by Tracy Wolff
“Grace, honey, there’s nothing for you to do right now.” My uncle addresses me in the deliberately calm tone of someone who expects the person he’s using it on to go hysterical at any moment.
But the hysteria is gone. Not forever, as I’m sure it will be back before this nightmare is over, but for now. And in its place is a determination not to be placated, a determination to never be placed in a situation like this one ever again.
“Well, then I guess we’d better find something for me to do,” I tell him. “Because if we’re right, if Hudson is actually living inside me like some kind of parasite, there is no way I’m just going to sit back and wait to see what you guys come up with. Doing that is what’s gotten me into every terrible situation I’ve been in since I got to Alaska.”
The words are harsh and, in another situation, another reality, I would never have said them. But in this situation, in this reality, they needed to be said.
And the people I’m talking to need to listen to them…and to me. Because there is no way I’m taking a back seat for one more second. No way I’m just going to sit around and let them prevaricate and tell me half-truths and hide things from me in the name of protection. Not now. Not anymore.
“Yes, I want to know what I can do to get Hudson out of me,” I tell them. “But since that seems like it’s going to be a process, I need some stopgap measures to help me out. Like what I can do, right now, to ensure he can’t make me hurt anyone else. Not what you can do but what I can do.
“Because I am not going to just sit here and let him take control of me whenever he wants until all the experts can figure things out. He is never going to use me as a weapon again—not against Cole, not against Amka, and definitely, definitely not against Jaxon.”
“Hudson can’t use you against me—” Jaxon starts to interrupt, but I cut him off with a hand.
“He already has,” I tell him as my brain races through different scenarios and things start to fall into place. “Why do you think I’m so uncomfortable with you right now? Why do you think I back away every time you try to kiss me? Maybe you haven’t gotten around to putting that together yet, but it’s becoming crystal clear to me.”
I can see from the look in Jaxon’s eyes that I’m getting through to him, that he’s going back over every interaction we’ve had the last two days and trying to see what was me and what was Hudson. Not that I blame him—I’ve just done the very same thing…and I really, really don’t like what I’ve found.
“I’m done, Jaxon. I’m done, Uncle Finn. I’m not waking up covered in someone else’s blood ever again. Or in the middle of a casting circle, missing with ripped clothes. And I am not giving a murderer free range over my body or my head for one more second than I have to.”
My chest is tight and my hands are shaking, but my mind is clear, and I know—I know—that I’m doing the right thing.
“Either you talk to me and help me figure out what I can do, or I swear, I’m going to walk back to that stack of books over there. I’m going to read every single one of them until I figure out how to turn myself back into a gargoyle. And this time, I’m going to stay that way until Hudson can no longer hurt anyone.”
Jaxon opens his mouth to speak, but I shake my head. I’m not done yet.
“And if that means staying a gargoyle forever, then that is what I’ll do. It’s not what I want to do,” I tell them as they all start to protest. “But it’s what I will do, because no one—no one—is going to use me as a pawn ever again.”
It’s why I nearly died when I got here and why Jaxon and Flint nearly died, too. If they had just told me the truth when I first arrived, I wouldn’t have had to spend my first four days at Katmere bumbling around trying to figure things out as people tried to kill me. I wouldn’t have trusted the wrong people.
And maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t have ended up in those tunnels with Lia, and Jaxon wouldn’t have nearly died, and we wouldn’t be right here, right now, with Hudson taking some kind of psychotic vacation in my goddamn body.
Just the thought makes me sick, makes me want to cry. Makes me want to scream.
I want him gone, want him out of me right the hell now.
But if that’s not a possibility, I need to know how to keep myself and the people around me safe from him, no matter what.
I look from Jaxon to Macy to my uncle to Amka, only to find them all staring back at me with a grudging respect in their eyes. Which means it’s time to ask the question burning a hole in my chest. “Do I need to turn into a gargoyle again, or is there a way to block him out?”
Suddenly, I feel something flutter inside that feels an awful lot like a scream—of rage or agony or terror, I don’t know which. But it’s definitely a scream… And it’s definitely not coming from me.
28
Sometimes Girls
Just Wanna
Take Charge
I barely have time to figure out what that means, if it means anything, when Jaxon says, “I’m taking you to the Bloodletter.”
“The Bloodletter?” I repeat, because it’s not a name I’ve ever heard before. And also because it’s not one that sounds particularly…inviting. I mean, in a world full of paranormals who don’t bat an eye at blood loss or near-death encounters, what kind of monster do you have to be to be called the Bloodletter?
It’s freaky as hell.
“The Bloodletter?” Uncle Finn repeats with the same skepticism I’m feeling. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“No,” Jaxon answers. “In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s a terrible fucking idea. But so is Grace turning back into a gargoyle for who knows how long.” He looks at me, and his face is full of worry and love and a touch of fear that he’s trying really hard not to let me see. “I don’t know if the Bloodletter can help figure out a way to quarantine Hudson in your head. But I do know that if anyone can, it’s her.”
“Who is she?” I ask, because I feel like I at least need to have some clue of what I’m walking into if I do this.
“She’s an Ancient,” Jaxon tells me. “A vampire who has been alive longer than almost anything on the planet. And she…lives…in an ice cave it doesn’t take that long to get to from here.”
I turn his words over in my head, trying to find a deeper meaning to them. I know there is one—it’s obvious from the way looks are flying between my uncle and Amka. Macy seems oblivious, but that’s obviously because she’s as in the dark about this subject as I am.
“She’s brutal,” Amka says after a second. “Completely terrifying. But if anyone knows how to help you, she will.”
I’ve got to admit, “brutal” is not exactly a word that evokes confidence in me. Then again, neither is “terrifying.” And considering I’m standing in a room with one of the most powerful vampires in existence and no one here is the least bit afraid of him, I shudder to think of what this Bloodletter person might be like.
Especially since even Jaxon seems nervous at the idea of taking me to her.
“Do you know her?” I ask as apprehension fills me. “I mean, will she try to kill us on sight or will she at least listen to what we have to say?”
“She’s brutal but not completely psychotic,” Jaxon tells me. “And I do know her, yes. She raised me.”
He doesn’t say anything else, just kind of drops it out there, like being raised by the most terrifying vampire in existence is a totally normal thing. He might as well have pulled out a full-on South Park impression and said, Move along, people. Nothing to see here.
Which only convinces me more that there’s a lot Jaxon’s leaving out. And more concerned that what he’s leaving out is really, really bad.
But if seeing this Bloodletter person will help get Hudson out of my head, and maybe even give me a glimpse into Jaxon’s childhood, then I’m all in.
“How long does it take to get there?” I ask. “And when
do we leave?”
“A few hours,” Jaxon replies. “And we can leave now if you want.”
“Now?” Uncle Finn asks, sounding less than impressed. “Why don’t you at least wait until morning, when it’s light out?”
“And give Hudson another chance to try to body snatch me again?” I ask, and I don’t even have to pretend to be traumatized at the thought. “I’d rather not.”
Not to mention, I’m too freaked out to sleep tonight—and maybe ever again. The fact that Hudson is inside me is terrifying and gross and weird. Can he read my thoughts, too? Like, is he in my head right now, hearing everything I’m thinking? Or are his talents limited to just taking over my body? Just. Give me a break.
How did my life get to this? Five months ago, I was in San Diego, and my biggest decision was where I was going to go to college. Now, I still have to decide that—or at least I think I do (do gargoyles even go to college?)—plus deal with evil alpha werewolves trying to take me down and psychopathic vampires living in my head.
If it wasn’t for Jaxon, I’d be pretty positive that I’ve traded down…way, way down.
Deciding the best way to circumvent Uncle Finn’s objections is to simply act like this is a done deal, I turn to Jaxon. “Do we need to call first and let her know we’re coming? I mean, if she has a phone in her”—I can’t believe I’m saying this—“ice cave?”
“She doesn’t need a phone. And if she doesn’t already know we’re coming, she’ll figure it out long before we get there.”
Because that’s not creepy at all. “Awesome.” I smile at him. “I’ll go get changed and meet you at the front entrance in fifteen minutes?”
Jaxon nods. “Make sure to layer up. We’ll be out in the cold for a while.”
By “a while,” I assume he means the whole time, considering the Bloodletter lives in an ice cave. Which is another weird-as-hell thing that I want to hear more about—including whether or not Jaxon grew up in the ice cave we are going to visit or if he grew up somewhere else and moved there after. I mean, because nothing says “retirement” like carving out a home for yourself in the middle of a frozen Alaskan cave.
“Give her at least thirty minutes, Jaxon,” my uncle says with the air of a man who knows when he’s been beaten.
“I’d rather get started as soon as possible,” I object.
“And I’d rather you had something to eat before you go.” He gives me a hard look that lets me know in no uncertain terms that this is one thing he is not budging on. “It’s not like you can just drop into a restaurant out there in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness, and the Bloodletter definitely isn’t going to have anything you might want to eat. So stop by the cafeteria before you go. You can grab a sandwich to eat now, and I’ll make sure they also pack you some food to take with you—since I assume you’ll be staying overnight.”
I hadn’t thought that far ahead—hadn’t thought about anything other than getting Hudson out of me—and I’m grateful that Uncle Finn has. Especially considering I skipped lunch today, and my stomach is currently reminding me of that in no uncertain terms.
“Thanks, Uncle Finn.” I go up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
He responds by patting my back a little awkwardly, even as he says, “Be careful out there. And let Jaxon take the lead with the Bloodletter. He knows her better than anyone.”
I nod, even as I wonder what he means—and what it means for Jaxon that the person who raised him, the person he knows best in the world, is also a woman known for her viciousness.
“Come on, Grace. I’ll help you pick out what you need to wear,” Macy says as she starts bustling me toward the exit.
I go along with her, glancing back only to give Jaxon a wave and to mouth, Thirty minutes, at him.
He nods back, but I can see the upset in his eyes. And I get it. I do. I’m trying my best not to freak out about Hudson, too, but the truth is, I’m hanging on by a small freaking thread. Jaxon has to be feeling the same way, with an added dose of feeling responsible for the situation, because he’s Jaxon and that’s how he deals with every situation—especially ones that involve me.
“You ready?” Macy asks, watching as I turn from Jaxon to head up to our room.
“No,” I answer. But I keep walking forward. Because some days, what a girl wants to do and what she needs to do are two very different things.
29
I’m Too Sexy for
My Coat…and So
Is Everyone Else
“Nice coat,” Jaxon says when he sees me thirty minutes later, and the painfully tight line of his mouth curves upward.
I’m dressed in about six layers to protect me from the wilderness—including a hot-pink puffer coat that predators can probably see from fifty miles away—but when Macy proudly laid it on my bed, I didn’t have the heart, or the energy, to say no.
“Don’t start,” I say, then look him over for something to make fun of as well. Of course, there’s nothing. He’s dressed head to toe in all-black winter wear and he looks good, really good. Nothing at all like an escapee from a cotton-candy factory.
As we walk down the front steps of the school, I expect to see a snowmobile parked at the bottom of them. But there’s nothing, and I look at Jaxon in confusion, even as I duck my face a little deeper into the wool scarf that covers me from cheekbone to chest.
“The temperature is going to drop at least twenty degrees in the next couple of hours,” he tells me as he pulls me close. “I don’t want you out here any longer than you have to be.”
“Yeah, but won’t a snowmobile help with that?” I ask. I mean, it’s got to be better than hiking, right?
But Jaxon just laughs. “A snowmobile will only slow us down.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“It means we’re going to fade.”
“Fade?” I have no idea what that means, but it doesn’t sound particularly appealing. Then again, what about this situation is appealing? Visiting an ancient vampire and hoping she doesn’t kill us? Living with a psychopath inside my head? Having no memory of the last four months?
Screw it. Whatever fading is, whatever Jaxon has in mind, has got to be better than anything else we’re dealing with right now.
Which is why I just nod when Jaxon explains that fading is a vampire thing and it involves moving very, very fast from one place to another.
I start to ask how fast is fast, but does it matter? As long as we get to the Bloodletter and figure out what to do about Hudson before he decides to turn my life into a fictional TV show called Bodysnatched, we could swim to the Bloodletter’s cave and I wouldn’t care.
“So what exactly do I need to do?” I ask as Jaxon moves in front of me.
“I pick you up in my arms,” he answers, “and then you hang on tight.”
That doesn’t sound too bad. Almost romantic, even.
Jaxon leans forward and sweeps me off my feet, one arm under my shoulders and the other under my knees. Once I’m safely balanced in his arms, he looks down at me and winks. “Ready?”
Not even close. I give him a thumbs-up. “Yeah, absolutely.”
“Hang on!” he warns, then waits until I wrap both my arms around his neck as tightly as I can.
Once I do, he shoots me a grin. And then he starts to run.
Except it’s not like any running I’ve ever experienced before. In fact, it’s not like running at all. If I had to guess, it’s more like we’re disappearing from one place to the next in rapid succession, too fast for me to get my bearings on the new location before we disappear again.
It’s strange and terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time, and I hold on as hard as I can, afraid of what will happen if I let go, even though Jaxon has his arms gripping me tightly against his chest.
As he fades again and again, I keep trying to think, trying to focus on wha
t I want to say to the Bloodletter or how I can lock Hudson out of my mind, but we’re going so fast that real thinking is impossible. Instead, there’s only instinct and the most basic follow-through of thought.
It’s the strangest feeling in the world. And also one of the most freeing.
I don’t have a clue how long we’ve been traveling when Jaxon finally stops at the top of a mountain. He sets me down slowly, which I’m grateful for, since my legs suddenly feel like rubber.
“Are we there?” I ask, looking around for a cave entrance.
Jaxon grins and, not for the first time, I realize how nice it is that Jaxon doesn’t have to cover every inch of exposed skin the way I do when we’re outside. I like being able to see his face, like even more being able to gauge his reaction to my words. “I wanted to show you the view. And I thought you might like a break.”
“A break? We’ve only been moving a few minutes.”
His grin becomes a laugh. “It’s been more like an hour and a half. And we’ve gone almost three hundred miles.”
“Three hundred miles? But that means we’ve been traveling at close to—”
“Two hundred miles an hour, yeah. Fading is more than just movement. I don’t know how to describe it; it’s kind of like flying—without a body. Every vampire starts practicing it at a young age, but I was always very, very good at it.” He looks like a little kid, absurdly proud of himself.
“That’s…incredible.” No wonder I was having such a hard time holding on to images and thoughts as Jaxon faded. We weren’t so much moving as bending reality.
As I turn all this information over in my head, I can’t help thinking about a book I read in seventh grade, Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. In it, he talks about people driving cars superfast on the regular highways—like 130 miles an hour fast—and the government condoning it, because it keeps people from thinking. They have to concentrate on driving, and not dying, to the exclusion of everything else.
