Through the Zombie Glass Page 23

Page 23

 

  “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. ”

  Chapter 10

  Mirror, Mirror on the Bloody Wall

  I’d been taunted by one of Cole’s exes before, and there was no question I would be taunted again. I’d always—okay, mostly—chosen to walk away. I’d had what the other girls wanted: Cole. They’d just been lashing out, and I’d understood.

  In that moment, I didn’t understand anything but rage.

  This gi
rl thinks you’re weak, someone to scare away.

  She would learn better.

  She probably spent the night with Cole.

  She would suffer.

  She probably laughs at you behind your back.

  She would never laugh again.

  I increased my speed. Kat and Reeve backpedaled, moving out of the way. Not Veronica. She met me in the middle. I threw a punch, but she leaned to the side, avoiding impact; I swiped air. She returned the gesture, and I lifted my arm, blocking her, and went at her with my other fist.

  Finally. Contact.

  Impact sent her stumbling to the side. Unfortunately she recovered quickly and as I approached, threw a right. I ducked, and she nailed me with a left in the center of my scar, using my own trick against me.

  As I struggled for purchase, she clipped my jaw with every bit of her strength—as serious as I am—and I whipped to the side. I stumbled back, but caught myself before I went down. Didn’t matter. She threw herself at me, and we flew to the floor. I took most of the impact, and whatever oxygen I’d managed to suck in was once again stolen. Don’t care. I rolled on top of her and landed a blow to her chin before she was able to kick me off. We stood.

  Panting, she circled me.

  “You’ve proven yourself to be toxic,” she spat. “I’m not going to let you hurt my friends. ”

  That stinging anticipation pulsed in my chest, almost as if it were a living thing. Hurt. . .

  The rage magnified.

  Hurt HER.

  When she made her next move, I was ready. She launched at me, throwing another punch. I twisted to avoid her fist, moving behind her, and, with my back to her, kicked out my leg, buckling her knees. As she dropped, I elbowed her in the back of the head. Yeah. Forget honor. I’d go with dirty.

  She attempted to rise. Grabbing a hank of her hair, I rolled her over, then wasted no time straddling her waist, pinning her shoulders to the floor and whaling on her. Again and again. . . and again.

  “Stop,” Kat called. “Ali, you have to stop. She’s bleeding. There’s blood. Ali, stop. Please!”

  “Ali,” Reeve screamed. “Enough!”

  I stilled only when Veronica’s eyes closed, signaling she was out cold. Blood leaked from her nose. I might have broken it. Her teeth had cut into her lips, and had already swelled to three times the normal size.