Mr. Holland met my gaze. "That's where Ankh and your grandmother will be if--"
They survived, I finished for him and would have flown straight into a panic if not for a whispering replay of Cole's assurance. Ankh got everyone out, Ali-gator.
"Just make sure my boy gets there," Mr. Holland said.
Nothing would stop me. "What about you?"
"I won't be far behind."
What did he have to do? Bury the bodies?
Oh, glory. Probably.
Trembling, I took my place behind the wheel. My palms sweat. My blood ran hot, but my skin iced over. Acid poured through me, stinging. As the garage door lifted, Cole reached over and squeezed my hand, offering what comfort he could. His skin was colder than mine and clammy.
"I won't let anything happen to you," I vowed, put the pedal to the metal and jetted onto the road. I braced myself, expecting a hail of bullets to pepper the vehicle. As seconds ticked into minutes, I began to relax.
If only the reprieve could have lasted. I turned a corner and spotted Gavin's car wrapped around a pole. Steam curled from the crumpled hood. The driver-side door was open, but no one was behind the wheel.
"No," I gasped out.
"He's tough," Cole said. "He's smart, and he's been through hell and back and survived."
Tears welled as I parked in front of the wreckage. If Gavin survived, he was definitely injured. He would be nearby, hiding in the surrounding trees, waiting...unless he'd been carted somewhere else.
Searching for him could waste precious time. Time Cole didn't have.
I had a choice to make.
Knowing how my mind worked, Cole said, "I'm wounded. Not dead. Stop worrying about me...and do what you have to do...for Gavin." The more he spoke, the more labored his breathing became.
"I don't want to leave you," I admitted. "You need medical attention ASAP and--"
"Reason eleven," he said, and it took me a moment to catch up. All the reasons he loved me. "You're willing to risk...everything for your...friends. Besides, you won't...be alone. Where you go...I go."
What! "No. You're staying in the car."
"Ali."
"Cole. You're already panting. You're still bleeding. Movement has increased the flow of blood. And you're wearing shorts."
His gaze raked over me. "Ali-gator. You're wearing a tank."
Again with the iron-hard resolve. "You'll slow me down. And no, no more arguing. We're sitting ducks here."
He scowled. "Fine. Be careful...or I'll be mad."
I kissed him, hard and fast. Cold air cut at my exposed skin as I emerged. My feet had somehow morphed into heavy boulders, but I managed to maintain a swift pace, tracking a blood trail from the car to a tree that had scratches in the bark. From there I discovered a set of footprints that were the right size, with a depth consistent with Gavin's muscled weight.
The prints stopped abruptly.
"Gavin," I called, willing to chance Anima's notice. Anything to help my friend. "It's Ali."
No response. Not even the call of insects.
The silence...killing me.
"Gavin. Please."
Again, silence.
A well of tears. There wasn't anything more I could do. I raced to the car. Cole was paler, and what little strength he'd gained had clearly abandoned him.
"Any...sign?" he asked.
"He was definitely here, but whether he's unconscious or elsewhere, I don't know. I'll get you to Mr. Ankh and come back." Before he could comment about the danger I'd be facing, I said, "How are you holding up?"
"Baby, we just got back together." His teeth chattered. "There's no way I'm dying right now."
I wanted to turn on the heat, but didn't. The low temperature was his best friend right now, helping to slow the bleeding. Thank you, old episodes of Scrubs.
"Do you promise?" I asked.
"Promise."
*
I eased past the church. A beautiful three-story brownstone, shaped like an M. In the center, steep concrete steps led to the main door. Both sides were raised at the roof, coming to a point in the form of an intricate iron cross. I counted ten stained-glass windows, and all were intact. The parking lot was empty, illuminated by a single street lamp.
I searched the surrounding area for any sign that Mr. Ankh--or Anima--was nearby. As late as it was, the shops and cafes were closed. No one seemed to be huddling in the shadows. Only two cars were in the lot across the street, and both were empty. Neither belonged to anyone I knew.
I parked in a neighborhood two blocks away. Anima clearly knew where we lived. They also had to know what we drove. If they sent someone after us, I didn't want the vehicle near the church.
"We'll stick to the shadows and hoof it," I said.
Cole grimaced as he swiped up the backpack. "You were...right. I'm slower. If trouble comes...don't hang around...to help me. Get yourself...inside that building."
No way. "We stay together, remember?"
"Only when...convenient for you."
"Exactly." I got out before he could respond, the cold sucking the air right out of my lungs.
When he stood beside me, mist dancing in front of his face, I tried to take the pack, but he scowled at me. "Reason twelve. Stubborn. But as long as...I'm breathing...I will protect you...carry what burden I can."
That. That was one of the many reasons I'd fallen in love with him. "Cole--"
"Me man. You woman." Everything about him was as hard as granite. He motioned forward with a tilt of his chin. "Walk."
"Getting shot makes us cranky, I see." On the lookout, I launched into action. The night had secrets hidden in its shadows, and if I wasn't careful I could be bitten by one.
Cole stumbled several times but managed to keep up.
Coming to a small brick fence built for decoration rather than security, I crouched. No one loomed ahead; we scaled the obstruction with only minor difficulty and worked our way to the back of the church. While I used the skill I'd picked up from Frosty and jimmied the lock on the door, Cole leaned against the wall. His breathing was even more labored now. Should I use the fire again?
No time. Hinges squeaked as I shouldered my way inside the building. All the lights were out, pitch black greeting us with open arms. I used the flashlight app on my phone--there was an app for everything--chasing away the shadows. We were in a kitchen. It was small, but clean. We were alone. Ahead, a hallway branched in three different directions.
"This way." Cole took the lead, his steps shuffling, his gait slower by the minute.
I made sure the light illuminated the way as we bypassed each of the doorways and entered the sanctuary. I muttered a prayer for strength and peace. Was Nana here? Were my friends? Or--
Borrowing trouble.
Right. We sailed through the sound room, a storage overflowing with choir robes, and finally entered the pastor's office. Cole, who was wobbling on his feet, flipped on the overhead lamp, and I stuffed my phone in my pocket. I blinked in an effort to adjust to the added brightness and saw a bookcase, desk, computer, file cabinet and a few chairs.
"I'm missing something," I said. "Where's the shelter?"
"Here." He squatted and scooped out the things inside the bottom cubby of the bookcase. Reaching back, he lifted a hidden hatch, revealing a tunnel just big enough for an adult male to crawl through.
"Down," he said. "Hurry." His lids closed...then snapped back open.
How close was he to passing out?
I practically flew through the hole--found a ladder. Darkness enveloped me as I descended. Like a real-life Alice in Wonderland, I thought with a nervous laugh. My palms began to sweat all over again, and I had to squash images of Cole losing his grip and tumbling to his death.
Trickles of light filtered in. At the bottom, I hopped to the cement floor. With my help, Cole was able to do the same with minimal pain.
"Anima will pay for this," I vowed.
"Yes, and they'll...pay...in blood."
A
lot of blood.
We were in a small, dim box of a room, but voices rose beyond the far right wall. Voices I recognized.
I bounded forward. "Nana!"
"Ali?" she responded.
Light brightened around the corner, and I quickened my pace, soon entering a spacious room loaded with gurneys, medical equipment and weapons. Nana, dressed in her favorite nightgown, headed straight for me. I gathered her in my arms and hugged her tight, doing my best not to snot-cry all over her.
"Thank God! You're alive." She was the only family I had left, and I would rather die than lose her. "You're really alive."
"I'm telling you, I had to be surrounded by angels tonight. There's no other explanation for my survival."
"I'm so sorry I wasn't with you."
"I was glad you weren't. I would have hated knowing you witnessed the violence we did. You've seen too much already." A shudder rocked her small frame, and I couldn't bring myself to admit I had witnessed more than my fair share tonight, too. "I took comfort knowing you were out there and safe."
Behind me, I caught the soft sound of shambling footsteps and pulled from Nana's embrace. "I'll be right back." Cole had just passed the threshold, and I raced to his side.
His features were pinched, his skin pallid. He managed a small smile when I reached him. At this point, I think he was running on pure adrenaline. "Told you...she'd be...all right."
"Gloat all you want." Just live! I shoved the backpack from his shoulder, the heavy weight thumping against the floor. "Let's get you to a gurney."
"Ali, you have to know...not afraid...to die."
Jolt! And not the good kind. "I know that." A person afraid of dying could never really live, and Cole Holland definitely lived. "Why are you telling me this now? You made a promise to me and I expect you to keep it."
He leaned against me in an effort to remain on his feet.
I wound my arm snug around his waist. "Mr. Ankh," I called. "Help."
The male stalked around a curtain. He was shirtless and stacked with as much muscle as the slayers; it looked like he'd been in the process of sewing his own wound back together, because a needle and thread hung from a thick, seeping gash on his clavicle. His usually dark skin was almost as pallid as Cole's and was now marked with cuts and bruises.
He spotted us, quickened his pace. Together, we hefted Cole onto a gurney. Which was a big-time struggle. He passed out halfway up, becoming a dead weight. Mr. Ankh shouldered me out of the way to clean him up and patch the wound on his shoulder.
Mr. Ankh is a surgeon, I reminded myself. He knows what to do.
"He's going to be okay, right?" I asked.
A tic below Mr. Ankh's eye. He remained silent.
I pressed my lips together.
Compartmentalize.
Yes, but how much more could the compartments take?
Nana came up beside me, squeezed my hand.
"How did you get here?" I asked.
"One of the tunnels in Mr. Ankh's house leads straight here."
"Where are the others?" I scanned the room and answered my own question. Kat reclined on one of the gurneys, her dark hair tangled around her pale face, her expression...odd. Blank.
I frowned. Something--more than the obvious--was wrong with her.
Reeve sprawled on the gurney beside her, her hair just as tangled. Her eyes were closed, and she was so still she could only be...
No! "Tell me she's okay."
"She is. She had to be sedated." Nana released a shuddering breath. "So did Kat."
Okay. Okay. I could guess the reason. Reeve had probably tried to leave to find Bronx, and Kat had probably screamed bloody murder, desperate to get to Frosty.
"I have something to tell you, dear," Nana said, sorrow practically dripping from her.
I stiffened. "No." I could guess what was coming.
"You need to know. Two of the..." She sniffled. "Two slayers were...are..."
"No," I repeated.
"Lucas and Trina. Beautiful Trina. They..."
I shook my head violently. Don't want to hear this.
"Lucas called. Trina was with him. They were being chased. Ankh told them where to go. Then he and I... We left the girls here, sleeping in a safe room, and went to get the others."
I focused on that--that Mr. Ankh had taken my grandmother from safety and placed her in danger--and not the words to come. Not... Don't say it. Please, don't say it.
"He suspected he would need my help. That he'd have to tend to their wounds while I drove. I wish he'd been right. It would have been--" She cleared her throat. "We arrived first. The two came running around the corner."
She was. She was going to say it. "Nana, stop. Just don't." If she didn't say it, and I didn't hear it, it wouldn't be real.
More sniffles, before she added, "Ankh tried. He tried so hard to kill their pursuers. And he did. But not before both kids were gunned down. They never made it to the car. I'm so sorry, dear. So very sorry."
Not prepared.
Lucas and Trina. Dead.
Dead!
Two friends. Gone. Because Anima had decided to stop watching us, stop threatening us, and act. Because we'd become so caught up in our own little world, we hadn't realized someone was about to unleash a maelstrom of pain.
I hadn't gotten to say goodbye.
Just like that, the compartments burst at the seams and every emotion I'd managed to stave off came rising to the surface. Regret, worry and guilt, now mixed with grief, anguish and fury, created a tidal wave and flooded me.
Drowning...
I fell to my knees and sobbed.
Chapter 4
BRAINS ARE OVERRATED
(AND SALTY)
I had the strangest dream. A little girl, probably three, maybe four, was strapped to a chair, a plain but elegant woman sitting at her side, holding her hand. The woman had such a slender bone structure she looked like some kind of fairy princess from a storybook. She had wavy, shoulder-length hair the color of wheat and eyes so pale they were freaky.
I'd seen those eyes before. Many times before.
Like, every time I'd looked in a mirror.
They were rare. And yet, the little girl had those eyes, too.
Were they mother and daughter? Relatives I'd never met?
It was possible, I supposed. But why was I dreaming about them?
And why was I assuming this was real, just because it felt that way? Dreams were just that. Dreams. They weren't fact.
"Don't worry," the woman said with a quaver. "Once they finish, I'll take you home and make your favorite cookies."
"I want to go home now. I don't care about cookies."
"I know you want to go, sweetie, I know. But you can't. Not yet. This is necessary."
"Why?" Tears fell in earnest. "They hurt me, Momma."
The mother began to cry, as well. "You're such a special little girl. You can do things no one else can. Through you, they can help other people. Save other people."
They? Who were they?
"--not leaving her." Nana's voice registered, as did her concern.
The dream vanished in a puff of smoke.
I tried to open my eyes, didn't have the strength. Lethargy made my skull feel as if it had been hollowed out and stuffed with boulders.
"You are."
Mr. Holland's voice now. He said something else, but a high-pitched ring invaded my ears, distorting the rest of the conversation. "--bry mand take see."
"Moo bought I cast soon loo."
I bit the side of my tongue, tasted the copper tang of blood. The ensuing pain must have set off a chemical reaction, releasing all kinds of goodies, because I received the boost I needed. The ringing faded, and tendrils of strength wound through me.
"--at war right now, and that makes you a target. Ali won't be the fighter I know she can be, needs to be, if she's worried about you." Mr. Holland possessed the same iron-hard determination as his son, making the words sound as though they'd been chiseled f
rom ice. "You're going and that's final."
I cracked open my eyelids, then blinked rapidly to clear the blur. Meanwhile, memories banged at the door of my mind, demanding entrance. Before I could decide whether to accept or decline, the door splintered and I was bombarded. Cole, shot. Gavin, missing. Kat and Reeve, sedated. Trina and Lucas--
No.
No!
But there was no erasing the knowledge. They were dead. Shot and killed. Gone forever.
My mind shied away from the devastation. I couldn't allow myself to grieve. Not now. Later, though...
Yes, later.
Right now, it was time to start compartmentalizing again. Nine of my friends were out there, targets to the madmen running Anima, and they had to be found.
Moaning, I sat up. Dizziness struck, as if it had been waiting for me.
Another memory took root. I'd broken down and cried. Mr. Ankh had approached my side and, while cooing comforting words at me, withdrew a syringe from his pocket and injected me with something. A sedative, I thought now, my jaw clenching with irritation.
"Easy, dear." The sweet scent of Nana's perfume teased me as a gentle arm wrapped around my shoulders to keep me upright.
My hands quaked as I rubbed my gritty eyes. The dizziness faded, the room and the people in it coming into perfect view. Nana, with her black bob brushed and gleaming, her nightgown replaced by an oversize T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Mr. Holland, standing beside her, his face cleaned and bandaged.
Beyond them, Kat and Reeve paced inside a small room surrounded by glass. Probably two-way mirrors. I met Kat's gaze, but she looked away, as if she had no idea I was there.
"Are they confined?" I asked, and a second later Reeve beat at one of the walls.
"Yes. Frosty and Bronx have yet to be found, and the girls are determined to hunt them," Mr. Holland said. "They tried to sneak out."
Of course they did. "Release them," I commanded. "Now. Kat's not even a target. We can send her home." Where she'd stay safe.
He gave a single shake of his head. "She is Frosty's biggest weakness and one of yours. Of course she's a target. And we both know she won't go home. She'll go after her boyfriend, no matter what we tell her. Reeve, too. And while both girls have had some training in self-defense, they aren't ready for an all-out war, which is exactly what they'll get. They stay."
Stay, yes, I conceded. Locked away? No. But we'd come back to that. "Where's Cole?"
Nana squeezed me tight. "Don't you worry about him. He's doing well. Better than any of us expected. Ankh hauled him to the house to feed him."