Hearts At Stake

chapter 8

Lucy

“You a*shole!”

I didn’t think, just reacted with all the anger and guilt and worry I’d been carrying around all day. I punched him right in the nose. He reared back, grabbing his face.

“Shit, shit!”

“That’s right, you sneaky bastard.” I leaped to my feet, panting. “Use me against my best friend, will you?”

He reached into his pocket. I got to mine first, took out the pair of nose plugs I’d stashed there, just in case, and I shoved them in.

“Oh, no you don’t,” I snapped, smug as a cat with a mouthful of canary feathers. I was going to redeem myself, if I had to punch him ten more times to do it. My knuckles felt bruised, sore. Vindicated.

There was the teeniest, tiniest possibility my mom was right about my temper.

Kieran just blinked at me, bewildered. “Who taught you to punch like that?”

I smiled grimly. “The Drakes.” He shifted, as if he was going to get up. “Uh-uh. You stay right there or I’ll scream so loud half the town will come running. You might be part of some secret club, but I can still get you arrested for being a creepy stalker.” I noticed the way he was trying to look at the back of my neck, and my wrists. “And what the hell are you doing now?”

“You don’t have any scars.”

“What?”

He pushed himself up so he wasn’t sprawled in the dirt. His nose looked sore but I hadn’t actually broken it. “Bloodslaves have scars, from the feedings.”

“Don’t use that word, it’s insulting. And it makes me want to kick you. Hard.”

He held up his hands, palms out, as he stood up fully. I took a step back, raised a fist. I could see the hilt of a knife in the top of his boot.

“You have to know that vampires murder people.” I could tell he was thinking about his father. Sometimes it was a real pain that my own father had encouraged such a strong sense of empathy in me. He couldn’t have taught me math?

“Kieran, humans murder all the time. And the Drakes aren’t killers. They’re not Hel-Blar, they know how to control themselves.”

“They’re all the same.”

“Don’t make me punch you again. My hand already hurts.”

He nearly smiled. “You might be as scary as Helena Drake, one day.”

“I intend to be.”

“You’re well on your way.” He wiped blood off his face ruefully. A car passed by on the street.

“Leave them alone, Black.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is too. Helios-Ra has a treaty or whatever, so stick to it.”

“I’m a new agent. I only just turned eighteen. Do you really think I’m in charge over there? I have orders, just like everyone else.”

“That’s convenient,” I sneered, gathering up my bags before turning away. “And totally lame.” I stopped at the driver’s-side door. “Don’t be a lemming, Black.”

When I got back to the farm, one of the guards stepped out where I could see him and shook his head disapprovingly. Ooops. I was already flinching when I let myself out of the car and Nicholas opened the screen door. So much for sneaking out and then back in, none the wiser. Nicholas’s nostrils actually flared.

“Lucky.”

I flared mine back and felt like an idiot.

“Nicky.”

I pushed past him, then wished I could go back out onto the porch to fight with him. I’d take that over Solange’s pale, worried face any day.

“Lucy, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sol. I just needed supplies and to feed the cats.” I dropped my bags, felt Nicholas come up behind me. She looked so relieved, it gave the guilt sharper teeth. No one else could make me feel so bad without saying a single word. Bruno was doing a pretty good job though, looking like a disappointed parent before he went out to patrol.

“I’d have fed your bloody cats,” Nicholas muttered. He saw my drugstore bags, looked at me incredulously.

“You went to buy lipstick? At a time like this?”

“Yeah, that’s right, and an exfoliating mask. Don’t be an ass. I went for supplies.”

The sun filtered in through the window, and he flinched away, even though it was specially treated glass and he was in no danger. He looked tired enough to fall over. Even the shadows under his eyes had shadows.

“You should be in bed.”

“I was in bed,” he said pointedly. “Until you went shopping.”

“I needed nose plugs.” I lifted the pair hanging on a string around my neck. “And they’ve already come in handy.”

He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Why?” He grabbed my wrist. “Why, Lucy?”

I tugged back but couldn’t break his hold.

“Because.” I stopped pulling. I’d only dislocate my own wrist. “I ran into Kieran Black. Literally.”

They both stared at me.

“What?” Solange finally squeaked.

Nicholas turned my hand over. His eyes flared, went the color of frost, at the blood on my knuckles. I shrugged sheepishly.

“I nearly broke his nose.” I half smiled. “I’ll have to try harder next time.”

He dropped my hand, stepped back. There was something fierce in his face, even when he smiled faintly.

“I guess I should be glad I’m not the only one you punch.”

I made a face at him and dropped into a chair. I was starting to ache in muscles I didn’t know I had. There were still roses everywhere, and the smell was overpowering.

“Did he hurt you?” Solange’s face was stony.

“No, I’m fine.” I watched Nicholas trying not to weave on his feet. He looked as if he were standing on a particularly wave-tossed boat. “Go back to sleep,” I said with more gentleness than I’d planned. I paled when something occurred to me. “You didn’t tell your parents, did you?”

“No,” Solange said. “I only just found your note. I didn’t even get a chance to tell Nicholas. He just stumbled out of his room, all freaked out.”

We both turned to look at him. I thought he might be blushing— if vampires could blush, that was.

“The house smelled wrong,” he muttered. He glared at us. “Shut up.” Then he went up the stairs. I raised my eyebrows.

“He’s getting weirder.”

Solange snorted, pulled out a handful of nose plugs, air freshener sprays, and a bowie knife from my plastic bags.

“So are you.”

I waited until we were alone before I hustled Solange into her room.

“What are you doing now?” she muttered when I shut her door and pressed my ear to the wood for a moment to make sure no one was listening. And by no one, I meant Nicholas.

“Okay, I should totally be a spy.” I grinned at her. “All I need is some funky accent and I could be a Bond girl.”

She groaned. “What did you do?”

“I stole this from Kieran, right after I punched him.” I pulled out a small book from the inside pocket of my jacket. It looked innocuous enough, slender as a poetry chapbook, with a simple font and a sun illustration on the front cover. It was the title that stood out: A Field Guide to Vampires.

Solange read it, blinked, read it again, and then stared at me. “A Field Guide to Vampires? Is that a joke?”

I laughed out loud. “Nope. Just a little souvenir from the Helios-Ra.” We sat on her bed and set the guide on the blanket in front of us. We skimmed the index, snorted at the pompous introduction and the pseudo medieval oath new recruits had to take. There was a bunch of stuff on hunter protocol that could come in useful someday. There was also a whole section on the Drake family, and a page devoted just to Solange, listing her stats, like she was a rare kind of frog one could search for in a swamp.

“It’s kind of creepy.” She made a face. “I’m starting to feel like the bearded lady at the carnival.”

“I would never let you grow a beard,” I assured her, trying to lighten the mood. If she hunched her shoulders any tighter, her collarbone would shatter. “I’m way too good a friend for that.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“All in a day’s work.”

“I can’t believe they study us like that. I mean, did Kieran sit in a classroom and learn that I wear cargo pants and like pottery? And how do they know that anyway? And I’m not solitary, damn it, I just don’t like crowds.” She paused. “Okay, so maybe I am solitary, so what? And my nickname is not ‘Princess Solange.’ Give me a break.”

I tugged the book out of her hands before she could twist it in half. It flipped open. “Hey, no way. I’m in here too.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You are not.”

“I totally am.”

“Okay, that’s going too far.”

“Apparently, I’m brash and reckless.” I snorted. “Better than being a mindless droid to some secret society.” I did a double take. “Did you know one of my strengths is annoying Nicholas?”

She laughed despite herself. “Okay, that part’s true.”

“Shut up, he’s the one who annoys me.” I tapped the book thoughtfully. “Hmmm.”

“Oh, God. That ‘hmmm’ is never good.”

I ignored her and reached for the phone. “They know all about us, shouldn’t we know a little about them too?”

“How? You can’t just phone up a secret society.”

“Maybe not. I mean, Kieran might not have a MySpace page, but he has to live somewhere, doesn’t he? He’s not like Black Ops or anything, right?”

“I guess not. Wait, what are you doing?” she asked as I dialed 411.

“Shh. Hello? Kieran Black in Violet Hill. Address unknown.” I covered the mouthpiece. “I need a pen.” She ran to her desk and practically threw one at me. I wrote on the back of the guide. “Thank you,” I said before hanging up.

Solange and I smiled at each other, and it felt like the smile of two lionesses about to take down a gazelle.

I pushed each number as if I were squishing a bug. Kieran picked up on the first ring.

“Mom, for the third time, I’ve got the milk—”

“It’s not your mom,” I interrupted, smirking at Solange.

“Who is this?” he asked suspiciously.

“It’s Lucy.”

He made a very gratifying choking sound. “What? I never gave you my number.”

“You’re listed, genius. So you can add that to your little guidebook. I’m not only reckless, I’m resourceful too. And Solange isn’t solitary, she just doesn’t like you.” She had a weird look on her face. “Are you okay?” I whispered to her. “Lie down.” I could hear Kieran shuffling the phone, probably searching his pockets.

“You took my guide!”

“Yup. You want it back? Meet us tonight.” Solange’s eyes widened. I waved away her concern.

“I can get another guidebook,” he told me.

“Yeah, but how would it look for a new recruit to have lost it to one of your profiles?” I had him there. “Besides, you owe me, Black.” And there.

He sighed, like an old man. “I don’t actually owe you, Hamilton.”

“Do so.”

“Does Solange know you’re doing this?”

Interesting. “Yes, she knows. Don’t you think she’s tired of playing monkey in the middle for you people? Ow, what?” That last part I said into the air since Solange had grabbed the phone from me, scratching me in the process.

“My nickname is not ‘Princess,’ ” she said witheringly. “Fine. After sunset.” Her voice hardened. “Come alone.”