The Blood Between Us
Page 19
My heart beat twice while I made up my mind.
“A quick death it is.” I slammed on the gas, whipping Maggie’s steering wheel sharply to the right. Her front end was pointed straight at the cliff. I hit the gas hard again, all the way to the floor this time. The edge of the cliff was getting closer and closer. Maggie growled, ready for anything. Do or die. Together forever, baby.
Quinn took the blade from Grace’s side and opened the back door. As he did, I whipped the wheel sharply to the left and slammed on the brakes. Grace’s body lurched forward, smashing into the windshield. She bounced back into her seat, unconscious. My head felt wet and a bit like it was on fire. The steering wheel was covered in blood. I must have hit my head.
Maggie’s back passenger’s side door was open, and Quinn was nowhere to be found. My hands trembled as I opened the door and staggered out of the driver’s side door. Skid marks in the grass led over the edge of the cliff. I approached carefully, trying to maintain my balance. My vision kept going in and out. Darkness, then stabilizing.
Clinging to a large rock just over the edge of the cliff was Quinn. As far as I could see, he was covered in blood. And laughing.
“What are you gonna do, Adrien? Kill me?”
I crouched down and stretched my hand out to grab him. “No. I’m going to save your ass and make sure you spend the rest of your life in prison.”
Quinn grinned, his teeth rimmed in dark blood. “See you in hell, brother of mine.”
Faster than I could take in a single breath, Quinn released his grip on the rock. All I could do was stare as he fell. I couldn’t be certain, but it looked like he smiled the whole way down. Until he couldn’t smile anymore.
CHAPTER 16
END POINT:
A known pH point of an acid and base interaction as shown by a chemical indicator change in color
The scar on my cheek had healed, but a fresh wound now occupied my entire being. Viktor’s body, dressed in one of his favorite suits, was laying in a black coffin lined with purple satin at the front of the room. He had died peacefully in his sleep three nights before, five months after Quinn. After all my plans to return to San Diego, I’d remained at Wills. Even though it was just Grace and me now. And Julian, of course.
To my left sat Josh, dressed in a suit that made his eyes shine. He was quiet, but just having him there made me feel supported. Every once in a while, we’d exchange glances that told me that he was there for me when I needed him. And I did. More than he might ever know.
Caroline was sitting to the other side of Josh. Her wound from the explosion had healed long ago, and we’d spent more than a few nights sitting quietly on Maggie’s hood, eating terrible pizza and watching the stars. She never made me talk about anything I didn’t want to talk about . . . which is what good friends did, I supposed.
Several people had stood and said wonderful things about my godfather, but I found that words were lost to me. How can something as strong and profound as love be summed up in a mere few words? So I sat in the front row, watching as relatives, friends, neighbors, and colleagues approached the casket in a neat line to say their final good-byes.
I vowed at that moment that I never would.
I would mourn him, yes. I would miss him and think of him often. But I would never say good-bye to Viktor. Just as I had never said good-bye to my parents.
Julian had been busying himself playing host, making certain every guest had a drink or a napkin or whatever else they needed to keep his tears at bay. But his eyes were red. His cheeks were wet. There was no denying the agony that he had suffered from losing his best friend and husband. I wondered if I would ever understand that pain. Maybe. Someday.
I reached up and straightened my tie, tightening the knot, the way that Viktor would have wanted me to. As I stared down at my freshly polished oxfords, I saw a pair of heels step up next to me. The wearer took her seat, and when I looked at her, there were no words.
Stretching my hand out, I cupped her hand in mine and gave it a comforting squeeze. The past, after all, was the past.
Grace laid her head on my shoulder and cried.
I brushed her hair from her brow and placed a gentle kiss there—the kind I’d always hoped our mother would give me in a moment when I’d needed comforting.
Grace said, “I’m sorry, Adrien. I’m so sorry. For everything. I was just so angry with you, so angry with Dad. That day we took the picture, I stole the pages from Dad’s journal because I wanted to punish him. For playing favorites with you—for fighting with Mom. I don’t know if he ever even noticed. I never got a chance to tell him I was wrong.”
I put my arm around her and gave her a squeeze, whispering into her hair, “I’m sorry, too. But we’re family. And we’ll always have that.”
As Julian stepped up to the podium, his eyes shimmering with sorrow, he unfolded the speech he’d carefully written the night before. He’d barely spoken Viktor’s name when the dam inside of me broke and tears streamed down my cheeks.
The rest of the funeral was a blur.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As people, we are constantly changing, growing, shaping into the best version of ourselves possible. Sometimes it feels like we are making these changes in a vacuum, all by our lonesome. But the truth is, we are surrounded by people who watch us change and grow and, if we’re lucky, support us along the way. I’m very blessed to be surrounded by people who have had my back in more ways than one. These people—not all of them blood relatives, not all of them even human—are my family, in so many ways, and I owe them an enormous amount of gratitude.
Many thanks to the best damn editor in the universe, Andrew Harwell. If Hogwarts is indeed real, I know one day we’ll find it together. You have no idea how much you have impacted my life and lifted me up. I’m so grateful for our friendship, and lucky to have you on my side.
My eternal gratitude to the most kick-ass agent in the literary world, Michael Bourret. MB, we’ve been together for over a decade, and every time I’ve stumbled or cried, you’ve picked me up and dried my tears. You are a true friend, a wonderful champion, and not allowed to stop being an agent ever.
So much love to my team at Harper. Rosemary, Kate, Olivia, all of you! Thank you so much for being so kind, so hardworking, so generous. My life would not be the same without you!
Huge hugs to my big sister, Dawn Vanniman, who has always been the voice of reason in my life. Dawn, when the world makes no sense at all, I can always count on you to raise an eyebrow with me. I love you.
Mad love to my Society Sisters and to every independent bookstore out there.
And of course, my deepest love, appreciation, and thanks go to the Brewer Clan. Paul, Jacob, and Alexandria—the three of you are home to me, no matter where any of us might be. You are my Elysia, my family, my friends, my saviors, and I would do anything for you. Just ask. I love you all more than anything in this world or the next (except for the kittehs . . . because kittehs . . .). Thank you for having my back, as always.
Last, but not least, thanks to my kittehs. Amenti Fang and Smudge—you’ve cuddled me when I needed cuddling, groomed me against my will, sat on my lap when I was trying to work, turned off my monitor when writing was frustrating me, and thrown up hair balls on my favorite rug. I can only assume that all of this means that you love me. I love you, too, my fuzzy lil masters.
And finally, a word of wisdom to my Minion Horde: Family is a word not reserved for those you are blood related to, but for those who fill your heart with joy. Thank you for being a part of my family.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Paul Brewer
ZAC BREWER grew up on a diet of The Twilight Zone and books by Stephen King. He chased them down with every drop of horror he could find—in books, in movie theaters, and on television. The most delicious parts of his banquet, however, he found lurking in the shadowed corners of his dark imagination. When he’s not writing books, he’s skittering down your wall and lurking underneath your bed.
Zac doesn’t believe in happy endings . . . unless they involve blood. He lives in Missouri with his husband and two children. Visit Zac at www.zacbrewer.com.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
BOOKS BY ZAC BREWER
The Cemetery Boys
The Legacy of Tril: Soulbound
THE CHRONICLES OF VLADIMIR TOD
Eighth Grade Bites
Ninth Grade Slays
Tenth Grade Bleeds
Eleventh Grade Burns
Twelfth Grade Kills
THE SLAYER CHRONICLES
First Kill
Second Chance
Third Strike
The Ghost of Ben Hargrove
The Blood Between Us
CREDITS
Cover art © 2016 by Alex Cherry
Hand lettering by Jessie Sayward Bright
Cover design by Heather Daugherty
COPYRIGHT
HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
THE BLOOD BETWEEN US. Copyright © 2016 by Zac Brewer. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.epicreads.com
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2015947484
ISBN 978-0-06-230791-0
EPub Edition © April 2016 ISBN 9780062307934
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FIRST EDITION
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