“No!” She threw her legs over the side of the bed. “The longer he’s there, the greater chance they’ve...” Tears streaked down her cheeks and as she stood, her knees buckled. “I have to help him.”
I caught her and let her use me as a crutch. I didn’t lead her to the door, but circled back to the bed. “Listen to me. You’re in no condition to travel. I will gather the other slayers, the ones who haven’t been shot, stabbed or beaten, and we will go to the warehouse. We will find Justin. You have my word.”
I never offered a promise lightly. I would do this or die trying.
“I’ll go with you,” she said, once again trying to stand.
I pushed her back down. Gently, but firmly. “You’d only get in our way, and you know it.”
“No. I feel better by the second,” she said.
Truth? Or exaggeration? Her color was better, and the swelling in her eye had already gone down.
“Alice.”
The sweet voice came from the entryway, yet I hadn’t heard the door open. I twisted, and my heart nearly jumped out of my mouth. Finally! My eight-year-old little sister, Emma—or rather, her spirit—had arrived. She stepped from an almost blinding ray of light, her straight-as-a-pen hair hanging in two dark ponytails. She wore a pink leotard, a pink tutu and pink ballet slippers. The outfit she’d died in.
I wanted to rush over and hug her more than I wanted to take my next breath, but she was a spirit, and just like with zombies, spirit could not tangle with flesh.
I winked at her instead.
The dark eyes she’d gotten from our mother beseeched me. “Alice,” she said again. Almost a moan.
Something was wrong.
My grin fell.
“Ali?” Jaclyn asked. She couldn’t see Emma. Only Cole and I could. I’d always thought it was because I was connected to my sister and Cole was connected to me.
“I’ll be in the hall,” Emma whispered and vanished.
A sense of urgency overcame me. “Stay here,” I said to Jaclyn. “I mean it. I can take care of Justin, or I can take care of you. Your choice.”
She sighed. “Justin.”
“I’ll keep you updated.” I practically sprinted into the hall. Thankfully Emma was the only person in sight, and all the bedroom doors were closed.
“I’m so happy to see you.” And I was. Even if she’d come bearing bad news.
Her hands twisted together as she said, “I heard what happened. Four of your friends were killed and—”
“Four?” I interjected and shook my head. “There were only three.”
She peered down at her ballet slippers. “No. There were four.”
“You’re certain?” Of course she was. When had she ever been wrong? I closed my eyes and let the knowledge sink in. Another life lost. Another friend taken from us.
Only two slayers were still missing. Justin and Collins. So, which one was it?
The urge to fall on my knees and scream, “That’s it! I’ve had enough! No more!” hit me, but I somehow found the strength to remain in place, quiet, another storm of tears on lockdown. There was too much to do. Starting with my promise to Jaclyn.
Compartmentalize.
“Anima is planning something else,” Emma said. “Something big.”
I’d figured, but confirmation managed to rip me apart. “Do you know what?”
She nibbled on her bottom lip, shook her head. “All I know is this—what happened last night was only the beginning.”
Chapter 9
PREY FOR ME
I told Cole what I’d learned from Jaclyn, and what I’d learned from Emma, and his reaction was similar to mine. Shock, anger...agony. It was hard, watching him suffer. Worse than dealing with my own riotous emotions.
He fisted a handful of his own hair, yanking at the strands as if he meant to pull them out, and stalked around my bedroom. His boots thumped against wood, then rug, then wood again. He stopped in front of the wall and, with an animalistic growl, punched a hole in the plaster.
He’d done that before, the day he’d broken up with me. His emotions had been too strong to contain.
“We can’t lose another guy, Ali. We just can’t.”
I’d had the same thought, but in reality we’d deal with whatever we had to deal with. That was life.
“There’s a good chance we’ll see them again,” I said, hoping to console him...and myself. “They’re Witnesses now, just like Emma.” Dead, but not gone.
He punched another hole in the wall, standing in the dust of the aftermath, panting.
“Cole,” I said gently. “C’mere.”
He stalked to the bed, plopped beside me. He was like the lion with the thorn in its paw, and I had to proceed carefully.
Bleak violet eyes lifted as he said, “Remind me that I’m alive.”
Without hesitation, I climbed onto his lap, braced my knees at his sides and pressed my lips against his. “You’re here. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”
He opened his mouth to let me in, and our tongues thrust together. It wasn’t an easy kiss. Or a gentle one. But then, comfort didn’t have to come that way. This wasn’t even a slow build to something more. It was hard, and it was harsh. It was a conflagration.