Blood Bond

by Heather Hildenbrand

  I couldn’t help but draw a parallel between that action and the state of our relationship. Ever since our talk at Wood Point, our promise to no longer keep secrets from the other, things between us had been much better. Even when he’d been hunting the hybrids, the loneliness hadn’t affected me nearly as bad as those first few weeks.

  Sharing my problems didn’t come naturally for me—a family curse spanning generations, it seemed—but I was learning. And Wes was trying too. His crazy idea to run away and find Astor ourselves was proof of that. He trusted me now. Not just to make my own decisions, but to carry them out. I knew it terrified him to see me put myself in any sort of danger, but he was learning.

  *

  That afternoon, Cambria and I met Sam and Angela at the mall. We spent three hours walking, shopping, and generally pretending Werewolves didn’t exist. Sam talked a mile a minute, filling me in on everything I’d missed while away. She also made sure to fill Cambria in on everything she’d missed, well, ever. There wasn’t much need for conversation from the rest of us. Still, I couldn’t help but notice Angela’s pointed stares.

  “What?” I asked.

  The first couple of times she shook her head and wandered off. Somehow, that only increased my guilt for the secrets between us. I’d come close to telling her many times but I couldn’t ever quite bring myself to do it. What kind of friend would I be? Bringing her into this world would only put her in danger.

  Still, it had become harder and harder to fake it, to pretend everything wasn’t different. Because it was. Not only had I learned of an entire underground world filled with supernatural creatures, but there was an entire race of superhumans created to protect those like Sam, and Angela, from the animals that roamed the night. On top of that, every time I closed my eyes, Bailey’s face floated in my mind—happy, blond, smiling—and I had to bite my cheek to keep from crying. A shopping mall seemed pointless and stupid and insulting, but here I was.

  So, I forced a smile onto my face and pretended to hang on Sam’s every word. As if parties and boys and clothes and gossip were the only things that mattered.

  We were gathered outside the main entrance, parting ways to head home, when I caught Angela giving me the eye again.

  “What?” I asked for the fourth time.

  She looked at Sam and Cambria, who were locked in a heated “leather versus lace” debate that didn’t look to be ending any time soon, then back at me. “I can tell something’s bothering you,” she said, steering me away and keeping her voice low. “I want you to know that you can talk to me about whatever it is. I’m here for you.”

  “I’m fine, Ang, really.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she stepped closer. “Cut the crap, Tara,” she snapped. My eyes widened at that. “We both know you’re not fine, and we both know you’ve been lying about it for months now. What the hell is going on with you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumbled.

  She went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Ever since you met Wes, things have been different. You’ve been different.” Her expression crumpled from anger to pained. “We used to tell each other everything. What happened?”

  “Nothing happened,” I said, fumbling for what to say. The truth wasn’t an option, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell another lie right now. A tear slid down my cheek. “I have a lot going on right now.”

  Angela sighed. “Well, if you change your mind, I’m here. I can keep a secret.” She shot a meaningful glance over her shoulder and added, “From everyone, if need be.”

  “Thanks,” I said, “but there’s nothing to tell.” I didn’t meet her eyes and she didn’t argue again.

  We said our goodbyes soon after. Angela hugged me tighter than normal. When I pulled away, she wore a set expression. “Call me … when you’re ready to talk.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to ignore the growing fissure between the us of now and the us of then. It made my heart ache and my eyes burn.

  “Thanks. I will,” I mumbled before heading for the black Hummer parked at the curb.

  Chapter Eight

  Time was officially the enemy. Hybrids no longer mattered—finding them or figuring out why they wanted to find me. Not even my fear of shifting concerned me. All that mattered now was George.

  I awoke the next morning to a terrifying phone call. First, the sound of the ringer somehow melded with my dreams, becoming my own screams as I thrashed and flailed against a change I could no longer fight. I woke confused and breathless and desperate to feel human, to feel in control.

  I fumbled with the screen until my fingers somehow made the right strokes.

  “Hello?” I mumbled.

  “Tara, oh, sorry, did I wake you?”

  George’s voice was clear and strong and full of life. The sound of it, vibrant and energized, brought me wide awake. “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened, relax,” he assured me.

  “You sound really good.” I couldn’t help the note of accusation that crept into my words. I felt bad. It wasn’t his fault he was changing into something monstrous. Still, I needed him to take longer doing it. I needed time. I hated time.

  “I feel really good,” he admitted. My heart sank even further. “I know that’s going to freak you out. Sorry about that. It’s just that I’ve felt sick for so long, I can’t help but enjoy this a little bit.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, freeing my vocal cords. “Have you begun to change yet?”

  “No, nothing yet. I feel strong, healthy. Like me … on Red Bull.” The relief in his voice was unmistakable. No matter what he’d said before, he didn’t want to die rather than turn. “You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

  I’d been quiet too long. “Maybe. It’s happening too fast. I need more time.”

  “We might not have much left.”

  “Don’t remind me.” I buried my face in the pillow.

  Cambria stirred from her place on the air mattress. I kept telling her she could share the bed but she insisted she was a kicker and she preferred to sleep alone. I could see her tossing and turning, trying to cling to sleep despite the noise.

  “Are you still taking the meds?” I asked.

  “Yeah, a little while ago. Fee’s tripled the dosage, but we think my body is burning it off. Something about a higher metabolism as a Werewolf. All I know is I’m starving and I can’t sit still.” There was some rustling in the background, muted male voices. “Derek’s going for a run with me.”

  “You feel well enough to run?”

  “Um, yeah.” He sounded apologetic.

  I should tell him to enjoy it, that I was happy for him that he’d recovered so far, so fast, but I couldn’t do it. It terrified me. The better he felt, the fewer our chances of finding a solution in time. “Where’s Wes?”

  “He went with Cord to the funeral home to buy Bailey’s casket. Fee’s planning a service here at the house day after tomorrow.”

  My eyes welled automatically at the mention of Bailey. “How’s Cord?”

  “Holding up, I guess. Fee gave her something last night to help her sleep.”

  “I’m surprised she took it.”

  “She didn’t at first. Jack had to practically hold her down. Wes wanted to hide it in a brownie.”

  My stomach tightened at the thought of George hanging out with them at Jack’s. One big, happy family. It was a little surreal. And for some reason, it made me a tiny bit jealous.

  “We’re going to head out, so I’ll call you later,” he said.

  “Just be careful, all right? Oh, and do not go into town.”

  There was a pause. My fingers tightened around the phone.

  “I’m serious, George. All we need is for someone to spot you and tell your mother. Oh, speaking of, you should call her while you feel good. She was asking my mom if I’d talked to you.”

  “She’s worried.”

  “I know. Which is why you should call her. Especially if—�
� I broke off, too horrified to finish what I’d been about to say.

  “Just say it, Tay. If I die. You’re right. I should call her, just in case.”

  “How can you be so calm about it?” I demanded. I shot a glance at Cambria. She was still except for the steady rise and fall of her breathing. I kept my voice low. “You’re not changing into something you can control. It could kill you. Or worse, you could try and kill someone else.”

  “The operative word there being try,” he said. “You’d stop me before it came to that.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “No, I won’t.”

  “Yes, you will. I know you, Tay. You’d do anything to keep your friends safe. In the end, you’ll protect me. Even from myself. Always … like the song.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, but a hot tear escaped and slid down my cheek. “Like the song,” I whispered.

  *

  I didn’t want to ask Vera for help. First, there was her adamant claim that I was destined to take her place as a leader of The Cause, straddling the line between two sides that’d only ever known war. Second, she was dying. And third, and this one made the other two much more complicated and therefore became the real reason for my not wanting her help, she was related to me.

  Great Aunt Vera.

  It still confused me on an empathetic level. Was I supposed to bond with her before she died? Spend extra time getting to know her, simply because we were blood, only to have her die just as a connection was formed? Is that what she wanted? A relationship?

  It’s not like she made it easy for me to figure out. The few times I’d seen her before leaving Wood Point had been purely business. She’d questioned me extensively after everything happened with Miles and the hybrids. Sometimes she’d take notes. Sometimes Kane would be present or Headmaster Whitfield, not that he ever had anything to add.

  Since that night at school, when she’d admitted to me she was, in fact, dying, she’d been only polite and formal. It felt fake to me, but I suspected it was part of her personality. Only now I needed her. There was no one else—and I had no idea how to break through her wall of icy formality.

  I managed to escape without Grandma and the Hummer as an escort. I suspected it was another one of my mother’s attempts to show she trusted me. Cambria rode shotgun. It felt really good to be driving my own car again. It wasn’t much, but it felt comfortable. It felt like me.

  “Does the sunroof work?” Cambria asked, already pushing the button on the console.

  “Yup,” I said as she slid it back, letting in a swirl of warm air. It teased my shoulders and the ends of my hair. Humidity wrapped in summer sun. Even the wind was hot this time of year.

  Cambria held the button to lower her window and leaned back, hanging her hand out of the car and riding the wave of air. She slid her sunglasses onto her face and smiled over at me. “This finally feels like a vacation, Mission Impossible.”

  I glanced at her. “Why are you calling me that?”

  “It’s your name, remember?”

  “That was back when I was putting together missions.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m not running any missions right now,” I said.

  “Uh-huh.” Her voice dropped an octave, a sound that said, “I know what you’re up to.” I looked over at her again, trying to read her expression. Large-rimmed glasses covered her face.

  “Fine,” I said finally. “We’re not going shopping. I need to talk to Vera.”

  She pulled her hand back inside the car and twisted toward me in her chair. “I knew it. We have a mission. What is it?”

  “I’m hoping she knows a way to help George.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe she knows about this Astor guy. If we can’t find another way …”

  “I don’t think he’s a good idea. He killed that girl.”

  “But, if he’s our only option?”

  She shook her head. The ends of her hair bounced along her shoulders and the purple fabric of her shirt. “If Miles was your only option, would that even be an option?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “You don’t know that. By all accounts, this guy is crazier than Miles. And just as capable of causing death. We can’t trust that. I made a bad judgment call once. I’m not going to do it again.”

  I sighed. So much for an ally. Cambria was too wrapped up in her guilt about Miles’s attempt to use her to be swayed. “Yeah, okay,” I agreed.

  She slid the glasses down her nose to look at me. “That idea is the epitome of Mission Impossible.”

  When we pulled up, Jack’s yard was empty of other vehicles. It made the house look bleaker and lonelier than usual. I wondered briefly where Jack’s truck was. Had George said something about him going on the run?

  Fee answered the door. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she clutched a bundled tissue in one hand. Her hair had come loose from her usual classic twist. Stray strands hung around her face and collar. “Girls,” she said, smiling through fresh tears. She looked genuinely relieved for company. “Come in.”

  She waved us inside and closed the door, washing the entryway in murky shadows. No lights shone and only filtered sunlight, spilling in at the edges of the drawn shades in the living room lit the way.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, starting off toward the kitchen. I nudged Cambria with my shoulder and she took the hint.

  “Starving,” Cambria said, following Fee toward whatever newly baked goodies awaited.

  I veered off down the back hall toward the library, keeping my footsteps light. Fee’s voice drifted back. I listened as she offered Cambria a cookie and asked where I’d gone. I heard Cambria mumble something about the bathroom and then ask for a glass of milk. I smiled. Cambria wasn’t even playing a role. She’d have gone with Fee into the kitchen even if I hadn’t asked her.

  I knocked quietly on the library door and after a low-spoken, “Come in,” poked my head inside.

  Dim lighting greeted me and several blinks later, the room took shape. I was surprised to find that it had been made over since the last time I’d been in here. Against one bookcase-covered wall stood a narrow bed. It was higher off the ground than most, reminiscent of a hospital bed, the way the back adjusted at an angle and the stark white sheets held their crisp folds at the edges.

  In the center of the room someone had swapped the rickety wooden table for a set of armchairs, deep-cushioned and worn at the edges of the upholstery. Vera sat in the one facing me. Her slender fingers held a steaming teacup near her lips. The china shook slightly as she tipped it up, took a sip, and lowered it again. Her sweater hung on her already petite frame—the fact that she was wearing sleeves in this climate was a huge indication of her illness progressing.

  I felt a pang in my chest in the same place it hurt when I thought of Bailey. I wasn’t used to losing people.

  “Are you coming in?” she asked.

  “Yes.” I stepped inside and nudged the door closed with my heel. Even after the soft click of the latch, I stayed where I was.

  Vera took another sip of her tea, eyeing me over the rim of her cup. “It’s nice to see you again,” she said as set the teacup down. Her movements were stiff, her frame rigid. I couldn’t tell if that was part of her normal posture or if she was in some sort of pain. “Come. Sit.” She motioned to the chair opposite hers.

  I shuffled forward. “It’s good to see you too,” I said, sinking into the offered chair. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this. I was hoping we could talk.”

  “You can barge in anytime,” she said with a wave of her hand. “My illness has become more monotonous than anything else. I’ll take vicarious adventure over none at all.” She smiled and her expression struck me as surprisingly genuine. It eased the tension some. “What is it you’d like to talk to me about?”

  “Um, how are you feeling?”

  “I have good days and bad days. Today is the former, or I wouldn’t be in this chair. But you didn�
�t come here to talk to me about my health.”

  “No, but I … I can, if you want. I mean, if you need someone to talk to.”

  She coughed, a deep, throaty sound. “That’s very kind of you, Tara, but I’d rather you distract me with what’s going on with you.”

  “It’s George. Miles’s serum is working quickly. He’s getting stronger, which means he’s close to changing, and I still don’t have any idea how to fix him.”

  She folded her hands in her lap, calm and collected. “And you think I do?”

  “I think you know things I don’t.” I tried to keep the frustration out of my voice. Talking about George’s fate so rationally made me want to scream in desperation. There wasn’t time to be calm.

  “There’s no way to stop the change, Tara,” she said gently.

  “I know that,” I said impatiently. “The thing is, before he died, Miles said the only way to help George is to inject him with my blood.”

  “And you believe he was telling the truth?”

  “I don’t know. I think he was capable of it. And he really wanted the hybrid thing to work, so I think he would do anything to see it happen, even after he’s gone. He said if I wanted to know for sure, I should talk to Astor DeLuca.”

  “Yes, I’d heard he’d mentioned the name.”

  Something about her expression made me sit up straighter. It wasn’t a deep frown or a scowl like Grandma gave when I’d mentioned the name to her. It was interest, curiosity, and something else … excitement?

  “Do you know him?” I asked.

  “He was a good friend, once upon a time. Now, I doubt there’s anyone who really knows him. He’s a recluse, which would’ve been his fate whether he chose it or not.”

  “Because he killed a girl?”

  “It wasn’t so much her death as the decisions leading up to it that infuriated people.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She took a deep breath, like the story she was about to tell weighed on her. “Astor was, or is, a brilliant scientist. Gifted beyond any I’ve ever seen. His work back then focused on metals. How and why metals affect Werewolves so absolutely. Mary Beth was his partner. She was just as brilliant as he was but better with the practicalities.” She smiled wryly, adding, “Mary Beth made sure Astor recorded his research and didn’t burn the place down.”