I slow. River steps out of his body—which the creatures will now ignore—and rushes ahead of me. Pop. Pop. Pop. One zombie after another drops, felled by a single bullet. A path opens up and I make my move, separating from my body while ripping a collar free. Spinning, I end up behind a zombie coming in hot and slap the metal around his neck. He goes still instantly, the electrical pulses in the metal disrupting his ability to function.
He’s now tangible to those in the physical realm—not to mention visible. If civilians show up tonight...well, I won’t worry about it. Frosty and the others will take care of it.
After tagging four more zombies, I slip back into my body and drag the first to Frosty...who steps past the Blood Lines to help me. Does he never freaking listen?
“Take him to the van,” I command before returning to my brother rather than the other collars. The horde around River has thickened and needs to be thinned.
We press our backs together, just like in the old days, and fight the fiends while guarding each other. I step out of my body to swing my sword, then spin back into it, only to step out again and spin in the other direction to chop, chop, chop at the creatures. Limbs fall around us. Heads roll. Black goo sprays. The scent of rot saturates the air, strong enough to gag me, but I’ve learned to ignore it.
Red eyes glow in a darkness illuminated only by Justin’s supercharged headlights, and teeth snap at us. No matter how many creatures we fell, the mob never actually thins...until Frosty disobeys orders yet again and comes in guns blazing. He shoots until I hear telltale clicks to indicate he’s out of bullets. But it doesn’t matter. He twirls the weapons in his hands and ax blades suddenly glint in the moonlight. He uses them to slice through putrefied brains.
“I’ve got this,” River says. “Tag the fallen.”
I rip the rest of the collars from my belt loop and pick off the zombies Frosty has immobilized.
“Take this one past the line.” I push one of my conquests Frosty’s way and return to my post behind my brother. The process repeats three more times, the three of us like well-oiled cogs in a machine...until I lose my brother in the sea of undead bodies.
Where is he?
I search, and yeah, okay, maybe I’m a little too frantic about it, losing focus. Fingers tangle in my hair, jerking me backward. I don’t fight the fall but arch my back so that I roll when I land, kicking my feet up, somersaulting backward and nailing the one who grabbed me in the chest. I jump to my feet and punch him in the eye—the eye pops out. Sometimes I fight dirty. Who am I kidding? I always fight dirty. I grab a dagger and stab him between the legs. A groin amputation. My favorite. I nail him with a collar, ending his fight.
“Remind me never to make you angry.” Frosty confiscates my last collar and snaps it around the neck of the female he just gutted.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “Your precious is safe from me.”
“Well. Maybe I can change your mind about that,” he replies, and...and...
What! “Let’s get our bounty out of here and find River.”
We return to our bodies and pull the remaining collared zombies toward the Blood Lines. Frosty is strong enough to drag two at a time, but I can only manage one; we have to return for the others. On our second trip, we’re beset by another starved horde. So many it’s as if we’ve felled none. Arms reach for us, mouths chomp at us, and we have to be careful. These creatures can ghost through our bodies and reach our spirits; they can still bite and infect us.
A zombie who is lying on the ground, camouflaged by leaves, suddenly sits up and clasps Frosty’s ankle, reaching past flesh just as I feared. Frosty trips, falls...lands on his knees.
Teeth...about to sink into his jean-covered calf. I act on instinct, pushing my spirit out of my body and diving on the zombie, stopping the bite from happening. I release a stream of energy, just like I’ve practiced, tossing every slayer into the air as the zombie and I crash into the ground.
Even as impact knocks the air from my lungs, I punch the bastard again and again.
“Milla!” Frosty calls in warning. “Behind you!”
I hear the approaching grunts and groans too late. A zombie has snuck up and now clasps my arm. He gnaws through my shirt, and a thousand pinpricks of pain spear me, each of my nerve endings suddenly scraped raw. Red fire erupts from my hands unbidden, quickly traveling up my arms...down my chest, and I can’t stop it.
I might as well have rung a dinner bell.
Zombie after zombie falls on me, the next several seconds nothing but a feeding frenzy. I writhe and I scream, but it does no good.
“Milla!” Frosty and River shout in unison. “Milla!”
They’re stuck in the air, and as my emotions go haywire, they’re probably being suffocated. I have to release them. And I can. I can! I’m not helpless. I’ve practiced this, too. I simply have to take control.
I force myself to look past the pain, to look past the fear...to look past everything...and finally reach a place deep, deep, the center of hope, where I’m in Frosty’s arms, and he’s worshipping me. His hands and mouth go everywhere, no part of me taboo. And when he looks at me, he sees me, not a substitute for Kat.