[Strange Angels 02] - Betrayals Page 19

  The bushes were burning out here too. I made it to the middle of the courtyard, there were stone benches with wooden slats, the paint on the wood smoking. I made myself as small as I could, knees up, my back braced against a bench’s legs. I dug in my bag, got the gun out, and the tears rolling down my cheeks weren’t from pain or fear. It was the smoke crawling around me, thick greasy fingers pressing behind my eyes. Coughing shook me in great racking bursts.

  I’d thought I could break through the gallery and maybe find a flame-free part of the school to hide in. Now I was trapped. The vampires couldn’t come in here and get me, but the fire might do their job for them. Still, I’d take being roasted alive over getting ripped to shreds by suckers any day.

  Or would I? It was getting awful hard to breathe. I hunched down further, trying for usable air close to the ground. The locket was still oddly cold and buzzing against my chest. Steam rose from my sweater, and the smoking paint on the bench wasn’t too happy either, adding a weird pungent note to the thick vapor. A dead-looking rosebush in one corner of the courtyard blossomed into flame.

  Oh wow. I stared at the thin thorny sticks, now alive with crawling orange flowers that fizzed and crackled. The gun dipped. Everything was a wall of flame, and I was beginning to feel lightheaded.

  “DRUUUUUUUUUUU!” A long-drawn-out howl. I didn’t recognize the voice, and it shook the streaming flames. I coughed steadily now, choking on the smoke. Everything blurred, the blue wires threading through the stone of the courtyard pressing against the circle of orange around me. The bench was getting awful hot, and I had a sudden terrible mental vision of the gun blowing up in my hand. Ammo could do that, if it got too hot. Dad had told me.

  Really not your best idea, Dru, I thought, right before I slid over to the side, my fingers cramping on the gun. A black blot dilated in the middle of the flames. “DRUUUUU!”

  I coughed again, scouring my lungs. There was nothing to breathe; it was all smoke. Haziness filled my eyes.

  Someone was cursing steadily. At least, it sounded like cursing, but the words were put together funny. They sounded foreign. Fingers bit my shoulder and I was dragged up. I fought feebly, the gun loosened from my fingers. Something pressed itself against my cheek, hard little divots and something softer. Then, movement. The world fell away underneath me.

  Falling. A jarring through my entire body. Splintering glass and a roar, and I was on fire, burning, flesh crisping and peeling before we burst out into cooler air and rolled, steam rising in waves, a hissing sound and a scream of pain. Then, more chaos.

  “Get the goddamn oxygen!” someone screamed. Hands grabbed me and I fought back wildly, coughing and retching as I struck out with fists and feet.

  “Calm down!” Another yell, this one I recognized. “Goddammit, Dru, we’re trying to help!”

  Graves? I tried to say his name, choked, tried again. My eyes wouldn’t work right. My skin was still on fire, and I starfished again, throwing out my arms and legs as I tried to breathe. That was my last hurrah. All the fight just spilled out of me.

  Something wet and cold wiped at my face. It felt good.

  More coughing. They rolled me on my side, I choked up a thick mass of burning snot and spat.

  Someone caught my head, something was jammed in my nose, and a flood of something cool hit my burning lungs.

  I collapsed again onto cold, hard ground, wet grass poking at my hands. My arms and legs refused to work properly. Someone had their arms around me, and I blinked, gritty stuff filling my eyes the tears flooded.

  “Jesus Christ,” Graves whispered brokenly. Someone else was coughing and cursing. There was a crash and a snarl. “Leave him alone, he dragged her out! Leave him alone!”

  The last three words hit that rolling-thunder-under-the-surface tone again, and the noise subsided except for the roar of the burning.

  “I’ll take care of the oxygen,” I heard Dibs say. “Dial it up as high as it’ll go. She’s almost cyanotic.”

  “Never seen a Burner before. I thought they died out years ago.” Someone coughed, a deep racking sound.

  “Well, they found one.” It was Shanks. I barely recognized his voice without all the mockery. “Guess they had to, with a svetocha here. Jesus.”

  “You’re in my way.” Dibs had lost the squeaking, terrified tone; his voice was cool and professional. “Give me that, you’re not a medic.”

  “Can you carry her?” Shanks sounded deathly tired. “They’re going to come back as soon as they regroup.”

  “I’ll carry her,” Graves answered grimly. “You okay?”

  “Had better days.” Shanks coughed weakly. “I’ll do. Come on.”

  “What about him?” someone else asked. “He’s one of them.”

  “Bring him,” Graves said immediately. He sounded like he was getting used to this answering-questions thing. “They’ll kill him if we leave him here. Let’s go.”

  I was dragged, then. I was too busy breathing to really care. Blessedly cool air touched my soot-stained cheeks, and my feet padded at the ground uselessly. I kept blinking, hoping my eyesight would come back. The whole world was black with smudges of gray. My head lolled drunkenly.

  “Is she all right?” A hoarse rasp of a voice, one I should’ve recognized. “Is she?”

  I choked, spat another gob of stuff. It splatted dully. Ewwww. Gross. The song of pain that was my entire body hitched up another notch, a choir of pulled muscles and still-burning skin. I couldn’t feel Mom’s locket, and it disturbed me until I retched again and had other things to worry about until the nausea retreated a little.

  “She’s fine. Probably a bit stunned.” Graves sounded worried. I was jostled as well as dragged now, one of my arms over someone’s shoulders, the other over someone else. I hung between them like a scarecrow. “She’s still breathing, at least.”

  “Let me see. Let me see her.” A scuffing, footsteps. The movement halted, and someone let out a sharp, pained sound. A light feathering touch along my forehead, grit scraping lightly against the skin. A gusty sigh. “God in Heaven, dzia kuja . Thank you.”

  “Can we move it along?” Shanks sounded irritated. “I would really hate to fight another pitched battle with vampire shock troops and a Burner.”

  “They’ve probably set up a cordon.” The husky voice was so familiar, I couldn’t place it though.

  “Do we have any water?”

  Shanks actually sighed, an aggrieved sound. “Dylan broke out to the west. They’re going fast and loud to draw attention away from us. Let’s go.” A sloshing sound. “Drink while we run. Can you keep up?”

  “The day I can’t is the day I turn in my blades.”

  I finally placed the husky, sour voice. My heart leapt inside my chest.

  I had to cough and spit again before I could rasp, “Christophe?” The word was a husk of itself, scarring my throat. You came back. Intense relief warred with the fact that I really, truly was not feeling very good.

  The person holding up my right side stiffened just a little.

  “Right here, malutka.” He coughed again, a deep racking that ended on a choke. “Keep breathing. We’ll handle the rest.”

  He sounds really sure. “I’ve g-g-g—” My lips refused to work right. My entire brain had seized up. There was so much to tell him. And so many questions to ask.

  But he’d come back. For me.

  “Later, moj ptaszku. Later. Focus on breathing for right now.” There was a crackle of undergrowth. We started moving again. “Your guardian angel is here, Dru. Don’t fear.”

  CHAPTER 21

  My vision returned in fits and starts, and a little while later I could walk. The stuff jammed in my nose was clear tubing attached to an oxygen canister slung over Dibs’ shoulder as he braced me on my left side. Graves was on my right, his hair wildly mussed and his coat singed. Blood painted the right side of his face, and his jaw was set.

  My heart almost burst. My arm tightened, and he gave me a sideways look. “He
y,” he said, quietly. “How you, kiddo?”

  My mouth was full of poison. I spat again to clear it, and Dibs giggled, a high, nervous sound. “Peachy,” I managed. “Wha’ happen?”

  “All hell broke loose.” Graves barely looked where he was going. Trees pressed close, the night like a wet washcloth over the eyes. I wasn’t blind; it was just dark. Country-dark. There was a sense of stealthy movement, and the glitters and lamps of eyes around me told me I was in the middle of a group of wulfen. “They got into the school. There was a vampire with red hair, she just looked at things and they started exploding. Shanks and Dylan—”

  “Save your breath,” came Christophe’s harsh voice. “We’re not free yet.”

  “Christophe?” I had to know. “Where were you? I thought—”

  “Around and about. Be quiet now.” He didn’t bother sugarcoating the command, but then his tone softened. “You seem to delight in doing the worst, most dangerous thing possible. Try to restrain yourself for a day or two, hmm?”

  I’m just trying to stay alive, Christophe. Thanks. I wished I could put my head down on Graves’ shoulder, settled for putting one foot in front of the other. I was reeling, step to side-step. The oxygen felt good and cool on my burning throat. My teeth weren’t aching anymore. Much.

  My head dropped forward. I sighed. Coughed again, trying to do it quietly. There was a pause, all the wulfen stopping at once.

  A howl lifted in the distance. Vampire. The hatred in it scraped inside my skull, the taste of wax oranges on my tongue over the foul-ness, and I found out I was shaking again. I didn’t have the energy to pull myself up inside my head and block it out.

  “God and Hell both damn it,” Christophe said quietly, but with a coldness to the words that turned the darkness into danger.

  “Shit.” Shanks sounded like he seconded that emotion. “Let’s hurry it up, people.”

  “What happened?” I whispered. Graves just shook his head. His arm tightened around me, like he wanted to pull me away from Dibs. The small blond werwulf was quivering too. I couldn’t tell whether I was shaking him or he was as scared as I was.

  “Someone just died. We can hope it was the Burner, she would be a high-priority target. Without her, the nosferatu are merely dangerous, not overwhelming,” Christophe said softly. “Just breathe, Dru. Do we have another oxygen tank?”

  “Just the one.” Shanks moved away. They glided noiselessly through the forest. My eyes were doing funny things, piercing the gloom one moment and showing me moving shapes, sticks, and the texture of bark. My teeth would give a sudden burst of pain; then the darkness would return.

  All the questions I couldn’t ask swirled around inside my head. My right arm tightened over Graves’ shoulders. “I thought you were inside.” My voice was a harsh croak. “God.”

  “Is that why you ran into a burning building?” He sounded shocked. Go figure.

  I thought I could throw the vampires off my trail. It was too hard to explain and I didn’t have the breath. I tried anyway. “Well, yeah. That, and—”

  “Quiet.” Christophe was a deeper shadow, his eyes glowing weirdly blue. Most of the wulfen’s eyes just glimmered dully. Shanks’ were actually yellow, and I could tell whenever Graves blinked because the green gleams next to me would vanish for a moment and my heart would stop again.

  The motion suddenly halted. Everyone froze. I leaned on Graves. His hand, spread against my sore ribs on my left side, tensed just a little, fingers gone hard. I tried not to breathe too loudly. The oxygen bottle made a small sound, and I winced. Dibs and I shook together, my teeth clenched to stop their chattering.

  Little noises filled the woods around us. I couldn’t tell if they were the regular cacophony of the woods at night, because it’s rarely ever silent out in the country, or if it was something else. I felt very small, and very soft and pink in the middle of the wulfen.

  “We need cover,” Shanks mouthed. He leaned toward the shape that was Christophe, their eyes glowing at each other. “How drained are you?”

  Christophe blinked, slowly, deliberately. The blue glow of his eyes came back, settled on me. “And I thought you would take convincing.”

  A movement that could have been a shrug. “I don’t want to die. And I’m responsible for them.”

  “Granted.” The single word had sharp edges. “I’ll need to drink.”

  The four words fell like a stone into a glassy pool and vanished without a trace. There was a collective sharp inhale among the wulfen.

  “Wait a second.” Graves sounded like he was having trouble with this. I tried to hold my head up.

  It dipped forward. Curls had come free of my braid and bobbled in front of my face. “What are we talking about here?”

  Shanks didn’t even bother to listen. “You can’t take it from one of mine. So it’s me, or…”

  A sliding motion. Graves sucked in a sharp breath, and Christophe was suddenly right in front of me.

  “Dru,” he said softly. The hurtfulness was gone from his voice. “I need your help.”

  I swallowed. My throat was full of smoky acid. “Yeah. Sure. What?”

  Christophe moved in closer, but not as close as he had been before. Still, I could feel his heat. “Give me your hand.”

  “Oh hell no.” Graves shifted his weight, like he was going to pull me back and away.

  I stayed where I was, digging my feet into the ground. “What are you going to do?”

  “I need to borrow something of yours. It will come back, I promise. It will save all of us.” Those blue eyes held mine, glowing in the darkness. Was it just me, or were they not quite as cold as they used to be? He smelled like smoke too, and under it was the edge of apple pies, spice and goodness.

  Jesus. Even after all that he smelled like a bakery. “You’re going to have to give me the keys this time, Dru.”

  It wouldn’t make sense to anyone other than Graves and me. I’d refused to trust him once before, and it had ended up with Sergej almost having me for lunch. Now we were out in the middle of the woods with vampires looking for us, and there were a bunch of terrified kids here in the dark.

  Kids who had done their best to save me. Kids who would be in the cafeteria or heading for their first classes right now if not for me.

  Way to go, Dru. You just get everyone in trouble, don’t you?

  I licked my dry, smoke-tarnished lips. “It’ll get them out of here?”

  “All of us.” Christophe sounded utterly sure. “I just need to borrow something of yours.”

  What, the wooden swords? I left them behind, couldn’t carry them. “All right. What?” My throat was full of something. Graves shifted again, but I stayed where I was.

  “You don’t have to,” Dibs whispered. He sounded scared to death. “Dru…”

  “Give me your hand,” Christophe repeated. “Either one.”

  I slid my heavy left arm free of Dibs’ shoulders. Blindly stuck my left hand out in his general direction. “I don’t know what you’re gonna do, but do it.” I leaned into Graves, who was shaking now too. I couldn’t tell if it was the stress of holding me up or something else. “They’re getting closer.” I didn’t know how I knew. The sounds in the woods drew close, nasty tittering laughter and the padding of booted feet.

  Warm fingers clasped my wrist. Christophe ran his fingertips down the center of my palm, and a weird feeling shot up my arm.

  I had to know. “Christophe?”

  He went utterly still. “What, skowroneczo moja?”

  “Where were you?” Was I bait? What were you doing? You said you’d be gone, but here you are.

  “I was making arrangements to come collect my little bird.” His fingers bit in, and he raised my hand, palm up. “You don’t think I’d leave you, do you?” There was a gleam of teeth under the lamps of his eyes, and all of a sudden I knew what he was going to do. The knowledge sprang full-blown into my head, and if I hadn’t been so scared, exhausted, lonely, pained, you name it, I might have
tried to backpedal. Graves let out another strangled sound, his arm tightening as I lost all the strength left in my legs.

  And Christophe drove his fangs into my wrist, just where the radial pulse beats. It was like rusty spikes spearing through my arm, the pain branching up nerves to detonate in my head, and a horrible draining sensation spilled through me.

  It hurt. Have you ever been so sick dying seems like an okay thing because it will make the feeling stop? Have you ever felt something inside you, something you never noticed before, something rooted deep in your chest, getting ripped up inch by inch? Stubbornly resisting, something twined around your ribs and internal organs being torn free.

  I collapsed. A wave of coldness dilated around my mother’s locket, held trapped against my skin.

  Graves made a soft, hurt little sound, holding me up. “Dru—” he whispered.

  The drawing pull came again. This time it stretched up into my brain, a bony hand digging clawed fingers up my throat and into my skull the hard way, squeezing the tender meat I thought with.

  Memories splashed and whirled, draining away.

  Graves was holding me up now. I was trying to scream, but I couldn’t. My voice box had frozen up. Everything about me had frozen. One thought managed to escape the relentless, digging agony.

  “please don’t please don’t not again please don’tdon’tdon’t”

  But it came one more time, and this time was the worst because the digging, awful fingers weren’t pulling at anything physical. Instead they were scraping and burrowing and twisting into me. The part of me that wasn’t anything but me, the invisible core of what I was.

  I’d call it the soul, but I don’t think the word fits. It’s as close as I can get.