A Mad Zombie Party

Our bodies surround the vehicles, and one by one, we join up.
Justin arrives with a new van, and we pile inside. Everyone but Frosty.
“Where—” I begin.
“I’m staying to help River,” he says.
“I’ll stay, too,” I say. I don’t want to be parted from him. He’s injured.
“You haven’t seen yourself.” He gives me a half smile, reaches out and squeezes my hand. “You need medical attention.”
“So do—” But he’s already walking away. “You,” I declare lamely.
Justin whisks us to the mansion, where the recruits help us into the former ballroom on the bottom floor, which has been transformed into a makeshift hospital. One of the recruits is in medical school, another in nursing school, and Weber barks orders at them. We’re examined one at a time, those in the worst condition first.
Once Gavin and Ali are doctored, Weber focuses on me. I’m bandaged up and deemed “on the mend,” but I’m unable to catch my breath until Frosty walks through the door.
He scans the room and stops on me. My heart skips a beat as he closes the distance. Though I’m in pain—I refused painkillers, not wanting to be weakened or fall asleep—I stand and motion to the gurney.
He sits without a word of complaint.
“Where’s River?”
“Once we had the bodies loaded, he took off.”
“Serves you right. Now don’t you dare move,” I say. “I mean it.”
“Trust me. I’m not going anywhere.”
I gather the cleaning supplies I think I’ll need. I’m as gentle as possible as I wash the blood from his face. He must have had a shirt stored in his truck because he’s wearing a new one.
“Any injuries I can’t see?” For some reason, the question makes me blush. I never blush.
“I have a few under my shirt.” He doesn’t move, just sits there, his gaze glued to me and so intense it’s as if he’s seeing past flesh and bone.
I gulp. “What are you waiting for? Take it off.”
“If you insist.” He grips the shirt by the collar and tugs the material over his head.
Is my tongue hanging out? Am I drooling?
Cord after cord of strength greets me. And his tattoos! Mercy. I beg for mercy. In the center of his breastbone, there’s a human heart pierced on the bottom by numerous daggers. On the handle of each is a name. Boots. Ducky. Ankh. Trina. Haun. Cruz. Willow. Roses grow from the top of the heart, the stems twisting and twining all the way to his shoulders, where the buds are in bloom. A curtain of mist floats between the thorny foliage, and in the midst of it is the name Kitten.
I clean him of dirt, sweat, zombie goo and blood, my blush heating a few thousand degrees. Trembling, I turn my attention to his arms, a much safer area, and the bands tattooed around his wrists. There are three Z-bites, raw and angry, and I slather each with salve before adhering a bandage.
I step behind him to finish up and have to swallow a whimper. There’s an etching of hands in the center of his back. They are joined together to form a steeple, the Lord’s Prayer scripted around them. Some of the words cover scars—name, kingdom, deliver—making them stand out as if they are alive with power.
“You’re good at this.” His voice is tight with...I’m not sure what. “At playing doctor, I mean.”
“I should be. I spent the first part of my childhood acting like a nursemaid.” It’s something I wouldn’t have said to anyone else, but Frosty knows about my past. He’s seen it.
The muscles between his shoulders knot. “Is that what you’d be if you weren’t a slayer? A nurse. Or maybe a doctor?”
“A doctor. Maybe.”
“Any plans for college?”
“I wish, but I barely graduated high school because I missed so many days.” And it isn’t like I could afford college, even with loans. Loans have to be paid back. Anyway, who’s going to hire the girl always covered in bruises? “What about you?”
“I’d like to be a homicide detective. Take down human bad guys for a change.”
Admirable. “The streets will definitely be safer with you on patrol.” I grab a clean rag, dip it in a bowl of soapy water, wring it out and gently scrub the scratches along his spine.
“You’re not going to tell me it’s too dangerous?” There’s true curiosity in his tone. “That maybe I should be a mailman or something?”
“Uh, I’ve seen you fight zombies, remember? Nothing’s too dangerous for you.” But he is too dangerous for me, there’s no doubt about that. I’m basically petting him right now. “Well. Nothing seems to be broken and the bites have already scabbed. You should make a full recovery.”
I toss the dirty rags into the laundry basket beside the gurney and hand the bowl of soiled water to a recruit with an order to drain it. Then I stand there, unsure what to do next. I don’t want to leave Frosty, but I don’t want to embarrass myself, either.
He takes hold of my wrist and draws me closer...closer still...until I’m standing between his legs. I can only blink up at him as my trembling renews and redoubles.
“Let me see your injuries.”
“No need, they’re—”
“I wasn’t asking.” He gently peels back the bandage on my forehead to study the slash. Well, okay, then.
“I hit the window when the van crashed,” I say.
“No stitches.”
“It wasn’t deep. It might scar, though.”
“You worried?”
“No. Yes. Maybe. Maybe I’ll cut bangs.”
“Why? You’re beautiful the way you are,” he says. “With or without a scar.”
My mouth falls open. I...have no idea how to respond.
“Don’t even think about accusing me of lying.” His gaze heats as it studies mine. “I don’t lie. Ever. I don’t need to, because I don’t care if I hurt anyone’s feelings. The truth is the truth, forever unchanging, and it’s better than a lie any day of the week.”
Dang. My crush on him soars to a new level.
“Scars speak for you,” he adds. “They say you’re strong, and you’ve survived something that might have killed others. To me, there’s nothing sexier than strength.”
“I agree,” I whisper. One hundred percent. As slayers, we’ve lost friends, family, homes. At times even our sanity. We know the weak fall and never get back up.
We can’t afford to be weak.
And oh, crap. I want to throw myself into his arms. Instead, I change the subject...fast. “Did you notice anything weird about the zombies tonight?”
“Weird...how?”
“They looked exactly the same as the last batch we fought.”
“Twin zombies are as likely as twin humans, I suppose.”
“Yeah, but all of the zombies were familiar to me.”
He frowns. “I didn’t notice, but then, I’m a guy. I usually only notice short skirts and see-through shirts.”
I smile, and his gaze falls to my lips. The way he stares... My heart hammers in my chest, my blood heating. Awareness crackles inside me.
“All right.” Cole’s voice booms through the room, startling me, and I leap away from Frosty as if pushed. I keep my back to him, not wanting to see his expression darken with disgust as he remembers who and what I am. “We need to talk about what happened tonight.”
In a snap, the room goes quiet.
Cole moves to the center, ensuring he’s the sole focus of the occupants. “Was anyone able to use dynamis?”
“No.”
“Nope.”
“Not me.”
Not a single affirmation comes.
“What about your abilities?” Cole asks.
“I wasn’t able to do anything,” Ali says, and nods of agreement follow.
I’m the only one who maintained the status quo. Too bad my status quo sucks. “Thanatos seems to make zombies hungrier. It surprised me. I wasn’t prepared for that.”
“When you touched your brother, the wound on his chest worsened rather than healed.” Ali tilts her head, thoughtful. “Light is purification. Dark is destruction. They are opposites.”
Wait, wait, wait. I hurt River? My stomach curls into a ball and drops to my feet.