At my right a shadow shifts, and I stop, turn. A sharp sting explodes in my neck...my arm...my neck again. Definitely a trap!
A wave of dizziness nearly topples me as I pull three darts out of my skin. Well, well. Two of my theories are now vapor in the wind. The girl doesn’t work for my brother and she knows she’s a slayer. For her weapon to affect me, she had to shoot it from the spirit realm, where I’m currently located. That’s not something civilians can do, even by accident.
The only other option that makes any sense is...Anima.
“Camilla!” Frosty’s voice echoes through the night, anger causing the “a” to vibrate.
The dizziness fades, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I stuff the darts in my pocket.
I step toward the girl, who hasn’t moved from the trees. She steps backward, into a higher beam of light, and I see that she’s pretty, with wide frightened eyes and skin covered in freckles; one moment she’s standing in place, frozen in terror, the next she’s running away.
I kick into gear, prepared to follow her again—
“Camilla!”
But I can’t leave Frosty behind. I just can’t. Cursing, I backtrack. He’s my first priority, not the girl.
Cole and Frosty are nose-to-nose, arguing.
“—like I told you,” Cole is saying. “I had to make sure you’d heal from a zombie bite without the antidote. That was the only way.”
“And I told you weeks ago I didn’t want the ‘save the bastards’ ability. Camilla!” he shouts a second later.
I haven’t been spotted, I guess. “Guys,” I say. And...did Cole just admit he shared the ability by using dynamis on Frosty?
Neither boy faces me. They just keep staring daggers at the other, but at least some of the tension has drained from Frosty.
Across the way, Ali is standing between Gavin and Jaclyn, pushing the two apart. “Enough!”
“I would slap you,” Jaclyn growls at the smirking man-boy, “but it would be considered animal abuse.”
“I’m sorry,” Gavin replies, “but I can’t hear you over the sound of your bitchiness.”
“Children.” Ali slaps Gavin’s shoulder before waving a finger at Jaclyn. “This is no place to continue your weird seduction of each other.”
“I’m not seducing. I’m punishing. She allowed too many zombies to bite her,” Gavin says. “I can still see the toxin under her skin.”
Jaclyn throws her arms into the air, clearly exasperated. “Don’t fight them, you told me yesterday. Fight them, you told me today. Why don’t you make up your stupid mind?”
“Guys!” I shout. “There’s a girl out there. She tried to sedate me.” I show them the darts. “We need to find her, like, now.” Before it’s too late. Hell, it’s probably too late already.
A twig snaps behind me, and my first thought is that she’s come back to finish what she started. I spin, a short sword palmed and raised. Not a girl, but a zombie on his hands and knees. He’s closer than I would have guessed, as if he just rose from the grave at my feet. He looks to be my age, maybe younger, a boy who never really had a chance to live. I hesitate—the younger ones always trip me up—and that single second of inactivity allows him to yank my feet out from underneath me.
I fall, landing with a thud, losing my breath. Having trained for this, I roll backward, into the light still shining from the car, and spring into a crouch while reaching out to swipe my sword across his neck.
His head tilts to the side before flopping onto a fresh mound of dirt. Frosty arrives on the scene, his entire arm already engulfed in flames. I blink, and his face, neck and chest are consumed, too. I gape at him. I think he gapes at himself. It’s hard to see his expression underneath all that fire.
“This is your fault,” he says as he turns to point an accusing finger at Cole, who spreads his arms, all I love you, so get used to it.
Oh, to be loved that way.
Frosty touches the zombie, just touches him—a brush of his fingertips against the creature’s head and body—and the pieces burst into black ash. The flames on Frosty’s arms die. He stares at the limbs as if he’s never seen them before.
“Thank you,” I say, only to remember he doesn’t want my thanks. But this time, he doesn’t reply. I guess he’s ignoring me again.
I push to shaky legs. Frosty’s shirt is unmarred by the flames but ripped at the collar, gaping all the way to his navel. You’d think I’d never seen a tanned, toned, tattooed guy before, because I suddenly can’t tear my gaze away, too star-struck by the beauty of him. An angel. A fallen angel. He’s my tormentor and my salvation—and what the hell is wrong with me? Did I hit my head when I fell?