The Queen of Zombie Hearts

by Gena Showalter

  I searched for a rabbit cloud...relaxed when I spied only shapeless puffs of white.

  "I'll call Ankh," Cole said. "He'll send a van for us. Until then, we'll walk around like good little tourists, so that we're not perfect targets. Then we'll pick up Collins."

  Sobering reminder.

  Hello, crickets.

  At least they covered the sound of my breaking heart.

  "All right, then." He twined his fingers with mine. "Let's go."

  Our group started down the street, everyone lost in their own thoughts...their misery over Collins's loss. There were more cars out now than when we'd first arrived, and even more people, but at least we blended in even better with the evening crowd.

  Desperate for a moment of happiness, I wished Cole and I were simply out on a date. A normal date--our first.

  As long as we'd been a couple, we'd never gone to dinner together.

  So, I went with it. All of our friends were alive. We were happy. He was just a boy, and I was just a girl. He liked me, and I liked him, and the only thing we had to worry about was how far we'd go when we reached my door.

  Answer: as far as he'd allow!

  Hey. This was my fantasy. We'd go further.

  Cole brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles, bringing me back to the present...the pain. I'd never be able to wish Lucas, Trina, Cruz and Collins back to life.

  "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I was thrown off guard."

  I'd be the biggest tool ever if I made him beg for my forgiveness after Nana and Kat had so freely given me theirs. "You can make it up to me with a victory massage. But who is--"

  Anguished violet eyes brushed over me, before skittering away. "Don't say her name. Please."

  "I won't." But now my curiosity was a living thing.

  "I don't even know if the woman you saw is the one I'm thinking about. There are thousands of people with the same name. But if she is, you can't trust her. You just can't. She's evil in every way. The worst of the worst. A liar and a betrayer."

  O-kay. Did that mean she'd once been a slayer?

  Had Cole worked with her?

  Probably not. He'd said he knew "of" her, nothing more.

  "Whatever happened back there," he said, "we'll figure it out. We always do."

  Why wasn't his hope contagious? "What if it's something bad?" I couldn't hide the tremor in my voice. "Like when my zombie twin was living inside me."

  His grip tightened. "Are you asking me if I'll break up with you?"

  "Yes." He had before. And a girl never forgot that kind of despair.

  "I deserve that," he muttered. "The answer is no. Never again. Not for any reason. You're my girl, Ali. That's never going to change. There's no one else I've ever wanted more--no one else I ever will. You're it for me, and if it takes the rest of my life, I'm going to prove it to you."

  The fierceness he projected...

  I believed him. I also melted against him. "I'm looking forward to that."

  "You should. I have plans."

  Goose bumps broke out over my skin. "Plans, huh?"

  "Oh, yeah. Get ready to learn about reasons sixteen through nineteen."

  Before I could respond--tell me now!--Frosty strode up to Cole's side, keeping pace. "Hate to break up the foreplay party, but I think we've got a tail."

  Stiffening, Cole said, "How many?"

  "Only four. Three guys, one girl."

  Anima?

  "We'll split up." Cole expelled a breath, mist dancing in front of his face. "Divide their efforts and make it harder for them to track us."

  Another chase. Great!

  "Where do you want to meet?" Frosty asked.

  Cole thought for a moment. "Ankh's. They already know we're staying there, and if they make it that far, his cameras will snap pictures of their faces and we can start IDing these people."

  I'd opened my mouth to protest, only to press it closed. He was right. We needed IDs. "I like the way your brain works," I said. It was as sexy as the rest of him.

  "Me, too. Consider it done. See you two on the flip side." Frosty fell back to take Veronica's hand. "You're with me, Ron. And guess what? Team Fronica is about to..."

  I didn't hear the rest. They were already motoring down the road.

  Cole nodded to Bronx, who took Jaclyn's hand. They, too, moved away from us.

  My adrenaline spiked, and surprisingly enough, it was all systems go. These people could be the ones who had killed my friends. If they wanted to chase me, fine. Have at it. But it would not end well--for them.

  "You ready for this?" Cole asked.

  "I am, but I can promise you they are not."

  Chapter 11

  IT'S YOU, NOT ME

  As nonchalantly as possible, Cole ushered me into one of the stores. A bell jingled. Hello, racks of clothing. Hello, line of mannequins. We picked up the pace, darting past the counter.

  As a salesgirl shouted, "Hey!" we snaked an employee-only corner. A small narrow hallway provided three doorways. We opted for the one on the right, the break room, heading for the door in back. The word EXIT glowed overhead.

  Two employees sat at the table. One jumped to his feet and frowned.

  "Customers can't be back here."

  "Good thing we're not customers," I said as we breezed by.

  We shouldered our way outside, the door slamming behind us. As we ran down a darkened alley, the door slammed a second time. We were being followed. Good. I glanced over my shoulder, cataloging our opponents. A male, our age, a knife hilt sticking out the waist of his leather pants. A female, slightly older, with her weapon already in hand. Both were dressed in black.

  Anima must have sent them to make it look like gang members had finished the job.

  Anger ignited. Another alley loomed ahead. We took a corner at top speed, always staying in the shadows of the buildings. My heart beat against my ribs, a war drum I wasn't going to deny. Kill...kill...kill...

  "Maybe I can stop them," I said. I might have had reservations about my new ability, but I wanted our pursuers at my mercy, mine to do with as I pleased. However necessary.

  You have to be careful with this particular skill, Helen had said.

  Why? Right now I couldn't see a downside.

  "Like you did with zombies?" Cole said. "Maybe, maybe not. You didn't lift any slayers, so I'm not sure you'd be able to lift an actual person now. Besides, we're too public."

  Well, crap. He just had to go and be the voice of reason, didn't he?

  I could guess how civilians would react to people being tossed into the air by nothing but, well, air. They would panic, and chaos would ensue. Worse, Anima would learn what I could do, and we'd lose a major advantage.

  I filed the new ability in the back of my mind under the heading: Favorite toy. Subtitle: Zombies go boom, boom. Humans? Not sure.

  With a flick of his wrist, Cole lifted the lid of a Dumpster, and for a second, I thought he actually expected me to climb inside. But he jerked me around another corner and finally stopped, pressing me against the wall, acting as my shield. As always. I heard the Dumpster's lid fall back into place and realized what he was planning.

  Here's hoping it worked.

  As his warm breath fanned over my face, I reached in my purse and withdrew the Judge, a small revolver that used the same ammo as rifles. This thing could do serious damage.

  I was in a mood to do damage.

  Footsteps echoed...slowing the closer they got to the Dumpster.

  Cole and I shared a look rife with anticipation. He tensed, waiting.

  Then the footsteps ceased altogether. The pair responsible hadn't reached us, so they must have paused at the receptacle, thinking we were dumb enough to hide inside. The moment we heard the hinges on the lid creak, Cole whipped around the corner and aimed his .44.

  "Drop your weapons," he commanded.

  Dark curses rang out. There was a rustle of clothing, a thud.

  "I know who you are." The female. "You won't kill
me."

  "Try me," Cole said.

  "You can't shoot us both," she taunted. "You can kill one, but by the time you're ready to aim at the other, you'll be dead and I'll get to hunt down your friend. She's a civilian, isn't she? Oh, the things I'll do to her. Maybe I'll even go after your girlfriend when I'm done. I hear she's a hulking he-beast.... I've always wanted to slay one of those."

  Time for bad cop/worse cop. I stepped around the corner with my own weapon aimed and ready. "I've never been described that way, but I approve. Oh, and if you make a move on him, you'll get slain."

  Cole had managed to get the guy on his knees, the butt of a gun pressed against his skull. The girl stood at Cole's side, her gun aimed at his chest.

  She scowled at me. One heartbeat passed. Two. Three. The tension between us thickened.

  "You're the he-beast?" she asked.

  "The one and only."

  She grappled for a response, finally settling on "Well, you won't squeeze that trigger."

  My smile was ice and menace. "Try me," I said, mimicking Cole. "Please. All I need is an excuse."

  Another heartbeat passed. Ultimately, she dropped her weapon and kicked it toward me. Smart.

  "On your knees," I demanded. "Put your hands behind your head."

  "Watch one too many cop dramas?" she mocked.

  "Now!"

  Though she hesitated, she obeyed.

  Would it be wrong to pat myself on the back?

  I studied our pursuers more intently. The girl had a short crop of bleached hair. There were two silver hoops in her eyebrows and a stud in her upper lip. The collar of her black leather jacket gaped open, revealing a shirt that plunged to her navel in a deep vee. Every bit of visible skin had been marked by black and white tattoos.

  The boy was short and stocky, with a shadow beard that gave him a kind of wolfish look. He had so many muscles he could probably lift a Mack truck over his head without breaking a sweat.

  "Trust me, kiddies," Stocky said, his grin as cold as mine. "You don't want to do this."

  "Wrong," I replied. "I love doing this. It's fun."

  "You're playing with fire, and you have no idea." Tattoos raked her golden gaze over me. "But how could a delicate little thing like you know?" she said, sneering. "You think you want to walk on the dark side, but one step over and you'd crumble."

  Okay, I admit it. My cheeks heated. In our world, "delicate little thing" was the equivalent to a slap in the face.

  "But you," she continued, looking Cole over. "You're a big slice of sexy, aren't you?"

  I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. It didn't matter where we were, or what we were doing, Cole always garnered female appreciation. He was honey, and women were flies.

  I guess that made me the flyswatter.

  "I'd stop if I were you." I smiled a little too sweetly, my grip on the gun never wavering. "My trigger finger is developing a twitch."

  Cole cocked the hammer on his and pressed the barrel more firmly against Stocky's head. "Enough. Tell us who you are."

  I loved watching him in action. He was fearless. Steady. A rock that wouldn't be moved. "Admit you're with Anima."

  Stocky spit on the ground. "Hell, no, we aren't with Anima. We heard about what they did to your crew and how they're trying to blame us for their work."

  Plausible.

  "Who are you?" I asked.

  His chest puffed up. "River's best."

  Maybe. But that didn't make him an ally. Cole never lowered his weapon.

  On a roll, Stocky said, "Anima's pitting us against each other, probably hoping we'll destroy each other and save them the hassle."

  "If I don't like your next few answers," I said, "they'll get their wish. Why were you following us? And what about the other two? If our friends are hurt..."

  "Our orders weren't to hurt," Tattoos retorted. "Just to detain. Lookit, we saw the news. We know we're being blamed for the death of some of your people. We thought you were here to seek revenge, but I'm guessing that's not the case because you haven't blown our faces off. You know Anima's at fault, right?"

  Cole finally removed his finger from the trigger and sheathed the gun at the waist of his pants. Here's the amazing thing. He was still just as menacing.

  I wasn't quite so trusting, though, and while I put the gun back in my purse, I also palmed a dagger.

  "Did you see Anima in action the night my friends were killed?" Cole helped Stocky to his feet. "They still have one of our boys."

  "We didn't see anything." Tattoos stood on her own. "But River did."

  "Well, then, I want to talk to River." If the edge in Cole's tone hadn't scared her, the determination in his eyes should have done the trick.

  "He wants to speak with you, too. Maybe even join forces. You do good work." Her predatory gaze gave him another once-over, and she licked her lips. "Real good work."

  I stepped toward her, ready to charge. Cole held out his arm, stopping me. Tattoos grinned, and then she and Stocky gathered their weapons from the ground.

  "This way." Stocky motioned for us to follow.

  We didn't, not right away. I pretended to enjoy the beauty around me. The moon, high though it was, was nothing more than a hook. Stars glowed like diamonds scattered across a sea of black velvet. The perfect backdrop for betrayal.

  Okay. Enough of that.

  With the pair far enough ahead, I whispered to Cole, "This could be a trap."

  He traced his knuckles over my cheek. "Trust me, love. It's not. I know a little about River. He's not the most moral slayer out there, because he follows no rules but his own--and sometimes even breaks those--but he hates zombies as much as we do. He won't want to stop us from doing our job."

  I leaned into his touch, savored the endearment he'd used. "Okay. But if he threatens you, I can't be held responsible for my actions."

  "You coming or not?" Tattoos snapped from across the distance.

  Cole pressed a soft kiss against my lips. "If he threatens you, he'll be dead before the night's over."

  I had to be a bloodthirsty wench, because I smiled.

  We kicked into motion, sticking to the shadows and alleys, constantly glancing over our shoulders. I expected another tail. Or a nest of zombies. It was just one of those nights.

  Along the way, I received a text from Frosty, and then a text from Bronx, each telling me they'd lost their tails and all was well. I let them know our situation and that we would contact them as soon as we could.

  Finally, we reached a tall, crumbling building of red brick--an apartment complex. The lobby's best feature was the threadbare carpet; to the side, a girl with tic-tac-toe games etched all over her forearms manned a counter teetering on unsteady legs.

  As we passed, Stocky and Tattoos threw their jackets at her. She caught them without a word of complaint, as if she deserved to be treated like a coatrack. My reaction might have been a wee bit different. I wouldn't have complained, either, but I would have set those jackets on fire.

  We turned a corner, and the interior experienced an immediate change. From shabby to chic. The walls were freshly painted and decorated with professional portraits. There was Stocky, and Tattoos, and at least twenty others I didn't recognize. The carpets were plush, the furniture obviously antique, with cherubs and birds carved into the wood.

  We marched through a state-of-the-art kitchen, with stainless-steel appliances and at least ten kids bustling around stoves and steaming pots. The scent of spicy chicken filled the air, soon joined by the fragrance of cherry cream. My mouth watered. I was tempted to grab a handful of pastries in the five-foot-tall warmer by the back door; they were just sitting there, practically begging me to do it.

  But I didn't...take more than one.

  I devoured the treat as we stepped into a courtyard. Frenzied cheers, loud and boisterous, assailed my ears. On a sudden sugar high, I scanned the crowd. Another fifty kids were here, male and female, ranging in age from twelve to twenty-five.

  What had
we walked into?

  Silence descended the moment we were noticed. The throng parted down the center, and I felt like Moses at the Red Sea. More than one guy looked me up and down, and to be honest, it kind of gave me the creeps. I was all for being admired--who didn't like to feel wanted?--but these guys weren't sizing me up as a potential girlfriend; they were sizing me up as a potential dinner buffet.

  One guy actually made an obscene gesture with his tongue and two fingers.

  I guess Cole noticed, because he switched gears and performed a sweet little chest-bump I'd call "your only warning."

  "If you want to keep your tongue, you won't do that again," he said quietly. Menacingly.

  The guy fronted, squaring his shoulders, trying to stare down a brick wall, but Cole wasn't one to back down--ever--and soon the guy lost his nerve and moved his gaze to his feet.

  Cole, vibrating with challenge, took a moment to glare at the other guys. "Anyone else want to insult my girl?"

  I know the situation was heated and it was all kinds of wrong to focus on this, but...testosterone overload was magically delicious.

  "Well, well," a male voice called, all amusement and snark. "For once the rumors are true. Cole Holland actually is an animal in human skin."

  I pivoted just in time to watch a Greek god saunter down the part in the sea. Wow. He was as tall as Cole, with hair so pale it was as pure as newly fallen snow. His eyes were dark, almost black, and he was shirtless, his skin inked as heavily as Tattoos, all black and white.

  He couldn't have been much older than us. Nineteen. Maybe twenty.

  A boy I recognized kept pace at his side. Knuckle Scars, from Choco Loco. Should have known.

  Greek spread his arms and grinned. "Welcome to my home."

  Cole didn't say a word.

  Awkward.

  "Thanks for the invite," I said. "Maybe next time rethink sending the four horsemen of the apocalypse as escorts. They aren't exactly a welcoming first act."

  He looked me over and carefully blanked his expression. "I'm told you're Ali Bell, but..." He frowned. "Don't take this the wrong way, Pop-Tart, but you aren't even close to what I expected."

  Pop-Tart? Because I'm packed with fruit and super tasty? Thanks. "And that is?"

  "Someone..." He thought for a moment, shrugged. "Not out of a kid's storybook."