I dropped to the ground, landed in a crouch, straightened, both blades clutched in my hands. A glow here, a glow there. The kids, the Blood Lines. Things to avoid. Immediately I pushed into motion, driving toward the group surrounding Mackenzie.

I slashed a zombie across the back of the neck. He stumbled to the side. Spinning, I stabbed another in the stomach. Another spin, another stabbing. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mackenzie’s body spotted with black and twitching, no longer glowing, her fingers gnarling from the intensity of the pain. At least the zombies surrounding her had forgotten all about the already bagged and tagged meal they could have and focused on me.

One snuck up beside me, crouched on the ground as he was, and managed to wrap his fingers around my wrist and tug me down. I stabbed him in the eyes, jab, jab, blinding him. Next I practically did a handstand to kick the zombie I’d heard coming up behind me. My overworked thigh muscles strained but he was shoved away.

“Zombies will not win tonight,” I said as a multitude of others gathered around me. It was a proclamation I prayed I believed.

I popped to my feet as they lunged at me, managing to slick my blade through one jugular, then another. I felt something solid press into my back, but didn’t panic. I caught a familiar sandalwood scent. Cole.

“You’re doing great.” He fought behind me, shielding my blind spots.

A warm gust of wind swirled around me, sparking with power and giving me a burst of strength. He’d believed what he’d said, and I’d believed what he’d said. I was doing great, but now I would do even better.

“You, too.” I arced my arms in different directions, cutting high with one and low with the other.

“Keep doing exactly what you’re doing, just do it quietly.”

Faster…faster…the zombies reached up to block me, but they were just too slow. I cut and I cut and I cut—shoulders, arms, hands, torsos, stomachs, thighs—and twitching bodies began to rain around me.

Bronx swooped in, both of his hands glowing bright white, and rendered the deathblows.

Cole and I continued to battle, but the glow never filled my own hands. After we’d finished hacking our way through Mackenzie’s crowd, we switched our sights to Frosty’s, then Collins’s. I was bitten a few times, nothing prolonged, nothing like before, but the ensuing burn still managed to at last slow my motions. Each time the culprits jerked away from me in horror, as if they’d realized I would treat them to extra loving from my blades.

When the battle was over, when there was no one else to fight, I lost every ounce of energy. I couldn’t resist as an invisible chain dragged me up…up…up…and into the tree. Before, I’d always had to reach out and touch. This was the first time I’d ever experienced such a tug.

I sucked in a breath, the world crashing back into focus.

Even operating in the natural realm, I was too weak to hold myself upright and just kind of tumbled from the branch. I smacked into the ground and rolled, losing the blades somewhere along the way. There was a sharp sting in my arm, and I knew without looking that I’d ripped open my stitches again.

There were too many bodies to count around me, the zombies reminding me of flies stuck in sticky paper that had been left out for several weeks.

“Frosty, get Mackenzie to Ankh,” I heard Cole shout. He stomped to his body, still perched in front of the tree, and reached out. Instantly the two linked up.

“On it,” Frosty replied. He picked up Mackenzie and stalked off.

“Trina, Haun, search for Brent.”

“Already gone,” Trina replied.

“The rest of you destroy the remaining zombies.”

“That won’t be necessary,” an unfamiliar voice said, slithering from the shadows.

Someone flipped the switch on the halogens, and the entire forest was suddenly swept into a great flood of darkness. Spots winked in my line of vision. I heard the pound of multiple footsteps, the crackle of…something, then a swarm of people in hazmat suits came into view.

“We’ll be taking the zombies,” the same person said.

Cole dove at him, his arm ghosting through. Clearly, the hazmat was in spirit form. “Coward! I should have known you’d show up.”

They must have watched the battle on the outskirts, never coming to our aid, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. And what better time than now, while Cole and I were back in our bodies, injured, and too weak to fight back?

“Go,” Cole snapped to his remaining friends.

All but Bronx darted away. They were still in spirit form, and therefore susceptible to further injury from the suits. Normally that wouldn’t be a concern, I was sure, Cole and company’s skills far superior. Now, we were all vulnerable.

One of the suits walked over to me and bent down. There was a clear panel in front of his face and as I squinted up at him, Justin’s features began to crystallize.

“You picked the wrong team,” he said.

A warm breeze washed over me, and I thought maybe the breeze had somehow sprung from the force of his words, as if there was power in them even I could feel in this natural realm.

“I’m on the right team,” I gritted out. His will would not supersede mine.

His sister came up beside him, grinning smugly through her mask. The whiteness of her teeth gave her a feral appearance. She never said a word, but then, no words were necessary. She laughed.

I watched, helpless, as the suits collared what was left of the still-writhing zombies and dragged them away.

Two seconds after they were gone, blood-covered arms slid under my back and knees and lifted me. I was cradled against Cole’s chest, his heart hammering away at his ribs. “I’ve got you,” he said.

“I’m not in as much pain as usual. I can walk.” He didn’t appear to be straining, but I knew he was feeling the effects of our battle, too.

“It’s either hold on to you or chase after the hazmats. I picked you.”

“Good choice, I guess.” As he carried me through the trees, my gaze locked on my sister, who had materialized a few feet away from Cole, her slight form already flickering in and out. There was such a sad expression on her face.

“It’s too late now,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Alice, so very sorry. He’ll be coming for you.”

My sister’s words haunted me the entire drive to Cole’s house. He’ll be coming for you. Who would? Why?

The moment we arrived, however, my focus changed. Inside the barn, I saw all the kids on hospital gurneys. Most were hooked to an IV bag while Mr. Ankh walked around checking vitals. Some were sleeping, some in too much pain to nod off. But Brent…he was utterly still, his body a mess of black boils.

Of all the kids, he needed medical attention the most and yet Mr. Ankh never even approached his bed. Dr. Wright, who cleaned and bandaged those with minor injuries, never even glanced at his bed. That could only mean…

Cole unleashed a dark, dark curse that dripped with all kinds of venom and sorrow. He eased me onto a bed, and said to Mr. Ankh, “Trina and Haun are still out there, looking for…” His voice broke. He pressed his lips together.

But Trina and Haun were lying on gurneys and—oh. No. They weren’t. Their bodies might be here, but in actuality they were in the forest still in spirit form.

“I’ve already sent your dad out to get them,” Mr. Ankh said.

Though her expression was as stern as always, Dr. Wright placed a gloved hand over her heart. “I’m sorry, Cole. He was a wonderful boy.”

Cole bowed his head.

“He’s not…he can’t be…” I said.

“He is. He can.” I’d never heard such a raw tone from him. “We’ll find out in a few days whether or not his spirit moved on or became zombie.”

There was no way to tell here and now? And was that really a possibility? No matter what, I did not want to wake up one day as an undead spirit corpse.