The Wicked Within
Page 22

If I could topple the statue, maybe the arms would break and I could run. I rocked to my left and right. Simon shouted in horror, seeing what I was doing, knowing that if I succeeded, Gabriel was gone for good. He shoved Michel off and rushed me in a blur of supernatural speed.
But I was already falling. Gabriel and I crashed to the ground to the sound of his father’s roar. One stone arm broke at the elbow, the other at the wrist. I scrambled back, the hands still attached around my neck as Simon plowed into me. We rolled. One marble hand was wrenched free in the roll. Simon ended up on top of me. He wrenched the other marble hand free, raising it high over my head. He was going to bludgeon me to death.
For a second, shock got the best of me.
Then a hand grabbed on to the stone arm and held it still.
A Son of Perseus was a terrifying thing if you were in his sights. My father’s face was hard and grim as he pitted his strength against Simon’s. His other hand went to shove his knife into Simon’s throat when Mandeville appeared at my father’s side, a blade pressed between his ribs. My father was still going to do it, to save me, but I shook my head. Mandeville would shove that blade straight through his ribs and into his heart, and I had no idea if that blade had the power to end my father’s life or not.
Simon’s eyes burned with hatred. “You took someone I love,” he sneered at me, voice trembling. “I will do the same. Go to her house,” he told Mandeville. “Search it for any sign of the Hands. Kill anyone inside.”
“No!” I struggled, but he pinned me with the stone arm as Mandeville released my father and disappeared in a haze of speed.
My father made a move to slice Simon’s throat, but Simon dropped the marble arm and caught my father’s hand in the blink of an eye, stilling the blade before it could sink deep enough to kill. Simon hissed at me, “This isn’t over. Say good-bye to your friends.”
In a blur, he was gone. My father collapsed over me, his hands hitting the pavement. He pushed himself back up as Sebastian appeared like a demon from hell, taking out a shifter lunging in midair right for us.
Jesus.
I scrambled up, shaking, as the shifter went flying into the building across the street. “The kids,” I told him, the terror sinking in. “Simon and Mandeville, they’ve gone to the GD.”
Sebastian grabbed me and we traced, landing in a tumble in the middle of First Street as his power gave out. His head hung low and he was shaking, but he pushed to his feet. I caught his hand and together we ran the rest of the way, hoping like hell Simon and Soren Mandeville hadn’t beaten us to the house. Hoping like hell the kids weren’t home.
Please, don’t let them be home.
My lungs burned. My muscles hurt so bad I wasn’t sure how I stayed on my feet. An orange glow bled through the trees. It grew the closer we came, and I heard the distinct crackle of fire.
Oh God. The house was burning.
I drew up short in the street out front. The sound of things being smashed inside echoed over the inferno. Heart lodged in my throat, I ran for the house, but Sebastian held me back. “No.”
A figure burst through the front door, engulfed in flames. Not one of the kids. A vampire.
“And stay out!” Dub stepped through the flames, following. The burning vampire staggered across the pavement and collapsed in the middle of the road.
A faint moan from across the street drew my attention. No. Crank’s truck lay upside down in a dented heap, against the neighboring fence. I raced over, shouting her name, dimly aware of Sebastian beside me, of Dub calling her name, and the intense heat he brought with him.
I dropped to my knees at the driver’s-side door, which was now only a few inches off the ground. It was enough for me to see the seat was empty. She hadn’t been wearing her belt. “Crank! Jenna!” Movement caught my eye. Her foot was stuck in the passenger-seat crease. She was sandwiched somewhere between the fronts seats.
“Crank! Hold on, we’re coming!”
Metal creaked and moaned as Dub crawled into the passenger side and eased down into the mangled mess. He braced his feet on the dash and front seat, bending down to search for Crank.
“Is she okay?” He didn’t answer. “Damn it, Dub,” I choked out, my voice shaking, “is she okay?”
She had to be okay.
SEVENTEEN
MICHEL ARRIVED AS WE TRIED to get Crank out of the mail truck. She wasn’t responding. Sebastian shoved the back door down and climbed inside. I went in after him, catching a glimpse of Crank on her side, one leg bent at an unnatural angle and her arms wrapped around her middle.
No matter how many times we said her name, she didn’t respond.
“We shouldn’t move her,” I said, worried something might be broken in her spine or neck. “Can you tell what’s wrong?” There were too many mail bags for me to angle my way next to him and see her completely.
He shook his head. “But it looks bad.”
Dub paced behind the truck. Michel leaned in. “I can stabilize her. We need to get her to a hospital. Was there anyone else in the house?”
My stomach dropped. We scooted out of the truck and I stared at Dub. Behind us, 1331 blazed, the heat coming off it hitting us like a hell-born wind. All the rotting wood, the furniture, the weeds and overgrowth had gone up like kindling. “Dub, where’s Violet and Henri?”
He kept pacing and biting his nails, his wide eyes on the ground but unseeing.
“Dub!” I stepped in his path and placed my hands on his shoulders. He stopped but wouldn’t look at me. He was burning up; even his clothes were hot to the touch. Emotion poured off him. I whispered his name, and finally he lifted his chin, his face cracking with horror and grief. “I didn’t mean it. They came and I just . . . ”
“Hey. It’s all right. You did good. You did what you had to do. Where are the others?”
“I don’t know. They weren’t home. But Crank, she . . . She was pulling up, and one of them just stepped in front of her truck and stopped it like it was nothing and then he—he threw it across the road and came inside.”
Tears streamed down his face, and I hugged him to me. “It’s okay. She’ll be okay.”
He stepped back and swiped his hand under his nose and sniffed hard, nodding like he was trying to convince himself.
Michel pulled Crank from the truck. While she was in his arms, her body stayed frozen just the way we’d found her. Michel must’ve used his magic to keep her body still. “I’ll take her to Charity Hospital,” he said, and then he was gone, leaving us there alone to stare at our house being eaten up by fire.
“Who were they?” Dub asked.
A heavy weight settled on my shoulder. I’d killed Gabriel, and Simon had exacted his revenge.
“It was—” Sebastian spoke up.
“It was me,” I cut in. “I killed one of the Novem’s heirs, and his father came here to get back at me.”
Dub went still and his eyes met mine. They were blank, taking in the news, letting it sink into his bones.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
“My grandmother is dead. The Novem is at war,” Sebastian said over the apology echoing in my head. “They’re all after the Hands now.”
Dub blinked, his face going a little paler than before. “And we’re stuck in the middle,” he echoed in a hollow tone. Anger twisted his features. “She’s human, you know!” He threw out his hand toward the truck. “She’s not like us! She can’t stand against them.”
He was right. Crank couldn’t protect herself, or outrun a supernatural. She was smart and brave, and could hold her own for a little while, but facing down a vampire, shifter, or powerful witch—not to mention facing a bunch of them . . .
“This shouldn’t have happened,” Dub said through tears. “This shouldn’t have happened!”
He pushed past us and ran down the street. I watched his image fade into the darkness, my chest feeling as though it burned as hot as the three-story fire beside us. I wiped at my tears, angry with myself, angry that I hadn’t been here, that I’d caused this.
And Dub. Poor Dub was left to defend himself. He was just a kid too. Just a fucking kid.
“Hey.” Sebastian spun me around to face him. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
“Why not? It’s my fight, and I brought all of you into it.”
“You didn’t murder my grandmother,” he said. “You didn’t set the Novem up to fracture. You didn’t make Gabriel attack you. So don’t do that. Don’t take on all the blame. Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself.”
I flinched as though he’d slapped me and stepped back, caught off guard by his words. Sorry for myself? Is that what he thought? That I only cared about me?
“Wait,” he started, shaking his head, frustrated. “That’s not how I meant it.”
“Go to hell,” I said through tears, walking away and then turning back. “I feel sorry for them, for what my being here has caused. I can feel that. I’m allowed because I care about them. Tell you what,” I said, swallowing my grief. “You knock off the ‘lying to my face and shutting me out’ routine and then maybe you’ll have the right to say what you just did.”
I swung around, intending to march off, but ran smack into Henri. He stilled me with his hands on my arms. I let my forehead fall against his chest, wanting to let all the fear, worry, and anger out, but I forced it down and moved away.
Henri’s gaze was riveted on the house. It was completely engulfed now. Behind him I saw movement, a shadow down the street, crossing into the swath of light from the streetlamp.
It was the River Witch in his cloak and hood walking with a cane, and a tiny girl holding his hand. Relief weakened my legs. Thank God. Violet was okay. I hugged Henri. He let out a surprised grunt. And then I was running.
I dropped to my knees in front of Violet and hugged her.
When I released her, she stared at me for a long moment, her face expressionless, but her dark eyes were filled with regret. “The house is on fire,” she said. “All my treasures are burning.”