Ander sighs. “It’s just… we have no idea how many of them there will be. We might be outnumbered by a lot. And they know we’re coming, so they’ll be ready for us…”
“Which is why you need me.” I reach out and touch his shoulder. He looks so worried, I want to just take him in my arms and hold him.
But of course, that’s off limits now, maybe forever. We missed our chance.
“I think you’ll be able to invite them in, Ander,” Naomi says. “The house will still know you. It’s still your childhood home. Just concentrate on your memories of the place.”
I can tell by Ander’s frown he would rather put those memories out of his mind. Remembering that place means remembering those people, and there’s a good chance he may have to kill them.
Luke, however, looks like he’ll have no compunctions about killing anyone. His hungry eyes search the woods around us. “How much longer?”
“Five and the others should be here soon,” Ander says.
“They’re here already.” I can feel the Remnant out there in the woods. They can’t be far away. The sun hasn’t set yet, but the woods are thick and dark.
“Then this is where we part ways.” I can hear the pain in Ander’s voice. He’s right, of course. Wrong though it feels, this is where I have to leave him, maybe for the last time, without so much as a good-bye kiss.
Luke surprises me by deliberately looking away, as if he’s try to give Ander and I a moment of privacy—or as close as we can get in a crowded van. Naomi shifts back to the front seat, but stays within arms reach of Ander.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful.” Ander’s voice is full of worry, his brow creased. “Promise me, no self-sacrificing stuff. No trying to be the hero. I’m not worth dying for twice.”
You’re the only thing worth living for, I think, but I’m not sure I should say it.
“Nobody’s going to take me out,” I say. “Promise.”
He smiles. “Says the girl who always got tagged out first in dodge ball.”
“Hey!” I say. “I wanted to get out! But this is different. This isn’t a game. And this time, we’re gonna win.”
“Yeah,” he says. “We don’t have any other choice.”
Chapter 27: Emmie
I wake up to the smell of roses. I open my eyes. Someone is looking down at me—a blue-eyed woman with pale blond hair pulled sleekly back in a bun. She smiles at me kindly. “Good morning, sleeping beauty! Time to rise and shine! Carefully, though,” she adds quickly. “You’ve been through quite a bit.”
Have I? I’m feeling fuzzy, like somebody wrapped my brain in cotton. I try hard to unwrap it and sort through the memories, but it’s all a blur. Am I at the bar? Did I pass out because somebody fed too long? No, that can’t be right. I remember being tossed in the back of a truck… I reach back and touch the goose-egg bump on the back of my head. Lord I could use some Juice.
“Come on now, sit up.” The woman takes me by the elbow and helps me up to a sitting position. She plumps the thick pillows behind me. I must be on a bed.
I give her a sleepy smile. My voice comes out all slurry. “Are you some kinda angel?”
She chuckles gently. “No, not an angel. Although,” she adds airily, “I do like to think we do the Lord’s work here. And I’m sure you must have a guardian angel working overtime somewhere, to get you out of such a horrible predicament!”
A horrible predicament. Little bits of memory are starting to come back to me, like little bits of sun poking through clouds. Except these memories aren’t so sunny. I remember the crash of breaking glass, someone throwing stuff out of the fridge, rough hands—no, claws!—grabbing me and dragging me over the dirt driveway, throwing me into the back of the truck. And that face. That snarling, half-human face.
D.J.! It all comes back in a rush. He was half crazy and ranting about taking me to the Hunters. But he can’t have done that, because here I am. “You rescued me!”
The woman smiles proudly. “We certainly did.”
“You saved me from the Hunters!”
The woman frowns. It makes her look a lot less pretty. “You mean we saved you from the vampires.”
Saved? From vampires? I guess there have been a few times in my life when those two words have gone together. Cicely rescued me from an undead vamp at the mall, and I certainly was grateful. Michael and the bouncers came to my aid from time to time when customers got out of hand. But for the most part, I can handle myself if there’s trouble. “Really,” I say, “I’m more of a rescued by vampires kind of gal.”
The woman’s frown deepens. “Nonsense. You’ve been hit on the head and aren’t thinking straight. The vampires were holding you captive. They abducted you and took you half way across the country. Damon James said there were three of them—the prince of the Marianez clan and his undead servant girl and the one female undead who escaped from here years ago.” She pats my hand gently and lowers her voice. “We feel partly responsible for that one. We really should have terminated it back then.” Her face brightens. “But don’t you worry. We’ll get them all taken care of soon.”
Taken care of. My stomach swirls. That’s Luke and Cicely and Five she’s talking about. And she said Five had escaped from here, so… “I’m at Ander’s house, aren’t I?”
Her look darkens. “Well,” she says carefully, “I’m sorry to say I haven’t thought of this as Ander’s house for some time. Until recently, I thought my son Ander was dead. And now, come to find he’s been worse than dead—he’s been brought over to the enemy side. But,” she smiles, “we have hope now, don’t we? All that is going to change.”
What does she mean, it’s going to change? The more awake I get, the more this feels like a nightmare. “Listen, you can’t go after Luke and Cicely. You can’t even go after Five! They weren’t holding me captive. They’re my friends.”
“Oh!” she gives me a knowing look, “Did the prince of the vampires tell you he was your friend? I’m sure that’s what he told that fryer-girl just before he made her his undead slave.”
I can’t help it. I laugh, even though it makes my head hurt. “Honestly, ma’am, Cicely’s nobody’s slave. She really doesn’t take orders. She barely takes advice! And she chose to be a vampire.”
“Oh, she chose it.” She arches her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “Is that what the vampire prince told you? That she wanted to be what she is?”
“Well, I can’t say Cicely wanted to be a vampire, but she did choose to—”
“And tell me, why would someone do that? Why would a person choose to be dead, to sacrifice her immortal soul for a life of darkness? What could possibly be the motivation?”
I want to say, She did it to save your son, but I’m not sure that’s gonna work in Ander’s favor. Instead I say, “Love.” I’m talking about Ander and Cicely, but it’s Luke’s face that comes to my mind. “A person will sacrifice anything for true love.”
She laughs and shakes her head. Her hair is so perfectly sprayed into place, it barely moves. “And did the vampires tell you that, too?” She gives me a sad, pitying look. “Vampires are incapable of love. You know that, right? And if you believe they can love, it’s only because you’ve been brainwashed. Now, don’t feel bad,” she adds quickly, “it happens, even to the strongest of us. My son Damon—we call him D.J.—was very nearly tricked into thinking the vampires are like us, and he has had every advantage. He’s a Hunter who was raised with the truth! But the vampires are insidious. They work their way under your defenses, slip under your skin. They confuse you until you think you want them to bite you.” Her cheeks are two spots of pink. There’s a glint in her eyes. “You do, don’t you? Tell me, Emmie, do you like to be bitten? Do you consider yourself a thrall?”
I sit up straighter against the pillows and do my best to look dignified, in spite of the fact that I’m wearin’ somebody else’s nightie. “Yes ma’am, I do.”
The pity in her eyes is real. “Well, Emmie, I’m going to tell you
a little secret.” She leans in closer, layers her hand over mine like we’re old friends. Her voice is only a whisper. “I used to be just like you.”
A cold shiver slips down my spine. I tug my hand away.
“Oh, I know that must come as a surprise, looking at me now!” There’s a wild light burning in her eyes. “But I was one of the most sinful sinners around. Emmie, do you know what a blood bar is?”
I nod. I don’t trust myself to speak. Just hearing the words blood bar makes me homesick to my core. I would give anything to be safe at the Nightlife right now, anything to get bit. I need some vampire to drain away my jitters and take the edge off these nerves!
“Well,” she says, “long ago, I worked at a place like that, if you want to call it working. In reality, they held me captive. Even though I was allowed to leave, it was only because they knew I would come back. I had been tricked, you see, into thinking that being a thrall was natural to me, that it was just another way of being, just as valid as any normal way you could live your life. I had been brainwashed into thinking vampires—and one vampire in particular—would protect me. That they had my best interest at heart. In fact—and this may shock you—I came very close to being ensnared forever, being caught in what they call a bond.”
I perk up. I can’t help it. Just the mention of bonding makes the room seem a little brighter. “What happened?”
She sits back, her smile suddenly smug. “My husband happened. I was on the very verge of being trapped forever when my husband and the other Hunters raided my bar. They killed the vampire who was trying to bond with me.” Her smile is perfectly serene, but I can see something haunted behind her eyes. I can imagine the scene too easily: Ander’s mom when she was young, a bar thrall not too different from my own mom, or from me. I can picture her vampire, too. In my mind he’s like Luke, dark and formal and dashing, sweeping her up for every dance, slipping her notes with his tips. I imagine her manager scolding her gently for the stolen kisses and the extra nips, knowing all the while it was too late, that the bond was already in motion and nothing was going to stop it.
Nothing short of death.
“That’s horrible,” I breathe.
Lost in her own thoughts, she misunderstands me completely. “Yes, it was a close call. I was almost completely under his spell when the Hunters set me free. I went through the most painful withdrawal! I was in agony. And I was ungrateful, too. I fought my recovery tooth and nail. There were points when they nearly put me out of my misery, they were so convinced I had already bonded, that I was going to die anyways. But thankfully, my husband stuck by me. He worked with me every day—aversion therapy, shock therapy. It was a pioneering program! Back then, most Hunters thought girls like me—brainwashed girls—were beyond hope. But my husband said I was too pretty to give up on.” She smiles fondly. “He said it was unfair how the vampires always get the pretty girls. And you know what? In time, I came around. I stopped fighting them. I gave over to my recovery and I found peace. God saved me, and do you know why?”
I just stare at her. I can’t speak.
“He saved me because I have work to do.” The fevered light is back in her eyes. “He saved me because I have a mission.”
“What was his name?”
She looks at me, confused. “Who? My husband?”
“No,” I say. “The vampire.”
“Oh!” She waves the thought away with her hand, her eyes suddenly vague. “Who can remember? The past is the past. We’re talking about the future. Your future!” She turns back to me, her eyes sharp again. “The point is, the Hunters saved me, Emmie, and now we’re going to save you, too.”
Chapter 28: Emmie
“You know, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll just be goin’.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed and start to get up—then sit down hard when the room goes all watery.
“Not so fast,” Ander’s mother says. “You had quite a knock to the head. You need to take it slowly.”
I hate to admit it, but she might be right. Besides, I’m not exactly fit for the public, seeing as I’m wearing my PJs. Or, that is, someone else’s PJs. I look down at the white linen nightgown. “What happened to my clothes?”
Ander’s mom wrinkles her nose. “I’m afraid they couldn’t be saved. Besides,” she smiles, “I prefer to dress the patients in white. It shows blood best, so I can tell if they’re injuring themselves. The poor dears get so desperate for a bite they’ll do anything to let blood!” She shakes her head in dismay. “But the white is also symbolic, of course. Tabula rasa, you know. A clean slate. We can never truly regain our innocence, can we? Not now that the vampires have taken it away. But we can start fresh, wipe the slate clean and—”
“Did you say there are more thralls? Like, a bunch of us?” I know I’m forgetting my manners completely, but I gotta know what I’m dealing with here.
Ander’s mom presses her lips in a flat little line. “I really prefer you refer to them as patients, Emmie, not thralls.” She raises one finger in the air, like she expects me to take notes. “Thrall is not something one is, it is something one does or, in our case, does not do.”
“Patients, then,” I say. “Did you say there are a lot of them here?”
“Yes, there are quite a few of you right now, in different stages of recovery.” She smoothes the crisp white sheets like she is smoothing her own ruffled feathers. “I like to keep the numbers to ten or twelve. I find that makes for the most productive group therapy.”
“Ten or twelve?” I gape at her. “Where do they all come from?”
She waves one graceful hand vaguely. “Some find us because they are tired of the life. They’ve lost friends, had close calls, they’re getting older and a bar has let them go…. The usual reasons. Others we liberate from the vampires, like we did you.”
Liberate. I imagine a dozen thralls like me, stolen from their lives. No doubt a few do come on their own. I’ve known folks who got fed up with bar life and wanted out. But I imagine most of the thralls had to be dragged here kicking and screaming. Makes me wonder about the folks I’ve known who went missing and just stopped showing up for work. We always assumed the vampires got them, but maybe it was somebody else.
She must see the disgust on my face because she sits up, all prim. “Oh, I don’t expect you to thank me. Most of you don’t right away. It takes time to unravel the brainwashing and start to see the world straight, but you’ll have nothing but time here at Crosswood Gates and I think you’ll find most of our patients do come around in the end, and those that don’t…” she sighs. “Well, there are always a few who are too far gone. But I’m sure you’re not one of them.” She gives my hand a reassuring pat. “It’s going to get better, Emmie, you’ll see. You don’t have to be a victim any more.”
I’ve never been a victim, I think, and I got no intention of starting now. But I give her my best grateful smile. “Oh, I do thank you, ma’am. I’m sure you’re right. It’s just a big leap is all. Now, when can I meet the others?”
Ander’s mom relaxes. Her smile is back. “That’s my girl!” She reaches out and folds me in a stiff little hug. Her perfume smells like roses. “Well, now that you’re awake, we’ll be moving you in with the others in the dormitory in the East wing. I can show you there now. Your shoes are there by the door if you want them.” She looks at my red, thrift store cowboy boots like she’d rather not touch them. “Oh, and this.” She pulls something small and white out of her pocket and holds it out to me. “We ordinarily don’t allow patients to keep anything of a morbid nature, but we do allow one item of sentimental value and this is all you had on you at the time.”
The skeleton key. I want to snatch it right out of her hand, but I force myself to move slow and casual. “Oh, that old charm? Sure, I’d like to keep it.”
She drops it into my hand. “I found it on the floor of the van. I’m afraid the chain snapped.”
“Well, I’m lucky that’s all that snapped.” I start carefully
knotting the chain back together.
“You aren’t hurt, are you?” Her lips purse with concern. “You seemed to have some scrapes and bruises, but nothing too serious. Being hurt is all in a night’s work for a girl like you, am I right?”
The condescending way she says it makes me want to smack her. No, being abducted isn’t ‘all in a night’s work.’ Just cuz I’m a bar thrall doesn’t mean I want to be hurt.
But I’m still playing nice. “Oh, I’m alright, thanks.”
“Good. Fortunately that potion seems to have given D.J. enough self-control to spare you any real injury. Fascinating stuff, that potion! We’ll be having our potioner analyze it, of course. Not that D.J. needs it any more, but the others could benefit.”
Why doesn’t D.J. need it any more, I wonder? And how many others are there? The thought of Hunters mucking around with Michael’s potions makes me mad, but the thought of a bunch of out-of-control werewolves doesn’t thrill me, either.
Well, it doesn’t matter how many werewolves there are here, does it? Because I’m not gonna stay.
I loop the knotted chain around my neck, tucking the bone key into my white nightgown so it lies cold against my heart.
Ander’s mother stands. “Shall I show you to the dorm?”
I stand, too. I’m feeling stronger than I did, and I feel even better when I step into my cowboy boots. “Yeah. Let’s go,” I say.
But I’m not gonna stay there long.
Chapter 29: Ander
It hurts like hell, watching Cicely walk into those woods—the same woods I hunted with my father a million times, the same woods where I was first bitten by the wolf. My brother and I used to sneak “fryers” out of the cages in the kennels behind the house and let them go in that forest just for the fun of hunting them down again. We’d take turns staking them, then leave them out in the sun to dust while we went home to find my mom waiting on the porch with lemonade, ready to scold us for getting ashes on our shirts. Normal summer day.
Crossfire (Book Two of the Darkride Chronicles) Page 22