“Which is a good thing,” added yet another voice, also masculine, “because I saw VP Feintuch headed this way. We’d better bolt.”
Byron tossed Bram a set of keys with a rope-wrapped ball bearing as the fob. “You drive.”
“Gavin’s got shotgun,” Ulric called, pushing Bram aside and wedging himself into the seat beside me. I’d never heard anyone call shotgun for someone else before.
Nobody argued. Everyone scrambled for place like it was a Chinese fire drill, and we were peeling out of the school lot before I even caught an unnecessary breath.
“We’re sunk,” Gavin complained from the shotgun seat. “It’s hard to be inconspicuous in this. VP’s going to know it was us laying tracks.”
In comparison to the others, Gavin looked almost normal—sandy blond-brown hair with overlong bangs, which he kept brushing out of his eyes and tucking behind piercing-free ears; combat boots; jeans; and a T-shirt for the metal band Torrid. Basically, the kind of teen who can be found slouching behind the finest gas station and fast food counters everywhere.
“What’s your damage?” Bram asked him.
“I’d actually like to graduate,” Gavin bit out. “Unlike some of us, I don’t have a cushy job in the family business waiting for me when I’m sprung.”
“Mortuary,” Ulric said, leaning in confidentially with a sly glance at Poet Boy. “Byron’s one of those Ledbetters.”
His breath tickled my ear, and not in a totally ick way.
“New in town, remember. No idea who they are.”
“I see dead people,” Lily quipped, like that would make it all clear.
“Oh, shut it,” Byron snapped. “Anyway, the gang’s not all here. Where’s Bella?”
With the exception of Bram, everyone looked at Lily, like it was the girls’ job to keep track of each other. “What? It wasn’t my day to watch her,” she answered. “Bram?”
I couldn’t see his face, but the Bald and the Beautiful’s tone had “sheepish” written all over it. “She ditched me after lunch. I haven’t seen her since.”
“Um, guys, remember me—the new girl? Completely lost here.”
That look went around, the one that passes from person to person in groups where everyone knows each other so well that they can ask and answer questions without speaking. This one, no doubt, had to do with whether to let the outsider in on their secrets. It was Lily who finally answered, with a roll of her eyes. “Boys, she’s going to figure it out sooner or later.” Paydirt. “Bella’s got … kind of a love/hate relationship with food.” Or not. “We try to keep an eye on her, but … ”
I blinked. “Huh?” Brilliant interrogation technique, stupidity was.
Lily looked pained; Bram took pity on her and cut in. “Bella’s bulimic. She’s probably hiding out from us, praying to the porcelain god.”
“Very poetic,” Lily said, leaning across the rest of us to slap his shoulder.
He shrugged. “What would you prefer? Puke? Vomit? Spew? Blow chunks? Toss cookies? Oh, wait, I have it—reverse peristalsis.”
“Ack, enough,” I broke in. “Unless you want to see what I had for lunch.” Virgin Bloody Mary, or Suzy or, hell, Gustav. Courtesy of Uncle Sam. If anyone asked, I’d have told them it was a protein shake. I wouldn’t even have been lying. Blood was totally protein, right?
“Not on my carpet!” Byron nearly squeaked.
“I was thinking of your shirt,” I told him. “It would make an interesting ink blot, and we could play Name Your Neurosis on the way to wherever we’re going.”
Lily nearly choked with laughter.
“You interested in psychology?” Ulric asked, his leg brushing mine as he shifted in his seat, then gone again before I could protest.
I shrugged. “As much as anything.”
“Forensic psychology?” Gavin asked from the front seat.
Could you psychoanalyze dead people? Did the Feds have a division for that? “Um, sure,” I said convincingly. “Any kind of abnormal psych.” Like there was any other kind. People were weird, even the sane ones.
“Cool. I’m destined to be a CSI guy myself.”
“Like blood and fingerprints and all that?” I asked, wondering how to get the conversation back around to spells and the supernatural.
I hadn’t paid any attention to where we were going until a sudden stop threw Ulric into my lap and visions of my death played in my head like poisonous sugar plums. I never woke screaming in the night from post-traumatic stress—because I now slept the sleep of the dead—but put me in a car, rattle it around a little …
“Damn, Derek!” Bram hollered, pounding on the steering wheel.
“What the hell was that?” Byron asked.
“That idiot Derek cut us off. He and some other kid are drag racing, and we were in their way.”
“Isn’t anyone in school?” I asked, voice faint because I could barely suck in a breath.
Ulric shrugged. “New school policy. Attendance is kind of optional.”
• • •
Party central, it turned out, was an outcropping of graffitied rocks overlooking the Hudson River. You had to … get this … climb to get there, and lord help you if you teetered too close to the edge. The kicker—no outdoor plumbing. Not so much as a Porta-John in sight. Totally barbaric. Plus, there was the whole sunlight issue. I stepped carefully over broken glass, crushed cans, rolling papers, and stubs of various kinds and found a shady spot to plant myself. My little pleated skirt rode up to pop-diva-exiting-limo length, and Ulric planted himself across from me to take full advantage.
“Subtle,” I said dryly. “Sure you don’t want to take a picture? It’ll last longer.”
He smirked, whipped out his cell phone, and snapped a photo before I could protest, and I sat stunned for a full second thinking damn, damn, damn before I launched myself at him.
He stood up. Even in my platform Mary Janes I was no match for his height, and I refused to jump for it. I settled for a glare. He was going to be in for a really rude surprise when he tried to check the pic later on. Bobby’d probably have some cool Dark Knight monologue ready about being doomed to walk the shadows or some such thing. All I had was my sense of irony, which, whatever Alanis Morissette says, is not a black fly in your chardonnay.
“If that shows up anywhere on the Internet, you’re dead meat,” I told him. Let him think he’d misaimed the camera when he checked the pic later.
“Nope, this is for my private stash,” he answered with a wink.
I told myself that he wasn’t at all charming. Obnoxious, overbearing, and obvious, yes. Way too cocky for his own good, check. Vaguely hunkalicious, no.
Two more cars pulled off onto the dirt track created by way too many past vehicles off-roading, and we were joined shortly by three more kids from school who’d apparently brought a “party in a bag”—a six pack of beer; really, really cheap vodka; and more of Byron’s very special air freshener.
I didn’t want to be a killjoy, but, “Can’t the cops spot us up here?” I asked.
Ulric moved to put an arm around me, like I might actually be afraid and in need of masculine reassurance. As if. “They roust us about once a month. We’re not due for another couple of weeks. No worries.”
More and more people, some bearing pizza and other munchies, showed up as the night went on, and I started to wonder where all their parents thought they were. Mine, real or imagined, were out of the picture, but back in Ohio they would have blown a gasket if I’d ditched school and partied the night away. Did these kids have their folks trained? Was the lethargy catching?
Ulric had barely left my side all night, but the others had drifted away little by little. Bram thought he’d seen Bella, and he and Byron—the B Boys—went to search her out. Lily and Gavin crept off on their own a short time later.
“You guys do this every night?” I shouted to Ulric over the boom box someone had brought. It was blasting out something with a base beat so heavy I couldn’t hear anything el
se. And if I couldn’t hear it …
What I could hear was giving me a pounding headache, and I so wished I could numb the pain with the booze I kept pouring out onto the ground. Back during spy school training, a bunch of us had snuck out to party only to come practically face-to-face with our internal organs when our bodies tried to turn themselves inside out. Apparently, when they said variety was the spice of life, they meant it literally. Death was a crash diet waiting to happen.
“Nope,” Ulric answered in my ear.
“That’s it—nope?”
“The word goes out—where, when, etc., and we show up. Simple as that.”
“So who sends the word?”
He grabbed my hand and started leading me away from the thick of things. When I balked, he said, “Relax. I’m taking you somewhere we can hear ourselves think. Unless you’ve got other ideas.” He waggled his pierced brow at me, and I smirked before I could catch myself.
“Parcheesi,” I answered.
“Strip Parcheesi?”
I sneered.
“A purist. I respect that,” Ulric said. “Poker’s better for that anyway.”
I could kind of hear him now, without him being close enough to kiss. I wondered what Bobby was doing and hoped it didn’t involve the blond bombshell, Hailee. If she was the mean-girl equivalent of the old me, she wouldn’t be caught dead at a party sans indoor plumbing and mirrors for makeup reapplication. Mochas at the mall would be more her scene, and Bobby probably wouldn’t be within a hundred miles of the mall. Unless they were having an electronics sale.
I leaned against a tree to keep Ulric and me from separating any further from the pack and did my best to focus on my questioning. For some reason, that focus was a little tricksy … er, tricky. “So, word went out? Party among the pines?”
“More or less. We can’t fall into a pattern or the cops’ll know when to bust us, but on a Wednesday night at Red Rock—who’s looking?”
“But you guys come here often?”
“What’re you, a narc?” he asked, not looking truly suspicious yet, but clearly keeping the option open.
“Nope.” I shook my head, and it seemed extra wobbly, like I’d become a bobble-head doll. The world took an extra beat or two to settle back into place. “I’m a girl. Pretty sure you’ve noticed.”
Ulric’s eyes lit up at that, and he went from leaning against his own tree to taking a step closer to mine.
“Uh oh,” I giggled.
He stopped, giving me a hard look. “You okay?”
Another giggle escaped before I clapped my hands to my mouth. Did goths giggle? Oh, crap.
“You’re high!” Ulric said, amusement chasing the intensity from his face.
I thought for a second. Fought for thought, like I was a poet and didn’t even know it. The world wouldn’t hold still. Maybe all this breathing was making my head spin. Vamps weren’t equipped for it. And the Mary Jane in the air … Mary Jane, just like my shoes! I giggled again. Contact high … as the sky.
“Yup!” I answered happily. “You?”
He shook his head.
“Don’t you breathe?” It was out of my mouth before my brain kicked in, and I covered my mouth with both hands like the words hadn’t already escaped.
Ulric looked at me funny again. “You’re not a straight-edger, are you? Crap, I never figured you for one.”
“A what?” I asked, baffled.
And suddenly a scream pierced the night.
4
I bucked myself off the tree and immediately caught my heel on a root, nearly going face first into the dirt. Damn shoes. I kicked them off, thinking the forest could totally reclaim them for all I cared, and sprinted toward the sound, leaving Ulric behind to “What the hell?” me.
He caught up quickly and grabbed my shoulder, but I yanked it away again, still running but remembering not to go full bore. Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive … probably a dead giveaway that I was different. Get it, DEAD giveaway? I asked myself. I told the toasted comic in my brain to shut it.
“Are you crazy?” Ulric asked, gulping for breath as he fought not to fall behind. “Do you know how much broken glass there is around here? Not to mention snakes.”
I stumbled at the thought of tiny fangs piercing my foot. Even a poisonous snake wouldn’t kill me, but it might slow me down and blow me up like a balloon before my natural vamp healing could kick in. I could battle baddies in that state if I had to, but it wouldn’t be an elegant ass-kicking. And I was all about style.
I didn’t realize how fast I was going until I nearly collided with someone as we hit the core gathering, and barely had time to adjust. I stayed upright by ping-ponging off other people like a pinball …
Only to be stopped by a jock wall.
I smelled the blood even before I saw it. By using Ulric’s shoulder to support myself and standing on my tiptoes, I could see a battered Bella just beyond the jocks. Her eyes were no longer fey, but wild and furious. The blood came from a cut on her swelling cheek.
“What’s going on?” I asked a kid nearby who was just watching, his cell phone held at the ready as if to get a picture rather than dial 911.
He didn’t look away to answer. “I guess Nat gave the emo girl a ride up here and didn’t find her properly appreciative.”
“So he hit her?” I asked, outraged.
He shrugged. “She spilled beer on his kicks when she pushed him away.”
I couldn’t decide who to take down first—the jocks or this jerk, who seemed to find spilled beer a good reason for bloodshed—but I was going to have to figure it out fast. My eyeteeth were growing at the blood-scent and the ugly energy that filled the air. Jerky boy wasn’t the only one watching expectantly.
“You bastard!” Bram cried, barreling out of nowhere on the far side of the crowd to grab Bella and put her behind him. Byron was right beside him. “You only beat girls, or you want to try me on for size?”
“With all those earrings, who can tell the difference?” Jock-itch answered.
Bram launched himself at the bully boy, who side-stepped and grabbed Bram’s arm as he flew past. I heard a pop like his shoulder coming out of the socket, and then Bram was being whirled like a wrecking ball straight at Byron. Jock-itch released him at just the right moment and Bram struck Byron with a terrible thud, both collapsing to the ground. That was it. I pushed through the jock wall using all my super strength and leapt into the action. I jump-kicked Jock-itch’s arm at the elbow, cringing at the snap as something gave way. He never even saw me coming.
One of his partners in crime grabbed a pigtail and nearly yanked it out of my head before I hit him with a sharp elbow to the groin. He cried out and buckled, but caught my bare foot as he hit the ground and twisted my leg out from under me. I went crashing down to my knees. As soon as my flesh hit the ground, lightning seemed to arc through me, as though I’d landed on an exposed power line grounding itself through my body. Pure, crackling energy sizzled through me and every synapse, every muscle, hell, even my bones seemed to be electrocuted and as tense and taut as a tripwire.
Ulric tried to put himself between me and the jocks, to protect me while I was down, but they saw their chance at me. Bram and Byron hadn’t reentered the fight; I had only a second to worry about why not before a jock was pole-vaulting Ulric to get at me and his friend was lunging from the other direction.
I roared upward, catching one of the guys with an uppercut to the jaw and another with my shoulder to his stomach. He buckled over me and I used his momentum, thrusting him toward his still-reeling friend. They landed hard and went rolling, one over the other … right toward the sudden drop-off of Red Rock. Rather than stop them, everyone pulled back, afraid to be caught up and carried over the cliff themselves. Panic gripped me, and between the adrenaline and the weird electricity flooding my system, I flew into overdrive. I dove for them, tackling their legs and shredding my shirt before I was able to halt their slide and stop them cold
. All the fight had gone out of them.
For a second, the whole world froze. Then I heard a “Whoa!” from the crowd, and the sound of sobbing and Bram’s name being called more and more frantically.
Shaky from adrenaline overload, I got to my feet and made myself limp over to my gang, even though my scuffed-up knees were already healing beneath my trashed stockings. My legs nearly went out from under me as I took in the devastation. Byron, scraped but whole, held a trembling, sobbing Bella to his chest. Ulric, on the ground and fighting to stop his bleeding nose, watched me like he’d just seen me walk on water. And Bram … Bram hadn’t moved. Lily, who’d been calling out his name, pushed through the crowd and fell to her knees beside him, heedless of the blood pooling beneath Bram’s perfect head where it had landed on a jagged rock. Gavin shoved through the crowd a split second behind her, yelling “Don’t!” as it looked like she might hug Bram to her. “Call the paramedics, but don’t move him!”
“But we have to stop the bleeding!” she answered.
“You,” I said, pointing at the jerk I’d talked to first, who’d lowered his phone now that he’d gotten whatever sick shots he’d wanted, “call an ambulance. Lily, listen to Gavin. You might paralyze him or something if you move him now.”
To my horror, I spoke with a lisp. I’d forgotten the fangs. With all the blood, they weren’t retracting any time soon. But only Ulric was watching me. The others … they were focused on Bram or Bella. I fought for control over myself.
“If I hadn’t twisted as we fell, he’d have landed on me,” Byron said into the stunned silence. “I’d have broken his fall.”
Kids were already melting away, not wanting to deal with the paramedics or the cops who might come with.
“Or maybe it would have been your head on the rock,” I said, no patience for the blame game. The adrenaline or whatever had kicked me into a frenzy was starting to wear off, leaving me snappish … and hungry. The thirst warred with horror over the cause … my friends’ blood. I should go, before Ulric’s gushing nose started to look like a champagne fountain. Ewww, definitely well before that. But I couldn’t leave, not with Bram so helpless and with no idea whether the violence was magically inspired or whether it would start up again the second my back was turned. Something was going on. The electrified feeling that had zipped through me when my knees hit the ground was proof of that.
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