He looked healthy, propped up against the wall, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other resting at his side. His dark hair, died green at the tips, was mussed. The piercings in his eyebrow and lower lip gleamed in the light. No visible cuts or bruises.
“She was stabbed,” he said, his teeth clenched with anger. Anima should be very afraid. Of all the slayers, he was the most uncivilized, and I’d always suspected humanity had become a facade he sometimes wore. “I don’t think our attackers expected anyone to be at the gym. There were two of them, and when they broke in, we heard them. We moved to the shadows, watching, waiting. When we realized they were pouring gasoline on everything, we tackled them. She was stabbed, a match was lit and one of the guys was able to run away.”
I walked to her bed and sat at the edge, my hip touching hers. Gently I smoothed a hand down her cheek. Tremors struck me. My limbs were growing heavier by the minute. My adrenaline must be crashing. I might not have the strength to push out my spirit and light up.
“Frosty,” I said. “Can you light up?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because you’re going to put your fire inside Mackenzie’s wound.”
In unison, everyone in the room belted out a refusal.
“Like hell he is!”
“Are you insane? The answer is no!”
“That’s so not happening.”
“Zip it,” I said, and miracle of miracles, they obeyed. “Remember when I was sick? You guys healed me with your fire.”
“Yeah, but you were part zombie,” Bronx said. “She isn’t. The fire will help her spirit and harm everything else.”
“Not true. The two are connected. What injury one sustains, the other sustains. So why can’t the opposite be true?”
Silence.
“Look, I’ve done it to Cole. He’s even done it to himself, and he’s now on his feet. Just a little while ago, I did it to Gavin. He strengthened almost instantly.”
“Hold up.” Veronica’s tone was as hard as granite. “You’re telling us you put Cole and Gavin at risk? That you weren’t a hundred percent certain what would happen, but you did it anyway?”
In a nutshell, yes. But... “They were already at risk,” I pointed out.
Mackenzie moaned, as if the argument had disturbed whatever restful state she’d managed to achieve.
“Do it, Frosty,” I commanded.
“You ain’t his boss,” Juliana barked.
He rubbed his knuckles in the crown of the girl’s head. “Thanks for the backup, squirt, but I’ve got this one.” He strode to Mackenzie’s bed.
Juliana’s gaze threw daggers laced with hate at me.
I dismissed her, saying to Frosty, “Don’t wuss out. Do it.”
“You better be right about this,” he muttered. Out flowed his spirit, flames crackling at the end of his fingers.
He touched Mackenzie, and she gasped, clearly pained. He tensed to draw back.
“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t sever contact until she screams.”
He bared his teeth in a fierce scowl.
A moan slipped from Mackenzie...another. Her head thrashed against the pillow.
“Ali,” Frosty groaned.
“Just a little longer.”
Then Mackenzie opened her mouth and screamed. She batted at Frosty’s hand, but because he was a spirit, and she wasn’t, she couldn’t touch him. Couldn’t stop him.
He stepped back, and she sagged against the mattress. I leaned over her, looking for any change. Her color was returning, pink flooding into her cheeks, and the dark circles under her eyes were fading.
That. Quickly.
A lady never smirks.
Since when have I ever been a lady?
I smirked.
Frosty rolled his eyes. “We get it. You told us so.”
And don’t you forget it! I looked to Bronx. “Are you hurt?” Should Frosty torch him, too?
“I’ve got a few bumps,” he said, “but I’m fine.”
My gaze shifted to Veronica.
“I’m fine, too,” she said.
Her green eyes were bright with worry. Her dark hair was tangled, grass and twigs woven into the strands. Even still, she was a beautiful sight. Physically flawless—Cole’s perfect counterpart. Which was probably why they’d dated.
Yes. Cole had gotten around...and around.
“Someone clue me in,” I said. “How is this place a secret?”
Veronica ran her tongue over her teeth. “Jules and me are off grid. I don’t buy or rent anything under my own name. Only the guys here...and Cole...know where we live.” Like a guilty suspect during interrogation, she looked away from me.
Cole had known and hadn’t told me. Me, his girlfriend. His one and only.
I had no words.
No, that wasn’t actually true. I had a lot of words—for myself. I wasn’t a jealous girl. Either Cole was mine or he wasn’t. End of story. Either I trusted him or I didn’t.
But he’d broken up with me for several weeks, and he’d spent those bachelor days with Veronica. He hadn’t cheated on me, considering we’d been over, but it had certainly felt like it. Because they’d done things. Things I didn’t like to think about.
Things he now refused to do with me.
So, yeah, I kind of wanted to claw her face off and spit in her skull.
Graphic much? Straitlaced Ali piped up.
Not graphic enough, Bloodthirsty Ali quipped.