And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what you call a third-degree burn.
Why did people always compare me to some fainting, animal-whispering princess too weak to save herself? Would it have killed someone to call me the nasty, village-destroying dragon? I had bite, dang it!
Cole stiffened. "Apologize." That single word came with a wealth of fury. "Now."
"But I didn't do anything," I pointed out.
He rolled his eyes. "Not you. Him."
"For speaking the truth?" Greek asked, genuinely curious.
"There's truth, and there's the delivery of the truth. I didn't like your delivery."
Now Greek was the one to roll his eyes. "Please tell me you aren't one of those people who subscribes to the 'say something nice or stay silent' philosophy."
"I'm one of those people who comes in peace...until it's time to leave everyone in pieces."
Greek pressed his lips into a thin line. He'd just been threatened in his own backyard. Frosty's prison rules, which all boys seemed to know instinctively, probably had a correct way to respond--and I had a feeling I was about to see it firsthand.
"You want a fight?" Greek said. "Done. But you won't emerge unscathed."
Yep. That.
"I want that apology," Cole said. "To start."
Greek looked from Cole to me, me to Cole, different emotions pulsing from him. My spirit recognized them and informed my brain. Anger, amusement, affront, remorse, envy.
Why envy? Had he lost someone he loved? Someone he'd once defended?
Surprisingly enough, he settled on amusement. "Very well. My apologies, Miss Ali. Next time, there will be no references to princesses. Only wicked witches."
"Appreciate it." Now, then. I brought us back to the proper track. "You must be River. I've heard so little about you, and to be honest, even that is starting to seem like too much."
He grinned. "Well, there's a little fire in you after all. That's good."
A little? "Baby, you have no idea."
The grin slowly widened. "You have questions for me, I'm sure, just as I have answers for you. But first, you're going to have to prove you are who you say you are."
Big shocker. "I'm sure you're not referring to a driver's license."
"Correct."
"You called me by name. You know who we are," I pointed out, "or we wouldn't be here."
He shrugged. "You're still going to have to prove it."
"We've got this," Cole whispered to me.
"I know just the thing." River rubbed his hands together and said, "You're going to experience a little something we call Fright Night."
Chapter 12
MY ZOMBIE ATE YOUR
HONOR STUDENT
The sea of people parted again, revealing a round chain-link fence with a dome overtop. Curiosity and dread competed for dominance as I trudged forward, Cole at my side. We stopped at the edge of the circle, looking down...down...into a pit.
There was no one inside it. But there was blood on the walls.
I frowned. "Do you make your crew members fight each other?"
River claimed the spot at my other side. "Every so often. For punishment. Mostly, though, slayers fight zombies."
Then some of those slayer-versus-zombie battles were physical rather than spiritual. Which was totally possible. For Anima.
"You're working with the enemy." They were the only ones who'd found a way to make the zombies solid to flesh, using collars that emitted those electrical pulses.
Hisses all around me.
"No," River said, and for the first time there was a dangerous bite to his tone. "We'd like to burn the company and all of its employees to the ground. So work with them? I'd rather let crows eat my internal organs."
Nice. "You hate Anima that fiercely, but you don't mind using their technology?"
He patted me on the head. "Using their technology is smart, angel cakes. It helps us understand what they're doing and how we can better defeat them."
Okay. That, I understood.
"She isn't your angel cake, or your Pop-Tart," Cole snapped. "She's mine."
Don't laugh. Or snicker.
"Yeah," I said. "I'm his." And okay, I snickered. But only a little!
Cole flicked me an irritated glance. I batted my lashes at him, all what did I do now?
"I could have her if I wanted her," River said, his ego bared for everyone to see, "but I don't, so this argument is pointless."
Could he, perhaps, be related to Gavin?
And, seriously. He could suck it.
"Only an idiot wouldn't want her." Uh-oh. Cole was getting worked into another rage. "Are you saying you're an idiot?"
River's brow wrinkled. "Now you're trying to talk me into making a move?"
Boys!
I clapped my hands to gain their attention. "All right, everyone. Get-to-know-you time is over. What's next?"
River put two fingers in his mouth and whistled; in the pit, doorways I hadn't noticed opened up. Ten collared zombies spilled into the center, the crowd sneering and catcalling.
"Hey, baby. You wanna have me for dinner?"
"You're a cute little maggot bag. Yes, you are. Oh, yes, you are."
"You need a hand? Huh? Huh? How about I give you a finger?"
Noticing the humans above them, the zombies reached up. Black stained lips pulled back from even blacker teeth, saliva dripping down dislocated jaws.
Fighting this many zombies for the entertainment of others wouldn't be the most awful thing in the world. I genuinely enjoyed making a Z-kill. But I wasn't at my best right now. Since I'd realized we were safe, my strength had crashed and burned, taking the rest of my anticipation with it. All I had left was dread and fatigue.
Made sense. I'd been on the go for forty-eight hours plus. My only sleep had come courtesy of drugs. My last meal had been the pastry I'd freelance-valeted. I'd lost four friends, used enough adrenaline to kill a rhino (probably) and had just been chased through the streets.
Even still, I said, "I'll do it. I'll fight." I didn't see any way around it. Cole and I could battle our way through the slayers instead and leave, but we wouldn't get the answers we wanted.
"Aw, how sweet." Everything about River mocked me. "Thing is, sweetness, I don't remember asking. You're going in that cage whether you want to or not."
Anger stiffened my spine. Oh, no, he didn't.
"You're right," Cole said, the ease of his acceptance astonishing me. "But we're not doing it because you ordered it. We're doing it because I want you to watch and know the beast you're provoking."
Voices rose. Bets were placed.
River's smile was slow and cool. "I like you more with every second that passes, Holland, I really do." He nodded at two of his crew members, and the boys opened a section of the dome.
Pep-Talk Ali raced in with a vengeance. Buck up, girl. This one's in the bag.
An-n-nd... Downer Ali arrived with a rebuttal. There's so much at stake. You could ruin everything.
One day I was going to find a way to strangle Downer Ali with my bare hands.
I squared my shoulders and met Cole's anticipatory gaze. Anticipatory. Good. He hadn't lost his desire to fight. He could take care of this even if he had both hands tied behind his back. I could observe.
"Remember reason number seven?" he asked.
Good glory. Not reason seven! Not now. "Yes," I said and tried not to whimper.
"That," he said.
No way. Just no way he was going to stand back and let me do all the work--please!
He wound a lock of my hair around his finger. "This is going to be fun."
Oh, crap. He was, wasn't he? But...but...why? I knew it wasn't because of his injury. As he'd proved, he could be dying and still want to act as my shield. So, that had to mean...what? That he didn't want River to know what he was capable of, allowing him to launch a surprise attack later? Perhaps. Or maybe he was tired of the snide remarks directed my way and wanted me to show these people I was
a force to be reckoned with.
Know the beast you're provoking....
Yeah. That one.
And okay, he seriously rocked.
Can't let him down. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, uncaring of our audience. "I hope you're ready to be impressed."
"I live ready." He gripped my nape, holding me steady, and kissed me harder.
When we pulled away and grinned at each other, the crowd was oddly silent. I wondered why--shock? disgust?--but honestly, I didn't care. As Cole led me to the opening of the cage, I realized bets were still being placed.
"Ten on the Z with the bow tie."
"Twenty says Ali Bell gets bitten within the first five seconds."
Cole winked at me and waved a hand to indicate the zombies. "After you."
"Why, thank you, kind sir." I searched for a ladder, didn't find one. Great. I'd have to jump.
Whatever.
I didn't give myself time to think, or lament, but stepped off the ledge and tumbled down. Landing jarred me, but I managed to straighten without pause and turn one Ali into two. Zombies swarmed me. I punched one, then another, drew in a deep breath, held...held...gathering what strength I had into the center of my being, summoning the fire I needed to kill these things...and despite my ragged condition, it came. My faith had been exercised earlier and was still pumped up despite my condition, so the flames were bright and hot.
I heated...and heated...and heated, until I was nearly burning alive, every inch of me engulfed. All I had to do was stand there and let the creatures touch me. One ashed. Then another. Touch, touch, touch. Ash, ash, ash, until no creatures were left standing.
That. Easily.
Better than I could have hoped.
I stopped and looked up. Slayers could see other slayers when they were in spirit form, even when the watchers weren't in spirit form themselves, and vice versa. Every face in the crowd gaped at me.
Smiling, smug, I joined the two halves of me. But my flames hadn't died down, and they flickered over my skin. I didn't disintegrate, but my clothes were a different story. They vanished in a puff of smoke.
Crap! This had happened once before, when Zombie Ali launched her final attack against me. My spirit had gone a little wonky, struggling to survive. I must be on the fritz again, must have pushed myself too far.
At least Cole was in the pit with me. He leaned against the wall, polishing one of his daggers, as if he hadn't a care.
"Um, problem," I said.
He met my gaze, frowned. "Come here," he said and motioned me over. "Don't get rid of the flames."
As if! Right now, those flames were the only thing preventing me from giving a full-on peep show to our audience. Mortified, I beat feet over to Cole, and though he hissed when he clasped my wrist, he drew me against the wall and shielded me from prying eyes.
"I'm going to give you my fire," he said.
"But that'll just make everything worse!"
"Or better. Mine might give you the strength you need to control yours."
Risky, but okay. I didn't have a better idea.
He split only long enough to press his fiery hand into my chest. I felt it, despite my condition, which shocked me, and met a new part of myself. Sailor Ali. She had a few things to say about the pain it caused.
But my fire did begin to wane.
"Don't put it out yet," Cole said, rejoining. "I'm going to take off my jacket and shirt. The moment I'm free of them, then you douse the flames. I'll dress you."
I kind of wished I'd died in the zombie fight.
"Ready?" He waited for my nod, then dropped his jacket and jerked off his T-shirt. "Now."
I closed my eyes to shut off the heat--shut off, shut off, freaking shut off. Success! Cole tugged the shirt over my head and fit my arms through the holes. The material hit me midthigh. He then tied the jacket around my waist, letting it double as a skirt. And, humiliatingly enough, underwear.
"All covered," he said and kissed the tip of my nose. Short and sweet. An offer of comfort. "You did good, Ali-gator. Real good."
"Th-thank you," I said, my teeth now chattering.
He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. "And now," he said with more volume, turning and facing the crowd, zeroing in on River, "we talk."
A dumbfounded River crossed his arms over his chest. "How did she do that?"
"Here's a better question," I said, just to be contrary. "Why can't you do it?"
He flicked his tongue over an incisor, and for a moment, I was certain he would vow to leave us in the pit until his curiosity was satisfied. But he nodded to one of his boys, and a ladder was dropped inside. Cole climbed out first, then helped me over the ledge, making sure all my girlie parts stayed covered.
"She needs clothes," Cole said, his command unmistakable.
"She'll get them." River reached out and pinched a lock of my hair. "Impressive work down there."
I jerked away at the same time Cole pushed him back.
"No touching."
Unfazed, River grinned. "This way." He pivoted on his heel and strode into the building.
Tattoos and Knuckle Scars flanked him, both casting curious glances my way. How wonderful. I was now a circus freak.
Wouldn't be the first time.
Inside, the warm air still managed to prickle against my exposed skin, and I broke out in goose bumps. Cole kept me tucked in tight, and that helped, but it also undermined my image as a cold-blooded Z-killer.
Oh, what did I care?
The journey ended inside a spacious sitting room. There were several couches and chairs in varying colors. The coffee table was scattered with weapons and various parts to weapons. I saw the makings of a .44, a .22 and some kind of spiked sword.
Tattoos took off but returned quickly with a stack of clothes. "Here," she said, thrusting the bundle at me.
"Be courteous to our guests," River admonished. To me, he said, "Please, forgive my sister. Milla doesn't make new friends easily."
I snorted. "Really? Hardly noticed." But in a snap, I realized something important. River was shrewd. The zombie cage fight had nothing to do with proving our loyalty or our dislike of zombies and Anima. He'd wanted to know what we could do--if we were worth aligning with or better off culled. He'd clearly decided we were, in fact, worthy, because he was pure sweetness now.
"Take her to your room," he said to Tattoos--Milla. A delicate name for such a hard-core girl. "She can change there."
Milla shook her head in protest, only to nod when River glared at her.
Cole squeezed my hand before releasing me. Indecision warred within me. Leave, and miss out on some interesting conversation, or stay, and possibly flash everyone in the room.
In the end, I trailed after Milla.
"How did you do that?" she asked. "Can all of Cole's slayers do it? What else can you do?"
"I don't know you, and I don't trust you. Watch me as I don't answer those questions."
"Fine." She opened a bedroom door and glared at me. "Touch my things, and I'll kill you."
You could try. "Same to you, Milla." If she read between the lines, she'd know I'd just made a declaration. Cole was mine.
Up went her nose. "My friends call me Milla, and as you pointed out, we aren't friends. You will call me Camilla. Or better yet, Miss Marks." With that, she sealed me inside the room with a hard slam of the door.
Whatever. I hurriedly pulled on a pair of shorts for underwear and sweatpants, looking around. The room was small, but clean. Nothing was out of place. The twin bed was made, the comforter a princess-pink. I'm not the only storybook character in town.
"Over here," a voice whispered.
I stiffened as the speaker's identity registered.
Helen.
Arrows of dread and excitement hit me. She stood at the side of the desk, still dressed in the black tank and jeans. Her features were pale, and she was wringing her hands together nervously.
Expecting me to blast her?
"
Why do you keep appearing?" I asked softly. "No. You know what? Don't answer. I wouldn't believe you anyway." Maybe. Probably.
Ugh. I would, wouldn't I? And Cole would be beyond ticked about it.
Ignoring me, Helen pointed to a stack of papers and said, "Read." Then she vanished.
I took a step forward, stopped. Took a step, stopped. To invade Milla's privacy or not?
If Helen was a liar, like Cole thought, she could be setting me up for a fall. But...if not...
My heart galloped. As I tugged on my socks, I hopped my way to the desk. I read the top page and realized it was written in code. Lines, numbers and symbols all woven together. The same code my five-greats grandfather on my mother's side had used to write his journal. This paper was crisp and fresh, obviously a copy of something. But it couldn't be a copy of the journal--that had been buried in boxes of my mother's childhood things for years.
Why did Camilla have these?
A thousand possibilities rushed through my mind all at once. The one I couldn't get past: my five-greats grandfather could have taught other slayers how to write in code, and the skill could have been passed down from generation to generation.
This paper could have come from anyone.
Why would Helen want me to see it?
I was taking pictures with my phone, when a hard knock sounded at the door.
"Hurry up," Camilla commanded.
"Sure, sure." I snapped a final photo, raced over and opened the door before she could burst inside and catch me in action. I tried not to pant.
She gave me a once-over as I pulled on the boots and scowled. Why? The clothes weren't hers, I knew that much. She was way short, and these items were actually a little big on me.
"Those belong to River," she informed me. "You'll have to return them. After you've had them dry-cleaned."
Such a sweet girl. "What's your problem with me, anyway?"
She stared into my eyes for a long while and finally sighed. "Lookit. It's just like you said. I don't know you, so I don't trust you, and I'm leery of things I don't trust. It's nothing personal."
I could hardly argue with her--especially since she'd just quoted me! "Well, one thing you'll learn about me is that I never lie. I don't care what it costs me, I always tell the truth."
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "So easy to say, so impossible to do."
"I agree that it's easy to say, but I disagree that it's impossible. It's a challenge, and I happen to like challenges. Never have run from one, never will."
She studied me again, some of her animosity draining. Then she nodded, as if she'd just made a decision. "River has his faults, but he's a good guy. You better not do anything to harm him."