Sisters Red (29 page)

276

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

SCARLETT

SILAS PUNCHES THE WALL. HIS HAND COMES AWAY
bloody, but he doesn't seem to feel it.

"They should have told me," he growls for the millionth time. "They should have told me before disappearing--"

"I don't think your siblings knew," I interject.

"Then my
father!
My father should have told me when he realized he was forgetting!" Silas yells. He grabs the alarm clock and throws it through the window; the glass shatters, raining onto the sidewalk below. I drop my head into my hands, helpless to calm him but hopefully not helpless to save my sister. This entire place feels like Rosie, as though she's in the room with us but can't speak and we can't reach her. Tomorrow. I think of all the things that could happen to her

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in one day. I twist a loose thread from the couch around my fingers until they tingle.

"Your father didn't want to hurt you. Sometimes you just want to protect the people you love," I say quietly, meeting his eyes, which are full of agony. I stand, starting to pace.

"Think," I say, mind racing. "Together you and I can take at least eight of them at once." It's a high number, but I'm counting on our shared adrenaline giving us much-needed strength.

"The Arrow pack has grown, though. There could be hundreds. I can't take hundreds," Silas says bitterly. "And I can't be bitten, not even a light wound, or I'm useless to you, to Rosie. I don't understand, Scarlett--how did they even know that Rosie and I..." His words drift off.

I sigh. "Remember what the Alpha said at the bowling alley? Something about them having what they need? That must have been the knowledge of who you are, how they could use Rosie."

"And they didn't try to change me then because... there were fewer of them? You could have protected me. We would have won. But now that the Alpha's fought us, he knows our strengths. He'll be more than prepared for us in terms of numbers. Especially since the moon phase is almost over--he won't want to risk anything." He raises his eyebrows hopefully. "What if we bring guns?"

"Not enough damage to kill them, most likely. And

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besides, we couldn't get enough guns quickly enough." I shake my head.

"Okay, we have till tomorrow night. What else could we... Why a day, anyway? Why is tomorrow night special?" Silas mutters.

I shake my head and flip one of Rosie's knives in my hand, then send it spiraling to the door. It sinks in with a sharp crack but isn't on the mark I was aiming for--Rosie's aim is better than mine. If she'd only had these with her... "It's the end of the moon phase. At eleven forty-one, it's over. I'd bet anything they're calling in every pack member they sent out to the country, pulling out all the stops to make sure you don't get away. We could try going in early."

"But they could kill her if we try that," Silas says, defeated. He yanks at his hair until his temples turn bright red. "Scarlett... we have to do it."

"What?"

"Trade me for her."

I fold my arms. "You're saying you'll trade your soul for my sister?"

Silas breathes heavily, beads of sweat on his forehead. "Yes. Do it. Let's go, now." He moves for the door.

"Wait, wait," I say, stepping in front of him. I put my hands on his chest and force him into one of the dining table chairs. Him for her. Silas and Rosie are integral to everything that's important to me. I am an extra. I should be the one

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traded. I should be the one who can save her. I blink away the jealousy--there's no place for it now.

"Trade me, Lett. Then, when they... when they change me, just kill--"

"Shut
up,
Silas," I snarl. "They have no reason to let Rosie go even if they get you. In fact..." I swallow hard. "They're probably just going to hand her over to you after you're..." I can't say it.

Silas's face loses every trace of color, save his eyes, which glisten in fear and frustration.

I press my lips together, determined. "Listen. What if we pretend we're going through with it? You go there, act like you're going to give yourself up to them, and then I... I don't know. Do something. It's the only way I can see us being able to get close to her without them killing her."

Silas looks at me, understanding. "Aren't you just using me as bait? Just like you had planned to do with the Potential anyway?"

"Yes."

"And what could you do to kill them all?"

"I don't have to kill them all. We just have to get Rosie out--as soon as they hand her over, we take off," I answer.

"That sounds too easy," Silas says, shaking his head. "They knew to get Rosie to lure me; they paid enough attention to her at the bowling alley to know she shopped at that Kroger. They won't fall for a simple bait-and-switch scheme."

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"I know," I answer. Which brings both Silas and me to the same question, though neither of us wants to say it. If it comes down to it, and we
have
to trade him for Rosie--an honest trade, no tricks--will we do it?

I know my answer. And one hateful, dark thought keeps running through me: Silas took Rosie from me. If he becomes a Fenris... I'll get her back.

281

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Rosie

The screaming makes me jump to my feet, even
though I know I can't help her.

It's a girl, her age difficult to tell through her sobs and pleas. She screams again. I throw myself against the metal door, gagging from horror.

"Please, please. I'll do anything you want. I won't tell anyone what you are," she begs, her words almost impossible to understand through her tears. I hear the crunching, cracking sounds of wolves transforming. I can practically see the horrible grins on their too-wide mouths.

"Please," she chokes.

When they attack her, I scream until my voice is hoarse so I don't have to hear the shredding sounds.

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It was summer, and our hands and mouths were permanently stained from eating Popsicles and blackberries. The acrid smell from the junebug traps hung heavily in the air. Pa Reynolds dripped gasoline over the charcoal on the grill, then lit the fire, preparing to cook the large stack of hamburger meat. Oma March whipped a checkered tablecloth across the picnic table the Reynolds brothers had built themselves. She rushed in and out of the kitchen with bowls of macaroni salad and sliced peaches.

"You're it again," Silas called out triumphantly as he tackled me into the grass. I giggled, pulling myself up, and took off running after him, his brothers, and Scarlett. It was a variation of freeze tag that mostly involved us knocking one another down.

"Faster, Rosie, you have to run faster!" Scarlett shouted. I was the youngest and, therefore, the slowest.

I started to get frustrated that I couldn't keep up. The Reynolds brothers darted around me, holding out their hands, only to yank them away when I lunged for them, sending me toppling to the ground. Silas's oldest brothers started getting bored, waiting for me to be within inches of them only to leap away on their long legs. I set my sights on my sister instead. I knew how she played this game and could anticipate her moves.

I ran after Scarlett, our long dark hair flowing identically in the breeze, older and younger versions of the same girl.

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She was faster than me, but just as I was about to give up and start crying, she finally tumbled to the ground dramatically, and I tagged her shoulder.

"Good one, Rosie!" she yelled as I used the last of my energy to hurry away before falling onto the picnic table bench, our "base," to rest. Pa Reynolds smiled at me as he squirted a bit more gasoline onto the grill and it flared up, sending black smoke spiraling into the robin's-egg sky.

I wake up so suddenly that I nearly cry out when all I see is darkness instead of blue sky and green grass. I shake my throbbing head but press my lips together to stop any sound from creeping out--after all, I can still hear the haggard, sleepy breathing of the Fenris outside. How long before they give in to their own hunger and devour me? They can still smell me through the metal door, I'm certain, and if one Fenris gives in to temptation, it surely wouldn't take long for a pack mentality to take over. That door, locked or not, couldn't hold up to the number of Fenris I saw outside.

I pull my knees to my chest, put my head in my arms, and think of Silas. What is he doing? If they're after Scarlett, where does he think I've gone? Maybe he thinks I left in search of her, just dropped him and took off. I hope not. I couldn't do that. I inhale slowly and try to pretend that I'm with him, that his arms are encircling me, that I can feel his breath on my neck and the sparse beginnings of his beard tickling my cheek. But it's hard to imagine much of anything

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in this cave of a room, and my eyes begin to burn. I never even got the chance to tell him I love him...

No.
Think, Rosie, think.
Scarlett wouldn't cry. Scarlett would find a way out.
Stop thinking about Silas, about origami and diner breakfasts. Think of escape.
I close my eyes again, but instead of searching for a dream to take me away, I focus on a person. My sister, the other half of my heart. The only person I know who could unfailingly find a way through a locked door and a pack of hungry Fenris.

Think like Scarlett.
I push myself into her mind until I can almost feel her scars on my skin, feel the rush of energy that flows through her during a hunt. The way she felt when the Fenris attacked her. The way she felt when Mom left for the last time. The way she feels when hunting. I am Scarlett. I am confident, I am capable, and I will not wait to be rescued by a woodsman or a hunter. I will escape.

I home in on Scarlett's likes until I practically crave kung pao chicken--though I haven't eaten in ages, so that might actually be my own hunger speaking. The cottage at dawn, the way she said it felt, quiet and serene and cascaded in blue light. Philosophy... that one's tougher to focus on. I've never loved it like she does. There is that one story in particular that she recounted to me whenever I questioned hunting, the one Oma March used to tell us about the children in the cave stepping into the sunlight. How they were blinded by the light at first but had to learn to accept it once they knew it was truth. Just like Scarlett and I had to accept the existence of the Fenris once we knew they were real, not just shadows on a cave wall.

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Scarlett loved the tale and said that the rest of the world lived in the cave, thought the shadows were real. Only people who know about the Fenris can really see the sunlight. And then there are those like Mr. Culler, who see the sunlight but prefer to believe in the shadows, who prefer to believe that their sons are just deranged instead of monsters. But I don't remember not knowing about the Fenris, to be honest. Scarlett remembers before the attack, but it's all a blur to me, recollections that are more a creation of her nostalgic stories than my actual memory.

Maybe I'm the opposite of her, though. Maybe the wolves are my shadows. I want to believe that they're a part of me, that they're the core of my being like they are with Scarlett. But now that I've seen this sunlight--seen what it's like to be a normal girl, felt what it's like to be kissed, to be loved--how can I go back to the shadows?

I open my eyes and I inhale sharply. Of course. The plan forms in my mind slowly, more like a tide coming in than a wave crashing over me. I am confident, I am capable, and I will not wait to be rescued by a woodsman or a hunter. I will escape.

286

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

SCARLETT

THIS IS MY FAULT," SILAS MURMURS, BREAKING THE
silence that's hanging over us like a noose. I don't answer because I think I might agree with him. The church bells chime nine times into the morning. We've been up all night.

There hasn't been much to say, much to plan. Just what feels like endless amounts of time to wait. My body feels shredded, yanked in two directions: Half of me, the hunter half, demands I wait until the time is right to strike. The other half of me, the half that's also the half of Rosie's heart, demands I go for her immediately, throw myself in front of whatever monsters I must in order to save her. Where is she now? Is she cold? Somehow I'm incredibly concerned with her being cold. I hope she has something to keep her warm.

"Scarlett,
promise
me something," Silas begins slowly.

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He sits up on the couch, making eye contact with me as I lean against the wall on the other side of the room. I toss my foot back and forth so Screwtape can chase my shoelaces.

"Sure," I mutter.

"If they... if the Fenris get me... I can't lose my soul, I can't become that. No matter what happens with Rosie, if they get me..." He looks down, then back at me as he swallows hard.

I narrow my eye. "Are you asking me to kill you, Silas?"

He nods slowly. "And tell... will you tell my brothers and sisters? Tell them I'm sorry I got the house and that I'm sorry I didn't get to see them again." He looks away.

"And Pa Reynolds?" I ask quietly.

"No." Silas shakes his head. "Don't tell him. Let him forget me. And when... if you have to do it, make it fast..."

I inhale sharply. Could I do that? "Of course, Silas. I promise."

"Good," Silas says. "Good." He sinks back into the couch, like a sick person who can't move too nimbly. We sit in silence for another few moments. My stomach rumbles, but I don't want to eat anything. How could I eat anything when my sister is a hostage?

"Do you think she's cold?" Silas says under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest. My eye shoots up at him.

"What?"

He turns his head to me. "I just... I wonder if she's cold."

I sigh and nod. "Yeah. Me too."