“That’s sad.”

“That’s life.”

I rolled my eyes, a common occurrence in his presence. “You might be the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t think that was a compliment.”

“Agree to disagree,” he said.

We entered the barn, and my spirit jerked from Gavin’s grip, flying forward as if tugged by an invisible cord. I skidded across the room and...boom!

Gasping, I pried open my eyes. I was sitting in the chair, spirit and body joined.

Mr. Ankh knelt in front of Cole, already patching up his injuries. Just as I’d suspected, he was covered in blood.

New to-do list: Find a way to disable the zombie inside me. Kill the zombie inside me. Still do whatever proves necessary.

He blinked open his eyes and grimaced.

Mr. Ankh said, “You need stitches, son,” and began digging in his bag of supplies.

A lump grew in my throat as Cole’s gaze met mine. Violet against blue. A cold mask against sorrow.

I’m sorry, I mouthed.

He nodded, looked away.

Would he cut me from his life now that he knew about Z.A.?

It was better than death, and yet almost as painful.

“Where’s Kat?” Frosty demanded. Like Cole, he was covered in blood.

Without looking up from his task, Mr. Ankh replied, “When you started bleeding, she started screaming, and I insisted she go home.”

I bet he’d had to threaten to ban her from the building forever to actually get her to go.

Frosty raced out.

“Everyone’s been injected with the antidote?” Mr. Holland asked.

I hadn’t, but then, I hadn’t been bitten. Still, I requested a dose and received it a few minutes later. The cool stream came with a measure of strength, stopping my trembling.

“Zombies were everywhere, man,” Gavin said, standing. “We couldn’t contain them all.”

“Yeah, and they seemed to know exactly where we’d be,” Lucas threw at Justin.

Justin shot to his feet. “I didn’t tell anyone about tonight. I didn’t know I’d be meeting with everyone until fifteen minutes ago, when Cole came and got me.”

“Ever heard of a phone? Texting?”

“Cole watched me the entire time. And do you really think a zombie is capable of taking my calls?”

“You were in the locker room alone for several minutes. You could have gotten a message to someone at Anima,” Trina spat. “They could have arranged this.”

“You think I’m wearing a wire, too?” He ripped his shirt over his head, revealing a hard, cut physique I hadn’t known he had.

A hand penetrated my line of sight, and I glanced up. Gavin stood in front of me, offering me assistance. I twined our fingers, and he tugged me to a stand. I wasn’t as strong as I’d thought, because my knees almost buckled. He wound his arm around me and held me up.

A chair skidded. I saw Cole stand, brush Mr. Ankh aside and stalk into the locker room. The door slammed shut with a loud bang.

Of course, Veronica followed him.

* * *

I fell asleep thinking about ways to disable Z.A. Cut off my hands? Remove all my teeth? Then I’d live, and she’d have no way of hurting anyone.

Let’s make that plan B.

The ring of my cell woke me. From the bed, I blindly reached out, patting my nightstand. “Hello,” I rasped when the phone was at my ear. What time was it?

“You missed our appointment, Miss Bell.”

Dr. Bendari?

I jolted upright. The fancy wall clock said it was 5:59 a.m. I’d set my alarm for six, and—my phone vibrated, right on cue. I needed to get ready for school.

“Something came up,” I said. “I tried to call, but you shut off your phone.”

“A necessary precaution.”

“And why is that?”

“Do you expect me to believe you don’t want your slayer friends to capture me?”

Reverse psychology? Please. “I’m the one with doubts, Dr. Bendari. You could be planning to murder me.”

“I guess we’re going to have to trust each other. Are you still interested in meeting?”

“I am.”

“Good, because I’d like to hear about the trouble you had last night.”

Had he sent the spy...his source? “How do you know about that?”

I imagined him shrugging as he said, “How else?”

“Well, the only way your source could have heard about last night’s activities was if he was at the scene.”

A chuckle devoid of humor crackled over the line. “Is that so? Well, you should check the morning news reports.”

The news? I scrambled for the TV remote, pressed Power. Colors filled the screen. I switched channels and came to—

“—awoke to find twenty-six people had died from antiputrefactive syndrome,” a reporter was saying. She stood on a street, the address of a neighborhood close to Cole’s scrolling across the screen.

Antiputrefactive syndrome: when the human body was infected with zombie toxin. Although civilians had no idea that was the cause.

The reporter continued. “Last year, two local high school boys died of this rare disease, and citizens were told it was not contagious. Just a month ago, an elderly man died. How and why are so many infected? The CDC has arrived, and the houses of the affected have been quarantined.”

Dr. Bendari sighed with regret. “People were killed, Miss Bell. People who will rise again. Zombies entered their homes and ate every bit of their humanity, leaving only evil behind.”

“Why?” The moisture in my mouth dried. “How?”

“Not every home has a Blood Line.”

That would change, I thought, fisting the comforter. Soon.

For once, the C word actually empowered me.

“The zombies are mutating,” he explained. “Just like you are mutating. They’ve become hungrier. They’ve become stronger. They—”

My door burst open and banged against the wall. Mr. Ankh and Mr. Holland strode inside. Both were scowling with a fury they’d never before directed at me. My heart drummed inside my chest, nearly cracking my ribs.

“What’s going on?” I demanded. “What are you doing?”

Dr. Bendari said something, but I couldn’t make out the words.

“Come with us, Ali,” Mr. Holland said. “Now.”

Dr. Bendari went quiet.

Last night, Gavin had dropped me off and I’d showered, dressed in a tank and boxer shorts and fallen into bed. The men weren’t seeing anything they shouldn’t, but I was still embarrassed. “What’s going on?” I repeated. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me.”

Mr. Ankh popped his jaw. “There’s something you need to see.”

I severed the connection with Dr. Bendari and stood. I was led down the hall, down the stairs, down another flight of stairs and into the basement. The air grew cooler and danker with every step, and I felt a layer of ice glaze my skin—one that matched the layer growing inside me. At the end of a hallway, we paused at the only door. It was closed and locked. Mr. Ankh pressed his hand against a new ID box, and a bright yellow light flashed.

The hinges on the door loosened, the entrance opening under its own steam.

We swept inside the laboratory. The floors were concrete, with drains in several locations. There were multiple curtained stalls, each containing a gurney with wrist and ankle straps.

I gulped.

Mr. Holland motioned to a chair in front of a TV screen.

Shaking, I sat. “I’ve already seen the news.”

“That has nothing to do with this moment. Now, I’m going to check your vitals.” As he poked and prodded, he asked me one question. Only one. “Are you working for Anima?”

“No! Of course not.” I had to tell him the truth, didn’t I? Another to-do list: Talk. Admit everything. Pray for the best.

So, I did it. I poured out every Z.A. detail I’d been hoarding.

When I finished, Mr. Ankh shook his head. “Impossible. You’re still human.”

“For now.”

He stared at me a long while, silent. Then he grimaced and pressed a button on a remote. Bright green colored the entire TV screen and—the forest! I saw the forest.

“This was taped through a night-vision lens,” he said. “I have more cameras out there than any of you realized. I don’t always check them, but the gash in Cole’s cheek was strange, something I’d never seen before. When I asked him about it, he refused to answer.”

I watched as a red line dove at another red line, knocking it to the ground. The two stayed in that position for several minutes, as though...talking. Cole and I, I realized.

“We’re spirits. How did the camera pick us up?” I asked, dazed.

“Special camera. Special equipment.”

“Did you happen to see the guy I was following?”

“Yes. But like you, he’s just a line.”

On the screen, Cole sat up. We talked some more. Stood. Walked around. A brighter red consumed my hands and I struck him. He fell. Stood again. We faced off. I came at him. He dodged.

Brighter pricks of red appeared at the tree line. The zombies?

A line—me—crashed into the ground.

That was when I’d fallen and blacked out. When Z.A. had taken over.

I watched myself stand and angle toward Cole. Oh, no. Please, no. I walked toward him. He ignored me and ran to the zombies, attacking with a vengeance. I followed him. Rather than helping him, I struck him from behind.

I clutched my stomach, feeling as if I’d swallowed shards of glass. The zombies converged on him, yet still he managed to fight them off, working his way to his feet. I came at him again, obviously intending to hurt him, but he sidestepped me, putting his body between me and the zombies. He could have punched me, knocked me out, or even thrown me to the wolves. I’d left myself wide-open. Instead, he returned his focus to the zombies.