Through the Zombie Glass (White Rabbit Chronicles 2)

My reflection offered no reply.

I bit my tongue as I injected myself with the antidote, just to be safe. Then I withdrew the business card from my desk drawer and peered down at the number. This man knew something about what I was going through. Maybe he could save me.

How sad. Right now a stranger was my best shot.

Alter list: however proves necessary, kill Z.A. ASAP.

Though I didn’t like the idea of using my cell and letting caller ID reveal my number, there was no other phone I could use. Not without alerting Mr. Ankh, and therefore Mr. Holland, and therefore Cole. I dialed before I could change my mind.

A man answered after the third ring. “Hello, Miss Bell.”

He freaked me out, his welcome too much, too soon, and with a gasp, I hung up.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I redialed.

He answered on the second ring. “I hope you’ll actually say something this time.”

“Who are you?” I demanded.

“Your new best friend,” was the casual reply. “I am Dr. Bendari.”

I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the vanity and squeezed, trying to relieve a little of the pressure building inside me. “Enough games. You should know straight-out that I don’t trust you.”

“Believe me, I received that message loud and clear when you slashed my tire,” he replied drily.

“You’re probably wondering why I called.”

“No. I know. You’re desperate.”

Well, okay, then. We were on the same page. “How do I know you have the answers I seek?”

“Were you bitten by a slayer who’d been bitten by a zombie? Are you now seeing things? Hearing things? Experiencing unusual emotions and reactions?”

He knew. He really knew. “Yes,” I whispered. “How did you know that?”

“I have a source on the inside. I also have the answers you seek.”

“Tell me.” A command. “And who is your source? Is he one of my friends?” Who would betray me?

“The source matters little. I will tell you everything else you wish to know, but I won’t do it over the phone. You won’t believe what I tell you. Not without pictures.”

Anger infused every cell in my body. He could be lying, trying to draw me out, make me an easier target. “You want to meet,” I said flatly.

“I do. Tonight. Midnight.”

He could be playing me, could be planning to murder me. But honestly? I didn’t care. Right now death was preferable to uncertainty. If I walked into my own personal horror movie, oh, well. “All right. Where?”

“There’s an all-night Chinese buffet in Birmingham called the Wok and Roll. Come alone, and I’ll be there. Come with someone else, and I’ll leave before you can spot me. That happens, and you will never hear from me again.”

He hung up before I could agree. Or yell at him.

I paced my room for the rest of the day. Nana came to my door with lunch, then dinner, and both times I asked her to set the tray on the floor. Earlier I’d wanted to talk to her—I still did. Now just wasn’t the right time. At the moment, I couldn’t trust myself to behave.

“You’re going to tell me what’s going on, Ali,” she said through the door. Never before had she spoken so sternly with me. “The boy, Gavin, he told me you beat another girl unconscious. How could you do something like that?”

“I’m asking myself that same question,” I replied, my chin trembling.

A heavy pause. “Let me in the room. I want to look into your eyes while we talk about this.”

She would see was my horror, my remorse. My tears.

My new nature?

“I...can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Is it the upcoming holiday?” she asked, hesitant. “Are you missing your parents?”

“No.” To be honest, I hadn’t given Thanksgiving a single thought.

Another pause, this one writhing with tension.

“Ali, you’re shutting me out and it’s hurting me.”

Yes, I could hear the pain in her voice.

I stepped up to the door, reached for the knob, stopped myself. Hot tears cascaded down my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I would rather die than hurt you, but if I open that door I could hurt you worse. I just... I need a day to work through this, okay?”

Several minutes passed in silence before she said, “You’ve got one day.” Footsteps resounded.

I picked up the tray, placed it inside my room, my stomach a twisted mess. I couldn’t bring myself to eat.

Finally eternity came to an end and eleven-thirty arrived. I loaded myself with weapons and sneaked through the secret passages Mr. Ankh had built throughout the house. He’d wanted his daughter to have an escape route if ever it proved necessary—not that she would know what chased her.

Reeve. I frowned. My nose wrinkled after I inhaled. I smelled her perfume. She must have used the passage, and quite recently.

Huh. The passage led to a hatch just beyond the front yard, seconds from the road. Still. I’d have to be careful. Mr. Ankh had cameras everywhere and—as I eased my out, I caught movement several yards away.

Gaze zooming in, I palmed a blade. Was that...Reeve? Had to be. Dark hair swished as a slender girl matching Reeve’s height and build walked north. She’d sneaked out.

Dang you, Reeve! No matter how badly I wanted answers, no matter how dangerous I currently was, I couldn’t let her wander the streets without backup.

As I followed her through the shadows, I dialed Bronx.

“What?” he snarled.

“Reeve snuck out. I’m a few yards behind her. I just thought you’d like to know.”

He spewed a mouthful of curses. In the background, I heard a girl giggling.

“You’re with someone?” I asked, shocked.

At the same time he said, “Where are you?”

I gave him our current location, and he hung up.

Thank you, Ali, I inwardly mocked. I appreciate your help.

A car drove past, and Reeve darted behind a tree trunk. I did the same, only to stiffen when the car slowed, stopped.

Reeve stepped from the shadows. “Ethan?”

“It’s me, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Hello, new boyfriend.

“Thank goodness! I realized the car was slowing down, and I almost peed my pants.” She walked around the car and opened the passenger side door. “I thought you were meeting me at 7-Eleven.”

“You were late, and I worried.”

Bronx, who was in spirit form, moved through the trees and swept up beside me. The hair he’d dyed blue was now green, but it wasn’t spiked. Tonight, it shagged over his forehead. There were several lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt—and not all of them were the same color.