Bad Bloods (22 page)

“That’s a matter of opinion, Mari,” Jane
said, sharp, but Marion continued her taunting.

“It’s their own fault they’re in the
situation they’re in,” she said. “We didn’t force them to turn on
each other. That was their own doing, and it speaks volumes.”

“Yes. It does,” Jane agreed. “It speaks of
the three decades of desperation we put them in.”

“Hmm.” Marion shrugged casually, almost to
shrug off the conversation, before smiling at me. “I would love to
hear about your travels to South Africa.” A worse test than the
first.

“Oh, I think we’ve had enough for the
evening—” Jane started, but I touched her elbow.

“I feel fine.” I hoped Jane saw the glint in
my eyes. I wanted to talk to Marion; I
needed
to talk to
Marion. Alone. “Why don’t you go ahead, and I’ll follow you
later?”

Jane paled, but she recovered with a forced
giggle that rushed the blood back to her cheeks. “Oh, to be young
with energy,” she said to no one in particular, but Marion gave her
a tight-lipped smile. Jane collected herself, nodded at me, and
left. When she strode out of earshot, my plan began.

“Your dress is quite…quaint,” Marion said,
lifting her glass of champagne to her lips again. Her dark purple
lipstick left a mark on the rim. “Where did you get it?”

“It’s a Carré,” I said with no hint of
hesitation.

Her eyes laughed. “Though you must be
sweltering in it.”

She wasn’t wrong. I was practically covered
head to toe. The long sleeves were tight, and the floor-length gown
went sleek and straight to the ground. It even had a crystal
collar. Jane said we needed to keep the mystery, make people wonder
if I truly was the girl from the blood camp, if I had scars on my
skin to prove it—something I would’ve had if it weren’t for Daniel.
They would’ve been disappointed to see my arms were bare.

I let my eyes wander over her leg; a
lace-inset draped across it, drawing out purple flowers across her
skin. “Are those lilacs?”

Marion straightened. “In honor of my
daughter.”

Ami. The lilac perfume she always bought. I
had always assumed it was something from the Highlands everyone
had, but maybe it was a commodity she loved, something everyone
remembered her by. How this woman could vote for Logan and wear
clothes dedicated to Ami, the daughter she ditched, was
unfathomable. How I was going to conjure my words was even
worse.

“I’m sorry to hear about your daughter.”

“Oh, yes.” Marion touched her chest, right
where the sash protruded out to drape over her shoulder. “Ameline
was a good girl.”

“Is.”

“What?”

I sucked in a breath, unsure of where to go
from here. I could follow the script or I could be myself. I could
pretend to be Stephanie or I could actually be Serena. Either one
was a risk. As Stephanie, I would lose myself. As Serena, I would
lose my life. One option was far better than the other.

“She’s alive,” I said, glaring at her
continued façade. “She goes by Ami now, has long blonde hair.
Continues to put it up in braids too. She’s one of the kindest
people I know.”

Marion wasn’t breathing.

“She still buys lilac perfume too.”

Marion’s hand landed on the wall to keep
herself standing, but her attention forgot one thing. Her glass.
She dropped her champagne, and it shattered across the floor.

Everyone’s eyes were on us, necks craning,
whispers echoing.

“Okay. Well, then.” I stepped away from the
vile woman. “You have a nice night.”

With that, I turned on my flats and walked
away. In fact, I marched away, and my beating heart correlated with
my stomping feet. I heard nothing, saw nothing, and felt nothing
until I burst out of the golden room and into the hallway. Breath
filled me like it would be my last, and I fell into laughter like a
mad woman.

I chose to be Serena. I was going to lose
everything. Marion would tell the world, and I would attempt to
run, and they would finally catch me again, and I would die. But at
least I would die as Serena. At least I tried.

I peeled off my shoes, preparing to sprint
away, when a hand latched onto my arm. “Stephanie.” Her voice dug
into my skin with her nails.

Jane’s eyes made me apologize immediately. I
had let the one woman in my life down.

“My dear,” she whispered, drawing me close.
“Why are you apologizing?”

“I—”

Mr. Henderson flew out of the same doors I
came out of, a grin plastered to his face when he found us. I
shrank away, but he wrapped his arms around us both. When he pulled
away, his massive hands stayed on my arms.

“What did you do?” His voice was wild with
excitement. “What did you say? I must know.”

“What’s going on?” Jane asked, her eyes
lighting up and squinting at the same time, as if she couldn’t
decide if she should be excited or worried.

For once, I bet we felt the same.

“Marion,” Alec said her name like she
deserved praise. “She changed her stance. Her vote is with us, and
she’s swaying others as we speak right now.” He leaned toward his
wife. “She might even sway Vespasien. It’s too late for money, but
imagine if he spoke. Imagine if—”

“I told her.”

My words silenced the Hendersons
completely.

“Told her what?” Alec asked, his brow
furrowing, but Jane stepped back. She had heard me earlier, and now
she heard me again. I obeyed her orders directly. My voice was
heard again. And again.

“Marion’s daughter,” I explained. “Her name
is Ami.” The story tumbled out—how Marion found us, how she,
herself, brought Ami to us, how Ami helped raise all the younger
kids, how Marion denied it all.

Alec went upright with fury, his hair
sticking up like his anger channeled itself out through his
leftover strands. “This world.” He cursed to himself, but his eyes
softened on me. “Bless you.”

When he stalked back to the room, my
temptation to follow him was overwhelming, but ebbed away when Jane
threaded her arm through mine. “We should go back to the
house.”

“I did something wrong, didn’t I?”

“On the contrary,”—she winked—“a surprise
attack would’ve been my method too.” I cocked my head to the side,
curious, so Jane put it blatantly, “You started a war early.”

Robert
was gone, Serena was gone, and the conjoined flock of twenty-four
was down to twenty-two. How many more we lost was up to me.

“We should run.” Floyd’s idea.

“We should split up on the streets.”
Niki’s.

“Are you two crazy?” Catelyn. “You might be
fine on the streets, but the kids won’t be. That’s why flocks were
created in the first place.”

“And how many flocks have survived?” Niki
again. “Half?”

“Then go ahead and take your chances.” Adam.
Loud Adam. “No one’s keeping you here.”

The same argument over and over again. As the
leader, I should’ve been next to them, diligent and debating,
standing up for what I believed was best for the greater good, but
I rendered myself useless. I hid in my room with Blake.

Blake.
He hadn’t opened his eyes all
morning, and I yearned to see his baby blue irises; his smile, even
if it were a weak one, would brighten my day, but he slept, little
wheezing snores escaping his chapped lips with every breath.

He was getting worse.

“We’re staying here, and that’s final.”
Adam’s tone mimicked Cal’s, serious and direct, and once again, I
was reminded why I was chosen to be a leader above him.

“You taught me to accept what I was,” Adam
had said. “That’s how I control it. You. And others will need you
too.”

Now he knew I couldn’t control a thing at
all.

I shook my head as if I could shake out all
the memories, and crossed the room to find paper and a pencil. Once
it was sharpened, I wrote what I needed to write. When it was
signed and folded, I wrote Adam’s name on it.

Knocking warned me before my bedroom door
opened. Her red eyes appeared before I saw the rest of her—her dark
dreads and equally dark complexion—but her smile was warm.
Something I wouldn’t have guessed considering Serena’s stories.

“Niki.”

“Can I come in?” she asked, even though she
didn’t wait for my answer. She stepped inside my room and shut the
door behind her.

We were draped in shadows, but sunlight beat
against the black blanket I used as a curtain. Through the dim
illumination, I could see where she stood and how she stared at the
note in my hand. Right when I thought she’d ask me what I was
doing, she did the last thing I expected. Her eyes landed on Blake.
“I know.”

I hadn’t heard much about Niki from Serena,
but it was enough to know how much disdain Serena had for her, and
the way Niki had stalked me a few weeks ago left a sour taste in my
mouth. Still, I sat down when she did, her back sliding down the
wall until she was sitting on the floor. She clearly had something
to say.

“I know,” she repeated, but I didn’t press
her to continue, and her lips moved side to side like a pendulum,
waiting. “I know why Robert and you don’t get along.”

My chest ached.

“He told me. Five years ago,” she clarified.
“When Serena was sick.”

I clutched my note to Adam harder, but my
free hand found Blake’s hair. His forehead was clammy, but he
whimpered—almost whispered—as if he could hear us. I wondered if he
could hear my thoughts when I wrote my note. I wondered if he could
see why Niki was here, why she couldn’t stop staring at Blake with
desolate eyes.

“I lost my—” she stopped, only shaking her
head once, and her hair rattled; the kids had tied bells onto her
dreads. “I helped Robert look for you because I knew why.” The
night at Old Man Gregory’s. “I understood why.” She had lost
someone. We all had. A friend. A sibling. A parent. But hers wasn’t
in death. It was someone still alive, someone who simply didn’t
want her anymore. That way was much, much worse. “All Robert wanted
to do was tell you to stay away from her. That’s it.”

“Guess that didn’t work out,” I
deadpanned.

“You get it, don’t you? Why I can’t stand to
look at her?” Niki’s red eyes flashed. “He loves her more than his
entire flock, and she—” Niki. She had lost Robert. “She better live
through this.”

It wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. Not
at all.

“I hope we all do,” I said, focusing on what
had to be done. I handed over the note for Adam. “Give it to
him.”

Her upper lip curled. “You do it,” she said,
leaving the room and slamming the door behind her.

Blake jolted up, shoving his teddy bear in
front of his chest like a shield, and cried out. “No! No. No.
No—”

“Blake.” I laid my hand on his shoulder, and
his delirious blue eyes found me. They were streaked with heavy
tears, and sweat fell off his brow.

“What?”

“It’s okay,” I said, hyperaware of how quiet
my voice became after witnessing his feverish actions. “You’re
okay.”

His eyes moved over my face. His
five-year-old eyes. “I saw—”

“I know.” And I did. I knew exactly what he
saw. I had felt him pushing against my mind the second Niki entered
the room. He saw what I had always imagined to be the end of the
person I had lost—my younger brother—and everything that had
happened instead.

I wrapped my arms around Blake and dragged
him into my lap. He was shaking—or I was shaking—but only I was
silent.

“You can’t leave,” he said, folding his
fingers around my hand, the one that held Adam’s letter.

“I won’t,” I promised, burying my nose
against his blond head.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, kiddo.” We had two days. Two
days until the election speeches. Two days until we would know how
much hate the world had for us. Two, measly days.

He pushed against my chest. “Can you tell me
a story?”

I nodded and shifted away so he could lie
back down. “What do you want to hear?” I asked as I adjusted his
teddy bear and blankets.

His eyes closed. “Something new.”

“Something new?” I couldn’t fight my smile as
I searched an endless stream of stories only to land on one. “It
starts like this.” I breathed my heart into stabilizing. “A girl
was running in a dark alleyway, seeing by the light of the moon,
when she ran into a boy. They hated each other at first, even tried
to avoid one another, but the world had other things in mind. He
told her about her soul, and she told him about her dreams and
stories. And everything began to unravel from there.” Serena’s face
was all I saw then. “The most important one began on the full moon,
a time when mysterious things happen and wishes come true.”

Blake’s right eye popped open. “Is it a full
moon now?”

I had thought he was asleep already, but his
sly grin gave away how much energy he had. Maybe he was starting to
feel better after all. “It will be in another month.”