Can’t pout.
The fire in my hands died, and my tired arms dropped to my sides.
“You have to be careful with this particular skill.”
The voice jolted me. It shouldn’t be here, in this room. Baffled, I spun and came face-to-face with the mysterious blonde.
“You,” I gasped out. “How’d you get here? Did you follow us?”
“Ali,” Cole said, his voice dripping with confusion. “You want to tell me who it is you’re talking to?”
“Her.” I pointed. “Sami.”
“Ali,” he said, gently now. “There’s no one there.”
Wait. He couldn’t see her? But...she was right there. I knew she was there.
I reminded myself that he hadn’t seen Zombie Ali anytime she’d separated from me, either. But this wasn’t Zombie Ali, a spirit capable of shielding her presence.
Was this woman a spirit, though? A Witness, like Emma? That would certainly explain why Mr. Ankh’s security cameras hadn’t recorded her presence.
But Cole could see Emma. Why not this woman?
“I gave you my ability to push out streams of power,” she said.
Gave it? Racked my brain, came up empty. “I don’t understand.”
“You have visions with the boy, Cole. You can light up from the top of your head to the soles of your feet. One bite of your spirit, and the zombies sicken.”
True. True. And true. “And?”
“And a spirit doesn’t lose his or her supernatural abilities through death—they spring from the spirit, after all. But those abilities can be passed. Meaning, you can give your abilities to someone else, and other slayers can give you theirs, but what you give, you can no longer use.”
So...she’d given me her ability, knowing she would no longer be able to use it herself. Why?
“Or abilities can be stolen. But that’s a lesson for another day.” Her eyebrows drew together. “Anima knows all of this. Why don’t you?”
Good question. “How did you do it, Sami? Pass it to me, I mean. Why did you do it?”
She squared her shoulders, as if expecting a blow. “My name isn’t Sami. I’m...” Her light blue gaze flicked to Cole. “Helen.”
“Helen,” I repeated and heard several gasps of horror.
She gulped. “What they’ll tell you about me—”
“Don’t worry about them. Concentrate on me. Who’s Sami?” I asked.
A hard hand gripped my shoulder, and before I knew what was happening, I was being dragged across the room. The moment the two parts of me connected, they snapped back together; I sucked in a breath, looked for the woman—Helen—but she was gone.
Who was she? Why was she helping me?
And she was. Helping me. Clearly. I had no doubts about that now.
Slayers lined up in front of me, demanding my full attention. Cut and bleeding, they stared at me with differing degrees of rage.
“What?” I demanded.
“Do not talk to that woman again.” Cole leaned down, putting us nose to nose. “I don’t know how you’re seeing a dead woman you’ve got no connection to and I’m not, but if she visits you again, walk away. Don’t listen to her. Don’t even look at her.”
Wait. “So you know her?” I asked, baffled by the intensity of his aggression.
“Of her,” he barked. “Now, this subject is closed.”
Wow. I’d never seen him like this. Not with me. “Why?”
“Closed,” he repeated.
Fine. For now. But the moment I had him alone...
Frosty scrubbed a hand down his face. “The last time Ali exhibited a strange ability, she almost killed us all.”
Thanks for the reminder. Jerk. I blew him a sugary kiss.
“She saved us today,” Jaclyn announced. “So why don’t you leave her the hell alone.”
I offered her a small, grateful smile.
Frosty held up his hands, palms out. “I wasn’t complaining. Just stating a fact.”
Sure. “Was anyone bitten and not touched with fire?” For years, slayers had been forced to rely on an antidote to combat Z-toxin. But the antidote had one major flaw: with continuous use, it eventually stopped working, which meant, we had to stop fighting. For-freaking-ever.
For me, it had stopped working.
The fire had saved me from more than death.
My question received a denial from each slayer.
Cole snapped, “All right. Let’s get out of here.” He was still like a live wire. “Anima could come back, and we’re in no shape to fight. We should—”
“Wait! What about Justin?” Jaclyn interjected.
“He’s not here,” Bronx said, his voice achingly gentle. “They must have moved him.”
“No.” She shook, shook, shook her head, hair slapping at her cheeks. “He has to be here. I saw him.”
I moved in front of her, holding her gaze. “Remember what I told you. We’re going to find him. We’re not going to stop until he’s with us.” One way or another. “But we need time to recover, or we’ll be no good to him.”