A Mad Zombie Party (The White Rabbit Chronicles Book 4). Gena Showalter

of something greater than myself, and the wrongs done to me no longer seemed—or seem—as significant. But I still don’t like you. You rid the world of a national treasure.”

      Her overconfidence used to annoy me. Now? I kind of get it. Winning a guy like Frosty is a miracle feat. She’s in a class by herself.

      I return the gun to the nightstand and sit on the edge of the bed. “Not to be rude, but why are you here?” If she wants a pound of flesh, I’ll give her a pound of flesh. Let’s just get it over with.

      “How adorable. You actually think you’re in charge of this conversation.” She motions to my arms with a tilt of her chin. “Question. Why are all your tattoos black and white?”

      Why not tell her? “River and I learned at a very young age that there’s right and there’s wrong, and there is nothing in between. The tattoos serve as a reminder.”

      “Black and white,” she says and taps her chin. “No fifty shades of gray.”

      I shake my head and realize I’ve just admitted there is no reason good enough to do what I did to her. Right: protecting the innocent. Wrong: putting them at risk. End of story. Shame floods me, sharpening already razorlike claws inside my chest.

      “I want you to keep that lesson in mind as I get down to the nitty-gritty.” She prances throughout the room, looking over my meager belongings with an air of distaste. “I know you fought alongside Frosty tonight.”

      “Yes.”

      “And he saved your life.”

      I sigh. “Yes.”

      “So in a way, you owe him yours. Right?”

      I don’t like where this is headed. “What is it you want from me? Spit it out.”

      The very picture of determination, she crosses her arms over her chest. “All right. You asked for it. My friend Ali—you know her, right? The girl you betrayed. Well, she had a vision, and her visions are never wrong.” Kat looks away for a moment, her shoulders hunching in. A telltale sign of guilt. I know it well.

      She has no reason to feel that way, but me? Yeah. Every reason. My shoulders sink in, too. “I’ve heard about the visions.” Anima also tasked me with finding out more about them, but in that regard, I’d had no luck. “Go on.”

      Kat runs her tongue over her teeth. “In this one, you stop a woman from shooting Frosty. You save his life.” Again, she looks away for several beats of silence, and I have to wonder why.

      She wouldn’t lie about something like this—would she?

      “For that reason and that reason alone,” she continues, “I’m here to ensure you never stray far from Frosty’s side.”

      I...don’t understand. “You, as in me?” I hike my thumbs at my chest for emphasis. “Guard Frosty?”

      Her lip curls with a return of her distaste, but she nods. “Trust me. I’m as surprised as you are.”

      Well, her weird behavior finally makes sense. She’s annoyed. “He can take care of himself.” He’s more than proved it. “Besides, he hates me. He’ll never allow me to get close to him.”

      “We’ll just have to make him. I can ensure he tolerates your presence, but I don’t think I can stop him from killing you. That’s your part.”

      Great. Wonderful. “Why don’t I lasso the moon while I’m at it?”

      Kat’s eyes narrow on me, her hazel irises focusing with laser sharpness. “When did you become such a baby?”

      Ouch. “You’ll trust me not to betray him?”

      “Yes, but only because of the vision. Meanwhile, I’ll be watching you, and if I suspect you’re doing anything wrong, my next visit won’t be so pleasant.”

      I rub at my wrist. I didn’t lie to Frosty. I’ve learned my lesson and won’t betray him. More than that, Kat is right. I owe the boy my life. He saved me tonight. I’ll gladly stand guard over him.

      “I’ll take care of him as if he’s my brother.”

      This soothes her, but only slightly.

      “Do you know when he’s going to be attacked? Or where?” I grab a notebook and pen from the nightstand. “Any details you can give me about the vision will help.”

      Silence greets me.

      I glance up, but she’s already gone.

      Sighing, I fall back on the bed. The mattress creaks, blending with the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of my neighbor’s headboard. Frosty isn’t going to like having me as a shadow. He’s going to protest. Loudly. He’ll insult me, and it’ll hurt like crazy, and like Kat said, he might even try to kill me, but I’m tough and I’ll handle it.

      Who’s going to attack him? A female zombie? A former employee from Anima? A new employee from Anima?

      Strike those last two. One, agents are cowards. When Anima was in operation, they only approached Zs while wearing a specially designed hazmat suit, the outer layer of material made of something akin to zombie flesh, rendering the human underneath it invisible to the undead. Two, I haven’t been contacted by anyone associated with the company, not since Cole and Ali burned down their facilities and wiped Rebecca’s memories—a woman who would happily eat her own young if it meant surviving another day.

      That memory-wiping thing... It is reversible. But again, if Rebecca remembered her past, or the war, she would have contacted me. Would have threatened River again.

      What would I do then?

      The stupid tears return to my eyes, stinging, and I roll to my side. My current situation is the sum total of the decisions I made in the past, I know that, just like I know I have to live with the consequences every day for the rest of my life.

      This is no one’s fault by my own, and I won’t make the same mistakes. I won’t.

      And I’m not helpless. I can do everything in my power to create a better future. Starting now, with Frosty. I would forever hate anyone who hurt River, just as Frosty will forever hate the people who hurt Kat.

      I can’t ever make up such a loss to him, but I can damn sure try. And I will.

      I blink open tired, gritty eyes as bright light streams through the crack in my bedroom curtains. My temples pound, a memory knocking on the door of my mind.

      I reach for Kat, intending to cuddle her close, but her side of the bed is cold.

       Makes sense. She’s dead.

      The thought hits me, a reminder of all I’ve lost, and agony nearly splits open my chest. But as bad as it is, it’s not as bad as usual. Another memory surfaces, and I grin. Yesterday, she came to visit me; she asked me to fight zombies for another slayer, not realizing she was sending me to Camilla Marks. She promised to visit me again.

      I jolt upright and scan my bedroom, hoping she’s already here. Beige walls. A small bed with blue sheets and brown covers, a large dresser, the drawers hanging open. My clean clothes are piled in one corner and my dirty clothes piled in another. I’ve been meaning to do laundry for, oh, about four months.

      There’s no sign of Kat.

      Still, I jump up and race into the bathroom, a small space with only a sink, toilet and shower stall. I brush my teeth and hair, but I don’t bother to change my clothes. I’m shirtless, but wearing a pair of running shorts. I’ve worn worse.

      “Kat,” I call, not even trying to hide the desperation in my tone. “Kat.”