldn’t.

And then I didn’t want to. The world faded—

—Gavin was in my room, standing in front of me. I spun him and pushed him down on the bed, then climbed on top of him. I forced his head to the side, baring his neck. My tongue swiped over his skin as I tugged at his shirt, trying to pull it off his body and—

—smack!

I blinked into focus, the here and now returning just as quickly as it had vanished, only to realize Cole had just punched the partition over my head, leaving a gaping hole. Dust filled the air, making me cough. Then he pushed Gavin.

Gavin stumbled backward and scrubbed a hand down his face.

“What did you see?” Cole demanded. “Tell me, before I—”

“Get control of yourself, son.” Mr. Holland grabbed him by the arm and thrust him toward the door. “If you can’t, leave.”

Cole took only a moment to decide. He stormed out of the barn, the door slamming shut behind him. Frosty and Bronx tossed me a sympathetic glance before following him. A few seconds later, I heard the squeal of tires and the spray of gravel.

“The rest of you need to leave, as well,” Mr. Holland said. “Except you, Gavin. You stay.”

All of the slayers filed out, except for Gavin. Mackenzie threw me a puzzled glance.

I’d left her in danger last night.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, wrapping my arms around myself. Tears beaded in my eyes. “Did anyone get hurt?”

“No.” Mr. Holland stared at me, his crystalline gaze boring into me like a laser. “I’m not going to ask what you and Gavin saw in your vision. Judging from your expression, I can guess. What I want to know is what happened to you last night.”

Not too long ago, this man had found me utterly unreliable. He hadn’t wanted me here. What would he do if he learned the truth, that I was rotting from the inside out?

Soon I could very well be a hazard to everyone we loved.

“I blacked out,” I said.

“I was told the zombies wanted nothing to do with you.”

“That’s right.” I shuddered with revulsion. They must already consider me one of their own.

“I want Ankh to check you out,” Mr. Holland said.

I wouldn’t protest. “Okay.” Just what would he find? Would he discover the source of the problem? He hadn’t yet.

“And I want you off rotation until this is figured out.”

A denial rose immediately. One I quickly swallowed. I’d almost hurt Mackenzie and Gavin. I’d left my team to engage in battle without me. I deserved this, and worse.

I looked down, ashamed, and nodded.

Mr. Holland faced Gavin. “Drive her home.” Then, having said his piece and issued his orders, he stomped out the door.

As soon we were trapped in his car, alone, Gavin said, “Why do we keep having the same vision?”

“I don’t know. With Cole, we usually only had the same vision a few times before a new one took its place.”

“Maybe this one is important.”

I knew he didn’t mean that in a conceited way. His tone was too confused. “Maybe we’re not getting whatever it wants us to get.”

“So the visions are alive? Sentient?”

“No,” I said with a shake of my head. “But our minds are at work here, and they know what we get and what we don’t.”

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Let’s forget the vision for a minute. You remember grabbing your ears during the fight, as if you were hearing something you shouldn’t?”

I squirmed in my seat. I’d either heard Zombie Ali—Z.A., I thought, because I hated pairing my name with that description—or the other zombies. Both options sickened me.

“Yeah.” He turned the key, gunned the engine. “You remember. What’d you hear?”

“I’m not going to talk about it.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just know I won’t rat you out. You’re a good girl, I can tell, and I’m sure you’ve got your reasons for keeping quiet about such an interesting development.”

An unlikely ally. I desperately needed one. “Thank you.”

He shrugged, and merged into traffic. “I guess I owe you.”

“What do you mean?”

“After the way you were going at me, acting like you were on life support and my body had the oxygen you so desperately needed, I—”

Suddenly feeling a little more like my old self, I reached over and smacked him in the chest. “Shut up.”

He grinned, his entire face lighting with amusement. “We have another vision like that, and Cole might just kill me in my sleep.”

“Highly doubtful. I think he was just upset that I stayed out all night, making everyone worry.”

His snort echoed through the cab. “Yeah, that’s why he spent hours looking for you.”

He had? Not for my benefit, surely, but for the team’s. “Plus—and please hear me when I say this—I’ve been serious every time I’ve told you I have no interest in you.”

His grin only widened. “You realize you’re just making yourself more attractive to me, right? First, do you really not understand how beautiful you are? Even to a guy like me. And second, there’s never been a female I couldn’t win over.”

Me? Beautiful? “Maybe you’ve gotten the women you’ve wanted in the past, but there’s always a first time for failure.”

He clutched at his heart, as if in pain.

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t pretend you like a challenge. I had you pegged at moment one, remember?”

His laughter proved to be infectious, and I reveled in the burst of hilarity with every fiber of my being. I wasn’t sure I’d have many more opportunities.

“A guy can change, you know.”

Change.

“Yeah. A guy can. So can a girl.” I cast my attention to the hills outside and ignored him for the rest of the drive.

Gavin followed me inside the mansion, citing, “I was told to see you home safely, and I’d be remiss in my duties if I failed to walk you to your bedroom door. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even try to kiss me goodbye.”

“Stay away from my bedroom, you dirty he-slut.”

He grabbed my hand and twirled me, as if we were dance partners. “I’m liking you more with every second that passes, Als. Maybe there’s some truth to the visions, after all. Seriously. Think about it.”

“Will you shut up about the you-knows? This isn’t a conversation safe zone.” I stalked to the staircase and found a note taped to the banister.

My office, Miss Bell. Now.

Guess I wouldn’t be reading the journal right away. I balled up the paper and threw it at Gavin. “You’re dismissed. Apparently I already have a date.” Mr. Holland must have called Mr. Ankh, and his other personality, Dr. Blood and Guts, must have jumped into action.

“Dismissed,” he said. “That’s another first.”

“You’re welcome.” I switched directions and trudged inside Mr. Ankh’s office.

“Shut the door,” he commanded from the desk.

I obeyed without protest or comment.

“Take a seat.”

Again, I obeyed, my nerves razed more with every second that passed.

He walked around the desk to claim the seat across from mine, then opened a black bag filled with needles, tubes, cotton balls and a ton of other paraphernalia I was sure I didn’t want to know about. There was another black bag in the far corner of the room, filled with vials of the antidote. He kept it there for emergencies.

“Try not to scream,” he muttered, reaching for the tourniquet.

“Sure. You try not to poke something you shouldn’t.”

“I’m a doctor. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re a surgeon. You know how to cut and sew.”

He pursed his lips the same way Reeve did. “After a thousand years of medical school, as my daughter says, I think I can do a little more than cut and sew.”

He set the needle in place and pushed, and my vein rolled. My entire arm felt the sting, and I hissed in a breath.

“Sorry,” he muttered, trying again. And wouldn’t you know it, he missed a second time.

I could only bite my tongue and content myself with glaring at the top of his head.

“Sorry,” he muttered. Finally he succeeded.

A few minutes later, he was labeling the packed tubes. “I’ll have the results tomorrow.”

What would he find? I rubbed my hand over the second heartbeat and forced myself to breathe. “Thanks.”

My stomach growled, embarrassing me. I snuck into the kitchen and searched for my bagels. They weren’t where I’d left them, and they weren’t in the pantry. Someone must have eaten them. I gazed longingly at the boxed desserts and even the jars of vegetables, but still backed out without touching anything I shouldn’t and made my way to Nana’s room. I’d never thanked her for the journal. I knocked, waited.

“Your grandmother went to church,” a soft voice said from behind me.

I turned and saw one of the maids dusting a side table. “Thanks.”

Nana and I always went to church together. I hated that I’d missed. Especially since it probably seemed like I’d blown her off. Again. I hoped she wasn’t upset.

I trudged to my room. Avoiding the mirrors, I sat at my desk and thumbed through the journal. I expected to start by rereading what had already been decoded. Instead, I found that every word was once again hidden from my understanding. But...how could that be?

Frowning, I went through every page slowly, line by line, studying every symbol, every number. Nope. No miraculous unveiling.

Must simplify the to-do list: Learn how to kill the zombie inside me without the journal. Actually kill her.

Where to start? My sister? Maybe she’d learned something else about my situation. “Emma. If you can swing another visit, I’d love to see you.”

I had to wait longer than usual, but she did, eventually, arrive. “Hey there,” she said.

I smiled at her. “You came.”

“I told you. I’ll always come.” She stood beside the desk, fingering the ends of her skirt. “You look better.”

“Thank you.”

“So...whatcha doing?”

I lifted the book. “Apparently our great-great-great-grandfather wrote a journal about zombie slaying. Only he wrote it in some kind of code, and I can’t decipher it. So I started to wonder whether you’d learned anything new.”

“Not yet.” She rubbed her hands together. “But let me take a crack at the journal.”

Leaning over my shoulder, she scanned the pages and pouted with disappointment. “I was hoping to crack the code with my genius mind and rub it in your face forever, but I can read the words no problem.”

I stared down at the still-coded pages. “How?”

“I don’t know. I just can. Everything just looks normal to me.”

“Read something to me, then.”

“Okay...how about there?” She pointed. “The words are flashing at me.”

Flashing? I nodded.

“‘I’ve heard we need darkness to balance light,’” she read, “‘and light to balance darkness. I say we have no need of darkness, period. It confuses. It hurts. It tortures. It ruins. And really, darkness cannot remain with light. Light will always chase it away. Think about it. We kill the zombies with the fire from our hands—fire produces light. And they, the zombies, are the ultimate darkness. With a touch, they can be extinguished for eternity.’”

I let the words settle in my mind before turning them over again and again. Could Z.A. be killed by the fire the slayers produced? My fire? If so, if a slayer pressed his—or her—palm against my chest, would I die, too?

There was only one way to find out.

Was it worth the risk, though?

“Want me to read more?” Emma asked.

“Not right now.” There was a tremor in my voice. Crap. I didn’t want her to know what I was contemplating.

“Well, then, I better get back to my research.”

I nodded, offering her as bright as smile as I could. Then she was gone.

Put-up or wuss-up time. I eased to the foot of the bed and rested the backs of my hands on my knees. My breathing was fast, too fast, as a bead of nervousness rolled through me, picking up steam.

I was a slayer. I could produce the fire.

I could kill Z.A.

And maybe myself...

Yeah, but maybe not.

I closed my eyes to concentrate. Before I could step out of my body, a thought bloomed, and I couldn’t shake it.

Would Nana come in here and find a pile of ash, then blame someone else? One of the other slayers?

Should I leave a note?

Shaking, I scribbled a quick goodbye at my desk. Did this to myself. Love you so much. Just in case. And maybe I should have spent more time on it, explaining everything, but I didn’t want to take a chance I’d talk myself out of such a necessary action.

So...without further ado, I forced my spirit to rise. I looked at my hands, and willed the fire to come. Little white flames sparked at the ends of my trembling fingertips. Not giving myself time to think, I turned and pressed those flames into my body’s chest. Then I waited. I watched my own face as a muscle ticked under my eye...but nothing else happened.

Disappointed, a lot angry and just a little relieved, I dropped my arms to my sides.

Why hadn’t that worked?

I rejoined spirit and body. Maybe...Z.A. had left my body with me?

Would she always?

I had to find out. But how?

Temples throbbing, I stalked out of my room and hunted for Reeve. I needed a distraction. Only, she wasn’t in her room. Or the kitchen. I headed to the second floor, bypassing antique chairs and tables, each surrounded by colorful vases and paintings of flowers. The closer I got to my gym, the more grunts, groans and girlish laughter I heard. She was there.

I reached the open doorway and ground to a halt.

Veronica was in the process of teaching my friends how to defend themselves from an attack.

“—proper fist,” she was saying. “Like this. That way, when you throw a punch, you won’t break your thumb.”

Reeve and Kat nodded eagerly.

“Show me,” Veronica commanded.

The pair spent the next few minutes punching air.

“Excellent.”

“I feel sorry for whoever makes a play for me,” Kat said, flexing her arms. “Do you see the amazingly sick biceps I’m developing?”

Grinning, Reeve said, “So, how did you learn to fight like this, Ronny?”

Ronny. Just like that, I felt utterly betrayed. This was my home. They were my friends. And I’d had enough. Before the girl could reply, I stepped deeper into the room. “What are you doing here, Veronica?”

Three sets of eyes looked over at me.

“Frosty sent me,” Veronica explained, tone now cold.

“He said you were fine with it, that you’d suggested he take care of it,” Kat said with a frown. “But, uh, judging by your expression, I’m thinking he must have misunderstood.”

Veronica glared at me. “Would you care to join us and learn something, Ali? A few skills could give you the confidence you need to actually engage in battle rather than run away.”

I sucked in a breath. Such a low blow.

“What are you talking about?” Reeve demanded.

Kat threw the girl a dagger-sharp glare. “Oh, no, you didn’t.”

“You have no idea what went down, Veronica,” I gritted. “Therefore, you have no right to comment.”

“What went down?” Reeve asked. “And how do you know our self-defense instructor?”

My attention remained on Veronica. “You can leave now. I’m taking over.”

“Uh, that would be a big fat no. Frosty wants these girls trained right.”

Are you going to let her speak to you that way?

I didn’t have to think about my answer. No. No, I wasn’t.

Threatening her won’t do you any good. You’ll have to force her to zip her lips.

Yes. I could. I would.

Then do it. Here. Now.

A strange, almost stinging anticipation wound through me as I stalked forward. “I don’t know about you, but I teach through demonstration.”