Defiance Page 23

  There were still sporadic gunshots. I didn’t hear Christophe screaming anymore. The thought sent a hot bolt of guilt through me. Thick black smoke was heaving itself up into the sky.

  “Dru,” Graves repeated raggedly. “Dru. Jesus. Dru.”

  “Um.” I could find nothing to say. My fangs were still out, achingly sensitive. “Graves.” Or should I call you Edgar? A thin bubble of hysterical laughter welled up inside of me; I ended up letting out a wheeze that turned into a series of smoke-tarnished coughs.

  “Jesus.” Was he shaking? I couldn’t tell, because I’d turned into mud. I could’ve just laid there and waited for morning with no trouble at all.

  Except it was going to get cold, and we couldn’t stay here.

  “Graves.” The word rasped against the bloodhunger, quivering on the back of my palate. No more danger candy; why had it failed me this time? Had the blooming gotten rid of it?

  Worry about that later, Dru.

  He hugged me even harder. “Jesus. Jesus.”

  I coughed again. “Got. To. Get out. Graves. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Something rustled in the greenbelt, under the suck-back draft of the fire. Graves tensed, and weary annoyance filtered through me. Oh, Lord, what now? Take a number, I’m done for the night.

  But we did have to go. And someone was in the bushes.

  A shadow loomed over us, orange light reflecting oddly from his irises before he crouched. Soot smeared over his face, his long greasy hair was singed, and he was barefoot. He pushed at my shoulder with those long pale fingers, and a happy grin lit his dirty face.

  “Bang,” Ash whispered. White teeth flashed, just like the skunk stripe in his hair.

  “Holy fuck.” Every muscle in Graves’s body had turned to stone. “What the—”

  “It’s Ash.” I even sounded tired to death. It was hard to talk. “We’ve gotta get out of here. Just us.”

  “Bang!” Ash repeated, and pushed at my shoulder again. Nudging at me, like a dog.

  I nodded, pushing my chin down and bringing it back up. The wet we were laying on was seeping into my hair. “Bang,” I agreed wearily. “Help me up?” I freed one hand, and his slim strong fingers laced through mine.

  “He changed back?” Graves made it to his feet slowly. He didn’t bother brushing off his coat. “Jeez.”

  I patted myself down. No bleeding, just aching. My ribs on the left side seemed fine enough, except for hurting like mad bastards. The lump of heat in my midsection from Anna’s blood was gone, and her whispering inside my head had faded to a ghost-mutter, as if I’d just cleared a haunted house and was hearing the echoes. I had my bag, and my malaika lay on the ground.

  Think, Dru. Think now, and think hard.

  First things first. “Help me clip my malaika in.” I swayed. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “What exactly are we going to do?” Graves just sounded curious, and I hoped he’d forgotten he was disgusted by my fangs.

  It didn’t matter, I told myself firmly. He’d come back and unloaded most of a clip into Sergej. Whether he was disgusted or not didn’t matter.

  Not now.

  “Catch a cab, ride a bus.” I considered it for a moment as Ash steadied me. He looked damn happy, all things considered. “If all else fails, you get a crash course in how to steal a car.”

  “You sure do show a boy a good time, Miss Anderson.” Graves hunched his shoulders. His irises flashed green again. “I’m starving.”

  He sounded, of all things, hopeful.

  “Bang,” Ash agreed, nodding vigorously. That made it unanimous.

  The weight of being in charge, of deciding what to do, settled back on my shoulders. Like it had never left. “Transport first.” I tried to sound absolutely certain. “Then food. Then we find someplace to sleep.”

  Graves bent over, straightened slowly with my malaika. The fire painted his bruises with garish immediacy, and I couldn’t read his expression. Ash bounced a little next to me, like a hound who’s just done a good deed and expects a pet or two.

  “Good job,” I managed. “Good job, Ash. Get us out of here and somewhere there’s transportation, okay?”

  “Bang-kay. Kay. Okay.” He nodded vigorously, and pointed at the greenbelt. There could have been a million vampires hiding in those shadows, and for a moment the urge to just collapse right where I was and let the Order find me was overwhelming.

  Then I squared my shoulders, stood still so Graves could snap my malaika back in, and found out I could walk.

  EPILOGUE

  I scanned the hotel parking lot one more time and shut the door. Stood for a moment with my head hanging. The thought of warding the walls just about threatened to keel me over.

  I’d paid cash and used an old fake ID, a leftover from traveling with Dad. The clerk barely glanced at it, his eyes lighting up when I shoved the greenbacks over the counter. He went back to watching the flickering television playing some show about tattoo artists, and I’d taken the key gladly and shuffled off.

  “Come on, this won’t stay hot. Or even warmish.” Graves touched my shoulder.

  Both the boys had carried up armloads of fast-food bags. That’s one thing about the big city—they don’t even blink when you go through a New Jersey drive-through at 3 a.m. in a stolen car with two hungry werwulfen and get sixty bucks’ worth of burgers and fries, not to mention six large chocolate milk shakes.

  Ash was already snout-deep in a double-bacon cheeseburger, trying to eat it and suck on the straw to his second milk shake at the same time. Graves had a handful of french fries and was already looking way more peppy. If he could get enough food in him, the bruises would heal down and he’d be all right in twelve hours or so.

  My brain was tired. It felt like I was thinking through mud. Sergej. Anna. Christophe. Did I really do all that? I blinked, picked up a gigantic burger in its crackling paper wrapping, and swallowed hard.

  The rock in my throat didn’t want to go away. I just swallowed past it. I ate mechanically, and for about fifteen minutes the only sounds were slurping, munching, and Ash’s happy little humming sounds as he chewed. Graves ate steadily, his eyelids at half-mast over his pain-darkened irises and his shoulders hunched.

  After a while, Graves stopped. Looked at me. We stared at each other for a long moment, and I braced myself as much as I could. Kept chewing. Washed down the flavorless cud with a bullet of toot-haching cold-sweet milkshake.

  “So what are doing now?” Graves’s eyes were lighting back up, the shadows retreating the more he ate. He looked at me like I should know.

  Well, I did, sort of. Out of all of us, I was the one most used to planning things like this. Escapes. Scenarios. Dad had drilled it into me, I’d spent a whole childhood preparing.

  Responsibility settled into me like a weight of cold iron. “Now we sleep. Then, in the morning, we find a car we can use for long distance.”

  He absorbed this. “We’re not going back to . . . to them? The Order?”

  “Why, you want to get handed over to you-know-who again? While they lie and keep me from coming after you?” I sighed when Ash looked at me, his dark eyes round like I’d just shouted.

  I hadn’t. I just sounded angry. Bitter. Old.

  Older than I was, at least. I wished for some water to wash the taste out of my mouth. It was like ashes and old blood, that taste, and it wasn’t nice. All the cheeseburger and milk shake in the world couldn’t cover it up.

  Graves nodded. His face pulled against itself, lines appearing like he was aging right in front of me. I’ve seen that look before, when Dad drove through the bad parts of town and I made sure the doors were locked. It was on the faces of kids who huddled in the cold, staring at passing cars and hoping they wouldn’t stop—or hoping they would, because the kids were hungry.

  So, so hungry.

  “So, um. You . . .” Graves looked down at the pile of fries in front of him. “You came there. Alone. For me.”

 
Yeah, and you’re disgusted by the fact that I’m half sucker. So am I. “Let’s not talk about it.” I stuffed another wad of cheeseburger into my mouth. Chewed sloppily.

  Ash looked at Graves, back at me, like he was following a tennis match. Half a fry hung out of his mouth, and he looked so sad and afraid it was almost enough to make me start yelling.

  I dropped the remains of my burger and stood up, my chair scraping back from the cheap table. “I’m gonna get cleaned up.”

  There was only one bed in here, but it was queen-size. The bathroom was nothing to write home about; I could’ve cleaned it better with two rags and a bottle of spit. But it was cheap, it was safe for tonight, and we needed rest. I needed sleep. I needed just a few hours to figure out what the hell we were going to do.

  I hadn’t thought much beyond rescuing Graves. If Sergej survived he’d have an even bigger hard-on for me, the Order was going to be looking for me, and every sucker who caught wind of us would try to tear us to itty-bitty pieces.

  At least the shower was on the hot side of lukewarm. I peeled my filthy clothes off and decided not to worry about not having clean ones for a few minutes. Stepped under the water, trying not to ew w w too loudly when my feet slipped a little on greasy, not-cleaned-so-well plastic.

  Dried blood and dirt sluiced off. My hips felt funny, and I was soaping myself up when I realized something had changed. I arched my back a little under the spray, and I wasn’t just imagining things.

  The chesticles were bigger.

  I lifted my hand. The claws slid neatly from my fingertips, amber-colored and pretty dainty. Svetocha got claws when they . . .

  I scrambled out of the still-running shower. Swiped condensation off the mirror. Looked at myself, hanging on to the edge of the counter while I dripped all over the yellowing linoleum. My jaw actually dropped, and I actually saw my canines lengthen a little, sharpening.

  Holy . . . I couldn’t feel anything but weary amazement.

  My face was slightly different, heart-shaped now, and with my hair wet and slicked back it was easier to see how I looked like Mom. My cheekbones stood out like a supermodel’s, my collarbones looked fragile, and the whole architecture of my face had changed by just a few millimeters.

  It was official. I’d bloomed.

  And now we were on the run.

  I stood there, holding on to the slightly greasy counter while the shower ran, and watched the tears roll down my new, sculpted cheeks.

  finis