Clann 03 - Consume

by Melissa Darnell

  So which way in?

  He looked at his house. See that second-floor window above the back patio doors? That’s my room. It might have the least amount of spells and locks on it, since it’s on the second floor. And there shouldn’t be any furniture in front of it. Think you can climb those timbers?

  I studied the sprawling mansion’s English Tudor exterior. I think so.

  He drew in a deep breath and took my hand again. Okay. Ready?

  More power seeped over my skin, and I realized this time it was coming from him. I raised my eyebrows.

  Invisibility spell, he thought, one corner of his mouth lifting.

  I nodded.

  And then we ran as fast as we could across the open ground of the backyard, reaching the house in less than a second. The timbers extended from the stucco by about an inch, giving my fingertips and the toes of my shoes just enough of an edge to grip so we could climb up the back wall.

  Watch the shingles, he thought. They might be noisy.

  We angled sideways as we climbed over the wall above the patio roof.

  Tristan tried the window, cursed silently, and a little more power arced over my skin. The window latch popped free, making my muscles twitch with panic. He raised the window and crawled inside, then reached out a hand to pull me in after him.

  Welcome to my room, he thought as he crept on silent feet between a king-size bed and a desk.

  But I didn’t need to look around. I’d already seen it.

  At the door now, Tristan picked up my thought and glanced back at me in surprise. You did? When?

  The night you were turned. Emily and I came up here to pack a few things for you. I could feel my face burning. Um, sorry for the invasion of privacy.

  He opened the door. I don’t have any secrets from you anyways. Though I’ve gotta admit, I always had a much better idea of how you’d see this room for the first time….

  Tristan! I almost whapped his shoulder then stopped myself, remembering that even a small noise would risk alerting the nearby Keepers to our presence. Okay, refocus. The phone. Emily said it would probably be in the office?

  Tristan nodded. This way. Down the stairs and to the left. He led the way across the second-f loor landing’s thick carpet to the quarter-spiral staircase. Watch the second step. It creaks in the middle.

  I concentrated on placing my feet exactly where he had on each step, and we made it down the staircase in silence.

  As we moved past the kitchen and down a short hall, f lashes of memory from the last time I’d been in Tristan’s family home came back to me. I couldn’t tell whose memories they were, though. I could almost swear I still smelled smoke. Another memory from that horrible night, or an actual lingering smell?

  Tristan hesitated halfway down the hall, staring straight ahead of us, his shoulders tight as a muscle worked in his jaw.

  Up ahead, moonlight f looded the hall from the den…the room where we’d found his mother’s body.

  My chest ached with renewed pain for his loss. Needing to comfort him or maybe myself, I reached out and rested a palm against his shoulder blade, wishing I could take away the pain of that night from him.

  Tristan f linched as if startled by my touch then drew in a slow breath and let it out.

  The office is this way. He turned to the left, easing open a heavy, paneled door stained a light shade that gleamed in the moonlight. Where was all the light coming from? Oh, yeah. Must be from the French patio doors.

  A drawer slid open, thumped shut, then another rolled open as Tristan searched the desk that took up the center of the room. There wasn’t enough room for both of us to try to search it at the same time, so I hung back closer to the door to stay out of his way and simply looked around.

  I could imagine his dad sitting in the bigger leather chair behind the desk, an indoor throne from which to rule the Clann. Had Tristan ever come in here to talk to his father, maybe while sitting in one of these chairs? I ran a hand over the top of one of the two leather wing-backs closest to me.

  Silence made me look up before Tristan silently replied,

  Yeah, I did. More than a few times. They liked to make me sit there while Mom yelled at me for screwing up yet again or told me for the thousandth time why I should be more focused on preparing to become the next great Clann leader instead of playing football. His jaw hardened as he returned to searching the drawers.

  I wanted to say something that would help make this moment less painful. But no words came to me. Maybe getting out of here as quickly as possible was better.

  I walked around the room, checking the many shelves filled with leather books that lined every wall in case the phone could have been left on one of them for some reason.

  It’s not here, Tristan thought.

  I turned to face him with a frown. Where else could it be? Maybe their bedroom? Or the kitchen? She could have set it down

  anywhere before… He didn’t finish that thought.

  If it was her main phone, wouldn’t she have had it on her instead? We stared at each other as a horrible feeling crept over

  me. If the phone had been in her pocket when the Clann took her body away, we might have risked coming here tonight for nothing.

  Wait, I thought. What about the den?

  I stepped out of the office, turned left down the hall and entered the room where it had all come to a horrible end. If the phone had been in Mrs. Coleman’s pocket that night, it could have fallen out. I searched the leather couch, checking under the throw pillows and beneath the cushions, then under the couch itself.

  A small creak in the den’s doorway made me look up fast. Tristan stood there, his fists opening and closing, his breathing fast. I hadn’t expected him to follow me in here.

  Then I glanced down and saw it…something small, black and rectangular under the coffee table. I grabbed it. Is this it?

  No response.

  Tristan? I tried again.

  His eyes darted side to side. I peeked at his thoughts. They were filled with images of that night…his mother’s body lying where I was now crouched on the f loor, the stone fireplace where he’d thrown Dylan in a mindless rage. A long black crack ran at an angle between its stones now, probably from the impact of Dylan’s body against it.

  We needed to get out of here. Just being in this room had to be torture for him.

  Come on, let’s go, I thought, standing up. We’ve got what we need.

  I crossed the room to him, but he didn’t move. Only when I reached out and cupped his cheek did he f linch and make eye contact with me, his eyes dark and tortured and desperate with pain.

  He reached up to grab my hand.

  This time I was the one who took the lead, tugging him after me through the den, around the couch toward the patio doors. I unlocked the doors, eased the handle down and opened one.

  An animal’s roar erupted in the distance to our left from the direction of the woods that concealed the Circle. The Keepers on guard…we must have triggered a spell or made a noise that alerted them.

  Go! Tristan thought, and we ran to the right across the yard, trying to reach the cover of the trees in the same direction as we’d arrived.

  As we ran, I glanced over my shoulder. Four sleek black panthers, each one at least six feet long from head to butt, were closing in on us. I’d never seen just how fast they were. They’re catching up!

  We’d never be able to outrun them. Not like this.

  CHAPTER 24

  Tristan twisted as he ran, throwing a blue energy orb over his shoulder. A snarl of pain rang out as it slammed into one of the Keepers, knocking it off its feet.

  I threw an energy orb of my own behind us, hoping to take out another. But I didn’t take enough time to aim well, and the shot went between two of the panthers.

  The woods became thicker, and we had to focus to avoid running into trees. The Keepers had the advantage…by following us, they only had to swerve when we did, and because they were lower to the ground, they
weren’t continually slapped and scratched by as many branches as we were.

  As a result, we were only two steps ahead of them no matter how fast we ran, dodging and weaving among the trees, hurdling fallen trees and large branches. We headed almost straight northwest this time right toward Bullard, attempting to leap off the sides of the larger trees along the way in the hopes that this would make the Keepers lose track of us. But we couldn’t pull this move often. The pines usually had branches thick with needles set too low on their trunks to allow it. And even when we did manage it, the Keepers never lost sight of us, their yellow-green eyes following our every move without hesitation.

  Tristan threw another energy orb, and a screech that sounded like a screaming woman made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  Got another one! Tristan thought.

  We circled around Jacksonville’s northern side, still keeping to the woods as much as possible, occasionally having to dart through traffic at one intersection and again on the highway when they couldn’t be avoided. Horns blared and brakes screeched each time, making my eardrums whine in protest.

  We ducked back into the woods, aiming deeper within them, away from the highway now. Long after we’d left the Coleman property behind, we heard an oomph. I risked a glance back. One of the Keepers had tripped over a log, apparently not leaping high enough to clear it, and in rolling had tripped the other Keeper, as well.

  Christopher, are you all right? I heard one of the Keepers think to the other.

  His voice was familiar. Ron!

  I slowed just a bit so I could keep glancing behind us.

  I think I broke my ankle, the one who must have been Christopher replied. Go! Don’t lose them, or the Clann—

  Yeah, I know, Ron said, then he took off after us again in a burst of renewed speed.

  Confused, I nearly stopped completely. But Ron was barreling straight for us, his long black body and powerful legs and paws eating up the distance between us.

  Is that Ron? Tristan had also slowed down.

  Yeah, but something’s wrong. Just go!

  We added a burst of speed. But now we had a problem. We were getting closer to the truck and trailer. Ron was a good friend, but the Keepers could read his mind and learn anything he knew. We couldn’t lead him back to the others.

  But I couldn’t use magic on him, either.

  Logic told me to keep running.

  But something far more powerful than that made me stop and turn to face him.

  When he was only six feet away, he looked behind him then skidded to a stop. Good, they’re gone, he thought. Finally we can talk!

  Relief rushed through me, making me light-headed. “You scared the crap out of me, growling like that!” I wanted to walk over and pat his head or scratch his ear, but somehow I didn’t think he’d appreciate it.

  Tristan grinned. “She wasn’t the only one.”

  Hey, I had to keep up a good front for Christopher, he said, sitting down on his haunches and checking his left paw. They know we used to be friends. They’ve been watching my family nonstop ever since you guys left.

  I sighed. “I was afraid they’d do that,” I murmured, my heart aching that he and his family were being put through all of this for us. “Thank you for tripping your partner.”

  How else was I going to get to say goodbye? His teeth, pointy like fangs, shone white in what little moonlight managed to get through the trees as he panted.

  “How’s your, er, paw?” I asked.

  Wrist, Ron corrected in a grumble. And it’s fine. Christopher just stepped on it when I tripped him.

  “They’re going to be even more suspicious if you lose us,” Tristan said.

  Hmm. Not good.

  “Tell them we beat you up,” Tristan suggested with a grin.

  Ron snorted. Yeah, right.

  “What if you tell them you caught us but we managed to get away?” Tristan said.

  They’ll know it’s a lie. They’ll be able to smell the lack of blood that would have been shed in the fight.

  “Then let’s give them something to smell.” Before Tristan or my survival instincts could stop me, I reached over and raked my fingernails across my left forearm, opening four gashes. Blood instantly welled up and spilled down my arm and onto the ground as I walked over to Ron.

  Tristan cursed and reached for my wounded arm.

  “I’m fine,” I told him. “Now let’s hurry up before it heals and all this blood’s wasted.”

  I tried not to f linch from the pain as I dragged my wounded arm over Ron’s face and down his right shoulder. “Okay, let’s dance so this looks right.” At both boys’ confused frowns, I explained. “The Keepers will probably want to come here and double check your story, right? So we should create a fight scene just to be extra safe. You don’t have to use the claws on me for real. Just stand up like you’re going to bite my head or something.”

  Ron blinked his yellow eyes twice then leaped up in a powerful, f luid movement. I caught his huge, furry shoulders with both my hands. His paws landed on my shoulders, each one the size of my face, and we stumbled back and forth a bit. It was the weirdest couples dance ever. But at least it would make the blood splattering over the area more realistic.

  A few seconds later, Ron fell back to the ground on all fours again.

  Tristan immediately grabbed my left forearm with gentle but determined hands as if he planned to bandage the wound. But he was worried for nothing. Already, the gashes in my arm were healing. Bending over, I dragged my forearm across my thigh, letting my favorite jeans soak up the leftover blood. There. Done and done.

  I stood up, hating what had to come next. “Well, I guess we’d better go before more Keepers show up.”

  You know you didn’t have to do all that, Ron said.

  “And you didn’t have to help us escape.” I swallowed hard. “I’m glad I got to say goodbye to you. Please be careful, for Anne’s sake as well as your family’s. Okay?”

  I wished I could hug him. Then I couldn’t resist it anymore. I wrapped my arms around his furry neck and squeezed, mindful not to choke him or break any of his bones.

  Aw, we miss you two, Sav, he thought.

  He and Tristan nodded at each other in some unspoken guy language that probably meant “thanks” or “see you later” or something.

  “Sav,” Tristan said. “I can hear a Keeper headed our way.”

  Bye, Ron, I thought. Then I turned and ran away with Tristan back toward the only home we had left.

  TRISTAN

  Emily was smart, moving the SIM card from our mother’s phone to another before going through the Clann contact list just in case Mr. Williams was using his CIA contacts to watch all our old family phones.

  “Got it!” she crowed a few minutes later. “Mac Griffin’s

  living with a Clann couple in Natchitoches, Louisiana.” “That’s only a couple of hours from here,” Mom said. “I go there all the time to meet with clients.”

  “Would you like to drive?” Dad said. “I am sure you know the quickest way.”

  Savannah’s jaw dropped.

  Ms. Evans blinked a couple of times in surprise. “Uh, sure.” She turned toward the trailer’s exit then hesitated.

  “Want to ride with me and keep me company?” We all couldn’t help but stare as Savannah’s parents exited the trailer together. A minute later the truck engine started and we were off.

  “Did that really just happen?” Savannah muttered, making me grin.

  Emily shook her head in disbelief. “Okay, let’s stay focused. We need a plan for how to get to this kid. Though I guess we can’t really call him a kid since he’s only a few years younger than us.”

  “Not to mention it sounds like he’s had just as rough a time of it as us,” Savannah murmured.

  “We’ll try to go as easy on him with the questioning as we can,” Emily said.

  “What’s with this ‘we’ business?” I said.

  Emily glared at me. �
�I am going. Don’t even bother arguing about it.”

  “But you’re pregnant—”

  “Yeah, I’m pregnant, not dead!”

  Savannah laid a hand on my forearm. “Tristan, we could use her help with the questioning. Your spells have always been way stronger than mine, and she could tell you which ones to use on him to get him to talk without hurting him.” Grumbling, I gave in. “Fine. But if I say we have to leave in a hurry, you run without arguing. All right?” Emily nodded.

  We worked out the details of a rough plan for how to approach the foster family’s apartment, which was on the second f loor of a three-story building on Front Street near the Cane river in the heart of Natchitoches’s downtown area.

  The directions were a little confusing until we found an actual map of the town, because several of the streets began as one name then suddenly turned into a different name for no apparent reason. This included Front Street, which was called Jefferson Street until you actually reached the downtown section of it, where it switched names.

  The biggest problem, however, was parking…there was nowhere nearby large enough to park the truck and trailer without drawing a lot of notice. So we opted to leave the vehicles in a shopping center’s parking lot across the river on Keyser Avenue then vamp blur across the bridge and the remaining eight blocks while partially carrying Emily between us so she wouldn’t get worn out. And just in case the descendants would be using vamp wards, which we fully expected them to be, Savannah and I spent the rest of the twohour drive energizing charms to block them.

  A fan and frequent visitor of Natchitoches, Ms. Evans was sad that we wouldn’t be able to see the town’s famous Christmas light display and December weekend fireworks show, which drew a ton of tourists every year. The rest of us were more disappointed that we wouldn’t have the tourist rush to hide in. But we planned around the less than optimal summer timing. Savannah’s parents decided to walk in separately and pretend to be tourists shopping in the area so that they would be close enough to help if needed but our group wouldn’t be so large that it would attract notice. We took advantage of our monthly unlimited talk time phone cards and kept a call going between our two groups’ phones so they could hear everything we said once we split up in the shopping plaza’s parking lot.