Through the Zombie Glass - Showalter Gena - Страница 12
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Unfazed, Gavin pointed a finger in her face. “Do as you’ve been told or I’ll make sure you regret it.” He switched his attention to his two-night stand. “You, too.”
We didn’t say anything else to the girls. There just wasn’t time. Together, we pounded down the rest of the bleacher steps.
“You up for this, cupcake?” Gavin asked.
“Always. Jack-hole.”
He laughed.
As I ran, I withdrew my phone and dialed Frosty. There was no reason to try to reach Cole right now. He’d just send me to voice mail. But Frosty failed to answer, as well. I left a message. “We’re at the game. The enemy has entered the parking lot. Send backup ASAP.”
Justin appeared at my side, keeping pace as we closed in on the darkness. “How many?” he demanded.
“Go home,” I snapped. “We don’t need your kind of help. You’ll feed us to the Hazmats the moment we’re distracted.” He had before.
“I won’t. Trust me.”
Trust him, when I was struggling to trust Cole?
“He works with the Hazmats?” Gavin slowed down, moving behind us. Without any more warning than that, he punched Justin in the back of the head, knocking the boy forward. “Then he doesn’t work with us.”
Justin tripped over his own feet and went down, his hands and knees absorbing most of the impact. He could have recovered, but Gavin kicked him in the center of his back, sending him flying onto his stomach. Then Gavin stomped over his body and continued onward.
Part of me wanted to protest his methods. I wasn’t Justin’s friend, but wow. The other part of me was kind of impressed. He-slut had skills.
The moment we hit the parking lot, I withdrew my favorite daggers from the purse hanging at my side, then dropped the purse on the ground, not wanting to give the zombies anything extra to grab onto. There were streetlamps to my far left and right, illuminating sections of the lot. Four kids I recognized from school were climbing into a red truck. Another two were standing in front of a sedan, a girl leaning against the hood, a boy leaning against her.
“Get out of here,” I shouted, cruel to be kind. Contrary to popular opinion, stupidity did not make a less-than-delicious brain.
A strip of darkness consumed the center, and that was where we headed. I looked for the glow of the Blood Lines, but...found none. Very well. None of the cars would be solid to us when we entered the spirit realm. We could ghost through—and so could the zombies.
The closer we drew, the stronger the scent of rot became, and I gagged.
“Let’s do this,” Gavin said, and stepped out of his body as if it were a suit of armor he’d gotten tired of wearing.
As Cole had once told me, people were spirits. We had a soul, and we lived in a body. The spirit was the power source. The soul was the mind, will and emotions, and linked to the power. The body was the house.
I, too, forced my spirit and soul to split from my body, and my body froze in place, unable to move until I reentered it. If anyone stumbled upon the motionless shell, well, they’d get no response and I was sure there would be trouble. Can’t be helped.
Instantly the air became colder, and the light I’d admired only a few seconds ago was too bright, making my eyes water. A typical reaction to leaving the natural realm and entering the spiritual.
“Shout if you get into trouble,” Gavin called.
I didn’t reply. Sometimes it was just better to remain silent.
Whatever a slayer said while in spirit form came true. Well, mostly. There were two caveats. We had to believe it, and we couldn’t violate someone else’s free will.
Some things happened instantly. Some took a while. As long as the words met the requirements, they happened. No exceptions.
Gavin picked up speed and moved in front of me. He extended both his arms, fired two SIG Sauers—and bonus points to me for knowing the type...or brand...whatever! Sparks exploded from the barrels, and the ensuing boom, boom made me cringe. Not that anyone around us would hear it.
The fight was on.
The two zombies closest to us went down. But a heartbeat later, they were climbing back to their feet, ready for more. I frowned. The bullets should have slowed them, at least a little. Zombies felt no pain, but their spiritual bodies were subject to injury, just like ours.
“I didn’t miss,” Gavin gritted. He fired the guns until they ran out of bullets.
He reached the creatures first, using the two he’d decorated with holes as punching bags.
I reached my own target and gave a wide slash of my dagger, clipping his spine, nearly removing his head. An action that would merely disable. There was only one thing that could forever end these creatures, and it was the fire from a slayer’s hands. But I could have a lot of fun beforehand.
I kicked the next one in the stomach, knocking him backward and revealing the zombie coming in behind him. Too late. He moved too quickly. The new addition pushed me, and I pinwheeled over a body, landing with a hard thud, my side throbbing. I was jumped and pinned a second later, teeth going for my neck. I broke his nose and his jaw and wiggled out from under him; he ended up gnawing on pavement.
As I stood, I swiped out my blades, the tips slashing into his neck once, twice, going deeper and deeper, into spinal cord, buying me a temporary reprieve. From him, at least.
I tried to summon my fire the same way I’d left my body, believing I could and thereby gaining the inner strength to actually do it, but I was so new to this, didn’t have as much faith as the others and could only stretch myself so far. And multitask? Forget about it.
As expected, no flames.
Another zombie lunged at me, black-stained teeth bared. I spun and kicked, my booted heel slamming into his side. He stumbled away from me as yet another zombie lunged at me. I popped her in the nose and spun again, elbowing her in the temple when I lined up to her left. She went down, but quickly twisted and reached for my ankle.
I don’t think so. I hopped up and stomped on her hand. Saw two more coming at me from the right. With a twirl of my dagger, I pressed the blade against my wrist, then punched one creature and kicked the other. At my side, a gnarled arm stretched out. I grabbed and bent it, forcing the zombie to hunch over as I jerked up my knee, barreling into his face. When I released him, he fell to the ground.
But like his brethren, he recovered in a rush. I performed another spin—am getting so good at those!—whipping out my leg to shove him back several feet. Before he could rise a second time, I swung my arm around and launched one of the daggers. The tip soared past his open mouth and embedded in the back of his throat.
Bull’s-eye.
On instinct, I turned, realized a pack of zombies had launched a sneak attack. I arched left, right, narrowly avoiding nails and teeth, my blade constantly swinging, slicing through rotting flesh. Cold black goo dripped down my hands.
I grinned. Some people got off on drugs. I got off on this.
Something solid pressed against my back, and I threw an elbow, raised the blade. As I sliced in a downward arc, Justin ducked, barely avoiding impact.
“Idiot,” I screamed. He knew better than to creep up on a slayer.
“Incoming.” He motioned to just over my shoulder.
I drank in the scene as quickly as possible and decided what to do. A zombie had used my distraction to his advantage, stealing in close and preparing to sink his teeth in my upper arm. I could dive away, but Justin’s nearness would put him in striking range. I could arch, but the creature’s momentum would draw him back with me. We’d fall. His weight would cage me. I’d be more of a target, and he could go for my neck.
I had to take the bite in my arm and pray Justin or Gavin injected me with antidote right away, so I could jump back into battle.
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