Part 33 (2/2)

My breath grew ragged as I kept trying, using my heel to kick the blade, but to no avail. There was nothing I could do except stand and watch as Noah's hand slipped away from the ice and grew distant as he sank into the depths.

I didn't even fight when they came for me. I heard the hush of children's voices in the night. Two tiny hands closed over my eyes. Two more covered my ears, and another my mouth. Still more over my arms and legs, until I collapsed into the snow. It was all I could to do to rip the bandage from my back and touch the mark between my shoulders. ”Dante,” I whispered, pain reverberating through my spine. ”I'm sorry.” His voice spoke back to me. I'll come for you.

The moon was a white hook in the sky as they dragged me into the Dead Forest. The decaying stumps poking out of the snow like toothpicks. I could feel the weight of the dead beneath us, the air vacant, totally absent of life.

A tall, thin figure walked toward me through the snow, his face a sliver of pale beneath his hood. A Brother. Crouching down, he picked me up by the arm and lowered his face to mine, ready to take my soul, my secrets. I closed my eyes. I could smell the bitterness of his breath. I pressed my lips together and thought of Dante, imagining it was him.

That's when something strange happened. I didn't feel scared or angry or even weak. I could barely feel anything except cold. I shuddered as I felt a p.r.i.c.kling chill hurtling toward me.

Dante, his skin as white as the dead trees around us.

He dove between the Brother and me, his lips brus.h.i.+ng past mine as he shoved the Undead onto the forest floor, knocking him out with a swift kick to the head. Dante whisked me off the ground and took me into his arms. Our bodies fit together, my limbs tangled with his until I couldn't tell which were mine and which were Dante's, and I began to melt, the warmth seeping through my palms and traveling higher, higher, through my hands, my arms, my throat, my lips, until I was crying. The chest from the lake bounced up and down in my bag as he ran. My fingers tightened around his shoulders, and I closed my eyes, smelling the sweetness of pine in the air; hearing the symphony of the trees creaking in the wind, the crows crying from branches, the snow crunching beneath Dante's feet, his heart beating an irregular staccato as we vanished into the woods, until there was nothing left of us but a swirling, snowy gust.

Ted Malawer, for making the impossible always seem possible. Abby Ranger, for asking all the right questions, and for forcing me to be a better writer. Laura Schreiber and the team at Hyperion, for taking such good care of me. And Ari Lewin, for teaching me how to write a book.

Nathaniel, Lauren, Bec, and Katherine, for making the friends.h.i.+ps in this book come to life. Brandon, for keeping me updated on everything zombie. Paul, for giving me a Montreal education, and for designing my whimsical Web site. My family, for feeding me when I was on deadline, and for being my most enthusiastic fans. And Akiva, for coloring every page.

Thank you.

end.

<script>