My Love Lies Bleeding
Page 26

I shrugged. “Worth a try.” Anything to fill the time, because otherwise I was going to bounce between worrying about my best friend and wondering when her brother got so freaking hot. Neither of those appealed to me as a sane pastime.
We went up to the attic floor, which had been converted into seven bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a sitting room—all without a single window anywhere. Nicholas’s room was the smallest; there was space only for a bed, a dresser, and his desk. I had to sit on the edge of the bed since there was no other chair. It was only half-made, with a navy blue blanket. The last time I’d been up here there had been pirate sheets and wooden swords.
I looked around curiously. There was an iPod dock and stacks of music magazines and clothes in a pile in the corner. There was also a small photograph on his nightstand. It was of the two of us on my fifteenth birthday. I was laughing, the light glinting off my glasses and the sequins on my scarf, and Nicholas was turned toward me, with serious eyes and a half grin. I touched the frame.
“I’ve never seen this picture,” I said quietly. I kind of wanted to ask him if I could get a copy, but I didn’t want to sound sappy. He looked over his shoulder from where he was booting up his computer.
“It’s . . .” He grabbed it, stuffed it into the top drawer of his desk. “It’s nothing.” Liar. Still, even though I knew it wasn’t nothing, I didn’t know what it actually meant, either. It was probably no big deal. I shouldn’t read into it. I couldn’t help smiling, though.
“Stop that,” he muttered, not even looking up from the keyboard. I smiled wider. “I mean it.”
“So how do we find and infiltrate the database of a secret society?” I asked.
“I have no idea.”
I scooted to the edge of the bed so I could see what he was typing. “Hey, you do have some mojo,” I said approvingly. The screen was a garble of HTML codes. “I can’t even read that.”
“Don’t get too excited,” he warned me. He typed for a bit, waited, typed some more. I watched, got bored, lay back on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. He put music on, choosing some of my favorite bands. He typed some more. I felt my eyes drifting shut despite myself.
“Think your boyfriend would mind the photo?” he finally asked quietly, so quietly I barely heard him.
That woke me up. “What boyfriend?” I sat up. “I have a boyfriend now?”
“Jett or Julius or what ever his name is.”
“Julian?” I blinked, confused. “You’re way out of the loop. Julian dumped me during exams. Well, actually, he didn’t even really dump me. I just found him with his tongue in Jennifer King’s mouth.”
“You don’t sound torn up about it.”
“Please, it was forever ago. I called him names, and then when I got home I realized I didn’t actually care. I didn’t even bother with the requisite breakup hot fudge sundae.”
“Oh.”
I didn’t know what to do with this Nicholas. It felt like we were about to have a moment. We’d never really had a moment. Okay, we’d had that kiss—make that two kisses. But they weren’t real, were they? The first was in the interest of subterfuge, the second a scientific test of my immunity to pheromones. I swallowed, suddenly nervous. I hadn’t been expecting a moment.
“Got something.”
Which was for the best because I clearly wasn’t going to get one. I tried not to feel disappointed.
“What did you find?” I asked, pretending my voice hadn’t squeaked.
“I’m not sure yet but it’s got more security than I’ve ever seen.” He frowned. “I can’t crack this. I’m not even sure Connor can.”
“But he has a place to start, right?”
“I guess. For what it’s worth.” He pushed away from the desk.
“We had to try.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t look pleased. I nudged his foot with my boot.
“Want to crank call Kieran?”
He sat next to me, smiling. “Maybe later. Nothing gets you down, does it?”
“Sure it does.” He was close enough that his knee brushed mine. “When this is all over I’ll have myself a good cry and a pity-party. Right now, I just don’t have the time.”
“You’re kind of amazing.”
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, flushing. It was odd to get a compliment like that from him. And really nice. “Solange says I’m kind of evil.”
“That too.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” he replied warily.
“Were you scared during your bloodchange?”
He stilled. “Yes.”
“Did it hurt?” I couldn’t stand the thought of Solange suffer-ing. It wasn’t fair. She was too good a person to go through all of this.
“Some. Mostly I just felt weak and exhausted, like I had a really bad fever. By the time I lost consciousness I didn’t really care anymore. I was too tired.” I was sorry now that I’d been locked out of the house, that I couldn’t have been there for him. I could easily picture him writhing in pain on this bed, soaked in sweat, delirious. “Geoffrey says it’s kind of like a battle.”
“It is. It feels like you’re hallucinating though and even now it’s hazy. I’m not sure what was real and what wasn’t.”