Now, looking back, I can see my feelings were more about hero worship than love. Mace taught River and me how to fight zombies—and our dad. How to do whatever was necessary to survive the streets and thrive.
I didn’t lie to Frosty about believing Mace was supposed to be my happily-ever-after. I believed it the day I met him up until the day he died. It was the day after his death that I began to suspect the truth: I’m supposed to end up alone.
Since Mace, my handful of boyfriends were more concerned with leaping straight into sex than any kind of relationship, and I let myself get caught up in their haste because I wanted to be wanted. And for a little while, I was. It felt good. But then the sex ended, and the guys took off, and I was left hurting even more than before.
Now a pang of longing cuts through me. I want to be kissed like Gavin is kissing Jaclyn. I want to be cherished. I want to be someone’s treasure.
I want to be something worth fighting for.
“Seriously, guys,” Ali calls. “We’re supposed to be examples, not reenacting porn.”
The two leap apart. Jaclyn even slaps Gavin across the face, though the action lacks any kind of force. “Pervert! Don’t come near me again.”
“Don’t worry,” he sneers, rubbing his cheek. “I’ll wait until you beg me for it. Again.”
“You’ll be waiting forever.” Jaclyn storms out of the room.
Gavin glares at Ali. “As usual, cupcake, your timing sucks.” He walks over and bumps fists with Bronx, who then takes a post against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “You can make everything up to me by telling me you and princess are about to oil-wrestle.”
“How about I tell you the truth instead? After Milla runs the treadmill for half an hour, you’re going to be our test dummy and she’s going to practice using her new abilities. Congrats!”
“I’m not sure how we’re still friends.” He sets one of the treadmills to the highest incline. “But at least I’m your favorite.”
“I don’t have a favorite man-friend.” Ali smiles sweetly at him. “I dislike you all equally. Now hush.”
I snicker, liking this girl more every time she opens her mouth.
Gavin focuses on me and arches a brow. “You got something to say to me, princess?”
“Yeah. Why did I get the name princess? And do you realize you’re a douche-canoe?”
He waves his arms in the air, as if he’s the last sane man in the universe. “What’s with the chicks in the place, man? They spit on my best moves.”
“These are your best moves?” I climb onto the treadmill. “How sad for you.”
His eyes twinkle merrily as he presses the on button. “I hope you enjoy this. I know I will.”
The machine lifts to its highest incline, the belt at my feet churning faster and faster, until I’m sprinting. Soon sweat is beading over my entire body, my chest and thighs burning. But it’s a burn I welcome. I’m used to working out daily. Before saving zombies became a thing—a practice I’m not sure I’ll ever willingly support—an out-of-shape slayer was a dead slayer.
“By the way. I’m making you run for a reason.” Ali moves beside the machine. “I want to exhaust you so that only the barest power remains active. That way, if any of your new abilities go haywire, you’ll cause less damage to yourself and others.”
Makes sense. Normally I can run at this speed and this incline for an hour and still do a few victory laps around the room. Today, not so much. By the end of the half hour, I’m drenched in sweat and shaky, wheezing for breath.
Ali throws me a jug of water. I reach, but I’m as slow as molasses now and it soars past me. Dang. I give chase and drain the contents, the cool liquid heaven to my abused body.
“All right. Phase one complete. Time for phase two, where we kick things up a notch. Gavin, Milla, climb into the ring and stand there and there.” Ali points to two spots on the matt. “Gavin, you’re going to play the part of mindless zombie, so just act like yourself.” Looking at me, she says, “Milla, you’re playing the part of determined slayer. Run to him and light up.”
Run? Moaning, I set the empty water jug on the bench next to the row of lockers. My legs scream in protest as I climb over the ropes to join Gavin inside.
“Shouldn’t we take a cookie break first?”
“What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?” He waves his fingers at me. “Let’s do this.”
“Stop using words. Mindless grunts only,” Ali calls.
“Bra-a-a-ains,” he says in a singsong voice.
“Better.” I jog toward him—it’s all my thousand-pound limbs can manage—and push my spirit out of my body at the halfway point. I summon dynamis, something I’ve done a million times, even while exhausted, but nothing happens. Not even a flicker.
He tsks. “If I was a zombie, you’d already be dinner.”
I check my internal faith-o-meter. It’s full. I know I can do this. So...what’s the prob?