“I don’t ca—”
“I went to rescue him and got trapped myself. I was surrounded by agents, disarmed and threatened. I couldn’t fight, so I relied on bravado.” I laugh without humor. “For my efforts, I was forced to watch as my friend—the one I convinced to help me—was stabbed repeatedly in the chest.”
Tiffany pales. Frosty stiffens.
Ignore him. “Do you know who and what Anima is, Tiffany, daughter of Hannah Reynolds?” I state her address, one of the facts River gave me, letting her know I can easily turn my sights on her mother.
She pales. “Is it a cartoon?” Her tone is snarky, but she refuses to meet my eyes.
“Anima,” I say, “is a company responsible for the deaths of many of my friends. They captured and experimented on zombies for their own personal gain, and they didn’t spare the humans who got in their way. Male, female, young, old. It didn’t matter. What you did to me—injecting me with toxin—that’s something an Anima employee would do, but the company has been destroyed...which makes me wonder why you did it.”
“I don’t like you. Maybe that’s why I did it.” She realizes her mistake and scowls. “Not that I did anything.”
I smile at her, but it’s merely a cold baring of teeth. “You’ll be honest with me, or you’ll go back in the cage. I’ll be sure to turn off all the lights on my way out.”
“Bitch.” She tries to stand, but again, Frosty pushes her into the chair. “I’m not scared of you, and I’m not afraid of the dark.”
“You will be...but you didn’t let me finish. Do you really think I’d put you back in the cage alone? Oh, sweetheart, you don’t know me very well. My brother has a crate full of zombies just waiting for their next meal.”
This is true—because River always has a crate full of zombies somewhere.
She licks her dry, cracked lips. “I don’t know who Anima is, okay, and I didn’t do anything to you. You’ve made a mistake. Got the wrong girl.”
“Liar!” I bang my fists against the arms of my chairs. “I’ll give you one more chance, and then I stop being nice. Why did you cut my throat? What did you inject me with at the cemetery? Did you do something to the other slayers, something to negate their abilities? Tell me.”
She gulps. “I’ll tell you everything. But you have to give me something in return.”
She’s an opportunist. Got it. I smile slowly. “For starters, I’ll allow you to live.”
She shakes her head.
“And,” I add, “from this moment on, your responses will purchase your privileges. The lights...the food...a bed in your crate. A blanket. Water to bathe. Towels. Clean clothes.”
She glares at me but says, “I don’t know what was in the darts I used on you. I really don’t. They weren’t meant for a slayer.”
My stomach twists. “You’ll get to keep the lights on. Now. For whom were the darts meant?”
She presses her lips in a firm line.
Fine. “No dinner tonight. Would you like a bed?”
Her breath hitches. “Wait. I’d rather have dinner.”
“Sorry, but that opportunity has passed. Maybe you’ll earn your breakfast. Last chance to earn that bed.”
“Zombies,” she rushes out. “I was supposed to inject zombies.”
A lump grows in my throat. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” she says with a stomp of her foot. “I was told what to do, never why.”
That, I believe. Her frustration is palpable. “You want breakfast? Tell me what you did to the other slayers.”
“I put something in their food. A white powder. I don’t know what it was.”
I believe that, too. She isn’t bright enough to have masterminded this kind of destruction. “Why did you try to kill me?”
“I wasn’t supposed to harm anyone, but you saw me there, at the cemetery. You recognized me and would have ruined everything. You ruined everything anyway,” she adds bitterly. “I thought if I got rid of you, I could stay here.”
I arch a brow. “What did I ruin, exactly?”
“As long as I was on the inside, I got paid to report whatever I learned. The moment I got kicked out, the cash stopped coming.”
So. I almost died so that she could collect a check. “Who paid you?”
“Who do you think?” With a smile, she throws the name at me as if it’s a weapon. “Rebecca Smith.”
Rebecca Smith. A woman I hate with every fiber of my being. The former leader of Anima, and a bitch of the highest order.
Four months ago, we had her in our possession. Had I made the call, she would have left us in a body bag. She’s the one who blackmailed Milla. She’s the one who attached bombs to collared zombies. She’s the one who destroyed my home, sending her hazmat-protected agents in to kill our group with bullets when the blasts failed to do the job.