Текст книги "A Mad Zombie Party"

Автор книги: Gena Showalter

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Awareness erodes my delicious lethargy, and I blink open my eyes. I’m warm, toasty and relaxed...and I’m in a room I don’t recognize. Before I can work up a good panic, memories flood me. The Z-battle and near defeat. Tiffany. Wrestling with Frosty—being caressed by him, sharing stories with him. Sleeping next to him.

Tingles raze each of my nerve endings. As I scan the layout of our bodies, I realize I’m not next to him anymore. I’m freaking on top of him!

His heart thumps against my temple, and his luscious heat envelops me. One of his arms, firm and sure, drapes my lower back, while the other nestles in my hair. My legs straddle one of his. Hello, Seabiscuit.

I’ve never woken up with a boy. Mace always took off before sunrise, not wanting River to see us together “until we’re ready to share our love with others.” Liar! The rest of my losers took off soon after they’d gotten what they wanted, leaving me confused and just plain sad.

I like this. I like it more than anything ever...which is the very reason I gather the strength to stand and tiptoe to the bathroom.

Sore muscles scream in protest as I brush my teeth and hair and take care of business. When I exit, Frosty is still sleeping, thank God; I’m able to sneak out of the bedroom undetected.

I take a few wrong turns and end up back where I started, bumping into Chance as he quietly shuts Love’s door. Of all the people in all the mansions in all the world...

I sigh. “Kitchen?” I ask, not really expecting an answer.

“This way.” He waves me over, shocking me to the depths of my soul when he wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Thank you. For what you did last night. Without you, Love would have died.”

I stop, utterly floored. “You really care about her. Like, seriously care.”

I didn’t ask a question, but he stops, too, and gives me a nod.

“But why...?” Am I really going to do this? Put myself out there? Make myself vulnerable to a guy who hasn’t spoken to me in four months? Who has every reason to spurn me? Whom I have every reason to spurn? I might have put him in danger by working with Anima, but long before that, he hurt me by leaving me the morning after we hooked up. “Why didn’t you care about me?” Yes, I’m really going to do this. I deserve answers. “Why did you cut and run after one night?”

Remorse darkens his eyes. He presses his forehead against mine, an action I’ve missed, something he did long before hooking up with me. “I wanted it to be you. My forever. But wanting something doesn’t mean it’s right for you. And yes, I should have talked to you about it, should have opened up, but I took the puss way out and I’m sorry.”

That’s something, at least. An answer. “I guess I forgive you,” I say, remembering the way Ali forgave me. Can I do any less now? Besides, Chance wants what I want. A love to last the ages. Something powerful and unstoppable.

What Kat and Frosty had.

Frosty claims he doesn’t love her anymore. Is he just fooling himself?

Could he ever love me?

Do I want him to?

“Enough mush. Let’s get some breakfast.” Chance urges me forward. We’re about to snake the corner when Frosty’s voice snaps behind us.

“Milla.”

Chance and I turn in unison.

Frosty is scowling, but—shocker—it’s not directed at me. “Here’s your new phone.” He tosses the device at me, but his aim sucks and I have to dive to catch it. “Don’t leave the house.” He slams the bedroom door, and if there’d been portraits on the walls, they would have fallen.

O-kay.

“Well. That’s new.” Chance pulls me back into motion.

“Guys barking orders at me?” I snort and pocket the phone. “Hardly. But I think he dislikes you more than he dislikes me. What’d you do to him?”

He casts me an amused grin. “I’m surprised you can’t guess.”

“What do you mean?” What am I missing?

“Just...be careful with that one. He might have forgiven what you did, but he’ll never forget.”

A lump grows in my throat. After last night, I’m not just crushing on Frosty. I’m falling for him. Hard. I want him. All of him. The good, the bad and the ugly. I want to wake up in his arms every morning, and fall asleep with him every night. I want to fight for him and even with him, and then I want to make up with him. I want to guard his back and know he’s guarding mine. I want to laugh with him and hold on to him when I cry. I want to know, finally, I’m someone worth anything.

But I’m not dumb. Not always. I know he’ll never be able to give me those things.

The scent of bacon and eggs reaches me, and I latch on to the distraction as if my life depends on it. In the kitchen, Reeve stands at the stove, stirring a pot, while Ali sets the table. Bronx and Cole are squeezing oranges for juice; it’s such a domestic scene, I’m momentarily speechless.

I take out my new phone, snap a picture and send it to Frosty: Breakfast almost ready. Bacon, eggs, biscuits & gravy.

His reply comes a few minutes later. I’d rather have chocolate cake.

I type, Well, then I guess the theme of the day is disappointment. Take what’s here or starve.

As I’m sneaking a piece—or six—of bacon, Frosty comes down to join us. How does he feel about me? Our gazes meet, and for a moment, only a moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist—

–I’m in our bedroom...the bed...the two of us snuggled close. Desire floods me, a tidal wave I can’t contain, pulling me under, drowning me—

–but I’m back in the kitchen a moment later, my cheeks burning bright red. We just had another glimpse of the past, but this time, we experienced my longing for him. Now he knows how I feel. And that makes me wonder...

Why are his cheeks red?

“Frosty!” Ali rushes over, wincing a little with each step. She hugs him. “You’re joining us for breakfast? Is it Christmas?”

He jumps up and down and claps like he’s only five years old. “Christmas! Where’s my present?”

“Right here.” She pretends to unwrap her fist and extends her middle finger. “Do you like it?”

“Love it. But it’s too much. I can’t accept.”

She holds the finger to his nose. “I insist.”

“You are such a brat.” He bats her arm away. “I’m not sure how Cole puts up with you.”

“He realizes I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him.” She fluffs her hair. “That’s how.”

Cole winks at her. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Ali-gator.”

When the rest of the household wakes, we hold a meeting to decide what to do about Rebecca, and what to do with Tiffany. We can’t reach an agreement about Tiffany—half of us want to keep her caged, the other half want to set her free and follow her, hoping she’ll lead us to Rebecca, while two holdouts (cough, Frosty and River, cough) just want to kill her.

In the end, we decide we need a strong defense before we can even think about playing offense. Even if it means giving Rebecca time to plan her attack. So, we spend the first week fortifying security on the house. More cameras in and out, motion sensors, trip wires on every door and window, all of which can be activated with a single press of a button. We also pour Blood Lines around Shady Elms, trapping any surviving or new zombies inside a select area. Humans can still enter and leave at will. During the day, the zombies will seek shaded areas, leaving the humans alone. At night, nothing bad will happen as long as those humans stay away.

Also, we don’t know which of the recruits we can trust, but we do know we can’t allow Rebecca to swoop in and one, kill them, two, turn them into zombies, or three, use them as bait. So, River assigns his most trusted slayers to follow and guard them and continue their training, even though they aren’t allowed back inside the house.

The next week, we practice fighting, trying to strategize around our lack of abilities, as well as deal with—and use—my thánatos. After my trial by fire, I had to admit there was no avoiding the ability. I quickly learn that keeping my emotions under control is the key to my success. When I’m angry, the energy that leaves me is sharp and cutting. When I’m frantic, the energy is choppy and shoots out in bursts. When I’m calm, the energy is less sharp, less cutting, and a constant flow.

Reeve and Weber create different serums, hoping something will spark dýnamis in at least one of us. So far, no luck. How are we going to heal from battle? How are we going to defeat Rebecca?

Finding out she’s back in the game has jacked up my protective instincts to the max. I refuse to leave Frosty’s side. I even follow him into the bathroom one morning—you’re welcome, Ali. Yeah, he promptly kicks me out and slams the door in my face, but I stand guard outside. To get to him, Rebecca will have to go through me.

But while I’m more determined than ever to save him, he’s more determined than ever to ditch me. The only time he seeks me out is at night, and only because we share a room. He no longer sleeps on the bed. He makes a pallet on the floor. We don’t talk the way we did our first night here. In fact, we barely speak at all. We definitely don’t look at each other. Too afraid of having another vision, I suppose.

The times he manages to lose me—like now—are agony for me. To be honest, though, that agony is nothing compared to what I feel whenever he’s near. One glance, that’s all it takes, and I’m solely focused on him, everything else forgotten. My skin pulls tight over my bones and I go liquid inside. I lose my breath. I ache.

I hate it. I love it.

At least Kat approves of my dedication to my job. She appears to me to tell me I’m doing such a good job it’s almost like she’s doing it.

I use the opportunity to question her. “Do you guys date up there in the holding zone, or whatever?”

“Yeah. People date, get married. All the good stuff.”

“Are you dating anyone?”

Twin pink circles dot her cheeks, and I gasp.

“You are!”

“I’m not,” she says, glaring at me. “I’m really not.”

“But you’re interested in someone. I can tell.”

“Oh, just shut up! And don’t you dare tell Frosty about this. I don’t want him hurting any more than he already is. Not that there’s anything to tell him, because I. Don’t. Want. Anyone,” she snaps before disappearing.

Please. I could be water boarded, and I wouldn’t tell Frosty about this. But knowing she has moved on and she’s happy rids me of a lot of my guilt.

Soon after our exchange, Cole corners me in the locker room. It’s just the two of us, and he looks ready to commit murder.

“What are you doing to my boy?” he demands.

“What do you mean?”

“The way he follows you and watches you... I’m not sure if he wants to choke you or screw you. If you’re antagonizing him—”

“I’m not. And what do you mean, he follows me?”

“If you’re teasing him—”

“I’m not!” I repeat. “Now, about him following me...”

He purses his lips and storms away.

After that, I keep watch for Frosty. Another week passes and I discover he does follow me. I confront him about it, expecting him to admit he hoped to catch me doing something wrong, but he is more embarrassed than angry—as if he watches me because he wants to, maybe even hopes to protect me.

I just... I don’t know what to think anymore.

I’m running the treadmill to expel some tension and build my stamina when my phone beeps. I see Frosty’s name on the screen and bite my lip to stop a grin of happiness. He’s speaking to me again?

A treadmill expert, I don’t have to stop the machine to read it—or reply. (Don’t try this at home.)

Frosty: I’m hungry. Make lunch?

Me: Sure. I’ll make U a sandwich. In never. Make sure U set UR watch

Frosty: It’s set for Maypril 32nd, 1:63 a.m. But I don’t want a sandwich, I want pizza.

Me: Name 1 thing wrong w/a sandwich

Frosty: It’s not pizza

I snort. He’s got me there.

Frosty: This is a special day. I’m officially a HS graduate. Shouldn’t I get an award???

I’m proud of him. Graduating is a feat for anyone, but especially for a slayer.

Me: Yes! I’ll give U award—1 sandwich coming up

Frosty: Cruel, Milla, Cruel. Where R U?

Me: Gym, why?

Frosty: Hoping U decided 2 go 2 kitchen & MAKE THAT PIZZA.

Me: No chance

Frosty: Speaking of, Chance w/U?

Me: No, WHY???

For some reason, Frosty’s rage against Chance has only grown these past few weeks.

Frosty: What R U wearing?

Are you kidding me with this? He’s been ignoring me all week, and now he’s flirting with me?

Me: Were U hit in the head this morning??

Frosty: What? U don’t want 2 coordinate outfits?

Me: I’m naked. Wear the same outfit & meet me in the kitchen 4 that sandwich

“I thought we agreed on pizza. And you are so not naked.”

I jolt, the smooth huskiness of his voice a caress to my ears. I look over to find him standing in the doorway, his shoulder pressed against the frame, his arms crossed. The tingles and aches only he has the power to cause immediately start up, and the heat he always ignites quickly spreads.

“Congratulations on finally becoming a real man,” I say.

“Thanks. It was a long time coming.”

Could he be any more adorable? Longing sweeps me up and under. I want more from him. A lot more. I want to know everything. But I don’t even know his real name.

Our gazes meet. I wish he’d tell me how he feels about—

–I’m standing in front of a swing set. The sun is shining so brightly, and I’m glad, I like the sun, but I don’t want to be outside. The doors to the school are locked, though. It’s recess, and I’m supposed to stay on the playground.

My aunt says recess is the best place to make friends. But I already made some. Cole, Jackson, Greg and Robert– everyone has a nickname.

Cole told me to call him Sir, but that’s not happening.

Jackson is Bronx. Greg and Robert are Boots and Ducky.

They’re calling me Frosty.

They see monsters—zombies. To them, I’m not a freak. I’m normal. And they’re teaching me how to fight properly!

I grin, but it doesn’t last long.

My cousin Tomas told Aunt Reba that Cole is the one who punched me in the face. She told me I couldn’t hang out with him, that he’s going to end up in prison. She doesn’t understand. I practically begged him to hit me.

A rock slams into my chest and I stumble forward, looking up to see a kid at the top of the slide. He throws another rock at me, but I duck and it sails overhead.

“Aston is a dumb name.” He snickers. “Are you a dummy?”

The kids around him stop what they’re doing to chant, “Dummy, dummy, dummy.”

A pat on my shoulder startles me. I turn to see Cole’s purple eyes focused on me.

“Ready for another lesson?” he says.

“Yep. I am.”

“Good. I call this one mess with the bull, get the horns.” He climbs the jungle gym with an ease that amazes me and reaches the boy who first called me a dummy. He pulls back his elbow and, boom, drills his fist into the other boy’s nose.

Blood sprays, and the kid drops, howling in pain—

–the workout room comes back into focus. My foot gets tripped up on the treadmill and I propel backward. Frosty rushes over, catching me before I crash. My heart thumps wildly. I’m sweating again, and now I’m more than overheated. I’m breathless and wanting and desperate.

Want me the way I want you.

But he sets me aside and shoves his hands in his pockets.

I rock back my on my heels. “So. Your name is Aston, huh?” What strikes me as strange? I wondered just before our vision. Did I cause it to happen?

“Aston Martin, actually.”

Like the car? “No way. Seriously?” I bark out a laugh. What a perfect fit. Sleek, powerful and fast. But I don’t want him to get a big head. “No wonder you didn’t want to share it with me. I think I’ll stick with Dijon.”

“Sweet pea, I can have you screaming Aston by the end of the day.”

I stop laughing in a hurry. He can. He so can.

The air thickens between us, something I’m growing used to, and I clear my throat. “If you’re here to drag me to the kitchen—”

“No. Forget the food. I’m actually here to chat.”

“About?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been watching you practice. We’d already realized the white and red fires are opposites, but I’ve noticed your abilities—those that have remained—are the opposite of Ali’s, as well.”

I ignore a wave of hurt. “You mean she saves, and I ruin.”

“I mean she controls zombies, and you control slayers. Her fire heals—or healed—while yours harms. But don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m not blaming you. Rebecca Smith poisoned you, and for that, we’ll make her pay. Until then... Cole, River and I have been talking, and we’ve decided to try filtering your blood.”

They’ve been meeting in secret, otherwise I would have heard rumors. Irritation has me snapping, “Fine. Whatever. I’ll shower and meet you—where?”

“The basement.”

Where Tiffany has been living? Why let her know what we’re up to? I open my mouth to protest, but Frosty is already gone. I hurry to our room, shower and dress in a tank top, leaving my arms bare for easier blood donation, then I make my way to the basement.

Frosty waits at the entrance. He stretches out an arm, offering me a hand. I’m so surprised, so uncertain about how I’ll react to contact, I hesitate before accepting, and his eyes narrow to tiny slits. At the moment of contact, I gasp, tingles sparking with new life, heat rushing through me.

Is this what Chance experiences every time he touches Love? What Cole experiences with Ali? What Frosty used to experience with Kat?

I try to draw my hand back. I hate the thought of being enraptured by him while he feels nothing for me. But he tightens his hold, surprising me further, and draws me deeper into the basement, a room that has been utterly transformed. Three plush black recliners surrounded by a vast array of medical equipment and several rolling trays.

Tiffany is strapped to one of the chairs and sleeping soundly. Ali rests beside her, wide-awake and without straps. Cole stands behind his girlfriend, an avenging angel ready to protect the reason his heart beats at any cost, and a pang of envy shoots through me. Reeve and Weber are here, too, arranging needles and vials on one of the trays.

“Here.” Frosty leads me to the only available chair. “Reserved just for you.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, easing down.

He stays beside me, but he will no longer meet my gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

“He doesn’t want you to do this,” Ali says.

I frown. “We’re just filtering my blood, right? No big deal.”

“It’s a little more involved than that.” Reeve putters around the equipment. “We know that what affects the spirit affects the body, so whatever is going on inside your spirit will manifest in your blood, even in the smallest way. So, we’re going to put you on dialysis and filter out as much Z-toxin as possible and hopefully rid you of thánatos. Afterward, we’ll inject you with a serum we’ve been working on, one that should strengthen dýnamis.”

Should. My gaze slides to Ali. “Has the serum not been tested?”

“No. You and I are the lab rats.”

“Something I object to,” Cole says.

Frosty nods. “Agreed.”

Too bad. “I’ll go first.” Let me suffer the effects if something goes wrong. “If I survive, and it works, Ali can be next.”

“No,” Frosty says, sharp and stinging. “Why don’t I go first?”

“I’ll go first.” Cole crosses his arms over his chest.

Ali shakes her head. “You guys aren’t the yin and the yang, so you can suck it. Us girls got this.”

Before a word war can kick off, I ask, “Why is Tiffany sedated?”

“We took a sample of her blood, wanted to know if she’s tainted like the rest of you. The results were inconclusive.” Reeve taps the belly of a syringe and squeezes out excess liquid. “As for the slayers, everyone but you has lost every ability except the one to separate spirit from body. I blame whatever poison Tiffany used.”

Anger rises—Tiffany!—but I beat it back. I don’t want to accidentally unleash a stream of energy.

Cole meets my gaze. “You’re one of us now, and if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to do it.”

I’m one of them? Seriously?

A smile breaks through, and I can’t stop it. I catch myself rubbing the Betrayal tattoo, not because I feel guilty but because the word has lost its power over me.

“I want to,” I say. “What are you waiting for, Reeve? Let’s get this party started.”

I hate this. I hate this so freaking much I’m close to snapping. How can I stand here while Milla is turned into a test subject? What kind of man does that make me?

The kind who wants to save his friends, who knows this might be the only way to return them to their former glory.

Right. But is that a good enough reason?

I sweat bullets as Reeve pushes the tray closer to Milla then sits beside her. It’s time for dialysis, and that’s fine. People do that every day without complications. Kat did it four times a week. It’s the serum I’m worried about. It’s uncharted territory. Milla could be hurt. Or worse.

Panic nearly overwhelms me, but I remind myself Ali has gone through something similar. When she was infected with massive amounts of zombie toxin and the antidote couldn’t save her, she was certain dýnamis was a cure-all. We refused to try. We’d never used our fire on another slayer, had only seen what it could do to agents—the same thing it does to zombies—and we didn’t want to risk her life; she continued to grow worse until the zombie side of her completely took over the human side and only then, when faced with losing her anyway, did we relent. In minutes, it worked.

Had we used it in the beginning, we would have prevented months of suffering for Ali.

And yet, as Reeve ties the tourniquet on Milla’s arm, I say, “I think we should come up with another plan.”

Milla peers up at me with a hefty dose of confusion. She looks so tiny in the leather chair, so vulnerable and in need of a protector.

I have to step up and be that protector. I will.

In the past few weeks, I’ve learned so much about her. I know her in ways she may not know herself.

As a child, she failed to save her sister from her father’s wrath. At least in her mind. Four months ago, she failed her brother, her entire crew. Now she’ll do everything in her power to help—even if it means harming herself in the process.

“You aren’t a lab rat,” I tell her.

“I am today. If it hurts, it hurts. I can handle pain.”

“You handle it better than anyone I know, but that doesn’t mean you should have to.”

She links her fingers with mine. “I want to do this. I have to. The problems started with me, and they’ll end with me.”

“Besides, there’s not much risk involved,” Ali says. “Because of the vision, we know Milla lives long enough to save you...which means she’ll live through this.”

Always we come back to the vision, and I’m sick of it. She might not die today, might only wish she did.

Milla releases me. “You heard her. I’ll live.”

There’s a bitter quality to her tone I don’t understand. Does she think I care only about using her as a shield? That the only reason I want to save her life is because she’ll one day save mine? That has never been the case, and it never will. In the beginning, I tolerated her presence for Kat. But now...hell. I just don’t know.

I don’t know anything anymore.

Kat’s death broke my heart into a million pieces. Her insistence that I date other girls broke the pieces. I had nothing, was nothing, and had to put myself back together; whatever mortar I used changed me. I’m not the same. I’m a different guy, with different needs...and different desires.

And right now those desires revolve around a punk-rock Barbie with a bad attitude and a heart of solid freaking gold.

“I don’t care about my future,” I say. “I care about yours.”

Her eyes widen. She shakes her head as if she’s certain she misheard. “You...you...what?”

Ali rubs the bridge of her nose. “Can’t say I’m surprised by this. We’ve all noticed the vibe changing between you guys. And we need to talk about that, we really do.”

“We really don’t.” My love life isn’t her business.

“But whatever’s going on,” she continues, unabashed, “you can’t stand in the way of answers.”

I ignore her. “Milla, I would rather you—”

“No. I’m not playing I would rather with you,” she says, her features soft and vulnerable, beseeching me. “I have to do this. We’ll talk about the other thing later.”

If I continue trying to stop this, she’ll fight me, really fight me, and maybe even hate me. So I do the only thing I can. I step back, allowing Reeve and Weber to get to work. Milla is poked and prodded, her blood filtered for hours, and finally she is injected with the new serum.

We wait, tense, as one minute bleeds into another and she has no reaction. I begin to breathe again.

“I don’t—” Suddenly she gasps, her back bowing. A scream rips from her. Then, just as suddenly, she goes limp and quiet, her head lolling to the side.

My panic returns. I kneel before her to gently tap her cheek. “Milla.”

“Don’t worry. This is normal.” Reeve chews on her bottom lip. “I think.”

“You think?”

Cole comes over to place a hand on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I thought Milla would be harmed.”

“Give her time,” Reeve says.

“I know you’ve softened toward Milla.” Ali meets my glare without flinching. “But she isn’t right for you, Frosty. She—”

“This may come as a shock to you, but you don’t get a vote about the way I live my life.” My phone vibrates in my pocket. I check the screen, find a text from River.

Guess what I C in the sky? Rabbit cloud.

Attached is a picture of the cloud in question.

Well, well. A zombie nest is stirring.

Another text comes in.

& get this. There’s a cloud shaped like a tombstone right next 2 it. I swear I see the letters RIP in the center

A tombstone...a hint that the zombies are stirring at a cemetery? Shady Elms, perhaps. I wouldn’t be surprised.

“Zombies will be on the prowl tonight.” I show the photo to Cole.

“Capture them,” Reeve says. “I need to study them, find out if Rebecca altered them and if so, learn more about their new toxins. That way, if our serum doesn’t work or if Milla has a relapse, we’ll be better equipped to deal.”

Cole arches a brow at me.

I nod stiffly. I never thought I’d reach this point. A desire to capture zombies rather than kill them. But for Milla’s health...

Yeah. I’ll do it.

“I’ve never tried to capture multiple zombies but River has,” Cole says. “I’ll get with him. The rest of you meet us in the gym at six. We’ll head for Shady Elms when the sun begins to set at seven.”

If Milla’s awake this evening, she’ll insist on going with us. I can’t let that happen. She’s been through too much today. “You got a sedative?” I ask Reeve.

“Of course.” She digs through a drawer on the cart. “I don’t think you need one, though. You seem calm now.”

“It’s for Milla. Later.”

Bronx shakes his head. “Mistake, bro.”

Better she’s pissed at me than injured—or worse.

Reeve hands me a syringe, and I stuff it in my pocket next to my phone. I crouch in front of Milla, trace my thumb over the softness of her mouth. Her eyelids pop open and she jumps to her feet, gasping for breath she can’t seem to catch.

“Hey. Hey,” I say, straightening. “You’re safe. You’re all right.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s still inside me, and it kills me, thánatos kills me and, and, and—” She clutches at my shirt, frantic. “The serum didn’t... It couldn’t... Only made the flames stronger...”

“Hey.” I comb my fingers through the silk of her hair. “I’m not going to let you die. You have my word on that.”

As she sags against me, I wrap my arms around her and hold on tight.

“I’m sorry, Milla, but we need to check your blood one last time.” Reeve approaches, empty syringe in hand.

Milla nods and I continue to hold her, unwilling to let go. I need her comfort as much as I need to give comfort back to her.

Reeve sticks her, fills the belly of the syringe. A few minutes pass as Weber readies the specimen and exams it under a microscope. I know it’s bad news before the guy even speaks. I can see the disappointment shining from his face.

“Milla’s right,” he says. “The red fire has already contaminated the blood we cleansed. In fact, I can see the essence of the red flames in her cells, feeding off everything it encounters. This virus—or whatever it is—used the serum as a power source. And she’s right. If she lights up now, thánatos could feed off her, too.”

A tremor shakes her, but she remains quiet.

Enough of this. I lift her. “Let’s get you to bed. When you wake up, I’ll make sure pizza is waiting for you rather than some lame sandwich.” I resort to humor because, if I don’t, I’ll rage.

She softens and curls against me, conforming to the hard planes of my body. “Frosty?” she whispers, and my hands clench on her.

“Yes.” I climb the steps, careful not to jostle her.

“Do you believe we’ll beat Rebecca this time? Once and for all?”

“I do. We’ll do whatever proves necessary.”

“Yes. Yes, we will,” she says, and there’s a note of finality in her tone I don’t like. “Whatever proves necessary.”

* * *

I expect Milla to want to rest. I should have known better. The moment I place her on the bed, she sits up and says, “You guys lost dýnamis, and I need to know if I lost it, too, or if it’s still simmering inside me, just covered, covered, covered up by the red flames.”

“You heard Weber. Those red flames could hurt you now.”

“They’re hurting me anyway.”

A muscle ticks below my eye. “And just how are you going to tell if your dýnamis is covered by thánatos?”

“By looking with my spiritual eye, where the fire—fires—burn.” She turns away from me. “I’m doing this with or without your approval.”

Stubborn girl.

“Fine.” But I’ll be watching her. I’ll step in if I detect the barest hint of unease.

I remain by the bed, on high alert as one hour bleeds into another. Milla hasn’t moved from the bed. She’s oddly relaxed, as if she’s meditating.

I’m due in the gym in ten minutes. If I’m going to use the sedative on her, there’s no better time. She’s distracted.

I palm the syringe.

“You’re making a big mistake.” Kat appears at my side.

For the most part, she’s stuck to her once-a-day visitation schedule, but there are times she’s granted permission to pop in whenever she wants. I’ve found those are the days she’s on a rampage about something.

“I’ve made a mistake before, kitten. The time I thought I’d made a mistake.” I whisper, hoping Milla remains in her calm, unaware state. “What are you doing here?”

“Good news. I received permission to fix this particular mistake.”