He said that as if there’d been a chance the antidote wouldn’t work, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Relief that I’d made it or dread that I could have died. “Have you— I mean, you’ve been bitten before, I’m sure.”

“More times than I can count. The longer the zombies are alive, for lack of a better word, the smarter they become. They learn how to circumvent our traps—though never the Blood Lines. They work together. They ambush. They track.”

That phrasing caught my attention. I had been tracked. Bridezilla and her Groom of Doom had appeared in the forest beyond my backyard many nights, then again at Reeve’s. Obviously, they’d singled me out.

“So, these Blood Lines…” I prompted, without asking.

“You want to know more about them?”

I nodded.

There was a sparkle in his eyes as he said, “They create an energy that causes objects to solidify in the spirit realm, preventing the zombies from ghosting through them. That energy also gives off a scent the zombies find offensive, which is why we launder our clothes in a diluted mix of the chemicals. Only thing it doesn’t make manifest is a human body.”

Fascinating. “I want some.”

“After I’ve taught you how to properly use it.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

Hard to argue with that, but oh, I wanted to. “Does your dad fight?” Well, dang. Another question.

“No. He developed an allergy to the antidote and has to hang back.”

Something in his tone had me thinking we’d all develop an allergy one day, but I wasn’t going to worry about that now. “So what happens next?”

The look Cole gave me was as comforting as a blanket woven from shards of broken glass. “You’ll go home and rest. You’ll decide on the lies you’re going to feed your grandparents. And as soon as you’re healed, your training will begin.”

13

Knock, Knock, Says the Evil

To my astonishment, my grandparents were sleeping peacefully as promised when I returned home late Sunday morning. (There’d been no rabbit in the sky. I’d checked. And yeah, I now knew the cloud had to do with zombies rather than cars, but a girl couldn’t be too careful.) Cole had dropped me off with a curt “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning for school. Seven-fifteen. Be ready.”

I’d told him not to bother, that I’d ride the bus. I had to set things straight with Justin sometime, and better earlier than later. The look Cole had next given me could have frozen the Pacific.

I’d stood my ground against him. I wasn’t going to jump when he said jump. I was more likely to give him the finger. He’d dumped me, insulted me, and let his dad grill me. I’d help him with the zombies, of course I would, and I wanted to train with him and learn how to be a better fighter. I wanted to make a difference in this new world, wanted to help people, but I wouldn’t follow him slavishly to do it.

He’d taken off without another word. I had a feeling he would be waiting outside my house tomorrow morning, despite my protests. Guess he wasn’t going to jump when I said jump, either.

I spent the next half hour walking the edge of my home, searching for some sign of the Blood Line that proved so powerful against the zombies. I found nothing, nor did I smell the aroma the zombies found so offensive.

By the time I finished, I ached a thousand times worse than when I’d started. With a sigh, I lumbered to my room and slid into bed to grab a quick power nap before I got ready for church.

Four “quick” hours later, high-pitched laughter woke me up. The neighbor kids must be playing outside, and my grandparents must have decided to stay in. I wriggled out of the warm cocoon I’d made for myself, showered as diligently as possible without wetting my stitches and dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and baggy sweatpants to hide each of my injuries. The clothes were plainly winter wear, and the heat of summer still reigned, but what else could I do?

I finally understood Mackenzie’s wardrobe choice.

My gaze caught on the journal still resting on my desk. At some point, I’d have to tell Cole about it. Plus, he might be able to decode it. I walked over, opened to the page I’d marked—and blinked with astonishment.

The page was no longer in code.

Baffled, I just kind of fell into my chair and read, Those abilities I mentioned? Some slayers have inklings of  the future. Some can see the Blood Lines and recognize our sanctuaries. Some  can destroy the zombies one by one, then two by two, after being bitten a  single time. Something in their spirit infects the zombies and spreads from  one to another like a contagious disease, with no more action on the  slayer’s part.

Some can do none of that. Some can do all  of that.

I have yielded completely. I can do  all.

That’s how I know about the war that’s  coming. That’s how I know that not a single slayer—or civilian—will survive  unless something more is done.

That’s how I know what needs to be  done.

I need to die.

The rest of the words were written in that same code as before. I banged my fist into my desk, my laptop shaking. Why, why, why? How, how, how? English, then coded, English, then coded again. Why had it changed? How had it changed?

What I knew: Cole and I saw glimpses of the future. I could see the Blood Lines. I wasn’t sure whether or not my spirit was poison for the zombies, and wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. Put it all together, and it was more than I’d ever before known—but it still wasn’t enough. How had I yielded to anything? How could I yield to more?

I rubbed my eyes, set the journal aside. I’d try to read it again tomorrow. Maybe another passage would open up to me, maybe not. Until then, I had to deal with my grandparents.

I had a feeling they’d do one of two things when they saw me:

Ground me from everything except breathing.

Ground me from everything including breathing.

I was only surprised they hadn’t burst into my bedroom already to demand answers.

I trudged my way to the kitchen. Nana stood at the counter putting together a sandwich.

Pretty as a buttercup in her yellow blouse, she offered me a soft grin. “Something must be in the air. Pops and I slept in, too, so we thought we’d go to church tonight instead.”

“I’ll go, too.”

“Great. Are you hungry?”

Okay, that had to be a trick question. If I said yes, she would then say, well,  you’re never eating again! “Uh…yes?” I gave it a shot, anyway.

“Ham and Swiss all right?”

“Yes?” Again with the question in my tone. I gulped back my nervousness and said, “So about last night…”

The curtains were open behind her, morning light spilling into the area. Pots and pans hung above her, casting shadows over her cheeks. She tilted her head to the side and sighed. “We heard you come in. Ten minutes past curfew isn’t a huge, horrible deal, but I do hope you’ll call us next time if you’re going to be so much as a minute late. Pops worries.”

Thank you, Frosty! “Of course, yes,” I rushed out. “I’m sorry I didn’t this time. I lost track. I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“You’re forgiven.” She hooked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Now I’ve got two questions for you. Why are you dressed like that, and how was your date?”

“New style.” I couldn’t tell her I’d woken up cold, because I had sweat beads on my forehead and she’d think I was feverish and in need of a full body exam.

Her brow furrowed as she unwound the plastic bag holding the bread. “Honey, that’s gotta be the worst fashion trend in decades. It’s practically eighty degrees in the house, and me, the woman who usually has ice swimming in her veins, can’t cool down. Nothing is worth that much suffering.”

Some things were. “As for your other question, I wasn’t on a date with Justin, remember? We’re not interested in each other that way.”

“Well, that’s probably a good thing. Any boy who fails to see how wonderful a girlfriend you’ll be is a fool to me.” She sliced the ham, laying the pieces against the bottom bun. “You’re smart, pretty, and you aren’t a douche purse.”

If I’d had food in my mouth I would have spewed it. Douche purse? She must mean douche bag. But okay, I could roll. I was getting used to her filthy, funny mouth. “Did my mom ever tell you about her romance with my dad?”

Nana smiled fondly, but the smile soon faded as her dislike for my father intruded. “At first she did. She met him at school. They were in the same grade, but they didn’t have any classes together.” As she spoke, she unwrapped the cheese. “If I’m recalling correctly, they bumped into each other in the hall. He knocked her down, and her books scattered everywhere. He was so embarrassed, mumbling apology after apology as he helped her pick everything up. Then their eyes met and that was that. She was a goner.”

I caught the barest hint of resentment wafting from her, but there was also joy and adoration. “Their eyes met, huh? Like love at first sight.” Or maybe something more. Maybe they’d had visions of their life together.

“Guess so. They never stopped seeing each other, and you know the rest.” Nana spread some kind of orange sauce over the top loaf. “Well, maybe not all of it. They eloped a few weeks after graduation.”

That explained why they had no photos of their wedding. “I want to visit my family.” The words left me in a rush, formed without thought, springing straight from instinct. “I miss them.” Nana and Pops had been to the grave site several times, but I’d always refused to go.

Nana finished grinding pepper, the soft smile returning to her face. “I think that would be wonderful.”

We ate our sandwiches in comfortable silence, and as she got Pops up and around I stuffed a tank and shorts in a purse, plus my phone, a blade and sunscreen. Then I texted Justin, asking if he was okay and telling him we needed to talk. I wanted to know why he was working with such dangerous people. I wanted him to know I’d never do anything to help keep the zombies alive. I wanted to know his side of the story. After ten minutes, I hadn’t received a reply and part of me suspected I never would.