In Blood We Trust (20 page)

Then, one right after the other, the vamps came out of the cells, cool as assassins.

I yelled at the oldster again. “If you don't open my cage, I'm going to barge out.”

I needed to get to 562 before that quasi did.

But a silver bullet might give me good pause if the oldster decided to skin his revolvers and use them.

He was hesitating to draw . . . and to open my door.

Was he afraid of what I was about to change into?

I didn't get it—he loved being a were-creature, and the destruction of 562, our Red origin, ran the risk of taking away his preterness. 562's death might strip the powers from all the Reds, so what was he waiting for?

At his inability to commit, I stepped back from the bars and called upon my monster.

A roaring birth inside, pushing at me to get out, making the world go blue, violet—

I screamed at the ripping burst of one stage to the other, then, completed, I ran at the bars, my huge teeth jutting out of a mouth that took over my face. With one push, I tore the door off its hinges and didn't stop going, not even as the silver from the bars stung my skin . . .

Past the vamps—

Down the corridor—

Outside where the night-shaded walkway was crowded with vampires looking into the eyes of Civils and whispering.

But there were were-creatures fighting vamps, too, as if . . .

I didn't have time to stop and figure out whether the vampires were mind-screwing were-creatures, because I was zooming to 562's cave, where I didn't even halt at the sight of Tydeus lying in front, pinned down by a vampire who'd obviously jumped at him and caught him in midair as he'd descended into the opening.

The vamp, a short-haired woman, was staring into the quasi's eyes, whispering.

I bolted past them through the cave until I arrived in the coffin room, where three guardian vampires were . . .

I cocked my head, panting as I got my bearings.

The same three vampires I'd seen guarding 562 before were still sitting in lotus position, their sheathed swords laid over their laps while they stared in adoring wonder at our origin.

My ragged breathing finally got the attention of the blond male with the stubble beard. Even in my horrible state, I had enough clarity to think how rough and beautiful he was all at the same time.

“You're here,” he said lovingly.

Holding form was too much for me since there was nothing to spur me on—no blood, no need to fight anything off.

I sucked back into my regular body. My dress was stretched at the seams and I clutched it to me.

Weak. I was so weak from having to change suddenly and go back, so I got to my knees, my chest tight.

“They're coming,” I managed to say. “The Civils . . . they know where we've been keeping 562.”

“We figured that out from the kamikaze quasi who almost made it inside the cave,” he said, rising to his feet so gracefully that he seemed like a demigod. “Luckily, Darby was on her way out as Tydeus was on his way in.”

Darby, the vamp who was mind-screwing the quasi out front.

This vampire moved toward me, his white outfit consisting of boots, pants, a long-sleeved top, and a cut-off jacket.

“We've never been properly introduced,” he said, and I couldn't believe that, in all this madness, he was acting like I'd just stopped in to say hi. “I'm Liam.”

Then he motioned toward his two guard friends, strawberry blonds with spiked hair and freckles, both dressed in white vest uniforms like Liam's. The twins.

“This is Kemp and this is Kerr,” he said.

None of the vampires had drawn their swords, which was crazy, because I was ready to get my monster back on at a moment's notice if any Civils strong-armed their way in.

“We've got to do something with 562,” I said. “Move her/ him. Hide again. And Gabriel . . .”

“Gabriel should be safe.” Liam looked so unconcerned that it was bothering me. “That was the news Darby brought to us, along with updates on the mind-screws.”

I blew out the breath I'd been holding.

Gabriel. Safe.

“The vampires are wiping the memories of the killing and 562 from the Civils?” I asked, guessing.

“Yeah. And anyone who has it in mind to make trouble for us.”

“Including were-creatures.”

The vampires didn't look ashamed about that as they nodded. But I hadn't expected them to get red-faced, anyway.

My attention wandered to 562, sitting there so wonderfully still with her/his hair raining over a face that would be expressionless underneath the silver fall.

I recovered. Looking at 562 helped. Maybe it did the same for these vampires.

“I almost wish . . .” I said, trailing off.

“What?” Liam asked.

“That 562 could be awake instead of waiting there like a sitting duck. It seems like there's such danger being in this state.”

Out of pure instinct, I got up and went to my origin, rolling back the tattered sleeve of my dress. If vampires could hold their breath, that was what these would've been doing.

I walked round the offerings that had been left for 562—several water necklaces, one of which Hana had left for her/ him. A comm device from Pucci, in memory of our fallen friend Sammy Ramos, who'd died back in the New Badlands. A stone with Zel Hopkins's name written on it from the oldster. Several woven weblike art projects and pictures from random vampires who didn't know how to express themselves to our origin otherwise.

I watched 562 behind her/his glass, wishing she/he were awake and thinking I might know how to accomplish that, insane as the notion was.

Liam came to my side. “Here,” he said, gently guiding me to the side of the coffin.

Then he kicked, right into the glass, shattering it. In the next instant, he lowered his head in a gesture of obeisance as the last of the pieces tinkled to the ground, leaving 562 uncovered.

I didn't comment on how that glass was supposed to be unbreakable.

I only knew that there was something I had to do.

Holding out my hand to Liam, I made a silent request that he understood, and he used a nail to open some skin on my palm. Blood peeked out in a thin line.

I reached out to 562 as Liam dropped to his knees, looking away, as if seeing something too intimate to continue watching. Then I parted 562's hair and pressed my palm to her/his mouth, feeding my mother and father.

As I pressed against her/him, my origin's lips didn't move.

None of her/him did.

But when I finally backed away, I prayed for a resurrection.

A second ticked past, and I felt Liam touching my wrist, healing it. Then another beat of my heart marked the time, seeming to last an hour.

Yet the rising never came.

That didn't seem to matter to the vampires as they gazed on me with even more fervid affection than before, their hands over their hearts.

Was it because I'd willingly shared myself with our origin? Or was it because, after failing to awaken her/him, I was the only 562-type monster who remained alive for them?

Liam stood. “We should go, at least until the hub is secure.”

He meant that it'd be wise to return only after we were sure that the Civils had forgotten all about 562's existence.

I almost winced. Here I was, running away again.

Would it ever stop?

“Gabriel,” I said. “What about him?”

Liam looked to one of the twins, and that vampire sped out of the cave, clearly under orders.

Then Liam returned his focus to me. “Kerr will update McKellan and try to get Gabriel to you. But it'll have to be outside hub limits.”

The other vampire twin, Kemp, had gone to 562, cradling her/his body in his arms.

Meanwhile, my mind spun.
Where
would we go for now? And should we just bury 562 in another place?

I wasn't sure, but there was no more time to waste, and after I willed a change upon myself again, I led my vampire escorts west, away from the more populated eastlands.

West, where I'd escaped once before with my father, after the terrors of Dallas.

M
cKellan had brought Gabriel to the vampire house in the middle of the hub before he'd gone to check in with the asylum, where he was to coordinate the mind-screws and human-to-vampire conversions.

As Gabriel stood in front of a window in a bedroom, he thought that their headquarters wasn't half bad—a spacious home that had once belonged to the mayor who'd been tucked away here upstairs. The vampires swayed the public official often and also imitated his voice on megaphones with tubes connected to the roof—the better for the distractoids not to see their young leader while hearing his assurances. Back when there'd been people outside the hub waiting to get in, the vampires had even ushered the mayor to the outskirts, where the hypnotized man had shouted messages about the power outage and the mosquito threat to those outside who'd been waiting to get in.

He'd told them to flee far, far away, and they had.

Now, since most of the denizens of GBVille were either at the asylum, distractoided, or swayed by vampires into compliance, there wasn't much use for the mayor, and he was happily stowed here, a fey smile decorating his face as he looked out the window at his city.

Gabriel stood just in back of the man, who wore his hair slick and straight, his beige suit suffering from nary a wrinkle. There were waves of action coming off the hub tonight—sensory disturbances, really—and Gabriel couldn't put his finger on precisely where they were coming from.

He frowned. It could be that most of the disturbance was inside himself, though he couldn't say why. It might've had something to do with Taraline and how she'd volunteered to give herself up as the killer.

Or how she'd looked at him a moment too long when she'd told him her plan.

Gabriel closed his eyes, reaching into himself, trying to see once again just what had happened that night.

Still darkness.

Still nothing.

Downstairs, Gabriel heard a door bang open, and in the next second, he was joined by McKellan, who solidified in front of him with a whoosh.

The elder didn't waste any time in talking, though he was just as composed as ever. Even that dark lock of hair over his forehead looked planned and controlled.

“Progress,” he said, then gave Gabriel a status update: vampires isolating then mind-screwing Civils into complacency while many nonloyal were-creatures were a little scrappier and resisting the wipes.

“But,” McKellan added, “they all should be stabilized presently.”

“And Mariah?” Gabriel asked.

McKellan's gaze betrayed an impatience with this continuing attachment. “She was locked up by your oldster, yet she was surrounded by vampires who watch her. She will be safe.”

The oldster. . . . Gabriel wasn't sure where Michael's allegiances lay anymore, or how far he would go to see a united community.

Were the vampires going to mind-screw him, too?

Not likely. If they made an attempt, the oldster knew how to shield. Gabriel had never predicted that the vamps would be laying the screws to them, though.

McKellan rested a hand on Gabriel's shoulder. “Soon, none of this will lean heavily on you.”

“Because the gloaming will be over.”

“Yes. As I have said before, what you have left of your so-called humanity is protected only by those parts of your mind that refuse to give up what it once treasured.” He cocked his head, as if delivering a blow to Gabriel and wanting to cushion it. “Right now, the human-associated parts of your mind are even working to block out anything that might end your gloaming stage—any act that could send you over the edge.”

Gabriel thought of his inability to recall the killing. But if his mind was dark because he didn't want to remember what had happened, it didn't make sense; not when he could recite every single detail while defending Mariah from her werewolf bad guy in Dallas.

Why hadn't his mind fought against
that
?

He wanted to know more from McKellan, but it seemed that the elder wasn't in the mood for teaching right now.

He looked into the other vampire's eyes—those dark blue oceans of experience, undisturbed by anything.

“After we wipe the Civils,” he asked, “what are you going to do about the vampire who started all this? The killer?”

McKellan didn't break eye contact. “He will be taught. He will learn better control, just as the rest of us have.”

He
will be taught.

Gabriel couldn't stop a memory from the Badlands—when he'd learned that someone was killing a bunch of Stamp's men. He'd blacked out then, too, but it'd been due to a night of gluttony, overfeeding. Ultimately, he'd discovered that he wasn't the guilty one—Mariah had been behind the deaths—yet he'd sure believed himself capable of it.

Just like now.

“Who did it?” Gabriel asked, though he didn't want to ask at all. “Who's responsible?”

McKellan just kept looking at Gabriel, shielding his thoughts, unwilling to share.

Downstairs, the wind moaned, the prelude to another vampire appearing in the doorway and coming into solid form to reveal a red-gold-haired male with freckles.

Kerr. Gabriel remembered being introduced to him during those first days here in GBVille.