Through the Zombie Glass. Gena Showalter

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      Not any longer. I gave her the address without a qualm. The boys had brought Kat into this treacherous world of secrets, and they could deal with the consequences.

      As we soared down the highway, I checked the sky for the rabbit-shaped cloud Emma used to warn me about coming zombie attacks. Today, there wasn’t one, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

      Kat swerved to avoid hitting another car, and I yelped.

      “Is my driving making you nervous?” she asked. “I mean, you’re supertense. Which is silly, considering the fact that I’ve only been in, like, three wrecks since you were confined to a bed, and, when you think about it, none of them were my fault. I mean, sure, I was in the wrong lane, texting, but the other drivers had plenty of time to move out of my way.”

      How was she still alive? “Mad Dog, you are the best worst driver I know.”

      She preened. “That might be the sweetest compliment anyone’s ever given me. Thank you.”

      A car honked as she swerved across four lanes to exit the highway, and she seemed utterly oblivious. “So, you and Cole are at the stage where he’s comfortable enough to call your Nana, huh?”

      “I know. It’s kind of weird, right, and...” Wait. I knew Cole. He’d always been a guy with a plan. A purpose. He never did anything without a rock-solid reason. But what reason could he possibly have had to—

      The answer slammed into me, and I nearly liquefied in my seat. I’d lost my family, and this was my first Halloween without them. He was trying to reduce the number of memories I’d have to battle.

      He didn’t know that I’d never before celebrated Halloween. My dad hadn’t allowed us to leave the house at night, so there had been no reason to buy a costume, and opening the door to strangers to pass out candy had been just as big a no-no.

      “Yeah,” I said to Kat, wishing I could crawl into Cole’s arms and never leave. “We are.”

      “You’re so lucky. My dad has never been a Frosty fan. I’m pretty sure he’s only ever threatened to castrate the boy.”

      Had to be those serial-killer eyes. Sometimes, when Frosty looked at you, you just expected to die horribly. “Your dad still lets you guys date, though.”

      “Yeah, and he always will. When I was first diagnosed with defunct kidneys, he promised to let me make my own decisions and live my life the way I wanted.”

      Good man. “So, what have you decided to do tonight?”

      “The same thing you are. And I didn’t mention it before now because I didn’t want you drowning in jealousy knowing I was out having the best time ever while you were still languishing in your sickbed.” She gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles bleached of color. “I’m trying not to be nervous. I mean, I know all the slayers will be there, but the night will be filled with all kinds of creepers, so how will I know who’s dangerous and who’s not?”

      “You aren’t able to see real zombies,” I reminded her.

      “That doesn’t mean they aren’t there. First, I told Frosty no, but then he said, ‘Would I ever put you at risk, woman?’ And I said, ‘How would I know? You’ve been living a double life since we started dating.’ And he said, ‘You want me to apologize again, don’t you?’ And I said, ‘Every day for the rest of your life.’ He had the nerve to laugh as if I was joking.”

      I smothered a laugh of my own. “So...what’s your costume?”

      “A too-sexy-to-handle Little Red Riding Hood.”

      “Let me guess. Frosty’s going as the Big Bad Wolf.”

      “What else? I have a feeling he thinks it’ll be hilarious to snap his teeth at me and say, ‘I’m going to eat you up, my dear.’”

      Picturing it, I shook my head. “You’re going to tell him to prove it. Aren’t you?”

      “I like that you know me so well.”

      She turned onto a winding gravel road nestled between rows of trees in the process of shedding their fall coats. When the trees finally gave way to fields of wheat, Cole’s “workout station for stallions” became visible—a big red barn that looked ready to topple over. Actually, the thing could withstand a military invasion.

      “This place is in the middle of nowhere,” Kat remarked as she eased to a stop.

      “For many reasons.” Slayers coming at all hours of the day and night. The sheer number of weapons kept here. The condition we sometimes left in.

      There were more cars than usual in the driveway. I frowned as I stepped into the coolness of the day. Grunts, groans and even cheers seeped from the crack in the door. “Come on.” I quickened my pace.

      I stopped just inside the entrance and could only gape. I’d assumed Cole, and maybe the überdedicated Frosty and Bronx would be the only guys willing to forgo a countrywide day off.

      Kat bumped into me and froze. “Oh, spank me,” she whispered, her tone reverent.

      Here they were, all of the slayers in all their glory. There was enough testosterone in the air to jump-start the deadest of hearts. Most of the boys were shirtless, displaying bronzed muscles honed from more than just weights—honed from hacking at the enemy. I saw wicked scars, sexy tattoos and piercings, and even a few house-arrest anklets.

      The blond and scarily beautiful Frosty pounded his fists into a poor, defenseless punching bag. The rough-and-tumble Bronx held the thing in place, his feet planted firmly on the floor. There was no force on earth that could move him, even one as violent as Frosty. Collins ran on a treadmill, and Cruz lifted weights.

      And Cole, well, he was in the boxing ring with a girl I didn’t recognize.

      There was an unfamiliar boy standing at the side, watching the pair. The only other females in the room were Mackenzie—Cole’s very feral ex—and Trina, a girl Kat had yet to forgive for not having a summer fling with Frosty.

      Don’t ask.

      Trina waved at me, and I waved back, but my attention quickly returned to Cole. He swung lightheartedly at the unknown girl, and she ducked before straightening and swinging at him. He ducked, too, and when she swung again, he caught her fist and jerked her against the hard line of his body, effectively disabling her.

      She grinned up at him, all cocky assurance and feminine wiles—and she stayed right where she was, clearly happy to be there. A boy with a girlfriend should have released her and stepped back. Although Cole stiffened, the gleam in his eyes turning granite-hard, he remained just as he was, returning her grin with one of his own.

      I wasn’t sure what any of that meant. I only knew I didn’t like it.

      Time for Pep Talk Ali. He’s trained other girls. He’s even smiled at other girls. This isn’t romantic. This isn’t sexual.

      Of course, Downer Ali wasn’t fully convinced (yes, there are many sides to me). He didn’t pick you up because he didn’t want to leave this girl’s side.

      I shook my head. He was СКАЧАТЬ