“Any details you can share?” Ali asks.
“Well, I’ve got bad news, good news and more bad news.” The little girl plays with the hem of her tutu. “Here’s the bad. Rebecca remains hidden from us. Here’s the good. We sued her witnesses and won, and they’re supposed to tell us Love’s location. Kat is with them now, waiting for an answer. Here’s the other bit of bad. The witnesses claim they don’t know.”
Ali scowls. “Are they lying?”
“If they are, they’ll be punished. If they’re telling the truth, they have to do everything in their power to find her.” One of Emma’s ears twitches, and she inclines her head. “I’ve got to go. I’ll return when I learn more.” A second later, she’s gone.
That’s something, at least. And by the time River returns, Chance has deduced the bird landed somewhere downtown. Everyone but Milla dons a suit, forgoing the face mask for now.
Rather than loading one of the collared zombies into a van we’ve doused with Blood Lines, Reeve hands Milla a syringe. “This is a weakened version of the toxin. Inject yourself right before you begin the search.”
The group heads to the garage. Cole takes the wheel, and Ali takes the front passenger seat. The rest of us pile into the back. The entire drive, I hold Milla on my lap, protecting her while I can.
Cole parks in a darkened alley, and Milla turns to me, gifting me with a soft smile.
“I’m going to survive this, whatever it takes.”
“Good. Because I want another kiss.”
“More than one, I hope.”
“Greedy girl.” I lightly smack her ass. “All right. You talked me into it.”
She flips me off before pushing her spirit from her body and stepping out of the van. It takes everything I’ve got to stay put when every protective instinct screams to go after her.
“Masks,” Cole says, and we anchor our face masks into place.
I move to the front of the van, crouching between the seats, watching as Milla takes her place in the headlights.
She sits against a wall. Trembling, she lifts the syringe to her arm. Deep breath in...out... She injects the toxin. Her eyes go wide, in seconds turning neon red. Pain contorts her features, but she manages to stand.
I glance at the stopwatch hanging from my neck and press Start. In ten minutes, I will inject her with the antidote whether she’s found Love or not. Nothing and no one will stop me.
She stumbles forward. One minute bleeds into two...three. Cole ensures the van remains directly behind her. The sun is in the process of rising, but it’s so early in the morning that very few people are on the streets; those who are pay no attention to Milla, and she pays no attention to them. Civilian is not what’s for dinner.
Four. Five. Six minutes.
Tension knots my stomach, ice chips crystallizing in my blood.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
I’m busting out of the van in thirty seconds flat.
“What’s she doing?” Cole pulls over and throws the van into Park.
I focus on Milla, who is clawing at the glass doors of an office building.
Ali rips off her mask. “Love has to be in there.”
Thank God. I fly out of the van and shove the needle deep into Milla’s neck. She collapses in my arms, trembles as I carry her to the vehicle. As gently as possible I place her on the floorboards while the rest of the slayers strip out of their suits and pour into the streets, armed up and ready to go.
Milla struggles to sit up. “Did I find her?”
“We’ll know in a few minutes.” I slap a .44 in her hand. “Stay here. Make sure the van is ready to go when we come out.”
“I will.”
No argument?
I don’t want to leave her behind, not weakened like this, but this is Milla—strong and stubborn Milla—and there’s no way she’ll let anyone get the drop on her.
I shed my suit.
“Frosty?”
“Yes.”
“Stay safe.”
“You owe me kisses, remember? There’s no way I’m not coming back.” I rush toward the building and take stock. The lights are snuffed out, and there are no shifting shadows to indicate movement. My friends are nowhere in sight, either, but a hole has been cut in the glass and the alarm system has already been disabled. I duck through the hole.
The rustle of clothing, the shuffle of shoes.
I follow the sounds and find Chance, who is standing behind a kneeling man, his gun aimed and ready. The other slayers are busy at the dock of monitors, rewinding and watching footage.
“One and only chance.” Chance cocks the gun. “Tell me where she is.”
The man actually pees himself. “Th-the injured girl? They took her to the third floor. But I didn’t hurt her, I swear. I was told to watch the monitors and report any suspicious activity. I—I didn’t notify anyone about the brunette at the door. I wanted to help her, and I knew they’d tell me no.”
“Thank you.” Chance slams the handle of the gun into the guy’s temple; he slumps forward, landing with a thud.