Through the Zombie Glass - Showalter Gena (онлайн книги бесплатно полные TXT) 📗

“Hey, are you okay?” the guy asked me.

“Fine,” I managed to huff. “Just hurry.”

“You don’t rush quality. And I told you it would hurt.”

My sister was my calming force, so I drew her image to the front of my mind, concentrating on her. I saw a mass of straight, dark hair. Sun-kissed skin. A mischievous gleam in her dark eyes.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the whole world, Alice,” she said, beaming up at me.

“No, brat, that would be you,” I replied, gently tapping the tip of her nose.

“No way. A boy at my school told me he heard his dad say only blondes are worth doing.”

“First, I never want to hear you say the words worth doing again. Do you even know what that means? Second, that boy’s dad is an idiot. And a pig!”

So hungry... Must eat...

The whispery voice intruded on the memory, and I frowned at Artist Guy. “Did you say something?”

He didn’t glance up, even as he moved to my other wrist. “Nope.”

Hungry. Hungry! HUNGRY!

I shook my head, as if my mind had somehow locked on a different radio frequency and a little motion would change the channel back. But it didn’t, and I found I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the vulnerability of Artist Guy’s now-glowing neck.

“Be still,” he commanded.

“I’m sorry. I just... Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That voice. That whisper.”

He paused long enough to dab at a bead of blood with a cotton ball. “Great. The pretty princess is one of the crazies. I should have known.”

Bite him. Feed on him.

“Emma,” I said.

“You want me to add a name?” he asked.

“No.”

My sister appeared a few seconds later. “You’re getting tattoos?” she squealed. Then she saw my face, and the excitement was replaced by concern. “Alice?”

“Something’s wrong with me,” I told her.

“I know.” Artist Guy sighed. “That’s what I just said.”

“Cole?” she asked.

I snapped my teeth, then glanced at Artist Guy, trying to show her what the problem was.

“You want to bite him?”

I nodded.

Frowning, she traced her fingers through my hair, and the urge to bite instantly vanished, thrilling me...baffling me. “I’ll ask around and return when I’ve learned something.”

She disappeared. And maybe I passed out from relief. I don’t know. One moment I was relaxed in my seat; the next Artist Guy was saying, “All right. All done. What do you think?”

I opened my eyes to see he was setting the equipment aside. I waited for the voice or urge to return, but...there was only silence. No hunger. I uttered a quiet prayer of thanks.

He crossed his arms and watched my expression. “Well?”

The ink was perfect, as promised, and exactly what I’d wanted. The white rabbit was on one side, and the daggers on the other. The skin around the ink was red and swollen, though, and throbbed insistently.

“They’re wonderful.”

Grunting with satisfaction, he smothered each with ointment, then covered them with bandages. “Remove the dressing in about an hour and add more ointment. Keep the ink clean, but don’t take long showers or baths for at least two weeks.”

“Okay.”

He ushered me to the front of the building, where Kat and Reeve waited.

Grinning when she spotted me, Kat jumped up and clapped. “Let me see, let me see!”

Reeve stood more slowly, as if she wanted to avoid looking at the tattoos as long as possible.

“Give me a minute to pay,” I said.

The moment we were outside, I peeled back the bandages.

“Very cool! Cole will regret the day he let you get away,” Kat said. As we climbed into Reeve’s Porsche, she added, “I’m making it my life’s mission. Well, that, and torturing Frosty.”

I claimed the center of the backseat and buckled up. “Where are we going now?”

“To Reeve’s. Then you and I are going to Cole’s—uh, house, yes, to his house to work out,” Kat said. “You’re going to train me, as promised. No more treadmilling. And yes, I just turned a noun into a verb.”

“Train you?” Reeve eased the car into traffic. “For what? I mean, I know you guys have been working out a lot, but I’d had no idea there was a purpose to it.”

“Self-defense,” I replied. “Like what I did today.”

Kat nodded. “Only maybe not so hard-core.”

“I promised I’d teach you,” I said, flickers of dread lighting me up, “and I will. Just...not today.” I wanted to go home and wait for Emma.

“Well, I’d like to learn, too,” Reeve said.

“Uh...hmm.” I peered out the window, watching as cars whizzed past. Trees. Power lines. “I’d love to include you, but you’ll have to get permission from your dad first.”

Her brow furrowed. “He’ll say yes.”

Not even if she begged him.

“I mean, why would he say no? Especially after what happened today,” she added.

My gaze snagged on a cloud in the sky—a cloud cut in the shape of a rabbit. The zombies would invade tonight. I frowned. Was I ready?

Better question: Would I be invited to help?

“Uh, guys. I think someone’s following us,” Reeve said, her voice trembling with apprehension. “What if it’s the guys from the mall? What should I do?”

I turned in my seat, peering out the back window. “Call—” I stopped myself before I said his name. “Which car?”

“A black SUV, dark-tinted windows.”

It was two slots back, on the left. As big as it was, six people could be inside. The odds weren’t great, but they weren’t terrible, either. “Take the next exit ramp and pull over.”

“What!” she and Kat demanded in unison.

“Just do it. Please.” I was armed. I was also in a terrible mood.

If Anima hoped to scare me, they’d soon learn the error of such a fruitless endeavor. If the guys from the shopping center craved revenge, I’d give them something else to cry about. If this was just one big misunderstanding, I’d make sure it never happened again.

Reeve obeyed, reluctantly, and the moment the car came to a stop, I palmed my daggers and jumped out of the car. The SUV had tracked us off the highway and slowed down as it approached us. A window rolled down.

“Miss Bell,” said a man I’d never before met. He was old enough to be my grandfather, with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, thick glasses, an aquiline nose and dark brown skin. “I’d like a word with you.”

He knew my name, and he’d come at me in the most secretive of ways. He had to be a Hazmat.

I didn’t need to know any more than that. I threw one of my daggers, just as Cole had taught me, and the tip embedded in one of the SUV’s tires. Air hissed out.

The man scowled at me. “Was that really necessary?”

“Probably not.” I held up my other dagger. “I doubt what I do next will be, either, but I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

He flashed me a look full of disappointment. “Very well. When you’re curious about your condition, you’ll have to come to me.” He tossed a card out the window, and as the paper floated to the ground, the SUV sped away.

Chapter 7

Of Rotting Monsters and Tasty Men

Normally, I would have hunted Cole down and told him what had happened. Today, I decided to tell Mr. Ankh.

On my way to his office, I ran into Nana. “Ali, honey, I have a surprise—”

“I’m sorry, Nana,” I rushed out. “But I have to talk with Mr. Ankh about something. Rain check?”

Disappointment clouded her features. “All right. No problem.”

Instant guilt. I’d hurry here and spend the rest of the day with her. I marched into the office without an invitation, a first for me, and shut and locked the door. He glanced up from the stack of papers on his desk.

He had dark hair and eyes, like Reeve, but he was almost always tense and formal, and I rarely left his presence feeling better about my circumstances. Right now, though, he was my only choice.