Balthazar (31 page)

Somehow Redgrave still held on to her, but she had the satisfaction of seeing his face contort in pain as he half doubled over. As he swore, Skye kept trying to tug herself free of him, and at least managed to tow them a few steps closer to the door before he recovered himself, gasping, “That wasn't nice.”

“Let go of me, you son of a bitch!”

“Why are you carrying on so? I'm not going to hurt you tonight. Nothing's going to change tonight, nothing at all. This is merely your chance to learn more about what will happen.” Redgrave's expression betrayed his smoothly handsome face; at last she could see the monster within. “Let me tell you what your life's going to be like in the cage.”

Skye jerked back again—just in time for Redgrave to be flung bodily away from her, into the wall.

Balthazar stood there—in from the side hallway, silent as a cat, so that she hadn't heard him approaching. His hands were clenched into fists, and again it hit her just how enormous a man he was. “Get out of here,” he said to Redgrave, reaching into his pocket and revealing a stake. Was he keeping that on him at all times? Not a bad idea. “Get the hell out of here, now.”

Redgrave rose, attempting to collect himself. But the eerie light in his eyes was more inhuman than ever. “Why so furious? I only came here to talk—that's all.”

“You were
touching
her.”

Something deep in Skye's chest fluttered, turned over.

Redgrave began backing away, but he said, “It's too late, Balthazar. The others are coming. They know about Skye. They're eager for a taste. And what won't they do to get it?”

“You sound like a drug dealer,” Skye snapped.

Balthazar's eyes widened. “Oh, my God. That's it. You don't want her blood for yourself at all; you want others to do your bidding in order to get it.”

Redgrave grinned. “I expected you to catch on before now, Balthazar. You've always been clever—clever enough, at least. How you went on and on about Skye's blood as a drug, without ever realizing the possibilities. I realized them as soon as Lorenzo let me drink from him. Virtually any vampire on earth would do anything …
anything
, if it meant they could feel the experience of life again.”

It was too much at once, but Skye kept trying to put it all together. “You—you said scarcity was half the value. That's why you'd only bleed me bit by bit. You want my blood to be hard to get, so the others will have to come through you.”

“As indeed they will,” Redgrave said. “Think of the potential, Balthazar. It's been more than a century since we last had a prince. Don't you think we're overdue?”

Balthazar backed closer to Skye, his arm out, as if attempting to shield her from even the idea of this. “You want to start the old wars over again. Claim absolute power for yourself.”

Redgrave said, “I waited as long as I could. This really is easier if you cooperate, Skye. But the word has spread. The messengers with the shades of Lorenzo's blood have traveled far and wide—beyond this continent, almost across the world. They all know where to find you.”

Skye clutched at Balthazar's shoulders. He'd just barely managed to keep her protected from half a dozen vampires; no matter how strong or how fast he was, or how hard he tried, he couldn't protect her from hundreds.

“You see it now.” Redgrave put his hands behind his back; his old polish had been restored to him, as if neither of them had landed a blow on him tonight. “You're a vital resource, Skye. One I intend to exploit. And that's why you should join me—because I have the ability to think long term. To plan ahead. That's why I see the wisdom of keeping you alive. Most of the other vampires who will mass here within the month? They'll want nothing more than to drain you dry.”

“They won't all follow you,” Balthazar said. “Some are too decent to do it. And others will fight you. Soon the wars won't even be about her blood anymore.”

“The noble ones are harder to marshal now than they were before, aren't they? Without Evernight Academy to bind them together, they're more truly lost souls than ever. And Skye's blood will give me power beyond any other. Loyalty beyond any other.” He took a few steps back, becoming part of the shadows farther down the hall. “It's too late to stop it, Balthazar. But it's not too late to join me, even if she won't. Bring her to me and save yourself.”

Balthazar threw the stake so hard and fast that Skye didn't even recognize it until after Redgrave dodged it—but only barely. A bright red line welled up along his high cheekbone, though the blood didn't flow out. Because his heart didn't beat, Skye supposed. Balthazar said, “You'll die for this.”

“Doesn't matter if I do,” Redgrave pointed out. “They'll still come.” Then he melted into the dark and was gone.

Skye breathed out, half a sob, and put her hand to her chest. “Oh, God. Balthazar, what are we going to do?”

“I don't know.” He remained tense, at the ready, like he still hoped for a chance to kill Redgrave with his bare hands.

“Will it happen like Redgrave says it will?”

“Probably.” Balthazar's frustration was palpable—he kept clenching and unclenching his fists, rocking on his feet, like he needed to beat the hell out of something but didn't have anything handy. Skye could recognize that feeling, because she had it herself.

“What am I going to do?”

“You should leave town. Get away from here—from me, too. Someplace where Redgrave won't know to look for you.”

“I can't leave my parents.”

“They've already left you.”

The harshness was one thing more than she could bear. “Don't say that! They need me to be strong for them! They already lost Dakota—”

“That's why they can't lose you, too,” Balthazar said. “Please, Skye. If anything happened to you, I couldn't bear it.” He glanced at her over his shoulder, and in his eyes she saw raw fear, raw need. She knew that she'd meant to keep her distance from him, but that seemed absurd. As if she could ever be parted from Balthazar—he was always in her, always a part of her.

Down the hall, someone—Coach Haladki?—yelled, “Hey, is somebody back here? We're closing this place up!”

“They shouldn't see us,” Skye whispered, looking around quickly for some kind of exit, but Balthazar found it first.

“Come on,” he murmured, pulling both of them into a nearby closet and softly pulling the door shut behind them.

Now they were hidden—and they were face-to-face, only inches apart, in a small and very dark space. Skye put her hands against his chest, though she didn't know whether it was to keep them slightly apart or to touch him however she could.

“Hello? Being locked in until Monday morning isn't going to be any fun!” Coach Haladki's footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. Then, in a normal voice, she said, “Jesus, what is this? A tent peg or something? Are they
camping
in here? Somebody's getting suspended.”

So quietly it was barely a sound, Skye said, “You found me.”

“It took me too long. I shouldn't have let you out of my sight—I went after you when you walked out, but I only saw Keith and followed him—then I had to bust Madison and the rest of them for drinking in the library, which was idiotic, but I was stuck.”

“Will you come on?” Ms. Loos's voice came from farther down the hallway. “Nobody's here.”

“I thought I heard voices!” Coach Haladki protested.

Ms. Loos replied, fake-sweet, “Maybe it was the echo of your amazingly loud voice that never stops talking.”

“Fine. If they were here, they're gone. Let's lock up.” Coach Haladki walked off, her footsteps becoming fainter with each step.

Balthazar's hands covered hers. She realized only at his touch how icy with shock her fingers were; he was the one warming her. “Redgrave didn't hurt you, did he?”

“No.” That dance didn't count, she decided, disgusting though it had been. “Did you see him come in, or—or sense that he was here?”

“No. Usually we can sense one another if we're not distracted—vampires, I mean—but I was. Distracted.” He sounded like he wanted to cut that part of himself away, that if he could take a knife to himself and do it, he would.

Skye whispered, “Then how did you know I was in danger?”

“I didn't.” Dark though the room was, he was close enough now for her to see his eyes.

“Why were you distracted?” She lifted her face to him. “Why did you come after me?”

Balthazar paused one moment before confessing, “Because you were off with some other guy. I couldn't stand it. Skye—”

He didn't finish what he was going to say. He crushed her to him as his mouth closed over hers.

This time he didn't pull away after two kisses, or five, or ten. This time his hands brushed over her hair, outlined her back, traced her entire body. This time she didn't have to come to him. She could get lost in the wild tide that swept over them both, demanding that she touch him, kiss him again, breathe him in.

When his broad hand slid up her skirt to cup her thigh, she gasped—in delight, but it shook him out of the trance. “Home,” he said, hoarse and ragged. “I need to get you home.”

She knew what would happen if she went home with him. They were about to take a step they could never undo, go so far that there would be no turning back.

Skye kissed him again before whispering against his open mouth, “Yes.”

They tangled up in each other all the way down the hall, all the way to his car, and at every stoplight on the way to his house. Then everything blurred together—the moment she took down her hair, the feel of his chest beneath her palms as she pushed off his shirt, the way their bodies looked together in the firelight—all one long, delirious dream from which she never wanted to wake.

BALTHAZAR HAD FORGOTTEN HOW THIS COULD feel. Lying next to the girl you loved, knowing that she loved you in return. The simple pleasure of waking next to someone and watching them sleep. Or what it was like to be still together for a long time, talking of nothing in particular, being silly just to make her smile.

Not that they had much time to waste on silliness.

That Saturday afternoon, after he'd taken her back to her home, they hung out in her bedroom. Her bed was still made—for the moment—but she lay across it with her head on his thigh. “Would they try to take my parents hostage?”

If they could
find
them
, Balthazar thought, but he'd never been as grateful for the absenteeism of Mr. and Mrs. Tierney as he was this weekend. “I can't rule it out, but I suspect not. They see you as prey. The only one who would try to negotiate with you as an equal is Redgrave, and taking your parents captive … it's not the kind of thing he does.”

If Redgrave wanted her parents dead, they'd be dead already. Balthazar knew that from his own nightmarish experience. If he told her that, though, it would scare Skye too badly. He didn't want her more frightened than she already was.

“I don't want Mom and Dad to lose another child. Losing Dakota was hard enough on them,” she said. He brushed his thumb along her cheek. “I have to stay here. For them.” Her voice trembled, but when she glanced up at him, her blue eyes shone with faith. “But you'll be with me.”

It seemed to him that he'd never forget anything about that moment: the way she managed to smile for him, the pattern of the soft blue quilt on which they rested, or the slant of winter sunlight through the window that painted rich shades of red into her dark hair.

He hated to shatter that serenity, but he had to: “Not always.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'll protect you as long as you need it. Forever, if that's how long it takes.” With Redgrave's vampires spreading the word far and wide, “forever” wasn't a rash promise; it was a realistic estimate. “But, Skye—as much as I care about you—you know we can't always be together.”

She pushed herself upright. “What? Why?”

“Because you're alive, and I'm not.” Such a simple way to phrase such a complicated truth: Speaking the words was no easier than thinking them had been that first night they spent together, when he held her in his arms and wished in vain that they could always be like this, that nothing would ever have to change. “Someday soon you'll want to go to college. You'll have other friends, human friends, and you won't be able to explain me to them.”

“What couldn't I explain? You look like any other guy—well, any other massively hot guy—”

“I look like I'm a couple years older than you. I can pass for a few years older than that. I can't go any further. Could you explain me when I still look nineteen and you look thirty? Forty?”

Skye blinked; obviously she'd never considered matters in that light before. Maybe it was rash of him to be thinking so far ahead—but he could imagine loving Skye that long. Even longer. She tried to rally. “I'll tell them I'm a cougar.”