“No, don’t do that.”
“Bianca, are you nuts? That’s a vampire! This is probably a vampire lair! We need backup.”
“We don’t know what else is going on in there.” The reasoning was weak, but I didn’t know anything else to say. As she started punching in Dana’s number, I hurried a few steps in front of her to inspect the door. I could see bells with names next to them in the vestibule.
Then the glass door swung open, and another resident—a human woman, scary-thin and only a few years older than me, stepped out and gave me a slightly vacant smile as she held the door open for me. She must have assumed I lived there, and her welcome apparently put the doorman off guard, because he just kept reading a magazine. Quickly, I stepped inside and let the door shut behind me.
Raquel appeared on the other side of the glass door. “What are you doing?”
“I’m checking things out, okay? You stay out here to call for help if we need to.”
“Seriously, you need to wait.”
Ignoring Raquel, I hurried to the elevator. Golden circles outlined the elevator’s progression upward. Okay, I could work with that. Once I saw where it stopped, I could go to that floor and maybe use my sensitive vampire hearing to find where the vampire had gone.
But then I heard a whisper. “You, there.”
I stared. In a small cubby at the end of the lobby, near what looked like a side door, stood the vampire. His body was tense, almost in a crouch, and his brilliant blue eyes locked with mine.
“You’re one of us,” he said, in an accent that I thought might be Australian. “So what are you doing with Black Cross?”
“Long, long, long story.” At least he knew he was being tracked. “They’re on to you. You have to get out of here for now.”
“I just got this place. D’ya have any idea how hard it is to find a place on the East Side?”
“If you take off now, they won’t think about coming back here even after a couple of days. They don’t think we have…homes, or friends, or anything like that.” The bitterness in my voice surprised me; I thought I’d made my peace with our situation in Black Cross, at least for now, but the pent-up tension threatened to shake loose. “All you have to do is clear out for a couple of days. Stay with someone you know.”
“Summer in the Hamptons,” he said, almost like he was making fun of me. But why would he do that when I was trying to save him? I decided I’d heard him wrong when he smiled.
“You’re one of our babies, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” I smiled back. It felt nice to be recognized for what I was, to have a couple of moments where being a vampire was no big deal. For a moment, I even missed Evernight Academy.
“Name’s Shepherd,” he said. “Have we got ten minutes, you think? I’d like to grab a couple things before running off.”
“Maybe. They won’t know where you are in the building, though they have ways of tracking—”
“We’ll be quick about it. Help a fellow out, would you?”
We rode the elevator to the ninth floor. The whole way up, I held my breath, sure that at any moment Raquel would call, or Black Cross hunters would be waiting for us. But we got there fine, and I hurried after Shepherd to his apartment. “You only have time to grab the basics,” I said. “Some clothes, some cash, whatever ID you’re using.”
“Believe me,” he said. “I understand the deadline.”
I walked into the apartment, ready to start helping him pack up anything—until I saw Charity.
She was sitting cross-legged on a white leather sofa, intently smoking a cigarette. Shepherd said, “Is she the right one? The one you thought you saw the other day?”
“Yes,” Charity said softly. “That’s her.
“Don’t run,” she said in the last half second before I was going to flee. “We have so much to talk about. And we can’t talk while we’re chasing you.”
As dangerous as it was to stay, I thought running might be worse. If I ran, Charity and her friend would come after me for sure; if I talked, there was every chance I’d be safe. Despite all the horrific things Charity had done, she’d never attempted to hurt me. So I stayed. “What are you doing in New York?” I demanded.
“My brother is missing. He went on one of Mrs. Bethany’s foolish errands. I suppose he’s trying to find you.”
I turned toward Shepherd, sick at my own foolishness. “I was trying to save you.”
“A word to the wise,” he said. “The enemy of your enemy isn’t necessarily your friend.”
I took stock of my surroundings. Charity’s apartment looked as though it had been very nice only a short time ago, but nobody had cleaned it in several days. The white shag rug was covered with footprints and cigarette butts and, on one corner, rusty smears of blood. A large TV hung on the wall but slightly askew, as if it had been knocked partly loose. A sickly-sweet smell hung in the air, and I realized that a human had died here not long ago. Charity had taken this apartment by force.
She wasn’t in much better shape than the apartment. Her pale golden curls didn’t seem to have been washed recently. Charity wore only a silky lavender slip with beige lace that might have been pretty when it was new and clean; now it was stained and threadbare, making it painfully obvious how youthful her body was. She had only been fourteen when she died.
Trying very hard to keep my voice steady, I said, “Balthazar’s okay. I can promise you that.”
“Are you sure? Very sure?” Charity leaped up from the sofa, her childlike face alight with hope. Even now that I knew how insane and vengeful she could be, something in me wanted to protect her—this wide-eyed, seemingly delicate girl who could look so afraid and alone.
But it was for Balthazar’s sake, not hers, that I spoke. “Yes. He was injured, but he’s healing. He’s in a safe place now. I saw him just two days ago, and I think he’ll be fine.”
“Two days ago.” Charity breathed out a sigh of purest relief, then held her face shockingly close to mine. At first I thought she was going to kiss me, which was weird enough, but then she inhaled so deeply that her whole body tensed. “Yes. You did. I can smell him on you still.”
“Okay.” Black Cross only gave us three minutes in the shower. I’d thought that was enough time to get clean, but now I felt self-conscious.
Charity’s hands closed over mine—not to threaten but to soothe. “Where is he?”
I shook my head. “If Balthazar wanted you to know where he was, he’d find you. Right now, when he’s weak—you need to leave him alone, Charity.”
From his place on the white sofa, the dreadlocked vampire snorted with disgust. Charity tilted her head, and one oily ringlet tumbled loose across her cheek. “You won’t tell me where he is?”
“Last winter you wanted him to leave you alone. Why not now?”
“I never realized how far gone he was,” she said, which coming from a loony like Charity was almost unbelievably ironic.
“Or what a hypocrite he’s become. He used to admit he was a killer at heart. He used to remember that he killed me. So tell me where he is, Bianca. I want to remind him.”
Could I run away before she caught me? I didn’t think so. At least Raquel was outside; when I didn’t show up after a while, she’d call for help. The best thing to do right now was stall. “I’m sorry, Charity. I won’t.”
“You’re a vampire hunter now?” She pointed at my belt, where I wore a stake; my hand had come to rest near it, evidence of my subconscious desire to defend myself. “Black Cross, like your darling Lucas? Balthazar’s not the only one who’s lost.”
Charity took another step forward as I shuffled back. One of her long, rail-thin arms pushed the apartment door shut, and I heard an automatic lock click. Because of her sweet, youthful face and her seemingly fragile form, it always surprised me to realize how tall she was—only a couple inches shorter than her brother. Her size was not the source of her power, but it served as a compelling reminder.
I need to distract her, I thought. That will buy time. “Mrs. Bethany’s very angry.”
“I just bet.” She giggled girlishly. “You know how her nose gets so pinched when she gets mad? It always makes me laugh.” Charity contorted her face into such a dead-on impression of Mrs. Bethany in a fury that I almost smiled despite my fear. But I didn’t forget that this was how Charity worked—endearing herself to you to get you off your guard.
“Mrs. Bethany’s got a lot of vampires behind her. Dozens, maybe hundreds.”
That had a more powerful effect than I’d anticipated. “That must not happen,” she whispered, the humor leaving her dark eyes. “The tribes must not unite behind Mrs. Bethany. It’s important.”
“Are you going to tell me why?”
“Yes,” Charity said, surprising me. Then she smiled, too sweetly. “After you tell me where my brother is. And you will tell me.”
Shepherd sprang toward me with blinding speed. I was able to dodge out of the way, but only barely, and I stumbled against the wall. As he came back toward me, I remembered sparring with Lucas in Black Cross training, and the moves came to me—dodge left, grab his arm, spin him around, and push. Shepherd hit the door so hard it vibrated.
I felt like a major badass—at least, for the second it took Charity to grab me from behind.
“Let me go!” I cried. “There are others coming!”
“Not in time to save you.” Charity dragged me backward hard enough that I lost my footing, then she threw me onto the shag rug.
Panic seized me, threatening to rob me of the power to think or even move—until the window shattered with a crash. Glass flew everywhere, and I cried out just as Shepherd screamed in pain. He fell forward, half on top of me. Desperately I pushed him aside and glimpsed the stake protruding from his back.
A crossbow! Somebody fired through the window!
Charity swore, lunged forward, and pulled the stake out of Shepherd. I was frantically wriggling out from under him, but she seemed to have other priorities. “We’ll get back to this,” she said, pulling a sputtering, woozy Shepherd to his feet. “Move.”
They ran out the door, and for a moment I was alone, breathing hard, almost too stunned to think. Then, outside, I heard Dana yell, “Where the hell is Bianca?”
“Dana!” I pushed myself upright. My knees felt like they were made of jelly. “Dana, I’m okay!”
But already I could hear the sounds of fighting—the dull wet thuds of body blows and shouts of pain, echoing within the hall.
I went to the doorway and looked outside. Charity had vanished. Shepherd and Dana struggled alone at the far end of the hall, near an exit door where the stairs apparently were. It was hard to tell who was winning, but I glimpsed Shepherd’s face and saw that his fangs were extended, ready for the bite. “Look out!” I shouted.
Dana twisted, punched Shepherd hard with her left hand, and then pushed. He tumbled through the door, over the railing, and down the stairwell, echoing off the metal banister as he repeatedly struck it on the way down.
“Come on!” she shouted. “No time for the elevator!” I followed her, running as fast as my shaking legs would take me. But by the time we got down to the street level, Shepherd was gone. The doorman slumped over his booth, unconscious; either Dana had knocked him out, or Shepherd and Charity had.
We left the building, staggering out into the rain. I didn’t care about getting wet; all I needed was never to be in that place again. Raquel lit up when we emerged. “Thank God you’re both okay.”
“Did you see him?” Dana said. “Wannabe Rasta boy?”
“Bianca, are you nuts? That’s a vampire! This is probably a vampire lair! We need backup.”
“We don’t know what else is going on in there.” The reasoning was weak, but I didn’t know anything else to say. As she started punching in Dana’s number, I hurried a few steps in front of her to inspect the door. I could see bells with names next to them in the vestibule.
Then the glass door swung open, and another resident—a human woman, scary-thin and only a few years older than me, stepped out and gave me a slightly vacant smile as she held the door open for me. She must have assumed I lived there, and her welcome apparently put the doorman off guard, because he just kept reading a magazine. Quickly, I stepped inside and let the door shut behind me.
Raquel appeared on the other side of the glass door. “What are you doing?”
“I’m checking things out, okay? You stay out here to call for help if we need to.”
“Seriously, you need to wait.”
Ignoring Raquel, I hurried to the elevator. Golden circles outlined the elevator’s progression upward. Okay, I could work with that. Once I saw where it stopped, I could go to that floor and maybe use my sensitive vampire hearing to find where the vampire had gone.
But then I heard a whisper. “You, there.”
I stared. In a small cubby at the end of the lobby, near what looked like a side door, stood the vampire. His body was tense, almost in a crouch, and his brilliant blue eyes locked with mine.
“You’re one of us,” he said, in an accent that I thought might be Australian. “So what are you doing with Black Cross?”
“Long, long, long story.” At least he knew he was being tracked. “They’re on to you. You have to get out of here for now.”
“I just got this place. D’ya have any idea how hard it is to find a place on the East Side?”
“If you take off now, they won’t think about coming back here even after a couple of days. They don’t think we have…homes, or friends, or anything like that.” The bitterness in my voice surprised me; I thought I’d made my peace with our situation in Black Cross, at least for now, but the pent-up tension threatened to shake loose. “All you have to do is clear out for a couple of days. Stay with someone you know.”
“Summer in the Hamptons,” he said, almost like he was making fun of me. But why would he do that when I was trying to save him? I decided I’d heard him wrong when he smiled.
“You’re one of our babies, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” I smiled back. It felt nice to be recognized for what I was, to have a couple of moments where being a vampire was no big deal. For a moment, I even missed Evernight Academy.
“Name’s Shepherd,” he said. “Have we got ten minutes, you think? I’d like to grab a couple things before running off.”
“Maybe. They won’t know where you are in the building, though they have ways of tracking—”
“We’ll be quick about it. Help a fellow out, would you?”
We rode the elevator to the ninth floor. The whole way up, I held my breath, sure that at any moment Raquel would call, or Black Cross hunters would be waiting for us. But we got there fine, and I hurried after Shepherd to his apartment. “You only have time to grab the basics,” I said. “Some clothes, some cash, whatever ID you’re using.”
“Believe me,” he said. “I understand the deadline.”
I walked into the apartment, ready to start helping him pack up anything—until I saw Charity.
She was sitting cross-legged on a white leather sofa, intently smoking a cigarette. Shepherd said, “Is she the right one? The one you thought you saw the other day?”
“Yes,” Charity said softly. “That’s her.
“Don’t run,” she said in the last half second before I was going to flee. “We have so much to talk about. And we can’t talk while we’re chasing you.”
As dangerous as it was to stay, I thought running might be worse. If I ran, Charity and her friend would come after me for sure; if I talked, there was every chance I’d be safe. Despite all the horrific things Charity had done, she’d never attempted to hurt me. So I stayed. “What are you doing in New York?” I demanded.
“My brother is missing. He went on one of Mrs. Bethany’s foolish errands. I suppose he’s trying to find you.”
I turned toward Shepherd, sick at my own foolishness. “I was trying to save you.”
“A word to the wise,” he said. “The enemy of your enemy isn’t necessarily your friend.”
I took stock of my surroundings. Charity’s apartment looked as though it had been very nice only a short time ago, but nobody had cleaned it in several days. The white shag rug was covered with footprints and cigarette butts and, on one corner, rusty smears of blood. A large TV hung on the wall but slightly askew, as if it had been knocked partly loose. A sickly-sweet smell hung in the air, and I realized that a human had died here not long ago. Charity had taken this apartment by force.
She wasn’t in much better shape than the apartment. Her pale golden curls didn’t seem to have been washed recently. Charity wore only a silky lavender slip with beige lace that might have been pretty when it was new and clean; now it was stained and threadbare, making it painfully obvious how youthful her body was. She had only been fourteen when she died.
Trying very hard to keep my voice steady, I said, “Balthazar’s okay. I can promise you that.”
“Are you sure? Very sure?” Charity leaped up from the sofa, her childlike face alight with hope. Even now that I knew how insane and vengeful she could be, something in me wanted to protect her—this wide-eyed, seemingly delicate girl who could look so afraid and alone.
But it was for Balthazar’s sake, not hers, that I spoke. “Yes. He was injured, but he’s healing. He’s in a safe place now. I saw him just two days ago, and I think he’ll be fine.”
“Two days ago.” Charity breathed out a sigh of purest relief, then held her face shockingly close to mine. At first I thought she was going to kiss me, which was weird enough, but then she inhaled so deeply that her whole body tensed. “Yes. You did. I can smell him on you still.”
“Okay.” Black Cross only gave us three minutes in the shower. I’d thought that was enough time to get clean, but now I felt self-conscious.
Charity’s hands closed over mine—not to threaten but to soothe. “Where is he?”
I shook my head. “If Balthazar wanted you to know where he was, he’d find you. Right now, when he’s weak—you need to leave him alone, Charity.”
From his place on the white sofa, the dreadlocked vampire snorted with disgust. Charity tilted her head, and one oily ringlet tumbled loose across her cheek. “You won’t tell me where he is?”
“Last winter you wanted him to leave you alone. Why not now?”
“I never realized how far gone he was,” she said, which coming from a loony like Charity was almost unbelievably ironic.
“Or what a hypocrite he’s become. He used to admit he was a killer at heart. He used to remember that he killed me. So tell me where he is, Bianca. I want to remind him.”
Could I run away before she caught me? I didn’t think so. At least Raquel was outside; when I didn’t show up after a while, she’d call for help. The best thing to do right now was stall. “I’m sorry, Charity. I won’t.”
“You’re a vampire hunter now?” She pointed at my belt, where I wore a stake; my hand had come to rest near it, evidence of my subconscious desire to defend myself. “Black Cross, like your darling Lucas? Balthazar’s not the only one who’s lost.”
Charity took another step forward as I shuffled back. One of her long, rail-thin arms pushed the apartment door shut, and I heard an automatic lock click. Because of her sweet, youthful face and her seemingly fragile form, it always surprised me to realize how tall she was—only a couple inches shorter than her brother. Her size was not the source of her power, but it served as a compelling reminder.
I need to distract her, I thought. That will buy time. “Mrs. Bethany’s very angry.”
“I just bet.” She giggled girlishly. “You know how her nose gets so pinched when she gets mad? It always makes me laugh.” Charity contorted her face into such a dead-on impression of Mrs. Bethany in a fury that I almost smiled despite my fear. But I didn’t forget that this was how Charity worked—endearing herself to you to get you off your guard.
“Mrs. Bethany’s got a lot of vampires behind her. Dozens, maybe hundreds.”
That had a more powerful effect than I’d anticipated. “That must not happen,” she whispered, the humor leaving her dark eyes. “The tribes must not unite behind Mrs. Bethany. It’s important.”
“Are you going to tell me why?”
“Yes,” Charity said, surprising me. Then she smiled, too sweetly. “After you tell me where my brother is. And you will tell me.”
Shepherd sprang toward me with blinding speed. I was able to dodge out of the way, but only barely, and I stumbled against the wall. As he came back toward me, I remembered sparring with Lucas in Black Cross training, and the moves came to me—dodge left, grab his arm, spin him around, and push. Shepherd hit the door so hard it vibrated.
I felt like a major badass—at least, for the second it took Charity to grab me from behind.
“Let me go!” I cried. “There are others coming!”
“Not in time to save you.” Charity dragged me backward hard enough that I lost my footing, then she threw me onto the shag rug.
Panic seized me, threatening to rob me of the power to think or even move—until the window shattered with a crash. Glass flew everywhere, and I cried out just as Shepherd screamed in pain. He fell forward, half on top of me. Desperately I pushed him aside and glimpsed the stake protruding from his back.
A crossbow! Somebody fired through the window!
Charity swore, lunged forward, and pulled the stake out of Shepherd. I was frantically wriggling out from under him, but she seemed to have other priorities. “We’ll get back to this,” she said, pulling a sputtering, woozy Shepherd to his feet. “Move.”
They ran out the door, and for a moment I was alone, breathing hard, almost too stunned to think. Then, outside, I heard Dana yell, “Where the hell is Bianca?”
“Dana!” I pushed myself upright. My knees felt like they were made of jelly. “Dana, I’m okay!”
But already I could hear the sounds of fighting—the dull wet thuds of body blows and shouts of pain, echoing within the hall.
I went to the doorway and looked outside. Charity had vanished. Shepherd and Dana struggled alone at the far end of the hall, near an exit door where the stairs apparently were. It was hard to tell who was winning, but I glimpsed Shepherd’s face and saw that his fangs were extended, ready for the bite. “Look out!” I shouted.
Dana twisted, punched Shepherd hard with her left hand, and then pushed. He tumbled through the door, over the railing, and down the stairwell, echoing off the metal banister as he repeatedly struck it on the way down.
“Come on!” she shouted. “No time for the elevator!” I followed her, running as fast as my shaking legs would take me. But by the time we got down to the street level, Shepherd was gone. The doorman slumped over his booth, unconscious; either Dana had knocked him out, or Shepherd and Charity had.
We left the building, staggering out into the rain. I didn’t care about getting wet; all I needed was never to be in that place again. Raquel lit up when we emerged. “Thank God you’re both okay.”
“Did you see him?” Dana said. “Wannabe Rasta boy?”
