Through the Zombie Glass - Showalter Gena - Страница 37
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I gazed around the barn. Mr. Holland and Kat were locked in a conversation. Anger and frustration mixed, as powerful as a tsunami, and I banged my fist against the arm of my chair. Leaping to my feet, I paced to the end of the row of chairs, turned to pace back...and saw my body in the chair. Wait. I’d done it? But how? Why?
And why were my legs still burning?
Cole’s touch... The burn...
Did Z.A. fear him? If so, I’d let him put those hot spirit hands all over me and hopefully scare her to death.
His hands...all over me... I shivered, then scowled.
I raced for the door. Because it was smeared with a Blood Line, I couldn’t ghost through. Like Cole, I opened the obstruction and entered the night. I looked, but found no sign of the—
Wait. There was a streak of gold in the center of the yard, as if a tiny lightbulb had been dropped. A Blood Line. I closed the distance, saw flecks of red mixed with the gold and frowned. Or maybe not a Blood Line. I found another streak a few feet ahead and followed it, kept following, going deeper and deeper into the forest beyond the barn.
Trees knifed toward the starless sky, and branches clapped in the breeze. An owl hooted. The darkness was so thick it looked like a black blanket had been draped overhead. Cold air battered against me, and goose bumps doubled parked on my arms. Ahead, to my right, a shadow moved—and another smear was left on the ground. I frowned. The smears definitely weren’t from Blood Lines, for sure, but from someone’s shoes. How? Why?
I quickened my pace, whisking forward. The shadow had stopped. I did the same. Tall, clearly muscled—a male. Black shirt, black pants, blending into the night. A dark bandanna covered his hair. Was he a slayer?
Frosty had worn a bandanna. So had Bronx. This guy pressed his chest into the base of a tree and leaned to the side.
“—can’t believe Cole’s doing this to us,” I heard Trina say.
“I know,” Lucas replied, his voice fading. He must be walking away.
So. The two hadn’t left together, but they’d quickly found each other. Interesting.
“Ali better pony up and take care of this, or...”
After that, not even crickets could be heard.
The shadow moved, leaving another smear behind. I claimed the just vacated spot, then bounded forward, finding the shadow several feet ahead. I pressed into another tree.
“Seriously, what are we going to do?” Trina asked, her voice audible once again.
“Be careful. Guard our words and actions. I’m not giving Justin anything to take back to the Hazmats,” Lucas replied, unaware of his tail.
The shadow was in spirit form, definitely, and he was...spying on the pair?
Sparks of anger burned through me. This wasn’t Frosty or Bronx.
He darted around the tree, and I followed. This time he didn’t linger to listen to anymore of Trina and Lucas’s conversation. He branched off in another direction. I continued to follow, watching for the smears. The little traitor couldn’t hide from me. I’d catch him in the act, and—
Something hard slammed into me, knocking me face-first into the ground. Air exploded from my lungs, and dirt coated my tongue. Stars winked through my vision. I tried to crawl forward, but a heavy weight pinned me down. Fear threatened to overtake me, but I quickly rallied, twisting around and swinging out a fist.
Contact!
Pain cut through my knuckles. Maybe I’d broken one. I’d hit the guy in the jaw—a solid, intractable jaw.
“Let me go!” I demanded, expecting to see red eyes. Paper-thin, rotting skin. Hair, hanging in clumps. Instead, I saw familiar violet eyes...and my blood heated in the most delicious way. I stilled.
“Ali?”
“Cole? What are you doing? I...”
Was underneath him. My thoughts derailed. We’d lain like this before. Every other time, he’d been kissing me. Hands had wandered. My body had come alive. I didn’t have my body this time, and yet I felt even more alive, as if I were connected to a generator, my nerve endings buzzing with energy.
His gaze drilled into mine...only to lower to my mouth and linger, everything about his expression softening. His breathing changed, emerging shallow and fast. “Are you okay? I couldn’t see it in your body, but your spirit is gaunt. You’ve lost weight, and there are shadows under your eyes. I wasn’t sure if you were a hiker who’d been lost for several days or a zombie.”
I stiffened, trying not to panic. “I’m okay.”
“Good. That’s good.” His thumbs traced the rise of my cheeks. “Ali...”
I knew that look, that tone, that touch, and knew where this was headed if I didn’t put a stop to it. “Get off me,” I said, ashamed of my sudden breathlessness.
He stayed right where he was. “What are you doing to me? How are you making me forget what’s best for me... For you?”
“What’s best?” Maybe, if he said it, I would finally believe him.
“Me...Ronny. You...Gavin.”
No, I still wasn’t convinced. “Wrong.” I didn’t worry about his words coming true later on, either—not in terms of spiritual law. My free will was not on board. I turned my head away, peering up at the sky. “I’m not attracted to Gavin, and you’re not attracted to Veronica. Not anymore.”
“You’re right. I’m not.” The perfect answer—until he added, “I don’t think.”
The addition stung. Pushed me over the edge of calm.
I gripped his jacket, shook him. “Do you really think you’ll be happy with her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Heck, maybe you will be, at least for a little while, but if you’re true to habit, it won’t last and you won’t stay with her.”
He glared at me. “I don’t have a habit.”
Blind! “You seriously don’t think you’re so afraid of losing the people you care about that you cut them loose before they ever have a chance to get inside your heart?”
He took my hands and pressed them into the ground, over my head, forcing my back to arch and my chest to rub against his. “There are people in my heart,” he gritted out.
What he didn’t say but I heard anyway: just not you.
Have to stop setting myself up for this kind of rejection. “Maybe we’re both wrong. Maybe you don’t even have a heart.”
“Oh, I have one.” Eyes narrowing, he reached down with his free hand and parted my legs, giving himself a deeper cradle—a perfect cradle—and foolish, foolish Ali let him. Hardness against softness, male against female. “I just don’t want it broken.”
“So you go around breaking other people’s?”
“I didn’t break yours, and you know it,” he snapped. “You got over me pretty fast, and I did my best to get over you.”
That was all he said, but I knew. In that moment, I knew. “You’ve already done something with Veronica,” I said flatly.
A dark curtain fell over his features. I waited for him to deny it.
He didn’t deny it.
He nodded.
Even though I’d guessed, shock hit me with the force of a baseball bat. Shock and betrayal. I had no reason to entertain the betrayal. We’d broken up. But...but...here he was, on top of me, and here I was, loving every sensation, and meanwhile, the memory of messing around with Veronica was new and fresh and burning in the back of his mind.
I pushed him off and jerked upright. “I think I hate you.”
“You aren’t the only one. I think I hate myself.”
I was done with this topic. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.
What did you do with her? I almost shouted.
Shaking, I said, “Why did you tackle me if you thought I was a hiker?”
He drew in a deep breath, slowly released it. “A hiker sneaking around, as if looking for someone. I didn’t want to take any chances.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Everyone leaves and your ability to spirit walk magically starts working again? You got something to confess to me, Bell?”
I reeled for a moment. “Just what are you accusing me of, Holland?”
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