by Lish McBride
I took her necklace and slipped it around my own neck. It wasn’t much, a little silver heart with an interlocking star given to her by Cade when they weren’t much older than I was now. He’d had to mow lawns, wash cars, and chop firewood to get it. It was the only thing my mom valued besides me.
I kissed her good-bye. A kind hospital employee brought me a clean scrub shirt to change into. The dried blood in my shirt stuck to my skin as I yanked it off. It was beyond redemption, but I couldn’t just toss it. Leaving evidence for human police was a bad idea. Leaving it for the Coterie to find was even worse. If the next tracking team had a blood witch on hand, it would be disastrous. I’d never met one, but my mom had told me about them. They work with blood the way green witches work with plants. If I left my shirt, I might as well stay put and wrap a big bow around myself.
The pale blue scrub top was way too big for me. It looked weird with my jeans. I wrapped the old shirt in paper towels and shoved it into my waistband for the moment. I cleaned up as best I could in the sink, trying to think how I was going to slip out of the hospital. It was only a matter of time until someone called the cops or Social Services and I really only had one option: run. I was so tired of that being my only choice.
The nurse popped her head in and asked if I was okay on my own for a few minutes. She had a patient or something to get to, and I told her I would go back up to the front desk when I was done.
Every once in a while, things go your way.
I slipped out of the hospital and found the sedan pushed off to the side. Without the keys, which were safely in my pocket, that had been about all they could do until someone got around to calling a tow truck. After making sure no one was looking, I started the car and drove slowly away.
I drove until the car almost ran out of gas. Maybe I could have found a station to fill up at, but twelve-year-olds driving cars tend to attract attention, and I couldn’t risk that. Plus, the back seat looked like a horror movie.
The scrub shirt had to go as well. I searched the car for anything that would help. There were a few roller bags and a backpack filled with clothes and a little bit of cash—probably travel money. I put on a shirt that must have belonged to the girl, which was a tad too big, but less conspicuous than the scrub shirt. Then I emptied the backpack and filled it with someone’s hooded sweatshirt, the cash, a map, and a flashlight I’d found in the glove box.
I backed that car into the trees and got out, then set it on fire, making sure that my bloodied shirt was at the heart of the blaze. As the flames ate away the interior, I egged them on, amazed at the control I had over them. This wasn’t like at the cabin—gut-reaction survival instinct fed by fear and adrenaline. No, this was something else. Like when you have a growth spurt and suddenly you fit into that jacket you really liked. For a split second you think it’s the jacket—that it’s shrunk. But then it hits you. You’re the thing that’s changed.
It was then that I realized I hadn’t eaten since dinner. I should have sweet-talked the nurses into a candy bar or a soda or something, but I hadn’t been thinking straight.
Ignoring my weakened condition, I kept the car blazing until the flames could go on their own. Too much evidence to just leave it.
I walked in the trees for a short time, not daring to come out until I found a service station. I bought the biggest Gatorade they had, several candy bars, and a better local map, one that had a bus station clearly marked on it. I was far enough from the hospital that I hoped no one would be looking for me. I bought a baseball hat anyway, pulled my hair back into a low ponytail, and tucked it under. With the hood up on the sweatshirt, you couldn’t see my long hair. It would have to do.
I didn’t have enough money to get a bus ticket all the way to Cade’s, but I got pretty close. After that, I walked and sneaked the occasional ride. Dangerous, I know, but not as dangerous as waiting for the Coterie to finish me off.
By the time I got to Cade’s door, I was soaked to the bone, exhausted, half-starved, and riddled with grief. He opened the door and I collapsed into him, glad I could finally let go and stop being in charge of myself. He didn’t get a chance to ask what happened, but I think he figured it out from my sobbing.
He pulled me into his arms and let me cry. Once my sobs became hiccups, he deposited me on the couch under some blankets and went about the task of finding me dry clothes and warm food.
He didn’t break down until he saw the necklace. That tiny silver heart and star. Though he tried to hide it, I could see the echoes of his own heart fracturing in his eyes. But he didn’t let his grief stop him from taking care of me. From loving me.
Not then.
Not now.
Not ever.
7
SHOCK AND AWE
I WOKE UP sputtering. Ezra stood over me, an empty bottle of what had been ice-cold water held in his fist.
“Oh, good,” he said. “You’re awake. We wouldn’t want to go to the party without you.”
I loved Ezra, but sometimes I wanted to choke the damn life out of him. “Party?” My voice was a parched croak. Lock handed me a full bottle of water and I drank greedily.
“Yeah, while you were unconscious and vomiting, Owen popped in. Apparently Venus needs to talk to you again. Somehow he was unsurprised to find us all still here even though our shifts were over and your friends were gone.”
“You think we were set up?” Ezra asked, handing me a rough hand towel, probably filched from the kitchens.
“No, I think the world is full of wonderful coincidences,” Lock said, taking the empty bottle from me.
“So Venus knew I was going to get drunk and planned around it? Seems a little convoluted to me.”
“You don’t drink, Aves,” Lock said, pointing at a spot I’d apparently missed. When I didn’t get it, Ezra snatched my towel and wiped my chin.
“I had some of Ryan’s drink by accident. Gin and tonic.”
Lock shook his head. “Even if you had two G&Ts, they wouldn’t affect you like this. Someone slipped you something. Who was near your drink?”
“Ryan, of course, and the bartender maybe some of the wait staff…”
“Is that what you call careful?” Lock said. “Would it be faster for you to list who isn’t a suspect?”
“Don’t yell at me!” I shot back, shouting even though it made my head throb. “I’ve had a crappy night!”
“I’m not yelling!” Though even he seemed to figure out that he was, in fact, shouting at me. Ezra grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him into a corner like Lock was a naughty child. Then he handed the towel back to me and sat alongside me on the couch.
“I think what our friend is trying to say is that you scared us to death and we were extremely worried about you.”
“Ezra, when you say things like that, totally serious and without a single come-on or innuendo, I have a hard time taking you seriously.” I took another long pull on my water.
“Fine: We were worried about you, baby. Is that better?”
“That was actually kind of weak,” Lock said, coming out of his corner and joining us on the couch. “How are you feeling, Aves?”
“Remember that time Venus threw a mandatory pool party and we played Marco Polo with the nixies, and we won and they got so mad they tried to drown me and I puked water up all over the floor?”
“It sounds familiar, yes.”
“And the time we tried to subdue that Valkyrie who was sauced up on mead and we all ended up with concussions?”
“That’s ringing a bell,” said Ezra.
“Combine those two feelings and multiply them by ten.”
“Excellent,” said Lock. “Then you’re in just the right condition to deal with Venus. Ezra, tie your shoes and let’s go.”
I HAD to admit that Lock looked more badass than I did, in his leather jacket, his dark jeans, and his Purgatory shirt. Between the scorches, my tears, the combat boots I was wearing, and what was probably a little dried vomit—though I chose not
to examine it closely to be sure—I resembled something out of a paramilitary group made up entirely of bedraggled orphans. Ezra, for some reason, was wearing a tailored black three-piece suit, a bright red carnation sticking out of the buttonhole. Apparently he had the suit in his locker. I don’t know why, nor do I know where he procured a carnation at that hour. We flashed our passes and were let into the ostentatious elevators that led down into Hell. The doors closed with a soft hiss, and we were left staring at our reflections. Lock openly checked himself out, but I pretended not to.
“Not bad,” he said. “They will tremble before our badassery.”
“Yeah,” I said, checking my pockets for the fifth time, “because with all their strength and weaponry, they’re going to get weak-kneed at the sight of your leather jacket.”
“Never underestimate a nice jacket,” Ezra said.
“And why are you wearing a suit, again?” I asked.
“Because I look spectacular,” he said. “Besides, no fox responds to a formal invitation looking like a common vagabond.” He ran his hands down his chest, smoothing the fabric. “No offense.”
“How could I possibly be offended by that?” I said.
“Good,” he said, patting my shoulder. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
I can never tell if Ezra misses some of my sarcasm or if he simply chooses to ignore it.
Then the doors slid open. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Maybe more guards, or Venus waiting for us by the elevator—something a little different from the usual, I guess. But everything was normal. I was so keyed up, I forgot that, for Venus and her goons, this was just another day at work. Clock in, launder some money, plan some assassinations, drink some blood, clock out.
A guard escorted us into a small lounge. “Wait here,” he said, adjusting his tie. It must be hard to get a good tie when you have no neck. It was like his head sprouted directly from his shoulders.
“For how long?” I asked. “It’s just that I have a dentist appointment after this. I can’t be late.”
The second guard, who looked like a very thin, stretched-out version of the first guard, frowned at me. “It takes as long as it takes.”
I dropped the joking tone. “Let me make this very clear: I will wait only so long before I start lighting things on fire. I’ll start with your underwear and move to the drapes. Got it?”
They both moved a step away, obviously uneasy, but stood their ground. I was scary, but I couldn’t hold a candle to Venus.
After a surprisingly short time, we were led into a … ballroom? You’d think this building would stop surprising me. Small tables, all covered in white tablecloths and linen napkins. Chandeliers, vases of roses on every table, everyone in black tie. A string quartet played softly in the corner. The walls were all draped in thick red velvet. It was not unlike being inside a Goth music box.
There had to be at least a hundred people there. And they were all staring at us. I guess we were a trifle underdressed, except for Ezra. I gave a little wave. No one waved back. Venus, naturally, was seated at the middle of a long table in the front. Her table was raised up on a small dais, rather theatrically, I thought.
As I looked around the room, I noticed that there was no food on the plates. Hungry predators, even ones that don’t like their meals in human packaging, might lack impulse control. If any of the creatures in this room didn’t know who we were, we would appear to be walking, talking Happy Meals without the toy. Or maybe it was a two-for-one deal and we were the toys.
I approached the dais where Venus was waiting, her hand trailing though Owen’s hair, a close-lipped smile on her face. Her side of the table was full of lesser minions, but the side facing the audience was empty. Wouldn’t want the audience to miss out on seeing those pretty, bloodthirsty faces.
I stopped at the table and waited. It seemed silly to make demands—Venus knew what I wanted, just like I knew what she wanted. Silence stretched out because Venus was trying to not talk first. Me standing there with my arms crossed, patiently waiting, was not exactly giving her the image she wanted. But of course she couldn’t break the silence either, so Owen had to speak.
“You know why you’re here, I’m sure,” he said before snapping his fingers so the wine steward would refill his champagne flute. Sloppy, to be drinking like that. If I liked Owen, I might have explained to him how alcohol affects coordination and control and how bad it is for folks like us. Or I could watch him drink his way to destruction. Maybe I could bribe the steward into bringing him a bigger glass.
“Yes,” I said. “Though I’m not sure what this meeting will accomplish.”
“Compliance,” Venus said slowly, like she was savoring the word. “You need a reminder as to what it means.”
I cocked my head at her. “Oh?” Lock shifted on his feet slightly, his shoulder brushing mine in a silent be careful here. Ezra examined his nails, a careless expression on his face, but I knew better. He was taking in the room, cataloging exits and people. If I asked him right then what color tie the violinist was wearing, he’d have known.
“If you recall, I offered you a job earlier. You refused.”
The Duncan contract. What had Duncan done, exactly? Maybe he’d TPed her car or put plastic wrap on her toilet seat. Do vampires pee? Now was probably not the time to ask.
“I do recall,” I said. Then I stood there and smiled. There’s nothing more irritating than someone who refuses to argue with you. I could tell this was aggravating her. A bit like yanking on a hungry lion’s tail, but I never claimed to be wise. If I didn’t act normal, if I toned down my usual insolence, then she’d know she had me.
Venus sat there primly, her back straight, her blue eyes on me and only me. “I’ve decided to do you a favor.”
Unlikely. Venus didn’t do nice things. Ever. So if she was offering a little goodwill, I knew it was anything but. I didn’t respond. I just kept staring at her until she continued.
“I’ve decided to offer you the job again.”
“I politely decline. Again.” The answer popped out before I had a chance to think about it. Not that I was going to say yes, anyway, but still.
Venus shook her head, playing up to her audience. “My naïve little firebug. I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” Some very large men moved up to flank us. I wasn’t worried about them as much as I was worried about the shorter, skinny guy who came with them. If your hired tough is small, that means he makes up for it in other ways. In a street fight in the human world, that might mean he has a knife, or maybe he’s a ninja or something. In my world it could mean, well, anything. Maybe he secretes a lethal poison or has chain saws for hands. You just couldn’t know. Except about the chain saw thing. That one wasn’t very probable.
“You’ve been growing too … comfortable lately,” Venus continued, running one finger down the side of her empty champagne flute. “And you’re beginning to set a bad example.” She looked out at all the people sitting quietly at the tables. The quartet kept playing, but the dulcet tones did nothing to soothe the tense atmosphere. They just didn’t go together. It was like harp music at a NASCAR race. “After all, monkey see, monkey do.” Some of the diners began to fidget.
We were going to be made into examples. Yay. I reached out and took Lock and Ezra’s hands. It would make us look weak, but at this point I didn’t think it mattered. The toughs kept us in place as we watched a man in a tux pull back one of the red curtains to reveal what looked like a transformer box. He opened it and hit a button. There was a loud grating noise and the floor started to move. People jumped up from their tables, scattering place settings and wine glasses everywhere. They flocked to the edges of the room, where the floor actually managed to stay in the same spot. It was only the middle that was sliding back, opening up to reveal an Olympic-size swimming pool that was—thankfully?—empty. I’ve never seen a pool so deep. It had to be twenty feet down at least. We scrambled up onto Venus’s dais, our burly handlers right behind us. I watched as table aft
er table crashed down into the pool. creating a floor of broken wood and shattered glass. That was Venus all over. She enjoyed creating a spectacle.
The small tough who’d climbed up next to us on the raised dais ran his delicate hands alongside my body, never touching. It didn’t hurt. It was just weird. He did the same to Lock and Ezra. When he was done, he indicated points on each of us quickly, and his large companions proceeded to rip our wards off us with absolute precision. Interesting. So he was deadly to us, just not in the way I imagined. Once we were naked of protection, he pointed at the ladder. “You can either climb down that or we can throw you in.” He said it like he was a bored flight attendant offering us pretzels or peanuts.
I picked the ladder. We made it down the rungs in silence. Once I reached the ground, the sound of broken glass and wood met me with every footstep, and I was grateful for my boots. There were a lot of nails down there, too and I didn’t fancy getting a tetanus shot if I survived whatever Venus had in mind. I looked up and saw the faces of the diners, including Venus, peering over the edge of the pool.
“I feel,” Lock said, leaning close to me, “that this could have gone better.”
“I feel,” Ezra said, smoothing his suit again, “that I look like James Bond. Tell me I’m not killing it in this suit.” His smile was strained as he turned to us. Though he was obviously as terrified as we were, he was still trying to make us feel better.
“Well, you’re certainly killing me,” Lock said.
I kept my mouth shut, watching as two people came down the ladder at the other end of the pool. One, I could see quite clearly, was Owen. Even if I couldn’t tell him by his clothes, his cocky walk would have given him away.
The other person, a younger guy of about medium build, was new to me. Faces continued to peer over the edge at us as the crowd grew. Venus looked incredibly smug. There were three of us and two of them. She should have been concerned, but she wasn’t. Which meant we were in for a nasty surprise.