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

I wondered what he thought of me—if he thought of me at all.

“Ali,” Bronx snapped, and I jolted back to awareness.

“Yes?”

“Go home. I’ve got this.”

“No.”

“You’re making little growling noises in the back of your throat, and it’s distracting me. Not in a good way.”

Fear began to claw at me, because I knew what those growls meant. I had to do a better job of focusing—or else. I squared my shoulders. “I’ve already let one slayer down today. I’m not letting another. I’m staying.”

He glanced at me, and I could see a new gleam of respect in his eyes. But all he said was “Whatever. Do what you want.”

That respect...

It meant more to me than money.

And I knew how to get more. The list. However proves necessary, kill Z.A. ASAP.

You’re going down, fiend.

When dark went against light, light always won. I was light—as long as I didn’t let my fire get snuffed out.

I would win. Right?

Bronx bumped my shoulder. “You panicking over something, Bell?”

“No, I’m calm,” I said. “From now on, I’m going to be a walking sedative.”

Chapter 11

Rot in Peace

The next morning, I climbed into Reeve’s Porsche and bucked my seat belt. Our ten-minute drive to school couldn’t end fast enough. I was ready to hide in the back of my first class and fall asleep.

She clearly concurred, gunning the engine as she shot from the garage. I wanted to rapid-fire questions at her, now that we were alone, but I was too tired. I leaned against the door instead, the sunlight streaming through the window warming me, lulling me.

Singing along to the radio, she merged into traffic. There were shadows under her eyes, and for once, she wore wrinkled clothing, as if she’d just rolled from bed and called it good.

I happened to know that she had.

As promised, I hadn’t left Bronx alone. I’d waited for Reeve to exit Ethan’s house. And she had, at 3:00 a.m. Ethan had driven her home, dropped her off in the same spot he’d picked her up and kissed her on the mouth before driving away. Bronx hadn’t said another word. His body language had said plenty, though.

Ethan was lucky to be alive.

The first moment I’d been alone, I’d called Dr. Bendari to reschedule, but the number had been unavailable. I had screeched with frustration, knowing I’d blown my best chance to talk with the only person with concrete answers.

Then I’d chastised myself for letting an emotion get the better of me.

Walking. Sedative.

“Wishing you hadn’t gotten the tattoos?” Reeve asked.

“Of course not,” I said. “Why?”

“Well, look at yourself.”

I gazed down. I was absentmindedly rubbing my thumb over the daggers. Oh. Well. “They comfort me.”

Reeve gasped and stomped on the brake. The car jerked to a stop, throwing me forward as much as the belt would allow.

“What the—”

“Bronx,” she screeched, tearing off her belt and stepping into the daylight.

Just in front of her car, right in the middle of the road, was Bronx’s old, rusted truck. He leaned against the hood, arms crossed.

I should have expected this.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he spat. “Sneaking out in the middle of the night, meeting some strange guy and going to his place. Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“How did you—argh! It doesn’t matter.” She grabbed a rock and threw it at him.

Reflexes honed, he ducked.

She shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. More calmly, she said, “He’s not some strange guy, he’s my boyfriend, and what I do with him isn’t your business.”

“Everything about you is my business.”

Her back went ramrod straight. “Screw you. I’m not doing this with you, Bronx. Not anymore.” She turned.

He grabbed her arm, spun her around. “Did you sleep with him?”

Very calmly, she said, “I told you. What I do with him is none of your business.”

“And I told you everything about you is my business, but neither of us seems to be listening.”

The forced calm vanished as she jerked away. “You can’t do this to me. Can’t pretend you care. Tomorrow, after I’ve dumped him, you’ll change your mind.” She shoved him, a puny action, really, when comparing a six-foot-five gigantor to a five-foot-five fairy princess, but he released her anyway.

“Does Daddy Dearest know about him?” he asked quietly.

She pointed her finger in his face. “No, and you won’t say a word. You don’t get to play any part in my love life. We’ve been sniffing around each other since junior high. You were so sweet to me at first. You made me things. You were my first kiss. Then suddenly you wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t even talk to me—until I turned my sights to someone else and tried to move on. You’d come on strong, and I’d always fall back into your arms, but it wouldn’t take long for you to start ignoring me all over again, and I’m tired of it.”

I shouldn’t be listening to this. I would have hated it if anyone had heard my arguments with Cole, especially the final one.

Trying to distract myself, I turned up the radio. Taylor Swift, “I Knew You Were Trouble.” Fitting. I texted Nana. Can we talk later? Just U & me?

If my emotions started to go haywire, I’d adios.

Her: I would love that.

Me: I’m sorry I’ve been so weird lately, & I’m sorry about the fight w/the girl.

Her: We can talk about the reason at dinner. And just to make you happy, I promise I won’t spend too much on groceries.

I laughed.

Her: BTW, do you want to tell me why I found a note in your room saying “Did this to myself”? WHAT DID YOU DO?

Uh-oh.

Me: Almost @ school. Gotta go. Love you!

Hey. Not a word of that was a lie.

“—can’t be with you the way I want,” Bronx was saying, drawing my attention back to the conversation.

“Why?” Reeve demanded. “For once, give me a straight answer. You do, and I’ll never see Ethan again.”

Bronx pressed his lips together.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Bitterness tinged her tone.

Reeve stomped to the car. Bronx stomped to his. His tires squealed as he turned the vehicle around. Dirt sprayed as he shot forward.

“That boy,” Reeve said, her body trembling.

“He cares about you.”

“Yeah, just not enough.”

I reached over, patted her hand. “Believe me, I get it.”

She tossed me a sad smile before resuming the drive.

A few minutes later, she was parking in her usual spot. The lot could be overflowing, but no one, not even teachers, would dare encroach on her territory. Not because of her or her father’s money, but because of Bronx. I heard someone made the mistake of parking here only once; Bronx had hot-wired the car and crashed it into the trees the students had spray-painted gold and black to proudly display our school colors.

Silent, we strode over the tiger paws mowed into the grass and headed inside the building.

Trina and Mackenzie were leaning against a locker, snarling at anyone stupid enough to approach them. When I walked past—never said I was smart—they pushed away from the wall and flanked my sides, shouldering Reeve out of the way.

“You have to talk to Cole,” Trina began.

“I never thought I’d say this,” Mackenzie said, “but I want you to do more than talk to him. I want you to seduce the hell out of him. I don’t know how much more post-Ali drama I can take.”

“O-kay. Cue my exit,” Reeve said, branching away from us. “See you at lunch, Ali.”

“Yeah. See ya.” I sighed. “What’s the problem?”

Trina twisted the ring in her eyebrow. “For starters, he’s meaner than my stepdad’s Yorkie.”

“Your stepdad has a Yorkie?”

Mackenzie slashed a hand through the air. “Forget the tiny terror dog. Cole lashes out at everything we say, and has for weeks.”