The Queen of Zombie Hearts

by Gena Showalter

  "No! Don't you dare hang up on me," she said, her voice rising to a yell. "If you do, I'll be on the first plane back to Alabama. I might anyway. I want to hold you and answer any other questions you have. I don't know a lot about it--your parents refused to talk about it--but I'll answer what I can."

  I sighed. "No. Stay with Mr. Holland. I'm not mad at you, not really, I just need time to deal with everything. I'll call you when I'm ready. Okay?"

  "Okay. All right. Just tell me that you know I love you."

  "I do. I know. And I love you, too."

  We said our goodbyes and hung up. I stood, the packet of pictures falling to the floor. In a daze, I tripped my way to my little sister and just kind of fell at her feet. She wasn't solid to me, and I wasn't solid to her, but still she traced her fingers through my hair.

  "You're only my half sister," I said softly.

  "And that makes you adore me less?" she asked.

  "Never!"

  "Well, it's the same for me."

  "But the woman who gave birth to me was evil. Awful." Except to me. "She turned on her best friend. She helped kill Cole's mother."

  "Well, then, I've got another bit of good news for you. You are not her. You're the one and only Alice, perfect in every way."

  Hardly. "I have her push-ability, Em. I'm a lot like her."

  "Well, the other slayers are about to be a lot like her, too."

  Um...what? "Explain."

  Sighing, she said, "When Helen passed her ability to you, it broke through some kind of defensive shield and changed you."

  "That, I know."

  "Changed you more than you've realized," she said. "More than she realized. Now whenever you use your fire on a slayer, you share your abilities with them."

  I wanted to deny it, but there was already proof to the contrary. I'd used my fire on both Gavin and Jaclyn, and they'd had a vision for the first time. "Helen said that once an ability is passed, the original possessor no longer has it. I'm still in possession of mine."

  "Maybe it was the testing you endured as a child. Maybe it was the drugs and toxins you were injected with when you were tortured. Whatever the reason, you are different."

  Who else had I healed? Would they develop new abilities, too? If so, would they thank me--or curse me?

  Emma pointed to the packet of pictures. "Why don't you look them over? I think you'll be surprised by what you find."

  Chapter 19

  OFF WITH YOUR

  MESSED UP HEAD

  I riffled through the photos of Helen, Sami, Erin and Veronica, my hands trembling. It was odd, seeing the strong, determined woman from my dreams--and the few times she'd appeared to me--relaxed, almost happy.

  But Veronica was right. Sami--I--had rarely smiled.

  In all but one of the photos, I was sullen, clinging to Helen. In the single exception, I was in a sandbox with the slightly older Veronica; I knew it was her. Those dark curls were unmistakable.

  A tear rolled down my check, hot and stinging, and just like that, a dam broke, ushering in an uncontrollable storm. A sob erupted, soon joined by another...and another. Everything I'd compartmentalized, planned to deal with later, burst free of its prison.

  "Oh, Alice," Emma said, then spoke no more.

  Sorrow. Trina, Lucas, Collins and Cruz--dead, ashed.

  Heartache. Me, the girl who valued truth above almost anything, lived in a tangled web of lies.

  Shock. My mother wasn't my mother.

  More heartache. What would happen when Cole was hurt in the woods, like our vision predicted? Would I lose him?

  Guilt. I was keeping a secret from Cole.

  Though I wanted to wallow in all that I was feeling, I knew I had to let the emotions go. Finally. Once and for all. They were part of the past, and I couldn't move forward if I was always looking back.

  I'd never needed to move forward more than I did now. But all I really knew how to do was stuff the emotions back in their compartments. And I might have done it, except the walls hadn't just crumbled--they'd exposed a wound, and if I rebuilt over it, I'd find myself back in this tragic place one day.

  "Ali? Emma said something was wrong." Suddenly Cole was sitting beside me, drawing me into the warmth and strength of his embrace.

  I sagged against him, burrowing my face in the hollow of his neck and crying. Crying so hard I convulsed. He never let go, just held tighter, running his fingers through my hair and whispering soft words of comfort into my ear.

  Things like "I love you, Ali-gator" and "We'll get through this" and "This isn't going to break us" and "We're stronger than that."

  When finally I quieted, he picked me up and carried me out of the room, away from the pictures and the pain. My eyes were swollen; they burned as if they'd brushed up against actual flames. My nose was so stuffy I could barely breathe, and every ounce of energy had abandoned me. Just then, I was nothing more than a melted puddle of goo. Embarrassed goo, at that. I'd probably left snot on Cole's shirt.

  He entered another bedroom; one glowing with candles. It was spacious, with two separate parts. The bed, and the entertainment area, with a plush couch and a coffee table piled high with food. Some of my favorites. Fettuccine Alfredo. Stuffed mushrooms. Fried cheese. Chocolate-chip cookies topped with vanilla ice cream.

  "I put together a hideaway for us," he said, easing me to the edge of the bed. Soft music played in the background. "Thought we could finally have our first date."

  A lance through my acid-ruined chest. "You shouldn't have done it. Not for me. Cole, Helen is--"

  "I know, love. I know."

  Did he? Really? I had to say the words out loud. "She's my mother."

  His nod was slow and easy. "Veronica confirmed what I'd begun to suspect."

  Sparks of anger. Not her story to tell. "My birthday was changed. I'm older than we realized."

  "Good to know."

  "I dream about Helen. She appears to me."

  He crouched in front of me and braced his hands on my thighs. "Ignore the dreams, ignore the woman."

  But...I didn't want to. "She helps me."

  "She's a liar. She'll betray you, hurt you."

  "No, she--"

  "Is. She will." His expression hardened, becoming granite. "But who she is and what she does doesn't change who you are--mine."

  His assurance did just what it was supposed to. Assured me. And yet, my nerves began to fray at the edges. He saw one side of a coin. I saw the other. She was evil to him, but good to me. He wanted me to forget her. I wanted a relationship with her--wanted whatever I could get.

  Would he be able to come to grips with that? "I'm tired of letting Anima run things," I said, switching tracks. "They make a move, and we struggle to recover. That's old. So, in the morning, I'm searching for Justin. I promised Jaclyn."

  "While I like your enthusiasm," he said, "you don't really have a place to start your search."

  "Yes, I do. We know Justin was driven out of that warehouse. Well, there's an apartment building across the street from it. Maybe someone was watching from a window. I'll go door-to-door, if necessary, and ask. I'll also call Ethan. He used to work for Anima and knows how they operate."

  "He might still be working for them."

  "There's really only one way to find out."

  Silence. A sigh. "Okay," Cole said. "I'll help.

  Those words took me full circle, right back to the beginning of our conversation--to the crux of my fears. "If I talk to Helen, learn what she knows, will you think I am working with Anima?"

  Peering at me, voice firm, he said, "Okay, that's it. Spanking time." He sat beside me and tugged me over his lap.

  I yelped when he flattened his big hand against my bottom, but rather than smack, he rubbed.

  "Do I have your attention?" he asked. "Good. I want you to listen to me, and listen closely. Have I been fooled by Anima before? Yes. But I learned from my mistakes, and I don't make the same one twice. Give me a little credit. And give yourself a little
credit, too. You care about your friends. You are kind and honest and as close to perfect as humanly possible. You hate Anima as much as we do. You would never help them, not even for her." He spat that last word. "When the shock of her connection to you wears off, you'll realize she's a monster with an angel's face. That's all."

  That's what he wanted. Maybe what he needed.

  But I wasn't sure it would happen, and that scared me.

  Stupid fear!

  He helped me straighten.

  "You keep promising me a spanking and not delivering," I said.

  "It's your eyes. They can talk me out of anything."

  "What is it, exactly, that they say?"

  "Usually 'you're so amazing, Cole.' And 'I want to be your slave, Cole.'"

  Ha!

  "Now how about that date?" he asked.

  "Please."

  We ate. We talked and laughed and even watched a movie. We were lost in our own little world. But the intimate time together made me...itchy. I wanted more.

  Wanted him. Finally.

  Guess my eyes would have to talk him out of his clothes.

  I straddled his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. "I'm so used to seeing you without a shirt. If you feel uncomfortable wearing one, just go ahead and take it off. I mean, I'm only thinking of you."

  Snorting, he stood with me wound around him like a boa constrictor and walked to the bathroom. After placing me on the marble countertop, he removed his shirt--cheer, clap--and hunted down a washrag. After turning on the faucet, he wet the rag and gently cleaned my face.

  Oh, crap! "I must look hideous," I mumbled. No wonder he'd stopped me before I'd even gotten started. "My earlier blubbering has ruined our date."

  "Hey. Your blubbering was a highlight for me."

  A small laugh escaped me. "Has anyone ever called you sweet? No? Good."

  "You've told me I taste sweet." He tossed the washrag to the floor. "You ready for phase two of the evening?"

  "Depends on what, exactly, phase two is."

  "The kiss at the door. Or, in our case, the shower door." His heavy-lidded gaze swept over me. "I wasn't going to go this far, not tonight, but you're dirty. Like, really, really dirty. Filthy, even. I've got to do my gentlemanly duty and clean the rest of you up."

  My heart skittered into a frenzied beat. "Underclothes on or off?"

  "Ladies' choice."

  Sucked for him, because he wasn't going to like my answer. Or rather, he was going to like it way too much. "Off."

  He moaned as he fussed with the knobs inside the shower. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

  "Kill your resistance, yes. You'll thank me later."

  "I'm sure."

  Water rained, and steam thickened the air. He stripped out of his boots, jeans and weapons. Lots and lots of weapons. Daggers. Throwing stars. More daggers. A gun. Another gun. Ammo. The famous minicrossbow. More daggers. Metal clanged against metal, his every movement fascinating me.

  "Your turn," he said, his voice a mix of need and command.

  I toyed with the ends of my hair. "Can I ask you a question first?"

  "You just did. Strip."

  Funny man. I eased to my feet. "Would you have waited one year and three months for your other girlfriends?"

  He crossed his arms over his chest. "Either way I answer that, I'm going to sound like a douche-purse."

  See? That word was going to follow me forever. "So don't add 'knocked into a coma' to the description, and give me the truth."

  "Fine. No. No, I wouldn't have. I would have moved on. And before you rapid-fire more questions, no, I won't get tired of waiting for you, and no, I won't move on from you."

  Reason number seventeen was about to come into play. "Why wait with me?" My gaze raked over him, and my cheeks heated. "It's clear you'd rather not."

  "Because you're mine. Not just now but always. I want to do what's right by you. I will do what's right."

  "The others were yours, too," I said. Steam continued to thicken the air, creating a dreamlike haze. "Once."

  "They weren't mine. They were...practice."

  Pretty words. They almost melted me. Almost. "How do you know I won't become practice for some other girl?"

  He stepped forward, pressing me against the bathroom counter, the hardest part of him nestling against the softest part of me. He tugged my shirt over my head. "You're just going to have to trust me." His fingers settled on the waist of my pants, unfastened the button. "Do you?"

  "Yes."

  "Good." He returned me to the counter and removed my boots.

  I leaned back, bracing my weight on my elbows and lifting my hips to help him tug off my pants. I was sweet like that.

  Once the denim cleared my feet, I was left in my bra, panties and arsenal. One by one, he discarded each of the weapons. I had just as many daggers, but no guns. He looked me over, then looked me over again, as if he couldn't not do it.

  "Does it bother you that I'm flat-chested?" I asked, the question slipping out before receiving permission from my brain.

  His gaze jerked up, meeting mine. "You're perfect. Why would you wonder something like that?"

  "Something Gavin said--"

  "Gavin commented on your chest?" Cole swiped up one of the daggers. "I will kill him. Will brutally murder him."

  I grabbed his wrist, pried the weapon from his kung-fu grip and laughed. "He didn't say it to me. Or even about me."

  My very possessive, very protective boyfriend relaxed, but only slightly. "Fine. He can live."

  I stripped the rest of the way, and Cole urged me into the shower. He came in behind me, closing the door, sealing us inside, letting the steam thicken around us.

  "I will be insanely mad if you ever come home with implants," he said, maneuvering me under the spray of water. "I know I'm repeating myself, but you're perfect."

  "Thank you."

  But he wasn't done. "Any guy who makes a girl feel like she needs a bigger rack isn't worth shi--crap."

  "Shi-crap?" I asked with another laugh, loving him more with every second that passed. He couldn't be any cuter. "Sounds like something we should keep in our douche-purse."

  "Anyway. Someone should tell Gavin to get a penile implant," Cole grumbled.

  "Jaclyn is one step ahead of you. She told him to grow bigger balls."

  "Well, that's a good start."

  Remaining behind me, Cole soaped me up...slowly...his hands lingering here, there. He washed and conditioned my hair, his body flush against mine, and it wasn't long before the water wasn't the only thing steaming up the walls.

  "Your new tattoos have healed," he said, kissing the base of my neck.

  A shiver stole through me. "You still like?"

  "Definitely." His thumb traced the top ridges of my spine in a sensuous caress. "But you never told me what the phoenix means."

  "You can't guess?"

  "I can," he said, nibbling my earlobe, "but I'd also like to hear it."

  It was difficult to get my brain to work, but I somehow managed to explain my thought process--that he'd stood in the fire with me, holding my hand, helping me rise from the ashes of my other life. When I finished, he turned me and pressed a soft kiss onto my lips.

  "You make me happy," he said.

  "Let's see if I can make you even happier." I took the soap from his hands and cleaned him as slowly and thoroughly as he'd cleaned me, adoring every inch of him.

  After I rinsed him off, I massaged shoulders granite-hard with tension and moved my attention to his chest, tracing each of his tattoos...delving lower, to his stomach. A stomach that quivered, making my breath catch--and my stomach quiver.

  "This was a bad, bad idea." Eyes blazing, he backed me into the wall. "One of the worst we've ever had."

  The cool tile made me gasp. "Or the best."

  "Maybe I was testing my resolve. I got an F, by the way." He lowered his head and fed me a hard, hot kiss. A deep kiss. A soul-shattering kiss.
A kiss sweetened by the water on our lips.

  As I wound my arms around his neck, he rubbed against me. "Every time I'm with you like this," he said, "I feel like I've finally found my way home."

  I moaned. The things this boy said to me...as potent as his touch, heating me up, liquefying my insides. "Cole."

  "Want to do more...shouldn't."

  "Should! I'm older, remember?"

  "Yeah, but I need time to wrap my head around that." He lifted his head, frowned. A few seconds later, he straightened, severing contact. "Something's wrong."

  Yes, something was. He was no longer concentrating on me. "How do you know?"

  "I feel like I'm having a vision. Only, I'm not seeing anything. Just feeling."

  I didn't ask any more questions. Sensing danger was a specialty of his. Jumping from the stall, I quickly toweled off and dressed. Cole did the same, and we both palmed a weapon. Crossbow for him and a .44 for me. I screwed the silencer on the end.

  "Zombies?" I asked.

  His violet eyes were grim. "No. Something worse."

  Chapter 20

  DROP DEAD GORGEOUS

  We abandoned the intimacy of the moment, the agony of wanting, and quietly moved out of the bathroom, letting the water continue to run. I shut the door behind me, though not all the way. The candles in the room still glowed softly, casting muted beams of light. Cole blew out the ones on the dresser and crouched beside it, then motioned for me to settle in beside him.

  The grandfather clock adjacent to us struck midnight, bells chiming, and I stiffened. A new day. From this point on, I could not peer into Cole's eyes without having a vision.

  Distraction was dangerous in a situation like this.

  Not that I knew what, exactly, was going on.

  The room was so hushed, the blood pumping through me so swiftly, my ears rang. No wonder I never heard the door to the bedroom open or the footsteps of the man dressed in black; he eased his way toward the bathroom, stepping into my line of vision. Shock lanced through me.

  Benjamin, with a .44 of his own clutched in his hand. Like mine, the weapon had a silencer.

  Cole didn't waste time with conversation. He raised his crossbow and fired off a shot.

  The arrow sank into Benjamin's shoulder, impact pushing him into the bathroom door, which swung open, dragging him inside. He tripped over the weapons we'd left behind, but as he fell, he spun and aimed the gun right at us.

  Too bad for him I'd already had his chest in my sights, my finger poised on the trigger. I squeezed.