“Dinnertime,” I called.

Several zombies turned to me, and the fresher ones scrambled for the pool wall, clamoring up its smooth sides. I caught glimpses of flayed skin and gaping throat wounds. One came over the side onto the deck and blocked most of the moonlight.

Probably should’ve anticipated that, but oh well. I’d seen enough to know where to aim. The zombie lurched forward with startling speed, and I struck even faster, thrusting the dagger into the center of the head-shaped blob. Sticky, foul smelling liquid hit the air as I yanked the dagger back. The zombie folded like a paper sack but was quickly replaced by another.

I snapped forward as Zayne landed in the deep end of the pool, wings unfurled. He’d shifted, which was good, because I didn’t think zombie teeth could break his Warden skin.

Me on the other hand? I had no idea what would happen if I got bit. Didn’t want to find out, either. I shoved the dagger in, under the throat this time, because this zombie was super tall.

“I swear to God, Trinity,” Zayne growled as he snatched up a zombie by the head. There was a wet, ripping sound, and all I could see was a body falling, minus an important part. Zayne threw the head, and it went splat against the side of the pool.

That was one way to go about destroying the brain.

“You shouldn’t swear to God.” I hopped into the shallow end of the pool, figuring that Zayne was worried I was going to start pummeling zombies like I’d done with the Raver. “Baby Jesus wouldn’t approve.”

Zayne swore as he flung another headless zombie aside. “I think you have a death wish.”

“Nah. I just wanted to beat you.” I grabbed the hair of a zombie shambling toward the deep end and pulled it backward, but that didn’t quite work out. There was a weird mushy tearing sensation, and the zombie kept going without its hair and most of its scalp. “Ew!”

I dropped the hair, gagging. “I’m never going to forget how that felt. Never. Ever.”

“You jumped down here, so stop being a wimp.”

Shaking my hand, I shuddered and swallowed the taste of bile. “I had its scalp in my hand, Zayne. It’s scalp.”

He lifted into the air, catching the scalpless zombie. “Behind you!” he shouted.

I spun as I jumped back. My foot slipped in gunk and my leg went out from under me. I tried to catch myself, but I was too close to the slanted drop in the deep end. When my foot came down, there was nothing there. I hit the cement with a loud oomph and rolled like a log down the pool. When I came to a stop, I was prone on my back, arms and legs widespread.

A body crashed onto me, and based on the funk I was inhaling through my nostrils, I knew it was the zombie. A second later, teeth snapped an inch from my face. As close as the creature was, I got a good look at an exposed jaw and one eye hanging, attached by a pinkish jellylike cable of tissue.

“Oh God,” I groaned, catching it by the throat. I cringed as my fingers sank into tissue and muscle. Swinging my other arm around, I slammed the dagger into the side of its head. Liquid sprayed my face and chest as the reanimated pain in my ass slumped.

“I hate zombies,” I muttered, shoving the corpse off me.

“Are you okay?” Zayne shouted.

“Yeah.” I sat up, squinting as I twisted toward the shallow end. I saw Zayne, but there were four zombies still on their feet between us. Three of them were coming straight for me.

Groaning, I popped up and got down to business. The zombies weren’t hard to take down. They weren’t born fighters, and coordination was definitely not something that reanimated along with them, but they sure were messy. By the time I was done, I was standing among a whole lot of gore and funk.

“You done up there?” I called out, eyes searching the beams of moonlight.

Zayne appeared where the pool began to dip. “You okay?” he repeated.

I assumed that meant there were no more zombies. “I’m fine. Not a scratch or a bite.”

He turned sideways. “There had to be at least two dozen.”

“That’s bizarre, isn’t it? There’s no way that many zombies just moseyed on over here. People would be freaking so badly, we’d hear them in here.”

“Yeah,” Zayne agreed, wings lifting and then lowering. “I got twelve. How many did you get?”

I frowned. “I wasn’t counting.”

He scoffed. “Amateur.”

I flipped him off.

“No need to be hateful.” The humor had faded from his voice when he spoke again. “I need to call this in.”

That made sense. This many zombies gathered in some random abandoned building was highly abnormal and created a whole lot of questions that needed answers.

I stared down at what was left of the zombies, and for the first time in probably my entire life, I wasn’t hungry. Lifting my gaze as Zayne pulled his cell from his pocket, I thought of something. “What do I say when the rest of the clan gets here? They’re going to have questions. Hell, they probably already have questions.”

“I’m calling Dez,” he answered, referencing the only other Warden besides Nicolai who knew what I was. He’d accompanied Zayne and the clan leader to the Community. “Get him to take you back to my place before the rest get here.”

“What if more zombies show up while you wait for the others to arrive?” I asked.

“I can handle them.” He put the phone to his ear. “And the others will be here fast.”

I nodded, even though I hated having to cut and run. Sheathing my daggers while he talked to Dez, I looked around the pool. It looked like a butcher shop.

“Dez is on his way,” Zayne said, sliding the phone into his pocket. “Something’s up, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“He sounded off.” Zayne looked down. “Let me get you out of here.”

“I can get myself—”

“There are bodies and gore covering just about every square inch of the pool. You’re going to walk in it and slip.” Zayne’s wings spread out and he lifted in the air. “And I doubt Dez would be happy with you getting brains all over the car seat.”

I frowned. “Brains are already on me.”

“Even more reason to not get more on you.” He hovered above me, extending his arms. “Let me just get you out of the pool.”

Zayne had a point, but I hesitated, feeling as if I needed to prove that I could do this without help. I’d already needed his help once tonight. Frustration burned as I took a step and felt something sticky under my boot.

“What is it?” Zayne’s wings moved soundlessly. When I didn’t answer, he moved to my other side. “Talk to me, Trin.”

“It’s just that... I already had to rely on you tonight when I couldn’t see, and I can get out of here. It might be messy, but I just...” My hands opened and closed, and I thought about how badly I’d performed while training blindfolded. “I need to be independent.”

“What?” Confusion filled his voice.

Staring at what I thought might be exposed ribs, I struggled to find the words to explain. “I don’t want you or anyone to think that I can’t be...independent, or that I need to rely on others all the time.”

“I don’t for one second think that you accepting help when you need it means you’re not independent.”

“Yeah, well, other people won’t agree with you.”

Zayne landed next to me, probably in the only clear spot. He tucked his wings back. “Who are these people?”

I coughed out a dry laugh. “Everyone? Have you seen how people talk about others who have...” I swallowed hard. “Who have disabilities?”

God, saying that was harder than I’d realized. Disability. What a loaded word, one I wasn’t sure I’d spoken aloud before. Maybe I’d never said it because of what it implied, that there was something different about me, something that had to be accommodated.

But disability wasn’t a bad word, and it didn’t mean that. It just meant what it meant. I was a Trueborn. And a kick-ass fighter. But I was still disabled at the end of the night. And I knew that didn’t define me. It wasn’t the sum of who I was. It was just a part of me.

Still, it was a hard word to say.

And I felt bad for feeling that it was a hard word to say. Like I was betraying others with disabilities by finding it hard to admit I, too, had a disability.

Didn’t change that I felt like I had to prove myself.

“Trin?” Zayne’s voice was soft.

I shook my head. “People expect you to be self-sufficient and strong all the time. Like you’re supposed to be a shining example of rising above the suckage handed to you, or you’re there to serve some freaking purpose of proving how anyone can overcome odds if they’re just positive enough. Even people who have the same damn problems sometimes think that way.”

“Has Thierry or Matthew said anything like that to you?” he demanded in a way that made me worried for them.

“Not really. I mean, they taught me to not let it hold me back. So did my mom, but...” I started to scrub my hands over my face then realized they were caked in zombie blood. “I belonged to this vision support group a few years back. It was this online thing, and I wanted to know what others thought, you know, who were dealing with something similar. Most were great, but there were some who were so caught up in making sure everyone heard their opinions and how they dealt with things, that they never listened to anyone else. They were so busy telling everyone in the group how we should adapt or feel, or even how we should talk about how we’re feeling, or the challenges and—” I threw up my hands. “I don’t even know why I’m talking about this right now. We’re surrounded by dead stinky zombies.”

“There’s no more perfect time than now,” he said.

“Oh, I can think of many more perfect times that don’t involve brain matter.” I planted my hands on my hips. “Look, I just don’t want to be...”