“Don’t you worry about him. Esme promised to bring him to me. I’ll raise him like my own boy.”
Like hell you will. Hannah lowered her hands slowly, slumping in a posture of defeat. Resting her hand on the ground, she made a fist in the dirt and leaves.
Eddie moved closer until he stood at point blank range. “I hope your daddy’ll forgive me.”
Hannah threw the debris in her fit at his eyes and sprang. The gun exploded next to her ear, causing her entire head to ring painfully as it collided with his chest, knocking him backwards. They both went down, with Hannah on top.
Eddie grappled with her, but his strength was no match for hers. She freed herself and sat up. He no longer held the gun, but she couldn’t see where it went. She couldn’t hear the cursing that was no doubt coming from his mouth, couldn’t hear anything but the ringing as she hit him, again and again, surprised at how well he took each blow.
She raised her fist to hit him again, but pain exploded through her thigh. She looked down to see the source and found her own knife, buried in her leg up to the hilt. And then something slammed into her head, knocking her off of him.
She lay on her back, holding her head, and saw him throw away a thick branch. He crawled away from her. Hannah mustered the strength to crawl after him. But then he turned around and staggered to his feet, pointing the gun he’d apparently found in the leaves.
Hannah closed her eyes and braced herself. At the sound of gunfire, her body jolted. But then something thudded to the ground, and it wasn’t her. She opened her eyes.
Alek stood several feet away, holding his gun on Eddie, who lay lifelessly between them.
When he didn’t move, Alek approached him cautiously, crouched beside him and felt his neck for a pulse. Looking grim but satisfied, he holstered his weapon and hurried over to Hannah.
“Alek—”
“Shh. Lie still.” His words sounded muffled, but the ringing started to fade, and she could hear him well enough. He took her head in both hands, careful of the bruised parts, and studied her eyes. Frowning, he released her to examine the knife wound. “We have to be careful with this. He might have hit an artery.”
“I don’t suppose enhanced vampire healing will stop me from bleeding out, huh?” She meant to lighten the mood, but it only made his grimace deepen, which told her that no, it would not. He started to unbuckle his belt. “Here,” she said, reaching for her own buckle. “Use mine.”
He took over, undoing her buckle and sliding the belt from around her waist. He wrapped it around her upper thigh. “Hold this. Pull it tight.” She did what he said while he unsheathed his knife and used it to punch a new hole in the belt. Then he buckled it, securing it in place. He frowned at the wound. “I still don’t want to pull this out here.”
“We don’t have time for this.”
“We’ll make time.”
“Alek!” She grabbed his wrist, prompting him to look at her. “Esme. She’s up to something.”
“I know. I already sent everyone back.”
“You have to get back.”
“Not without you.”
“Alek, Eddie said she would give him Noah. She has to be stopped.”
“Don’t worry. She will be. Come on.” He got his feet under him and wrapped an arm around her waist, placing the other beneath her knees. “Hold on.”
She grabbed onto his neck. He lifted her gently, but the knife shifted, making her scream. He sat her back down and swore as blood seeped out around the blade.
“We can’t move you. Not like this.”
“Then you have to leave me.”
He looked at her like that was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard, and she loved him for it. Still, it was the truth.
“Alek, make sure Noah’s okay. Please. I’ll be fine here. He needs one of us there.”
Resignation crowded out the denial in his gaze. He took the gun from his belt and pressed it into her hand. “Lie still and rest. I’ll be back for you as soon as I can.”
She managed a small smile. “I know.”
Even so, when he kissed her, it was as though he might never see her again, and suddenly she didn’t want him to go. She wanted to keep him there and keep kissing him and never let him go.
But she had her brother to think about, and the others. She broke off the kiss and nodded. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He pressed her hand to his lips. Then he let her go and disappeared back into the woods, leaving her with her wound, her dead uncle and her fear.
THIRTY- FOUR
ALEK RAN. HIS SPEED and agility weren’t what they once were, but he still covered a lot of ground fast. As he dodged trees and leapt over brambles, it occurred to him he should have taken Eddie’s gun. But he’d rather Hannah have the extra protection and besides, it would do him little good against Esme.
He was halfway across the field before he remembered the radio. Cursing, he came to a halt and tore it from his belt. “Konstantin to base.”
He waited. No one answered.
“Burell. Ned. Johnson. Anyone. Come in.”
Nothing.
The sick feeling he’d had upon first realizing Esme’s involvement intensified. He took off again, leaping over bodies, bolting over the small mountain of corpses piled in front of the gate that still stood open. He walked in and marched up to the door, but it was closed. Locked.
He pounded on the door.
A moment later, a clunk and scrape of metal told him it was being unbolted. It opened, and he was greeted by a vampire with a toothy smile and a gun.
“Doctor. We’ve been expecting you.”
He waved Alek inside, where another of the Council loyalists wasted no time slapping prison restraints around his wrists and ankles.
“Where’s the girl?” the first one asked, peering out the door. Alek said nothing. The vampire closed the door. “That’s fine. You’re the one she wants, anyway.”
They led him through the corridors. It was slow-going with his ankles in chains, preventing him from doing anything more than shuffle along. His mind raced as they went. Where was everyone? What had she done with Noah? How would he make it back to Hannah? What would happen to her if he didn’t?
He should have killed Esme when he’d had the chance. They should have hunted her down and put an end to her, once and for all.
He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
But as they reached the dining hall, his bravado deflated as any remaining threads of the rug he’d been standing on was yanked out from beneath him.
They were all dead. Ned. Sheila. The Petersons. Louise. Every single human who had stayed behind. Even the children. All of them, slaughtered.
He pulled away from his guards, stumbling through the rows and rows of bodies, his knees going weak from shock and grief. There were hybrids among them, too. Dmitri. Alvarez. All the former vampires who had sided with Celine.
Alek dropped to his knees as a sob tore its way out of him. He choked it back and continued to look around. He saw bullet holes, spent shell casings. Noticed some vampires off to the side, nursing their wounds. There had been a fight.
But his people had lost.
“Behold your grand accomplishment.”
Her voice came from above, up on the catwalk. He ignored her and got to his feet, still taking in the scene. Something about it ignited one tiny spark of hope.
None of the bodies were small enough to be Noah.
Struggling to compose himself, he squared his shoulders and turned to face Esme. “My accomplishment?”
She shrugged. “None of this would have happened if you’d cooperated and followed orders.”
“Where are the rest of my people?”
“Locked in the same cells where you left my people.” She grinned. “It seemed poetic.”
“So you’ve got your prison back. What now?”
“Oh, Alek, your lack of imagination is as tedious as ever. I don’t care about this prison. We’re leaving.”
/>
“You—”
“We, I said.” She addressed one of his guards. “Is everything ready?”
“Yes, mistress. The helicopters are standing by.”
“And the ground vehicles?”
“Disabled, like you ordered.”
“Very good.” She motioned to Alek. “Bring him.”
She waited for them to join her on the catwalk, and then they made their way toward the roof, where he knew the helicopters would be waiting.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Council HQ.” She surprised him with her lack of guile. She regarded him over her shoulder. “Balthazar’s orders. He wants to, and I quote, ‘study’ you.” She flashed him a grin, the one reserved for times when she was full of blood and satisfied. Only then did he notice how flush her cheeks looked, how red her lips. There was still blood spatter drying in her golden hair.
She faced forward and kept walking. Alek looked around. Vampires flanked him on every side, none of whom harbored any love for him. Even if he wasn’t in chains, he couldn’t see an escape.
They reached the roof, stopping at the exit so the vampires could cover their faces before heading out in the sun. Alek turned to the nearest of them. “You wouldn’t need that if you’d taken the cure.”
He answered with the butt of a rifle slamming into Alek’s gut. He doubled over, the breath knocked out of him.
Esme opened the door. “I want him with me. Jenkins, Simmons, you’re with us. Keep him in line.”
They loaded him into the back of a helicopter and strapped him in. His guards sat on either side of him. Esme and the pilot both climbed into the front. After a moment, they lifted off.
Alek looked out over the field as they flew over, at all their hard work, all for nothing. Passing over the woods, he strained to see any sign of Hannah, but she was lost among the trees.
Lost, but alive. She had to be.
That was his only remaining hope.
THIRTY- FIVE
HANNAH LAY STILL AND waited. It wasn’t easy. Her leg hurt like hell, a persistent, throbbing ache punctuated with flareups of sharp pain so intense it felt like she was being stabbed all over again. But that was nothing compared to the ache deep in her gut from fear and anguish. Not for herself, but for Noah and Alek and everyone else who found themselves at Esme’s mercy.
She prayed that Alek wouldn’t be too late.
As she lay there praying, she drifted in and out of consciousness, with no way of knowing each time how long she’d been out. The familiar sound of blades cutting through the air jolted her awake for good. Eyes open, she raised up on her elbows to peer through the treetops, watching the sky as the pulse grew louder, soon joined by the rumble of a motor.
Three black choppers roared overhead in a tight formation. Hannah didn’t know who was on those choppers, or what it might mean, but it couldn’t be good.
No more waiting. She had to move.
Hannah pushed herself up to sitting, sucking air through her teeth as her wound shocked her system with fresh pain. She glared at the knife sticking out of her leg. It might have healed by now, or at least come a long way, if that thing wasn’t still in there.
It had to come out.
She looked down at her own clothing, and then glanced around, her gaze settling on Eddie. On the flannel shirt he wore. With her belt being put to another use, she tucked the gun Alek had left inside her waistband and then, gritting her teeth, she half-crawled, half-dragged herself and her useless leg over to him.
The pain made her dizzy, almost made her black out. She lay still until the feeling passed, then sat up slowly. Once the waves of dizziness subsided, she shoved Eddie’s body, rolling it onto its back. The shirt was soaked with his blood, and it also smelled like weeks’ worth of old sweat and body odor. She tore it open, heedless of the buttons, and went to work stripping it off his corpse. She made no apologies to him as she worked. This was all his fault, anyway.
Once the shirt was free, she folded it into a long rectangle with the bloody front tucked inside, then placed it under her wounded leg.
Without pausing to think about it, she took hold of the knife and pulled.
No amount of resolve could keep her from screaming as it came free. She wanted to fall over and lie there until the pain became tolerable, but there wasn’t time. Blood gushed out of the wound. She wrapped the shirt tightly around it and tied it off.
Only then did she collapse. She lay still, panting, willing her blood pressure to slow, willing her souped-up genes heal the damage.
Eventually, her breathing slowed, and she found the strength to sit up. She felt light-headed, but her pulse was strong and even. Her blood had soaked through the shirt, but when loosened it to check, the wound had stopped bleeding.
Hannah climbed unsteadily to her feet. She took an experimental step with the wounded leg, but fresh pain made her knee buckle and she landed on all fours. Muttering curses, she looked around until she spotted a large branch on the ground. The one Eddie had hit her with.
She crawled over and pulled it into her lap, where she went to work stripping off the smaller limbs and twigs. Then she planted one end on the ground and used it to pull herself up.
It was slow going, using the branch as a makeshift crutch, but at least she was moving.
She didn’t make it far before realizing she was all turned around and didn’t know which way to go. She stood still a moment and closed her eyes, focusing on what she could smell. The strongest scent, the one that hit her first, was the sharp, metallic scent of her own blood mixed with Eddie’s. And she smelled him, the skin and sweat and who knew what else that had been accumulating on that shirt for who knew how long. Beneath that, the earthy smells of the woods, dirt and decaying leaves, all mingled with the death stench that still lingered on her skin and hair.
But there was another scent, one that had become so familiar she nearly missed it.
Alek.
Grateful once again for her heightened senses, she locked onto the scent and followed it little by little, a step on her good leg, a careful placement of the branch before pulling herself forward on her bad leg, wincing with each laborious step.
She kept on like that until she came to a large clearing, and an old bus.
Slowly—as if she could move any other way—she approached the back end and peered in through the emergency exit. It was empty, but Alek had been there.
She shut and latched the emergency door and then hobbled around the side of the bus to the main entrance. The door stood open.
Hannah took a deep breath, held it, leaned hard on the branch, and heaved her good leg up onto the bottom step before dragging her bad leg up to join it. She stood there a minute, panting, and then repeated the process.
Three steps. At the top, she collapsed into the driver’s seat.
The keys still hung in the ignition. The fuel gauge said there was still half a tank of gas. Hannah stared, not quite believing or daring to hope that her luck had taken a turn for the better. She turned the key. The engine wheezed and coughed, but then it turned over.
Hannah laughed at her sudden good fortune and put the bus into gear. But as she looked around for the way out, her laughter faded and her frown returned. Densely packed trees surrounded the clearing. How on earth had they gotten the bus there to begin with?
But then she saw it—a place where trees were more widely spaced, partially hidden by the thick underbrush.
Hannah stepped on the gas and pointed the bus toward the opening. It was a bumpy ride that didn’t feel good on her leg, but she kept going, steering between the trees until she came out onto the field. She gunned the engine, the bus rocking and bouncing as it rolled over the fallen shamblers, and drove right up to the prison gate.
The gate and the door beyond it both stood open. Hannah plunged through them. Making her way down the long corridor, she realized she wasn’t leaning so heavily on the branch. Her leg still hurt, but it could hold her up. She dropped
the branch and limped along, bracing herself against the wall for support. Without the branch, her hand was free to hold the gun. She drew it from her waistband.
The prison lay still and silent. Deathly so. The only sounds were her own labored breathing and her pulse pounding in her ears, her own shuffling steps and grunts as she pressed on, dreading what she would find.
She didn’t make it all the way to the dining hall before her worst fears were confirmed. With faltering steps, she pressed forward, numbness blanketing her as more and more bodies came into view.
At the end of the corridor, she slumped against the wall and slid to the floor, covering her mouth to catch the silent scream that wracked her body, cutting through the numbness until finally it coalesced into an anguished sob. It reverberated through the otherwise empty prison, bouncing off the walls and making it sound like a chorus of mourners.
Hannah didn’t know how long she stayed like that until she came to her senses. She made herself get up. She walked through the bodies, looking at them one by one, identifying those she knew, stopping to close their eyes out of respect.
Noah wasn’t there. Neither was Alek, nor Paula.
A strange mix of hope and dread filled her. Perhaps they’d all been spared, but if so, it wasn’t due to mercy on Esme’s part. Had they all been aboard those helicopters? She felt certain that Alek was. He was too big a prize for Esme to leave behind.
But the others...
Hannah moved as fast as her injury would allow. She flew past the infirmary to the door leading to the offices and the maximum security wing. It was locked, and she didn’t have a passkey. Standing back, she pointed her gun at the door and blasted away, perforating and splintering the wood around the lock. Then she stood on her bad leg and kicked the door as hard as she could. It flew open, and she pressed on, making her way to the stairwell where she hauled herself up to the third floor.
She entered the cell block and made her way down the long cat walk, stopping only when she realized she heard voices. Someone called her name. She looked out across the way, to the cells on the opposite row. Her fellow hybrids were locked inside. Captain Burell was asking her something, but it could wait. She waved an acknowledgement and kept going until she came to solitary confinement.
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