Norden flung my hand away and pulled on a pair of gloves. “What?” he said. “I got circulation problems since I got cut up. That okay with you, freak?”
“Whatever.” My fingers felt like they had frostbite. I clutched them with my other hand to warm them up.
“Come on, let’s go.” McFarren touched Norden’s arm.
He yanked away, grimacing. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me. Not if you know what’s good for you.” He wrenched open the door. “Goddamn walking corpse,” he muttered as he left.
McFarren was right. Norden was extra twitchy and mean around zombies, even by his own standards. We exchanged a look, then she followed Norden into the hall. When the door closed behind them, I turned to Kane. “Thanks for not giving Juliet away.”
“I did that for you, not her.” His face clouded. “Besides, I’m no friend of the Goon Squad.”
I sat down next to him on the sofa. He put an arm around me, ran his fingers lightly along my collarbone, inside the shirt collar. “You know,” I pointed out, “you say ‘previously deceased human’ instead of zombie. You say ‘paranormal American’ instead of monster. You even say ‘human’ instead of norm. But that’s the second time tonight I’ve heard you call the JHP the Goon Squad.”
“Well, they are goons. They patrol Deadtown to enforce laws that residents had no say in. Their purpose isn’t to protect and serve; it’s to intimidate and oppress.”
“McFarren seems okay.”
“Yeah. Maybe she’ll do the world a favor and tear Norden’s head off before the night is out.” Kane sighed, and there was real weariness in the sound. “It’s been one disaster after another tonight.”
“I don’t know.” I snuggled in closer. “I kind of enjoyed our shower.”
He leaned into me and inhaled deeply. “I like it when your hair smells like my shampoo.” He inhaled again. “See, that’s how we should’ve started the evening. We’d never have made it out of the apartment. No awkward dinner, no vampire jailbreak, no Goon Squad visit.”
“I’m glad I got Juliet out of there. I’m glad she’s safe.” If I hadn’t been there, the Old Ones would have grabbed her. I was certain of it.
“I’m glad she’s safe, too. And I honestly hope you’re right about her.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Come on, let’s get to bed. We’ve both got to be up early.”
True. Dawn was a few short hours away. And as soon as the sun cleared the horizon, I’d be knocking on Axel’s door.
8
A CLOSED SIGN HUNG CROOKEDLY IN CREATURE COMFORTS’ window, but the door was unlocked. I pulled it open and stepped into the half-gloom of the unlit room. The bar had been cleaned up since the werewolves left. The tables were in their usual places; the smell of ammonia blotted out any lingering traces of champagne and werewolf musk. I wondered if Kiana had made her friends help Axel tidy up.
“Axel?”
He came forward from the storeroom, wiping his hands on a towel.
“How’s Juliet?”
He flipped the towel onto his shoulder. “Stitched up her leg. Dunno if it helped.”
That didn’t sound good. Vampires shouldn’t need stitches. When a vampire gets injured, the edges of the wound creep back together and knit up invisibly, not even leaving a scar. Of course, that should have happened before we left the holding facility.
Axel gestured for me to follow him. We went down the back hallway, past the ancient payphone, past the restrooms—Axel had labeled them BOOS and GHOULS to amuse tourists—and past the door to Axel’s cellar apartment.
“Um, Axel?”
He stopped, turned around, and raised an eyebrow.
“Isn’t Juliet in your apartment?”
I couldn’t tell whether his grunt was negative or affirmative, but he kept walking toward the storeroom.
Had he actually set up a cot for her back there? It wasn’t secure enough, not with the Goons and the Old Ones looking for her. After I saw Juliet, I’d try to convince Axel to let her into his lair.
But as we entered the storeroom, there was no sign of a cot. No sign of Juliet at all. Axel went over to some beer kegs near the back of the room. He twisted a cap on one of them, and a hidden door slid open. Beyond the door was a staircase descending into the cellar. Axel started down it.
“Wait, this is the door to your place? What about that triplelocked steel door with the oversized NO ENTRY sign?”
“Front door.” He kept going. “This is the guest room.”
“Guest room? You’ve got a guest room?”
At that he stopped and turned around. “For guests,” he said, looking like he thought maybe he’d have to explain the concept to me.
Okay. So Axel was solitary, intimidating, and fierce about his privacy. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have company come to stay once in a while. I guessed.
As I descended the dark, narrow staircase, I couldn’t see anything beyond Axel’s broad back. So I was astonished to step into a room that looked like it belonged in an upscale hotel. A king-sized platform bed took up most of the far wall. To my left was a seating area, with a loveseat and two upholstered chairs. A desk, dresser, and bookcase filled out the furniture. To my right, a half-open door led into a marbletiled bathroom. The windowless room should have felt like a cave, but the light woods and bright colors, along with well-placed lighting, made it feel cozy, even welcoming.
Axel’s guest room. I shook my head. Yeah, it was a tough concept to grasp.
Juliet seemed tiny in the huge bed, propped up against a mountain range of pillows. She looked about the same as when I’d last seen her—pale and thin, with dark circles under her eyes. Again, not good. There should be more evidence she was getting better. But she was sitting up, and an empty bottle on the nightstand showed she’d eaten. That was something.
Axel muttered a few words about letting us talk. As he clomped up the stairs, I noticed those stairs were the only way in or out of the room. No connecting door to Axel’s place. It was the only thing about Axel’s guest room that didn’t surprise me.
I sat on the edge of the bed. “How’s your leg?”
Juliet winced. “Hurts like Hades.”
“Do you feel up to talking? I’ve got a million questions for you.” When Juliet closed her eyes, I added, “But I promise I won’t ask them all at once.”
A smile twitched her lips. “ ‘Ask me what question thou canst possible / And I will answer unpremeditated.’ ”
“Is that Shakespeare?” If it was, I’d take it as a sign that Juliet was feeling better. My roommate was the real Juliet Capulet, the one who’d actually lived in fourteenth-century Verona, and she had a serious Shakespeare obsession. She said she hated the guy because he’d twisted her story so much, but she’d gone on to memorize everything the Bard had ever written. She dropped Shakespeare quotes into conversations like other people add “um” and “you know.”
She nodded, still smiling. “Of course. Nobody else talks like that. So there’s one question answered.” She opened her eyes again. “But I don’t think that one was actually on your list. Let me guess. Question number one is: What are the Old Ones?”
“Sounds like a good place to start. My aunt told me a little about them.” I’d asked Mab about them after they’d spirited away Pryce’s comatose body. “She said they feed off you—off vampires, I mean—in the same way vampires feed from humans.”
“Yes and no. The Old Ones slaughter humans for their physical needs—you saw what they did to those guards. They’re so ancient and desiccated, though, they don’t require much blood to live. What really sustains them is power. And power is what they drain from vampires.”
“But why—?”
“Why do we let them? For the same reason. Power.” I must have looked confused. Her voice took on a lecturing tone. “If you give them your power”—she held out her right hand, palm up, as if offering something—“they’ll return it to you in a stronger form.” She put her left hand on top of her right and clenched her fi
ngers together. Then she broke her hands apart and let them drop back to the covers. “That’s their promise, although I know now it’s a lie. Just like their promise of eternal life.”
I blinked, wondering if I’d heard her right. “Why do you need eternal life? You’re undead.”
“Undeath is not the same as life. The Old Ones claim they’ve discovered the secret of how to restore life—and make it last forever. They say they can create gods.” Her eyes shone for a moment, then dimmed as she twisted the comforter in her fingers. “Do you know what the average life span of a vampire is?”
“I didn’t know vampires have a life span. I thought you just keep on going forever.”
“Seven hundred and fifty years.” Her voice shook a little. “I’m approaching seven hundred.”
“But . . . I thought vampires get stronger with age.”
“We do—up to a point. And then we start to decline. It’s not that different from living creatures. Humans gain strength as they grow into adulthood, but eventually they become weak and feeble. Let me ask you a question. Do you know any vampires older than I am?”
“Hadrian?” The vampire member of Deadtown’s Council of Three was the most powerful vampire I could think of. Juliet shook her head, and I named a few others.
“Kids, all of them. Hadrian was turned in the eighteenth century—he’s not yet three hundred.” She twisted the comforter so hard it ripped. Bits of down floated around her. “I can feel it, Vicky. I’ve been at the height of my powers for centuries, and it was glorious. Now, those powers are starting to slip away. I don’t want to die.”
“You’d rather be like the Old Ones?” That hideous face—its yellow skin, its lidless eyes and oversized fangs—flashed through my mind. Juliet would never choose that.
“They’re twice my age. Older, even. But you’re right. I don’t want to become like they are. They promised I’d stay as I am, but better. Alive again, and eternal. Like the gods.” A piece of fluff landed in her dark hair. I plucked it out.
“I’ll have to buy Axel a new comforter,” she said, pulling another piece of down from the tear. “If I survive this.” Her voice turned bitter. “I was a fool. They promised so much, but it was all lies. Instead of giving me power, they fed on mine. They . . . they had me in their thrall. They still do. It’s why I couldn’t react when they attacked me last night.”
“That ritual in our living room—” Before Juliet had disappeared, I’d found her chanting with the Old Ones when she thought I was asleep. The next day she insisted I’d dreamed the whole thing. She’d nearly convinced me, too, even though I’m a lucid dreamer and can control my own dreamscape.
“I believed it would increase my power. Instead, it was intended to weaken me and make me their slave. If you hadn’t interrupted, maybe they would have succeeded. Hades knows I came far too close to that state. But I managed to hold on to some tiny sliver of my own will. Eventually, when I realized what was going on, I called upon that sliver, focused on it, made it grow. It enabled me to escape. In all my centuries, that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“So what is going on?” A few months ago, I’d never heard of the Old Ones. Most vampires would still insist they were a mere legend. They’d kept themselves hidden for centuries. I needed to understand why they were venturing forth now.
“The Old Ones have been recruiting the oldest vampires they can find. Others believed, as I did, that they wanted us to join them. But that wasn’t it at all—they needed us to experiment on. To perfect some formula they’re working on for eternal life. Four ancient vampires died before their time because the Old Ones tested the formula on them, and it failed. I would have been next.”
“How did you learn this?” I couldn’t imagine the Old Ones would say: Oops, we killed four vampires so far testing our formula. You’re up next, but don’t worry—it might work this time.
“The Old Ones communicate telepathically. Their fangs have grown so large it’s hard for them to talk. When you interrupted that ritual, you surprised the Old Ones. In that moment, I felt . . . it was like an electric shock. Like it blasted away some barrier in my mind. I could hear their thoughts as they communicated with each other.
“At first, I was thrilled. I thought my new ability meant I’d become one of them, but on my own terms, without the ugliness.” She touched her hair. It had been combed but still lacked its usual luster. “Believe me, I checked my appearance frequently.
“I tried communicating back, but they didn’t pick up what I was saying. I assumed I just needed practice, but as I listened to them, I realized they’d never intended me to share their communication at all. They thought of me as . . .” She scowled, showing her fangs. “As some sort of lab rat.”
“They didn’t know you could hear them?”
“No. They communicated freely around me, and the more I learned, the more I realized how much they’d lied.”
“You said they lied about strengthening your power. What else?”
“Eternal life, for starters. They claimed to be immortal. But you proved that was a lie when you killed that Old One. You killed him.” Her eyes rounded and she shook her head, as though she still couldn’t believe it, even though she’d kicked the thing’s headless corpse. “Everything makes so much more sense, now that I know they can die.”
“Did you overhear anything about someone named Pryce?”
She shook her head. “It didn’t work like that. They didn’t use names. I had to keep my own mind very, very still and listen for . . . it sounded like whispers in an adjacent room. But they didn’t communicate in words so much as in images, symbols, understandings.”
“Not much room for Shakespeare in a language like that.”
“You’re right. The Old Ones would have no use for poetry. They have no use for anything besides their own power.” Her eyes clouded for a moment, then refocused on me. “But tell me what this Pryce is like. Maybe I’ll recognize something.”
“He’s a demi-demon, very old, from Wales.” Juliet looked blank; no bells ringing so far. “I killed his demon half, and he went catatonic. After he fell, his human shell disappeared, and I’m pretty sure the Old Ones snatched it.”
“Catatonic? There was someone they thought of as ‘the sleeper.’ They did take him. They wanted to use him as leverage against someone else, ‘the wizard.’ There was a lot of fear and hatred coloring their thoughts about this wizard, but they believed he’d help them because of the sleeper.”
This wizard was news to me. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know. By this time, you must understand, I’d run away. I was trying to stay a step ahead of them but also find out what they were planning. It was risky. As long as I only eavesdropped on their thoughts, I was fine. But if I saw one of them, even a glimpse, I’d be in their thrall again. Like I was last night.” Juliet picked up a partially full bottle of blood from her nightstand, then put it down again. “I recall there was some reason that contacting the wizard would be immensely difficult, but I never found out why. That’s all I know, I’m afraid.”
“That’s okay.” The next time I spoke with my aunt Mab, I’d ask her if she knew of any wizard associated with Pryce. She knew more about Pryce’s background than I did. I’d been too busy dodging his attempts to kill me to ask for his résumé.
Juliet yawned and stretched; the stretch ended in a wince.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you need to rest?”
“Soon. But I know you’re wondering what happened in Washington, so let me tell you that first.”
Good. I really wanted to hear Juliet’s side of that story— and share it with Kane. But after last night’s ordeal, I didn’t want to tax her.
“I was still an enthusiastic new recruit when the Old Ones started murmuring about Kane and his paranormal rights case. They didn’t like it.”
“Yeah, we figured that out. But why?”
“I thought it was because the Old Ones wanted to keep the old ways, with vampi
res living in the shadows and treating humans as mere prey. I thought they were offended by the very idea that vampires and humans could be equal. And I’ll admit those views appealed to me. Maybe it was because I was starting to feel my age, but I was nostalgic for the old days, before vampires came out into the open and found themselves subject to human-created laws.”
“But Kane’s trying to make that better, to give humans and paranormals equal standing under the law.”
“Perhaps. I can see he believes that. But at the time, I was offended by the very idea of a panel of nine blood-bag judges deciding my fate.”
My heart sank. “So you did try to help them frame Kane.”
“I provided them with information about where he was staying, where he was working. They took me to Washington with them because they thought I’d be useful there. As we traveled, I listened to their conversation. The Old Ones don’t want to keep the old ways—they’re sick of the old ways. They want to come out into the open, but not like other paranormals. They want to be gods.
“Their plan was to murder a prominent norm and blame it on a prominent monster, with the aim of fomenting an all-out human-paranormal war. A war would weed out all the weaker vampires and norms. When it was over, the Old Ones would come forward and take control. They’d select the best vampires and humans to serve as their food supply—like farm animals, really—and annihilate everyone else.
“ At the time, I still believed I was one of them. I wanted the power, yes, and the immortality. But not like that. What fun would it be reigning over a bunch of blank-faced vampires-inthrall and cowering norms? And when they communicated about Kane, about the irony of using him to start a war and how much they’d enjoy humiliating him, something inside me altered.”
“You wanted to protect Kane.” The exact opposite of what he assumed.
She looked away, as though the very idea embarrassed her. “I told you I was getting weaker with age. For whatever reason, for the first time I began to doubt the Old Ones. I found that sliver of will within me. By the time we arrived in Washington, I knew I had to stop them. When the Old Ones left me alone—they had no reason to think I’d betray them—I tried to phone Kane. He never answered, and I couldn’t exactly explain what was happening in a voice mail. I also tried to warn that woman they killed, Justice Frederickson. I stopped her on the street and told her she was a target. She laughed and said she’d add it to her collection of death threats.” Juliet shook her head, and I wondered whether her amazement was because she’d bothered to warn a norm about a vampire attack or because Frederickson had laughed at that warning. “It took a few days before the Old Ones realized I’d defied them. It was incomprehensible to them that one of their vampire servants could think for herself. When they began to suspect me, I had to run.”
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