Through the Zombie Glass

My heart leaped into my threat. “Cole,” I breathed. “Thank you for coming to find me. Thank you for everything.”


He nodded, but a hard gleam appeared in his eyes. “I dropped your grandmother off, checked in with my dad and went back to the cabin. You weren’t there, but your tracks were outside. Then I got your message. I think I was an hour and a half behind you, and by then it was too late. And I’m sorry for that. No,” he added when I opened my mouth to respond. “You don’t get to tell me I have no reason to feel guilty. I love you, and I’ll feel guilty if I want.”

He’d once told me he was coming after me with everything he had. This. This was all I needed.

Though I tried, I couldn’t find the strength to lift my arms and hug him. All I could do was lean forward and press my forehead against his chest. His heart beat fast but steady.

“How did you track us?” I asked.

“Justin had the address for several Anima facilities in the area. I nearly shouted my house down trying to get your sister’s attention. She showed up, I gave her the addresses and she was better than a camera.”

“But she couldn’t get into the building to see us. There was a block.”

“Yeah, but she could see and hear everyone who entered and left. You were mentioned.”

Oh. Thank you, sweet sister.

He kissed my temple. “Will you tell me what I want to hear now? Without falling asleep on me while you’re doing it?”

“Totally. But what do you want to hear?”

Two of his fingers gently pinched my chin and lifted my head until my gaze locked on his. He searched me for a long while, silent, before grinning wryly. “Never mind. I’ll wait.”

“For what?”

“You.” He tucked my head against his chest—against the final L in my last name—breaking eye contact. Toying with the ends of my hair, he said, “I know you like to ask a thousand questions. Is there anything you’re dying to know about what’s been happening around here?”

I was confused by the exchange—seriously, what did he want me to say?—yet caught up in the seduction of him. Everything about him lulled me into a deep sense of relaxation. “Do you know where Nana is?”

“Earlier she was walking by, heard you talking in your sleep and decided to spend the rest of the night by your side, just in case you needed her. I came in a few hours ago. I’d left to shower, and sent her to her old room to rest. She refused to go until I promised to call her when you woke up.”

Darling Nana. She’d seen so much death lately. “I want to kill Zombie Ali so bad.”

“Urges?”

I knew what he was asking. “I can feel them, the desires to attack and feed, waiting at the edges of my conscious. I need more light.”

“Yes. That’s what the journal says.”

Surprised, I said, “You were you able to read it?”

“I was. I sat with that thing for hours, getting nowhere, thinking about the numbers and the symbols, about what they could mean, rolling them around in my head, and finally, all of a sudden, the words began to clear. I was so startled I looked around to make sure I wasn’t dreaming and caught a glimpse of my reflection. My eyes were silver.”

“Silver?”

“Yeah. Like mirrors.”

Mirrors. Interesting. “If eyes are the windows to the soul, I guess they can be mirrors, too.” I paused. “What was the catalyst, do you think?”

“Maybe my utter absorption with it. We are what we eat, right? My brain was definitely eating that journal.”

“What were you able to read?”

“A passage about some slayers having gifts others do not, like the visions, and your ability to see the Blood Lines.”

Yes, I’d read that part, too.

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