I frown. Not only is Ali's voice jacked up, but she's also pale and her cheeks hollow, as if she's lost weight. Her hair is limp and tangled and in need of a good wash. "Something happened to you."
"The rest of us have been stricken by some kind of flu, but we're finally on the mend."
"I think you left your sickbed a little too soon."
"Well, I knew you'd be waking up and I wanted to talk to you."
"About?" I ask.
"Do you remember that coded paper I once translated for you?"
"Yes." I got it from Anima. Stole it, actually. At the time, I was doing everything they asked of me, while still working to take them down. I'd gone in to give a report of my progress--the higher-ups believed face-to-face meetings would scare me and keep me in line--and I'd seen a stack of papers covered in symbols. Judging by the notes made in the margin, the employees were trying to translate and failing.
I hid as many sheets as I could under my clothing, but I had no luck translating the code, either. Then Ali came along. She and Cole had answers in minutes. Apparently they had an entire book filled with the same code. A journal written by Ali's however-many-greats grandfather, a slayer who'd seen into the far distant future.
"Well," Ali says, "the journal has fifty-three blank pages--used to be a hundred, but every so often, new passages just appeared. We think we see only what we're ready to see. Anyway. While you were recovering, a new passage appeared, and I think it applies to you."
This could be good. Or this could be very, very bad. "What does it say?"
She closes her eyes and recites, "'Two fires burn. The light and the dark. One purifies, one destroys and the two never coexist in harmony. One is truth, and one is lies, lies, the darkness lies. But it's not too strong, never too strong, for light cannot be extinguished by dark, only covered, covered, covered, but dark can always be chased away by light. Look inside...look inside.'"
She opens her eyes. I wait for her to say more. She doesn't.
"Well. That's not cryptic at all."
"Frosty told us about your nightmare. The red flames. Red must represent the dark, the destruction, while white-- dynamis--represents light, the purification."
Light cannot be extinguished by dark, only covered, covered, covered. "Why repeat different words?"
"Another excellent question."
With no real answer apparently. "This is a lot to take in." Especially now, when I'm so unsteady. "As fast as my mind is whirling, I'm almost afraid I'll pop a vessel."
She takes pity on me and says, "We'll put this on the back burner for now and move on. Did you see who did this to you?"
"A girl. The one I saw in the cemetery. The one who went to the bathroom after bicycling. Gavin and Love will know who I'm talking about." My stomach rumbles, and I use what little strength I possess to rub away the hunger pangs. "She has blue-black hair. It's long, reaches her waist. Her skin is freckled and her face--"
"Yeah. I know who you're talking about." Ali adheres a new bandage to my neck. "Tiffany Reynolds."
I arch a brow in question. "You can't leave it at that. Tell me everything about her, everything that happened."
"Okay, so, there's no area outside this compound without a camera. Bronx checked our security feed and discovered no one had snuck in. We figured this had to be an inside job. We ruled out the kids who were underground with Gavin and Jaclyn. That left eight others. We kept those eight sequestered as we waited for you to recover."
Smart. I would have done the same.
"Two days ago, we made the announcement you would recover fully and Tiffany sedated the guards--Justin and Gavin--and snuck out. Apparently she'd hidden syringes full of different kinds of drugs all over the house. Anyway, the rest of us were too sick to stop her. In fact, she's the only one in the house who didn't get sick, which makes us suspect we didn't have the flu, after all, that she drugged us."
"She knew I could identify her as Cemetery Dart Girl. But why shoot me up with mutated zombie toxin in the first place?"
Ali sighs. "We don't know. We can only guess. Revenge, maybe. She could have worked for Anima once, or known someone who did and lashed out at you to even the score."
"Why try to kill me specifically, though? Why not go after the rest of you while she had the chance?"
"Believe me, I've asked myself those same questions."
I get more comfortable against the pillows, though my stomach is still rumbling, and look myself over. I'm wearing a loose-fitting T-shirt and I'm braless. Under the covers, my legs are bare. I won't ask who changed my clothes. And I seriously won't ask who inserted the catheter and got an up-close-and-personal glimpse of my lady bits. Not to mention my scars.
"How did you recruit Tiffany?"
"We took River's advice and trolled online message boards looking for people who claimed to see ghosts and monsters. There were more than we ever imagined, and once we had names, we were able to do background checks. We approached the ones we liked."
I wait for more details.
Ali doesn't disappoint. "Tiffany is seventeen and lives with her mom. Low income. Her dad took off a few years ago. She's homeschooled and a straight D student. Antisocial most of her life, but never in trouble with the law."
I want to hate her. But do I have the right? She tried to kill me, and I once tried to kill Ali.
"I'm so sorry," I say. "For what I did to you... I was wrong in every way."
She studies my face and whispers, "I believe you, and I forgive you."
That easily? I'm not used to such understanding, and it throws me.
"There's something I have to tell you, Camilla."
"Milla," I counter. The day we met, she'd called me Milla, and I'd nearly snapped her head off. A nickname reserved solely for my friends, I'd said. I could so-o-oo kick my own ass.
She nods. "Milla. There's something I have to tell you about the vision I had. I promised Kat I wouldn't talk about it, and I never break my promises, but I shouldn't keep quiet. Should I? Emma doesn't think so. But good glory! This is tough. A rock and a very hard place."
"Just say it," I tell her. "It'll be okay, whatever it is."
She licks her lips. "I've only seen bits and pieces of this particular future. A woman aims a gun at Frosty, just like I told you. I don't see her face, only her hand."
"Kat already gave me those details."
"Yes, but--"
A knock sounds at the door, and Frosty sticks his head in the room. "May I come in?"
My heart immediately speeds into a wild gallop. A fact the monitor attached to my chest embarrassingly proclaims. As my cheeks burn, I reach up to smooth my hair into place. When I realize I'm primping for him, I stop and frown.
"Do you have food?" I ask.
He gives me the barest glimpse of a smile before fully entering the room. "Some people would say I'm man-candy."
My heartbeat increases. With a screech, I rip the electrodes off my chest. "Some people...or you?"
Ali pats my hand. "We'll continue our conversation another time." She stands a little too hastily, and she's out the door before I can stop her, leaving me alone with the boy who saved me even though I ruined his life.
My crush.
I like him. The truth is suddenly undeniable. I like him like him. A lot. He's pretty and he's strong. He's smart and he's witty. He's charming when he needs to be and violent when he has to be. He's honorable, and when he loves, he loves with his entire heart.
To find the right person for you, you have to be the right person. I am not that person. Could I be any stupider? To him, I'll never be anything more than Kat's killer.
I study him. His dark blond hair is unkempt, a wild tangle around his unshaven face. Golden stubble dusts his jaw. His clothes are clean but wrinkled.
"I'm glad you're here," I say and blush. Wow. Talk about lame.
"Me, too," he replies, sitting in the chair Ali vacated. "How are you feeling?"
"Better." I nibble on my bottom lip. "Thank y
ou for saving me."
He shifts, clearly uncomfortable. "You were dumb, chasing after a stranger in a strange place on your own."
O-kay. Not going to pull his punches. Got it. "There wasn't time--"
"There's always time. Safety first, everything else second. Your life is--" He stops.
Silence crackles. "Is...?" I prompt as my stomach twists nervously; I know the direction he's headed, but some part of me hopes for something better.
"Needed," he says, and I'm deflated.
He saved my life because I'm needed. Because I'm a means to an end.
As suspected. Nothing's changed between us. Nothing ever will. Except...the way he's looking at me right now, with relief and something else, something I can't name. "Why are you here, Frosty?"
"To talk. So let's talk."
She looks good. Color has returned to her cheeks. The dynamis I fed her spirit every day before getting sick sustained her spirit, soul and body, thank God, keeping her from wasting away.
A white bandage stretches from one side of her throat to the other, a stark reminder of the open, gushing wound that would have killed anyone else. Had I found her a few seconds later, she would have died.
"What do you want to talk about?" she asks.
"Did I say talk? My bad. I meant threaten. If you ever again run off on your own, I'll put you over my knee and spank the bad decisions right out of you."
Her eyes narrow to tiny slits. "If you ever threaten me again, I'll hollow out your liver and fill it with rocks."
I smile. "Nice." This is the most relaxed I've been all week. I haven't been eating, haven't been sleeping. I've just been worrying that the girl placed in my protection wasn't going to live to see another sunrise. "But you know rushing off is a habit, and it needs to stop."
She opens her mouth to reply, but I shake my head, adding, "Just zip it and enjoy your lollipop." I pull the candy from my pocket. "Or maybe you'd rather watch me enjoy it?"
She licks her lips, the sight of her little pink tongue causing something to clench low in my gut. "Gimme."
I've been carrying the stupid thing in my pocket for days, desperate to give it to her. As a kid, Cole had given me a piece of candy anytime I'd gotten hurt. Funny thing. I always felt better.
"You were a good patient, healing like you were told--" I toss her the treat "--and you deserve a reward."
I just wish her inner wounds had healed. I ache for the little girl she was and now I understand the woman she's become. A woman willing to do anything to protect her brother. As children, they'd had each other, no one else. Part of them still had to feel that way.
As her tongue flicks over the candy, her eyes close in surrender--and I discreetly adjust my pants.
"This has to be the best thing in the entire world," she says.
"Did your mom ever give you a lollipop to make you feel better?"
"No. She didn't do anything without my dad's permission, and he considered candy a privilege we hadn't earned."
I'm suddenly thankful for what little time I had with my adoptive parents. I might have felt like the odd man out, but I always knew they loved me. They kissed and hugged me anytime I cried--not that I cried, because I was manly, even back then. They gave me a warm bed to sleep in, clean clothes to wear and always helped me with my homework. I had a safe place to go.
Safe. The word echoes in my mind. "Milla...I'm sorry," I say, the words bursting out of me. "I'm sorry I brought you here and failed to protect you."
She smiles at me, and it makes the clench in my gut a thousand times worse. "I'm here to protect you, remember? Not the other way around."
"I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, well, so can I."
I wave a hand to indicate the medical equipment surrounding her. "I won't state the obvious."
She flips me off, a double-birded salute. "Doesn't matter. You're proving my point for me. If I need help occasionally, when I'm a way better fighter, you definitely need help."
"Well, well, aren't you a little ray of sunshine," I say with a wink.
She gapes at me, as if she can't believe what she's seeing. "Anyway. I remember hearing my brother's voice. Is he waiting to see me?"
I don't know how to soften the truth, so I give it to her point-blank. "He left." I would have joined him, but I took up the mantle of guard, just in case Tiffany tried to come back to finish what she started.
She withers against the mattress. "Of course he did."
"It's not what you--" If she learns River is hunting Tiffany, she'll try to leave her sickbed before she's ready and go after him. "He loves you. He'll be back."
She gives me a sad smile while stroking her Betrayal tattoo, and damn if it doesn't break my heart.
I switch gears. "I saw you with Love. You're pretty good with your fists."
"No. I'm great," she says. "I let her get in a few knocks because she had some anger to exorcise, but any other time, I would have laid her flat without taking a single blow."
"Confident."
"With reason."
"Or just plain cocky."
"Well, why not?" she says. "It's not bragging if it's true."
A point I can't refute.
"What's happened while I've been out?" she asks. "With zombies, I mean. Any sightings?"
"A patrol went out every night except the past three. We were all too sick to leave the house. No zombie clouds and no zombies." I reach over before I realize I've moved and squeeze her fingers. "I'm glad you're okay."
Frowning, she stares down at our hands--I love the contrast of my deep tan against her light bronze. "I know why you saved me. Kat. But she's not the reason you're here right now, offering me candy and chatting me up like we're old pals. What's going on with you, Frosty? You're being nice, and I'm not sure I like it."
"Look," I say and sigh. Why not put it all out there? "You made a mistake in an effort to protect your brother. You're not a bad person, and you're trying to make up for the pain you caused us. I respect that. You aren't my favorite person, but I don't hate you."
"Do you...?" She twists the covers, suddenly nervous. "Do you want to be my friend?"
I tilt my head to study her more intensely. "I don't know." Is friendship possible for us?
I learned a lot about her while she recovered. She's strong yet vulnerable. She's hard as stone yet tenderhearted. She's supersmart yet blinded by love. She's whole yet broken.
She's a walking contradiction--and I'm utterly fascinated with her.
Unlike Kat, she hasn't yet learned her worth. I haven't helped with that. None of us have.
Hell, maybe I do want to be her friend. "How about we give it a try, see how it goes?"
"I'd like that," she says softy. A beat passes in silence as she peers over at me. "And Frosty? Thank you. For everything."
"You would have done the same for me." I rub the back of my neck, uncomfortable by the turn of the conversation. "Before I forget, I should warn you. While Ali and Cole have learned to control what abilities they share, I haven't. I'm sure I passed different things to you--like a spiritual STD. I don't know what, and I don't know how or when the abilities will manifest."
Her jaw drops. "You're saying I might be able to cast zombies in the air with a bolt of energy? Or cover other people's memories? Or heal from Z-toxin without the antidote? Seriously?" A grin spreads from ear to ear. "Talk about a silver lining to almost dying."
Actually, she did die. Her heart stopped, and I broke her sternum while performing CPR. Thankfully, the fire healed that, too. "It's not exactly a fair trade-off."
"Agree to disagree. Whatever makes me stronger, faster, better, I'll go to hell and back to get."
I can guess why. Helplessness is her kryptonite.
Great. Now I want to hug her. I stand instead. "I've bugged you enough. I'll let you rest." I stalk to the door, only to pause. "Hey. Can I ask you a question?"
"You just did."
"Ha. Funny." I rub the back of my neck, realize I'm do
ing it and frown. It's a habit--a tell--I picked up from Cole. Uncomfortable, rub. I don't face her. I don't want to watch her expression change. Don't want to ache anymore. "What happened to your dad?"
Silence.
Then... "Why?" Her voice is heavy with tension.
"River told me he's dead. I'm curious about the details."
"River told you... Well. He doesn't share even those details very often. Or ever. Dad was...he was murdered."
By who? River? Or maybe Milla herself? Did their abuser finally push them too far? I want to ask, but I'll be delving into extremely personal territory. Hell, I already have. But the further I go, the more answers I'll owe her about my own life. I can't give her what I've only ever given Cole and Kat. I just can't.
"Your weapons are on a tray beside the gurney. There will be a guard I trust outside your door at all times, and I'll make sure you're given a phone. Call me if you need anything."
"You're leaving the mansion?"
"Yeah. There's something I have to do." I place my hand on the knob, but once again I stop. I have another question, and I don't want to leave until I know the answer. "In your sleep you said a name. Mace."
She sucks in a breath, hurt she can't hide suddenly gleaming in her eyes.
"Who is he?"
"The only boyfriend I ever loved," she says quietly, and something dark curls through me.
"Where is he now?"
"Dead. Like Kat." She smiles at me, but the expression lacks any kind of humor. "You and I have something in common. We both lost our happily-ever-after."
I want details. I have to know everything. It's suddenly a compulsion, an obsession I can't explain. But when I open my mouth to ask, she whispers, "Just go. Please."
I've stepped on a land mine of bad memories, and she's done hurting for me. If we were together I could keep pressing; I could carry some of the hurt for her, could help her heal. But we aren't, and I can't.
I leave her then, and find Cole waiting in the hall. "Ali wants to talk with you about the vision she had involving Milla."
"Something change?"
"I'm told you may get hurt even if you're saved."
Physical pain? Big deal. "A chat will have to wait. I'm about to arm up and head out."
"Fair enough. Need anything?"
"Yeah. Do me a solid and station Bronx at Milla's door. And if you have extra cell phones, give her one and text me the number."