A Mad Zombie Party - Showalter Gena - Страница 7

I finish off my newest shot and stand, already drowning in a tidal wave of guilt and shame. I shouldn’t be doing this. I’ll regret it tomorrow. But I’m in desperate need of blackout bliss, and this is the only way to get it.

I move toward the random only to stop halfway, my heart shuddering inside my chest. I think I see... Kat? My Kat? Her gaze meets mine, and she offers me a tremulous smile. I know that smile. I know all her smiles. The good, the bad and the oh, so sad.

I’m paralyzed as I drink in every detail. The sable shine of her hair. The beauty of her hazel eyes. The delicacy of her features. The wonder of her curves. The pale skin I’ve caressed and kissed so many times, the texture and heat are imprinted on my soul.

It’s really her.

I’m drunker than I realized and confusing a memory with reality, or maybe I’m straight-up hallucinating. I don’t care which. I’ll take her however I can get her. I’m across the room in seconds. Just before I reach her, she turns and glides away. I give chase. There’s no way I’ll allow her to escape me, whatever she is. I’ll die first.

She pauses at the back exit and glances my way, even waves me over. I’ll go anywhere she leads, but—she’s gone a second later, vanished in a puff of light.

In a panic, I shoulder my way outside. A cool night breeze greets me, tinged with unsavory odors: old food, urine and vomit. A streetlamp illuminates the alley, revealing a row of Dumpsters and a mouse scurrying between them. Bits of shredded paper float through the air like snow.

Kat died soon after a snowstorm.

Can’t lose her again. “Kat,” I shout, desperate now. A few feet away, a black bird takes flight. “Kat!”

“Dude. I prefer your indoor voice. Let’s tone it down a notch—or twelve.”

Her voice is soft and comes from directly behind me. I swing around, every muscle in my body knotting with anticipation...but there she is. The love of my life.

Suddenly I feel as though an elephant is sitting on top of my chest. I’m struggling to breathe. I’m trembling. I want her to be real. I want her to tell me she faked her death, just to see how many people would show up at her funeral—I put the “fun” in funeral, Frosty. But she remains quiet, and I reach out.

She’s stoic as she awaits contact. Then—

My fingers ghost through the tendrils of her hair, and I unleash a stream of profanity.

“Wow,” she says with a grin. “I’m not sure some of those things are anatomically possible.”

Her burst of humor calms me.

She’s wearing what she died in, a white shirt and a pair of my boxers, looking adorable and beautiful at once. She’s no longer littered with wounds caused by falling debris as the Ankhs’ house crumbled on top of her, or the gunshots she took to the chest; she’s injury-free and radiant with health.

She’s everything my life has been missing.

“You’re here,” I say, awed to the core. “You’re really here.”

“Yep. But you, Frosty, are an idiot.”

I smile. My first since her death. “Even your hallucination is mouthy. I like it.”

“I’m not a hallucination, dummy. I’m a witness, and—get ready to be humbled by my greatness—I’ve come to help you.” She fist-pumps the sky. “Super Kat to the rescue!”

Now I frown. My millionth since her death. I’ve never seen a witness, but Ali and Cole have, so I know it’s possible. But my Kat has been gone for four months, and she never would have stayed away from me so long if she could get to me. Not on purpose, at least. So...maybe she is a witness, but maybe she isn’t. Even my fractured mind would demand a logical explanation for the presence of a hallucination.

I still don’t care. She’s here, she’s with me and that’s all that matters.

“You want to help me,” I say, the words nothing but gravel. “You stay with me. Don’t leave my side.”

“Tsk-tsk. Thinking only about yourself.” She walks around me, just as she used to do, pretending to be a predator who has selected the evening’s prey. An action she learned from me. “I know you’ve had trouble parting with me. Who wouldn’t? I’m amazing! But du-u-ude. I didn’t expect a total meltdown. You used to dine on prime filet and now you’re nomming on old cuts of mystery meat.”

A very Kat way of mentioning my parade of girls. I bow my head, shamed by my behavior. A thousand apologies will not be enough. “I’m sorry, kitten. I’m so sorry. You were gone... I think I tried to punish us both. But I hate what I’ve—”

She holds up her hand to silence me. “Enough. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You’re ruining your life, and that is not acceptable to me.”

“Are you kidding? Ruining my life? Kitten, without you I have no life.” The words explode from me with more force than I intend. “I would rather cut off my left nut than yell at you. I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

“Well, you are not forgiven!” She anchors her hands on her hips. “Since I’ve been living up there—” she hikes her thumb toward the sky “—I’ve had the opportunity to watch you behind the scenes. And guess what? You’ve turned Beefcake TV into Bama’s Crappiest Videos. Starting today, you’re going out there and doing good deeds.”

For her? Anything. “What do you consider a good deed?”

“To begin, you’re going to help your friends by participating in the zombie-human war. And you’re going to do it with a smile!” She stomps her foot. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes. Help friends. Fight. Smile. If I do these things, you’ll stay with me?”

She closes her eyes for a moment, sighs. “And I told the council I had this in the bag. Bad Kat. Bad!”

“Council?” If she’s a figment of my shattered imagination, shouldn’t I have some sort of control over her? Shouldn’t her logic match my own, considering it’s, well, mine? Clearly, I have no control over this girl, and I definitely have no idea what she’s talking about.

It suddenly hits me with the force of a baseball bat. She is a witness, real though not corporeal, and she is here.

Joy floods me. “Never mind.” I stalk forward.

She backs into the brick wall. A wall I help douse in Blood Lines once every week, making it solid to spirits. That way, zombies can’t ghost inside the building.

When she’s almost within reach, I push my spirit out of my body, an action that requires faith—the spiritual power source for all slayers, just like food is a power source for our outer shell—believing I can do it before I actually do it.

Now, without my flesh to act as insulation, the air seems a thousand degrees colder. I endure because spirits can be touched only by other spirits, and I want to touch Kat with every fiber of my being. But the second I stretch out my arm, she jumps to the side to avoid contact.

“Hold on there, grabby.” She gives a shake of her head, dark hair dancing over her shoulders. “I haven’t always followed the rules—or ever followed the rules—but all that’s behind me. You have no idea what I had to do to get here, or what will happen if I mess up, and there’s no time to explain. Not during this visit. Just know that one touch of your spirit to mine will ensure I’m never allowed back.”

My fists clench and unclench as I return to my body. We can’t touch, fine. We won’t touch.

However I can get her, I remind myself.

Her expression gentles. “I’m your past, Frosty, and for now, I’m your present. But you need to come to grips with the fact that I will never be part of your future.”

“You are my past, present and future, kitten.” I’ll never come to grips with anything else.

“Frosty—”

“Kat.” I flatten my hands at her temples. “Why am I just now seeing you? Why did you stay away so long?”

Her gaze remains on me, but for several heartbeats of time, I’m certain she’s no longer seeing me. Her attention is far away, somewhere I’ve never been. Somewhere I can’t go. “Like I said, there’s no time to get into the nuts and bolts during this visit.”