Bad Bloods (23 page)

“We can wish together right now.” He threw
his arms up like he could fly, and I wondered if that was his wish,
but then, he dropped his arms to his side and smiled. “I’ll wish
for you, and you wish for me.”

“What do you want me to wish for?”

He beamed, as bright as a million stars.
“Surprise me.”

And then he fell asleep, and I did too,
disappearing into the hopeless thoughts of a thousand wishes for a
moon that might never come.

“Daniel!
Daniel, goddamn it, wake up!” He backhanded me as my eyes popped
open. Adam. His face was red and his eyes were black—a burning fire
much like Robert’s—and I shuddered away.

“What?” I rubbed my eyes as I tried to drag
myself out of my sleep, but it took one more gesture to snap my
attention into focus.

Adam shoved my letter against my chest.

I grabbed it, stared at it, and couldn’t move
as all my memories flooded back. After I had fallen asleep next to
Blake, a dream had jerked me awake, and in turn, I had awoken
Blake. He was finally starting to feel better, so I told him I had
to sleep downstairs so he could completely recover. I barely made
it to the downstairs table before I passed out again. I hadn’t even
realized I kept my note with me. The one with Adam’s name on
it.

Now my words were right in front of my face,
displayed by Adam who had read every last one.

Adam,

This flock was always meant for you. You
stepped aside for a reason, and I lied by allowing you to make that
decision without knowing the truth. Now that you know, you should
be the leader. I also have to go after him. You must know that. I
have to leave, and they need you. I’m sorry.

I love you all,

Daniel.

My gaze lifted from the note to meet Adam’s
face, but when I opened my mouth, his glare silenced me. “Don’t
make excuses. They’re pointless.”

Slowly, I stood up, and I dared to look
around the living room. It was empty, as was the hallway and the
staircase, and by the misty lighting, I knew it was morning. Early
in the morning.

“We can discuss this quietly—”

Adam shook the note. “Did you mean this?” He
was not discussing it quietly. “Were you actually going to leave?
Were you even going to say goodbye?” His bushy eyebrows bent and
met above his nose. “Oh, wait. That’s right. You only say that when
you mean it,” he snarled. “Were you even planning on coming
back?”

“Adam?” Maggie. She came up from the
basement, her curly red hair piled on top of her head like she was
resting. When she saw us, her eyes widened so that I could see the
light brown streaks running through her irises. “What’s going
on?”

I held my palm up. “It’s fine—”

Adam punched me. His fist collided with my
jaw, and my jaw collided with the ground. Someone screamed, but all
I felt was another punch. Adam was fast. Too fast. And it was
impossible to comprehend it all.

“Adam! Stop!”

I managed to lift my right arm to block the
rest of his hits, but he simply hit my arm instead. Blow after
blow. Another scream. Another voice. My bone was cracking as much
as my face was, and already, everything was snapping back together,
healing itself under the pressure of my powers. If I could stop
myself from healing, I would have. I deserved every hit. But that
was the human side to me. My bad blood side was filling with
another power—adrenaline—and I couldn’t hold back. I never
could.

Adam punched me again, and I used his
momentum to roll us over. We crashed into the stand by the stairs,
and the snowflake lamp fell onto the photos and us. One picture
frame shattered across the ground, and Blake’s face stared up at
me. Robert must have left it there.

“You fool! You inconsiderate prick.” Adam was
yelling, and I was focusing.

I did the only thing I could do to prevent
Adam from killing me. I grabbed a piece of glass and stabbed his
leg.

He didn’t scream. He didn’t even cry out. His
anger was beyond him, and it took another stab with an additional
piece of glass for him to remember his mortality. When he cried
out, someone dragged him off me.

“Stop.” A woman’s voice. “You stop it right
now, and you calm down.” Only a moment passed before I recognized
the voice as Michele’s. “I said calm down!” Michele screamed. She
never screamed, but she’d done it twice now.

I blinked, but only saw blackness, and
realized blood was in my eyes. I wiped it away, and more bones
scratched and popped as they pieced back together. How many times
had Adam hit me? More times than a human could have in that time.
But Adam was a bad blood, and he moved at unfathomable speeds. He
used his powers to hurt me. The same powers I had taught him how to
use.

I pushed my elbows beneath me to sit up.
That’s when I saw Floyd. Out of all people, he was the one who
muscled Adam off me. Near us, Maggie was shuffling all the kids
back into the basement. Niki and Steven were helping her. Only
Adam, Michele, Floyd, and I stayed in the room. Mine wasn’t the
only blood on the floor.

I spit more out. “Is he okay?”

Everyone turned to stare at me. Niki’s bottom
lip hung open, and I imagined what they saw because it was what I
felt. My jawbone fused into place, and my shoulder popped. My skin
stretched, burning where I had sliced myself open on the fallen
glass, but my cut was closing; Adam’s wasn’t. He was bleeding
everywhere. I hit his femoral artery.

I dragged myself to my feet and made my way
over to his side. Floyd almost stopped me, but one look from me
made him decide against it. I doubted any of them had seen me heal
the way I was now, and out of all of them, Adam wasn’t looking. He
stared at the ceiling like it held the stars.

“Don’t even bother.”

I sat down. “Don’t give me that.” I grabbed
the glass, yanked it out, and ignored his whimper as I laid my hand
on his leg. Blood stopped spewing out of his injury, and his skin
began to sew itself into place, agonizingly slow. I did have my
limits. My powers would put more attention into my own cuts before
his, and dividing it up only hurt us both. My ribs began to ache.
When I was done, I laid my back against the couch in the living
room. Adam stayed sprawled out on the floor, in a puddle of his own
blood.

Michele cursed. “I guess I’ll go get
something to clean this up with.”

Maggie grabbed her. “I’ll clean it.”

The redhead felt responsible for Adam. That
much was clear. Letting her go, Michele gestured to Floyd who left
without a question. Everyone anticipated her lecture, even Adam and
me, but she crossed the room, knelt near the table where I had been
sleeping, and picked up the letter. Her eyes skimmed it, and I held
my breath. When she turned around, I half-expected her to give Adam
permission to continue beating me.

“What,” she paused, “is this?”

Adam exhaled a half-laugh, but his eyes never
left the ceiling.

“I—” I had to contemplate my words. “I was
being selfish.” There was no other way to say it. “I was going to
leave.”

Michele’s eyes moved over the words again, as
if she couldn’t comprehend my confession or the physical proof of
my crime. “Because of Robert?”

I swallowed. “I’m—” I nodded, even though it
was more than that. Much more. “I’ve been a leader my entire life,”
I choked out. “I—I just can’t do it anymore. We’re falling apart.
The flock—”

“Who cares if we fall apart, Daniel?” Adam
asked.

I didn’t have a response.

“Who cares?” He turned his face to look at
me, and tears brimmed his eyes. “At least we’ll be together. Like
we have been for eleven years. Eleven years.” He broke eye contact
to sit up and grab his knees. His legs were healed now, but his
pants were ruined, sliced, stained, and wet. “Without this flock, I
would be worthless. Without the people in this flock, I’d be empty.
Without the people who started this flock, I’d be dead.”

“You still have them,” I said, not
understanding his words since I was leaving them to him, but his
eyes sliced through me.

“Not without you.” His words were worse. “You
know what Calhoun told us when we started this. War makes animals
of men, and we can’t let that happen to us. If we do, we won’t have
any chance of survival.”

I couldn’t help my smirk. “You’re the one who
attacked me.”

“I’m just reminding you of what will happen
if you leave.” His smirk faltered. “Don’t let Vendona tear us
apart. Don’t let Vendona destroy you too.”

I looked down at my hands, the ones I had
stabbed my best friend with, the same ones I had held Serena’s hand
with, the ones I had stroked Blake’s hair with, the ones that
couldn’t save one person.

“Don’t count your faults more than your
strengths,” Michele said, making her presence known.

I faced her, plagued by the white-haired girl
who saved me from my worst fall. “Who taught you that?”

She smiled. “You did.”

“That’s why you’re the leader,” Adam
concluded. “That’s why we need you. That’s why I need you.” He took
a moment to spit blood out of his mouth. “You also throw a good
punch.”

I half-laughed. “You taught me that.”

“And I have more to teach you.” Between his
words, I heard what he meant to say. I had to stay. This was my
place, right where I belonged, and my past fears had forced me to
forget my present reasoning.

I sucked in a breath and apologized. Everyone
nodded in acceptance aside from Maggie. “Apologize by cleaning,”
she said, tossing a mop at Adam first. “This blood won’t come out
on its own, and I want it clean for tomorrow.”

I reached for the tattered scrubber.
“Tomorrow?”

Everyone was quiet, and I had to look up to
read the faces of my flock to remember. Of course. The election.
The final speeches were tomorrow.

“It’s going to be a big day,” Adam said, as
if he could read my expression and know what I was thinking. He
even patted my shoulder as if we hadn’t just tried to kill one
another. He began to mop like we spilt jam instead of blood and
spoke about what Michele had planned rather than what the world had
planned. A giant feast instead of a speech. “At least there will be
food.”

It
was cold, too cold, and the coat I wore was almost too heavy to
walk in. Still, I felt November in my bones. I shivered, for more
than one reason.

Joshua Logan II stood right in front of me,
and we were minutes away from the final election speeches. The
Trident building—a tall, three-pronged silver structure—was nothing
compared to Joshua Logan’s hair or bright smile. He shone.

“We didn’t see you on the greens yesterday,”
Logan said, and oddly, his tone sounded like any other old man I
had met. I wished he had sounded like a demon instead. “It was a
good game. A fair game. They’ve even managed to keep everything in
tip-top shape during this spiteful weather.”

“Ah. Sounds like I missed out on a good
time.” Alec spoke like they were friends, and it took me a minute
to realize—in fact—they
were
friends.

“It’s a political friendship,” Jane whispered
as we stood idly by, pretending we didn’t matter at all, acting as
if I hadn’t influenced one of Logan’s financiers. I cringed at the
fact.

“Friendship should never be political.”

“My dear,” Jane squeezed my hand, and the
silk gloves I wore pressed against my calloused hands, reminding me
of how much I didn’t belong and how much I needed to belong at the
same time. “Everything is political.”

“Stephanie.” Mr. Henderson said my name like
a command, and I concentrated on every step I took in heels as if
my life—and the lives of dozens of bad bloods—depended on it. I
even forced a smile as I approached the man I was tempted to kill,
right here, right now, but Alec had already explained that it
wasn’t as simple as killing Logan. They could always find another
face.