Through the Zombie Glass (White Rabbit Chronicles 2)

Would I hear the voices again? Should I just call in sick?

“I’m sure we’re going to get a terrible grade for this,” Reeve said with a groan.

“If anything, we’ll receive a certificate for awesomeness,” Kat replied.

My phone beeped. I checked the screen and stiffened.

“What’s wrong?” Kat asked.

“Cole wants to meet with me,” I said without any inflection of emotion.

Inside, I churned.

I read the text again. My house. Five. Be there.

Dang it. I’d planned to have dinner with Nana before heading over.

“When? Where?” Reeve asked, and I gave her the details.

“Are you going to go?” Kat wondered.

Hands shaking, I texted Nana. Can we reschedule? I’m so sorry, but something’s come up w/Cole.

I waited, but a response from her didn’t come.

To Cole, I texted Why?

Cole (I’d deleted the part about McHottie): Do I really need a reason?

Me: 2 talk? Yes. We’ve said all we need 2 say.

Okay, so that wasn’t exactly true. I still had to drum up the courage to mention his odd behavior, as promised.

Cole: Who runs this show? Just be there.

Me: Fine.

Cole: Your enthusiasm is humbling.

Me: Go screw yourself.

Cole: I have. I prefer 2 have a partner.

I think I gasped.

“Yeah. I’m going to go,” I said. I wasn’t going to call in sick. I had responsibilities. I’d keep them.

“Hold everything.” Kat bounced up and down in her seat and clapped. “I think I see one.”

“Where?” Reeve demanded.

Kat pointed. “Pull over.”

Groaning, Reeve slowed the car, eased to the side of the road and parked. I freed one of the balloons and exited. The girls joined me, and together we approached the centerpiece of our project—a dead raccoon, its arms and legs stiff and pointing in the air.

“Gloves,” Kat said, holding out her hand.

Reeve dangled a pair just beyond her reach. “These are cashmere, you know.”

“I’m sure the raccoon will be thrilled,” she replied drily. “Even though I told you to buy latex.”

“I thought you’d appreciate something softer.” Sighing, Reeve relinquished the gloves, and Kat tugged them on. “I bought hand sanitizer instead.”

“Balloon,” she said next.

I handed it over.

Then Kat crouched over the poor dead animal and tied the ribbon to one of its wrists. There was no wind, so the Get Well Soon balloon stayed perfectly straight, flying proudly over the motionless animal.

“Your family will thank me for this one day,” she said with a nod.

“As if we’re really doing any good,” Reeve said.

“Hello, we so are. People need to be more aware of the creatures crossing the road, thank you, and this is our way of helping. It’s humorous—”

“And gross,” Reeve interjected. “And cruel.”

“And they’ll remember,” Kat finished.

We each snapped a few pictures with our phones, cleaned our hands, got back in the car and hunted the next Get Well Soon victim. I mean, recipient.

I couldn’t help comparing myself to the animals. A car crash. A part of me dying.

I prayed I had a better end but had a feeling I was going to have to adjust my to-do list yet again.

Chapter 12

Deadly Eyes Betray You

We dropped Kat off at the school parking lot, where her car waited, and drove home. Another note had been stuck to the bottom of the staircase railing. Sighing, I sailed into Mr. Ankh’s office—only to find him in a heated discussion with Mr. Holland.

Interesting.

The moment the men spotted me, they zipped their lips. Mr. Holland had been leaning over the desk, putting himself nose to nose with Mr. Ankh. Now he eased back into his seat, and the two acted as friendly as ever.

Even more interesting.

I couldn’t help thinking Mr. Holland was a portrait of Cole in twenty years. Both guys had dark hair and strong, chiseled features. Only difference was, Cole’s eyes were that amazing violet and Mr. Holland’s were an electric-blue.

“Miss Bell,” Mr. Ankh acknowledged.

Did he ever go to work? I settled in the only available chair.

“Good. You’re here.” Mr. Holland massaged the back of his neck. “The three of us are due to have a discussion.”

“Your newest blood work came in,” Mr. Ankh said, “and the results have me confused.”

I shifted uncomfortably.

“The toxin you and Justin shared, the one that is harmful to the zombies,” he continued. “It disappeared in Justin, but it’s now stronger in you. Also, your iron is lower than before, and your white blood cell count is higher.”

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. My human side was fighting, but my zombie side wasn’t backing down. “What about the zombie toxin that is harmful to humans? Did I have any traces of that?”

He frowned. “No.”

“Why would you ask that?” Mr. Holland said.

I wanted to tell him, I really did. But he’d killed his own wife when she’d turned zombie. No telling what he’d do to me, his son’s unstable ex.

If these men left me alive, Mr. Ankh would for sure toss me out. Where I went, Nana went. I would not allow her to be homeless.

Then, of course, Mr. Holland would tell the others. How would Cole look at me then? He wouldn’t worry about feeding me anymore, I knew that much.

“Curiosity,” I hedged. In a way, it was the truth.

Mr. Holland sighed and twisted his chair to face mine. “Well, I’m curious about something, too. I know you and my son broke up. What I don’t know is why. He won’t talk to me.”

Instant downer. “And I won’t, either,” I said hollowly.

He began massaging the back of his neck again, a gesture of irritation or distress he and Cole shared. “He’s been sneaking out, talking to people he shouldn’t, making bad decisions, and I’m worried about him. Something’s going on with him, but I don’t know how to help.”

“Who’s he talking to?” I asked.

Silent, he ran his tongue over his teeth.

He wasn’t going to share the information. Got it.

“Will you check on him?” Mr. Holland asked.

“Trina and Mackenzie noticed his odd behavior, too, and asked the same thing. I agreed to talk to him,” I said. “I’m meeting him at five.”

Mr. Holland pushed out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”