Through the Zombie Glass (White Rabbit Chronicles #2)

Through the Zombie Glass (White Rabbit Chronicles #2) Page 25

Finally eternity came to an end and eleven-thirty arrived. I loaded myself with weapons and sneaked through the secret passages Mr. Ankh had built throughout the house. He’d wanted his daughter to have an escape route if ever it proved necessary—not that she would know what chased her.

Reeve. I frowned. My nose wrinkled after I inhaled. I smelled her perfume. She must have used the passage, and quite recently.

Huh. The passage led to a hatch just beyond the front yard, seconds from the road. Still. I’d have to be careful. Mr. Ankh had cameras everywhere and—as I eased my out, I caught movement several yards away.

Gaze zooming in, I palmed a blade. Was that...Reeve? Had to be. Dark hair swished as a slender girl matching Reeve’s height and build walked north. She’d sneaked out.

Dang you, Reeve! No matter how badly I wanted answers, no matter how dangerous I currently was, I couldn’t let her wander the streets without backup.

As I followed her through the shadows, I dialed Bronx.

“What?” he snarled.

“Reeve snuck out. I’m a few yards behind her. I just thought you’d like to know.”

He spewed a mouthful of curses. In the background, I heard a girl giggling.

“You’re with someone?” I asked, shocked.

At the same time he said, “Where are you?”

I gave him our current location, and he hung up.

Thank you, Ali, I inwardly mocked. I appreciate your help.

A car drove past, and Reeve darted behind a tree trunk. I did the same, only to stiffen when the car slowed, stopped.

Reeve stepped from the shadows. “Ethan?”

“It’s me, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Hello, new boyfriend.

“Thank goodness! I realized the car was slowing down, and I almost peed my pants.” She walked around the car and opened the passenger side door. “I thought you were meeting me at 7-Eleven.”

“You were late, and I worried.”

Bronx, who was in spirit form, moved through the trees and swept up beside me. The hair he’d dyed blue was now green, but it wasn’t spiked. Tonight, it shagged over his forehead. There were several lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt—and not all of them were the same color.

“She just got into the car,” I said, beyond grateful a slayer’s ability to see spirits extended to human ones. Although...

Would this make my dark urges worse?

I tensed. Backed away.

No hunger pangs.

I stopped, unsure. I was...better? Once more safe to be around?

Look how easily you gave in to my desires.

That was what Z.A. had said. And she had been right. I did. Because I’d been mad at Veronica, my defenses weak. And every time before, I’d been a mess about Cole.

If I remained calm from now on, focused, I wouldn’t have to ditch my friends or my grandmother. I could be around them without worry.

I wanted to shout with the force of my relief.

Scowling, Bronx waved me away. “Go home. I’ve got this.”

His tone grated—my first test. Calm. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to bed and cuddle?” I asked sweetly.

He leveled me a look that would have frightened the most violent criminals. “The girls caught me at a bad time.”

Girls. Plural, as I’d suspected. “Pig,” I muttered. Could no guy stay faithful anymore? Sure, Bronx and Reeve weren’t actually dating, and she was currently seeing another guy, but come the freak on.

“Whatever.”

I heard the self-castigation in his voice and flinched.

“Sorry,” I said on a sigh. “I didn’t mean that.”

He shrugged. “Do you really believe I’d be with anyone else if I could be with Reeve?”

No. I didn’t. And when I thought about it, I understood. Sometimes the loneliness probably got to be too much and anyone seemed better than no one. He had no parents. They’d dropped him off in a forest, at night, when he was just a kid, hoping the wild animals would kill and dispose of him. He just wanted to be wanted, to have someone to call his own.

Earlier, as unstable as I’d been, I might even have settled on comfort from Gavin.

The driver—Ethan—turned the car around. Bronx stiffened, gearing to pursue.

He shouldn’t do this on his own. I knew that. He could call for backup, but I also knew he wouldn’t.

I looked behind me, in the direction I needed to go. I looked back at Bronx, at the anger and frustration shining from his features. He was distracted. He would probably get into trouble.

As the car sped away, Bronx arrowed forward.

I couldn’t leave him.

With a mental push, my spirit left my body, which would remain hidden in the trees. I trailed after him, maintaining proper speed, just as Gavin and Mackenzie had taught me, keeping up without a problem.

We ghosted through other cars, and yeah, it freaked me out every time.

“Where’s Cole?” I asked, barely panting.

“Taking care of Veronica.”

I flinched as if I’d been punched.

“You really messed up, Ali,” he continued, unaware of the pain his words had caused. “Beating on one of your own is never okay.” His gaze raked over me, and he finally became aware. “He’s not with her for that. He doesn’t like her the way you think.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“To you, I think it does.” But he offered no other words of encouragement.

About ten minutes later, the car parked in the driveway of a secluded house. Ethan emerged—leanly muscled, with blond hair and a handsome face—then rushed around to open Reeve’s door.

“Thank you,” she said with a grin.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “My pleasure, sweetheart.”

Bronx growled low in his throat, a feral sound. He stalked forward, as if he planned to attack the guy, but crashed into a tree and ricocheted backward. He came up sputtering.

“Blood Lines.” He looked left, right. “The guy has Blood Lines.”

So...the guy knew about the zombies. And yet he couldn’t see them. Otherwise he would have seen us. And if he’d seen us, he would have reacted.

Ethan ushered Reeve into the house. Bronx trailed close to their heels, but the door closed before he could sweep inside, and he once again ricocheted backward. He cursed.

Bronx tried to bypass the walls and windows to no avail. We paced the front yard in unison, waiting for Reeve to come out, ticking off the nearly unbearable seconds.

“I have his address,” Bronx snarled. “I’ll find out who he is. Every detail. Every girl he’s ever banged.”

Only he didn’t use the word banged.

“I’ll know every secret.”

Man. Bronx really liked Reeve, really wanted her. Her protection mattered to him. He was simply trying to respect her father’s wishes, as well as the needs of the slayers.

Watching him, I knew this was how a boy should react to the idea of being separated from his girl. The way I’d wanted Cole to react.

The way Cole hadn’t reacted.

Had he ever felt so strongly for a girl? Had it ever bothered him to walk away from one? Or was self-preservation wrapped so tightly around him it strangled any of the deeper feelings he had?

I wondered what he thought of me—if he thought of me at all.

“Ali,” Bronx snapped, and I jolted back to awareness.

“Yes?”

“Go home. I’ve got this.”

“No.”

“You’re making little growling noises in the back of your throat, and it’s distracting me. Not in a good way.”

Fear began to claw at me, because I knew what those growls meant. I had to do a better job of focusing—or else. I squared my shoulders. “I’ve already let one slayer down today. I’m not letting another. I’m staying.”

He glanced at me, and I could see a new gleam of respect in his eyes. But all he said was “Whatever. Do what you want.”

That respect...

It meant more to me than money.

And I knew how to get more. The list. However proves necessary, kill Z.A. ASAP.

You’re going down, fiend.

When dark went against light, light always won. I was light—as long as I didn’t let my fire get snuffed out.

I would win. Right?

Bronx bumped my shoulder. “You panicking over something, Bell?”

“No, I’m calm,” I said. “From now on, I’m going to be a walking sedative.”

Chapter 11

Rot in Peace

The next morning, I climbed into Reeve’s Porsche and bucked my seat belt. Our ten-minute drive to school couldn’t end fast enough. I was ready to hide in the back of my first class and fall asleep.

She clearly concurred, gunning the engine as she shot from the garage. I wanted to rapid-fire questions at her, now that we were alone, but I was too tired. I leaned against the door instead, the sunlight streaming through the window warming me, lulling me.

Singing along to the radio, she merged into traffic. There were shadows under her eyes, and for once, she wore wrinkled clothing, as if she’d just rolled from bed and called it good.

I happened to know that she had.

As promised, I hadn’t left Bronx alone. I’d waited for Reeve to exit Ethan’s house. And she had, at 3:00 a.m. Ethan had driven her home, dropped her off in the same spot he’d picked her up and kissed her on the mouth before driving away. Bronx hadn’t said another word. His body language had said plenty, though.

Ethan was lucky to be alive.

The first moment I’d been alone, I’d called Dr. Bendari to reschedule, but the number had been unavailable. I had screeched with frustration, knowing I’d blown my best chance to talk with the only person with concrete answers.

Then I’d chastised myself for letting an emotion get the better of me.

Walking. Sedative.

“Wishing you hadn’t gotten the tattoos?” Reeve asked.

“Of course not,” I said. “Why?”

“Well, look at yourself.”