Blood Bond

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “Get back in the chair,” she said quietly.

  I hesitated. Surely, George was getting my utter hysteria, my mind-numbing fear. Were they close enough for it to matter? Had they even seen where I’d been taken or had Mr. Lexington lost them somehow? I had no idea if I was alone. For Cord’s sake, I had to assume I was.

  “Get back in the fucking chair!”

  I slid into my seat and Olivia threw the rubber tourniquet at me. “Put this on your arm,” she said.

  I tied the tourniquet around my bicep and held out my arm, exposing the vein in the crook of my elbow. I waited for Olivia to come forward with the needle. If she lowered her eyes long enough to insert it, maybe I’d have a chance at the gun. Instead, she picked up the needle and threw it over to me.

  “Uncap and insert this. When it’s in, attach the vial,” she said.

  “You want me to stick myself?” I asked. “I don’t know how.”

  “You have three minutes to figure it out or I shoot her.”

  I looked at Cord. She blinked at me slowly, her head bobbing with the effort. I fumbled with the needle, positioning it over what I hoped was the right spot. I’d never done this before. I’d never even watched. Usually, I turned away anytime I had to give blood or get an injection. Somehow, it made the prick less uncomfortable. I couldn’t afford to do that now. And I couldn’t afford to mess up.

  I sucked in a breath, held it, and shoved the needle into my flesh. The pinch was sharp but brief. When I stopped shoving, the pain faded. I held the needle as still as possible and attached the vial to the end of the tubing. Nothing happened.

  “It’s not working,” I said.

  “Then it’s misplaced. Find the vein. One minute.”

  I jiggled the needle, wincing at the sting it caused.

  “Thirty seconds.”

  I pulled it out, inserted it again. Blood began to flow into the vial. “I got it.”

  “Good. When you’re done with that one, fill those.” She nodded at the rest of the vials I’d dumped onto the table when I’d sat down. My eyed widened.

  “There’s like fifteen vials there,” I said.

  “I know.”

  “What do you need all of this for?” I asked.

  The way she looked at me, with her head cocked slightly to the side confirmed what I’d suspected from the moment I’d realized the reason for illness in this place.

  “Your blood, as much as it offends me, is the only thing that will make them whole. And I need them whole.”

  A chill ran down my arms and settled inside my soul. “You’re going to inject them with my blood?”

  I tried to imagine what it would be like, being connected to that many minds. Feeling the same paranoia and panic over the safety of a hundred instead of one.

  I shuddered.

  “No. You are,” she answered. “I’m going to try not to shoot your friend.”

  The vials filled quickly. Too quickly. By the time I was finished, I felt lightheaded. Olivia’s arm never wavered, never lowered. The gun remained trained on Cord. Halfway through, Chris seemed to lose what little strength he’d been running on and let go of Cord. She folded onto the floor like an accordion. He didn’t bother to pick her up and Olivia didn’t ask him to. When I’d capped the last vial, I still hadn’t thought of a way out. At least not one that included both me and Cord escaping alive.

  I tried controlling my emotions enough to send George something specific, something that might help him know to move in, but I couldn’t get a handle on my thoughts. One minute adrenaline pumped into me hard enough to rattle my heart against my chest and the next, fear threatened to choke me. Or worse—make me cry. I couldn’t be sure he felt any of it, because I felt nothing from him. Maybe he was too far away. Maybe my own frantic emotions blanketed anything I could’ve gotten from him. I had no idea. I couldn’t think straight.

  My entire focus was on the vials in front of me and the level of connection it represented once my blood was injected into so many sick bodies. I’d only barely gotten a handle on my connection with George. The knowledge I could lose him one day, even years down the road from old age, scared me to the point of hyperventilation.

  And if my mind was suddenly joined with a hundred others—what then? How would I separate my own thoughts from theirs? Would I still be me?

  My hands shook.

  “Now what?” I asked when I’d removed the needle from my arm and bandaged the area. It ached under the pressure of my fingers and I knew I’d have bruises later.

  “Syringe—they’re in the cabinet.” She pointed with the gun and I stood to retrieve them. My knees buckled and I had to fall back against my chair to keep from collapsing.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded.

  “I … it was a lot of blood and I haven’t eaten.”

  She rolled her eyes. “There are crackers in the next cabinet.”

  I kept my movements slow and steady. I found the box of syringes and then the crackers. I stared at the mostly empty shelf in disgust. The few wrappers I found lay open; the food was covered in ants.

  “Not hungry after all?” I could hear the smirk in Olivia’s voice. I turned to face her, doing my best to ignore the sight of the gun.

  “No.”

  “Good. Get to work. You can start in here and work your way back outside.”

  While I gathered my supplies, Cord moaned from her place on the floor. She pressed her palms to the floor and pushed up, her chest rising a few inches before falling back again. Olivia strode over, keeping the gun trained on Cord’s back, and planted a kick in her ribs. It caused a sickening thud where her foot landed against bone. Cord grunted and went still.

  “Stop!” I screamed. A sob rose on the single word. I choked it back.

  “I suggest you get to work,” Olivia said, gesturing to the bodies in the room. None of them made a sound the entire time we’d been here.

  I walked to the first one: a man with thinning, gray hair matted to his head. His ribs stuck out against his skin. His chest retracted violently in his attempt to breathe. I reached out a hand toward him, then pulled it back. This close, the smell was unbearable. Sweat, urine, death.

  “I don’t know how to do this,” I said.

  “Then they will die. And so will she.” She kicked Cord again. It was more of a shove, a haphazard poke at something you had no regard for and made me want to strangle Olivia so badly, my hands itched.

  Instead, I reached into the box of syringes and unwrapped one. Its spindly metal tip shone dull against the filtered sunlight from the small window overhead. I fumbled with the vial of blood until the needle’s tip poked through the rubber stopper and then drew the plunger back to suck crimson liquid into the barrel.

  I set the vial aside and inspected the needle, channeling every episode of ER I’d ever caught with my mom. I tapped the side of the barrel with my fingers like I’d seen them do on TV and braced myself.

  The entire time I worked, I eyed the old man, trying to keep my distance. I recoiled at the knowledge I’d have to touch him for this next part, have to touch all of them before I was done. It was a mixture of disgust and compassion that had me gingerly taking his arm and turning it sideways, searching for a usable vein.

  I didn’t allow myself time to change my mind or second-guess before I shoved the needle through his flesh. It felt thin and spongy under my fingers. I tightened my grip, depressed the plunger, and yanked it free. I took a full step back and wiped my brow with the back of my hand.

  One down. Dozens to go.

  “I don’t have all year,” Olivia snapped.

  I stared down at the old man. His breathing remained the same. He didn’t move or open his eyes. “Why isn’t it working?” I asked.

  “It takes time. Keep moving.”

  I did what she asked and made seven more injections, working halfway around the room before the dizziness washed over me again. I steadied myself on the first thing my hand grasped—and recoiled as my finge
rs closed around another hand.

  This one belonged to a woman, her yellowing eyes open and watchful. She didn’t try to speak but her glassy gaze held mine the entire time I worked on her. She didn’t flinch when the needle penetrated, only stared back at me with a look of curiosity. When I pulled the syringe free, she sighed. Then Olivia snapped at me and I moved on.

  I kept Olivia and Cord in my peripheral vision. The reality of the gun never left my awareness, and as time went on, I had no choice but to accept I was alone. The others hadn’t come—weren’t coming. Random, errant thoughts flitted through my mind as I injected one person after another. Thoughts of Cambria and what she would’ve told my mom when they’d lost our trail. Of Wes and Derek and George and how the bond was evidently no help in locating me at this moment. Of Alex, and why he’d voted to let me come, only to disappear. Of these hybrids, caught halfway between death and domination.

  What would Olivia do to them if they survived? Was my blood even enough to bring them back, or were they too far gone?

  By the time I finished, my arm ached, my stomach rumbled, and my lids drooped with exhaustion. I wasn’t sure how I’d make it through the bodies that waited for me in the woods.

  “I’m done,” I said.

  “One more.” She pointed at Chris.

  He’d slumped over in the chair I’d sat in earlier, his head propped on his hand. He sat up as I approached and held out his arm.

  “I need you to stay still,” I said, preparing the syringe and setting the vial aside. I approached slowly, wary of the way his eyes tracked my movements. He wasn’t nearly as incapacitated as the others. I positioned the needle over his arm and held it there. His arm jerked underneath my hand. I tightened my grip and he snarled.

  “Stay still,” I repeated.

  “I’m trying,” he said. It was the first time he’d spoken. The raw desperation in his voice startled me. I’d expected menace, suppressed violence, but not this.

  “Just breathe, all right?”

  He nodded at me. I could see him fighting for control of his own body under my touch, and I knew he was closer to shifting than the rest of them. His body must’ve accepted the change a little better. Still, he looked … uncontrolled. More like the hybrids I’d fought at Wood Point. Something in his eyes made me think of the wolf Alex killed when I’d gone to meet Miles that first time. That pack had been hell-bent on killing me, and the order definitely hadn’t come from Miles.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

  “No reason. Here we go.” I stuck him before he could pull away, depressed the plunger, and slid the needle free. The whole thing took less than five seconds. He growled but managed to hold his arm in place.

  “That hurts,” he said, the desperation turning fierce. The muscles in his arm flexed and I took a reflexive step back. I tossed the syringe aside and put the vial back in my box of supplies.

  “It’s over,” I said. Our eyes met and held.

  “Almost,” he murmured.

  I shivered and turned away. Olivia wandered along the gurneys, examining patients. The gun hung limp at her side.

  I made it halfway across the room before she noticed me and raised the barrel at my head.

  “Don’t be stupid,” she said.

  “I can’t help myself,” I said.

  “Get those vials loaded up. We’re taking a walk.” She walked back to Cord and began yanking her up. “Chris, help me with her.”

  Chris stood, looking wobbly and weak, and made his way over to Olivia. She was struggling to lift Cord and still keep hold of the gun. “Carry her,” Olivia said.

  “Olivia …”

  “Carry her, I said.”

  Chris grabbed Cord and hefted, but he didn’t get far before his arms gave out and Cord slid to the ground again.

  “Fine, drag her back to her room. I’ll deal with her later,” Olivia snapped.

  With a grunt of relief, he grabbed Cord’s ankles and dragged her out. Olivia gestured for me to follow. I felt a stab of regret at leaving Cord like this, but I couldn’t do anything else.

  “Move,” Olivia ordered when Chris had locked the door.

  My back tingled where I knew Olivia had readjusted the gun’s aim.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Once during our trek through the woods, my pace slowed enough that Olivia got impatient and jammed the gun against my back, prodding me forward. After that, I kept pace with Chris, careful not to let Olivia get too close; I’d take an infected Werewolf over a loaded gun any day. Other than the sound of a faraway bird call, nothing moved or disrupted the stillness around us. I wondered where we were, if we were even in Virginia anymore, but I didn’t bother to ask. I knew it would do little good. Olivia wasn’t the talkative type, not like Miles had been.

  Once we reached the clearing, Olivia stopped and hung back near the wooden cage I’d woken in. Her eyes tracked my movements, as did the barrel of the gun. I could feel her watching me even when my back was turned. She wore her hate and rage under a thin mask of calm. Everything she said, every movement she made, felt calculated, as if she were constantly reining herself in. What would happen to me, to Cord, when my injections were finished? When she no longer needed to hold back? The thought made it hard to keep from shaking as I inserted another needle into another shriveled vein.

  None of the people here were conscious. A few moaned when I touched them, no matter how gentle I tried to be, but they did it from behind a wall of oblivion. I’d made it to the outer edges of the group, the furthest from Olivia I’d been since waking, and knelt beside the next body—a man with sagging skin that hung off him in sickening ripples. His jawline was pronounced, his cheeks sunken and dotted with splotchy stubble. I didn’t pay much attention. Like the others, his eyes were closed, his breathing labored. I held the syringe to the vial, tipped it up, and slowly pulled back the stopper, letting it fill with red.

  Without warning, the man’s hand shot out and locked around my wrist. I froze and met his now-open eyes. They were a dull gray, absent of hope.

  “It’s all right. I’m here to help,” I said. He didn’t respond or let me go. “This,” I said, holding up the syringe and the vial, “this will help you. It will make you better.”

  “I …refuse to be …a monster.” His body heaved with the last word. His chest shook on a silent cough and he gasped for air. I tried to think of something to do but there was nothing, no way to help. All I could do was assure him.

  “With this,” I said, “you can be yourself.”

  His eyes flickered to the scene behind me. “Not … with her.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. His body shook again, struggling to talk and breathe at the same time. “She controls you somehow, doesn’t she? When you’re a wolf?” He nodded.

  I thought of Astor’s theory, that what I’d done with George could work on all of them. And I remembered Vera’s words, about George and him being my pack. I looked down at the man and took his hand off my wrist, squeezed it. “After this, you won’t be with her,” I said. “You’ll be with me.”

  After that, he didn’t object to my sticking him, nor did he ask me to elaborate, which was good, since I had absolutely no idea how to explain. Astor said it could work on them all, but was it really as simple as sharing my blood? It had been with George. But George had been healthy, and getting healthier the closer he got to the change. These people had only gotten sicker and sicker. Was a small shot of blood in the arm enough to break whatever hold Olivia had on them? Was I really willing to bind them all to me?

  One thing was clear: Olivia didn’t know. If she did, no way would she be letting me inject all of these people with my blood. So as far as she knew, it was simply a cure-all for rejecting the change. If I could find a way to use that, maybe—

  Urgency, like a flood of adrenaline, washed over me so fast and so hard, I almost dropped the syringe. I managed to finish pumping blood into the man’s arm and then threw my used supplies into the
box. I glanced back. Olivia was still watching me. She looked bored, but impatient.

  The urgency came again.

  I paced my movements, desperate not to give it away, and walked to the next body. I crouched and began methodically preparing for the next injection. I kept my head down and scanned the woods out of the corner of my eye. Nothing. No movement, no sound. Even the birds had gone quiet. Still, the urgency in my mind continued to stream. An itchy tingle worked its way down my spine, starting at the back of my neck and spreading.

  “George?” I whispered.

  No answer. I didn’t dare whisper again.

  I completed the injection and moved on.

  The urgency grew, making me restless. My palms itched and my eyes darted from point to point. I did the next few injections with shaky fingers. At every twitch of a leaf or sway in the breeze, I expected George and the others to come barging out of the woods in rescue. It never happened.

  As I circled back around and neared Olivia, the urgency faded. It gave way to a void, an empty feeling that I couldn’t push aside. Whether it belonged to me or George, it felt hopeless, final, and I knew one of us had admitted defeat.

  When I’d finished the injections, I stood in front of Olivia and handed her back the box. I didn’t bother looking at her or the gun. Somewhere along the way, I’d accepted what came next. I didn’t even have it in me to summon tears or images of the faces I’d leave behind. I stared at my shoes and waited.

  “Let’s get going,” she snapped. “Chris!”

  He snapped awake from where he’d dozed against the wooden slats of my cage. When he saw me standing there, he stood. He looked better than earlier, a little steadier on his feet. She waved at him to lead the way. He glanced at me and my breath caught. His eyes were frighteningly clear and glowed yellow. I fell into step behind him only after Olivia prodded me hard between the shoulders with the point of the gun.

  “Why don’t you just shoot me and get it over with?” I said dully.

  “I have no plans to shoot you,” she said. “Unless you give me a reason. Walk faster.”