“You’ll get it. But first, there’s someone who’d like to speak with you.”

Static. Then, “Hello, Miss Bell.” A woman’s voice. Unfamiliar.

“You have me at a disadvantage. You seem to know me, but I have no idea who you are.”

“My name is Rebecca Smith. You may call me Rebecca.”

The head of Anima herself. Why not call her Becky?

Or Satan.

“You’ve caused me so much trouble,” she said, “I’ve decided to deal with you myself.”

“You’ll understand if I don’t wish you better luck, Ms. Smith.” My gaze found Cole—his expression darkened further. This was the woman his father and Helen had warned us about. The one known for her interrogation “technique.”

She chuckled, as if she’d expected no other reply. “A born rebel. Just like your mother.”

As if she knows me.

“We did some jobs together, you know,” she continued. “Not the one with your boyfriend’s mother, of course. That was all Helen. But others that were equally successful. I’d be on the field now if the antidote hadn’t stopped working for me.”

Bile...burning up my throat... My features remained relaxed. I wouldn’t give anything away to the onlookers. “Why don’t we concentrate on the here and now, hmm?”

“Very well.” I heard fingers tapping on a keyboard. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed, you are the key to our success. With you, we can capitalize on all the good zombies provide while discarding the bad.”

“How?”

She ignored me and said, “I’m sending Ankh an email. There’s a video attached. You’ll want to watch it. It’s your proof of life.”

Okay, good, we were moving right along. “So, how would you like to do this?”

She didn’t hesitate. “I would like to send Ethan to your door and make the exchange that way, because it’s the easiest solution, but we both know you’ll only kill him and take the boy. Instead, I’ll expect to see you at—”

“You know what?” I interjected, as rehearsed. “You don’t get to arrange this. You’ll be at Hearts, the nightclub downtown, in two hours, with Justin, because he’s your ticket through the door. Fail to comply and my mission will be the destruction of everything you hold dear.” Actually, it already was.

Click.

I wanted to hunch over and vomit. Had I just made a huge mistake, insisting Ms. Smith meet us at Hearts, rather than playing the game by her rules? I hoped not. Mr. Ankh owned the nightclub, and our slayers were used to the building’s layout. We’d have the advantage.

We needed every advantage we could get.

“Did you get a trace?” Cole demanded of Mr. Ankh.

“No,” he snapped. “They rerouted the signal a thousand different ways. I’m guessing there’ll be no way to trace the email, either, no matter how many people I put on the task.”

Great.

We waited with bated breath for the telltale ding to sound, signaling the email had arrived. And when it did, we crowded behind Mr. Ankh’s desk as he pushed Play on the video.

Justin appeared on the screen—and Jaclyn would have collapsed, if Gavin hadn’t held her up.

Justin was huddled in back of a cage. He had on a pair of underwear, nothing more. Around him was a toilet, a sink and a twin bed. He’d lost so much weight, his ribs were visible. There were bruises under his eyes, track marks up his arms.

Was Anima pumping him with drugs, sedating him? Or taking blood?

Heck. Probably both.

Beside his cage were two other cages, and in those were countless collared zombies.

The camera moved away from him, the screen going blank, and Jaclyn cried, “No!”

I blinked back tears.

“I doubt they’ll really try and do an exchange,” Cole said, checking the magazine in his gun. “We’ve got a fifty-fifty chance. They’ll either try to capture us all or kill us all. Flip a coin.”

He was right. I’d known it all along, and yet, here, now, with slayers I’d only ever wanted to protect standing around me, it seemed wrong. “I’ll do it, then. I’ll trade.” No double cross.

“No!” He spun around, glared at me. Except, it wasn’t anger I saw. It was anguish. “No.”

“Yes! Dang it, yes!” I stomped my foot. “How many times do I have to remind you? One person will give her life to save many. This is what I’m supposed to do.”

He got in my face, yelling, “And how many times do I have to remind you that you can’t know that for sure? That I refuse to lose you?”

“You have a funny way of showing it!”

He backed up a step, drew in a breath.

I squared my shoulders. “I’m making the trade, Cole.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Even if you are the one, I won’t let it happen. None of us will. So. Not another word from you. Go weapon up. We’ll do the same. Everyone meet in the foyer, ten minutes.”

“Cole—”

“Not another word! We’ll go as if they plan to make the trade. We’ll fight, kill as many of them as we can, finally put a dent in their forces.” At the end of his control, and with a final glare aimed at me, he left.

Chapter 26

AT THE CORNER OF

MURDER AND MAYHEM

The countdown had begun.

Five minutes, and I was armed and ready.