The Immortal Rules (Blood of Eden, #1)

“Look who’s talking,” Darren repeated, angrier this time. “I might’ve welcomed her along in hunts, but I wasn’t tripping over myself to talk to her every night. Everyone could see the way you looked at the girl. You weren’t exactly subtle, you know. Ruth nearly had kittens every time the two of you went off to do something. So don’t lecture me about getting attached, Zeke. You were falling for that vampire—we all knew it. Maybe you’d better check your own neck before you go pointing fingers at other people. Seems to me the vampire could’ve bitten you anytime she wanted—”

Zeke turned and punched Darren in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the pavement. I froze in shock. Darren staggered upright, wiping his mouth, and tackled Zeke with a yell, knocking them both down. Shouts and cries rose from the group as the two boys struggled and kicked, fists flying, in the middle of the road. Darren was older and slightly taller than Zeke, but Zeke had been trained to fight and managed to straddle Darren’s chest, pounding his face. The smell of blood trickled through the air.

It was over in seconds, though the actual fight seemed much longer. Jake and Silas descended on the boys, prying them apart, and the two fighters glared at each other, panting and wiping at their mouths. Blood streamed from Darren’s nose, and Zeke’s lip had been split open, dripping red onto the pavement. They didn’t struggle against their captors, though both seemed ready to fly at the other once more if they were released.

“What is the meaning of this?”

You had to give Jeb props. He didn’t shout or even raise his voice, but the tension between the two boys diffused instantly. Jeb waved the men aside and stood between the former combatants, looking grim. I watched their faces closely. Darren looked pale and terrified, but the expression on Zeke’s face was one of shame.

“Disappointing, Ezekiel.” Jeb’s tone couldn’t be any flatter if he’d dropped it from a thirty-story building, but Zeke winced as if he’d been given a death sentence.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“It is not me you should apologize to.” Jeb eyed them both with his steely gaze, then stepped back. “I do not know the cause of your fight, nor do I care. But we do not raise our hands in anger to anyone in this community—you both know that.”

“Yes, sir,” both Zeke and Darren muttered.

“Since both of you have energy enough to fight, tonight you will give your rations to someone who is in better need of them than you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jake,” Jeb called, motioning the older man forward. “Take up the rear guard with Darren. Zeke—” he turned to Zeke, who flinched ever so slightly “—you will join me up front.”

Zeke and Darren exchanged a glance, then Zeke turned away, following Jebbadiah to the head of the group. But I saw the unspoken apology flash between them and suddenly realized that Darren was afraid, not for himself, but for Zeke.

*

I FOUND OUT WHY SEVERAL HOURS later, when we stumbled upon the small town Larry had been talking about. It had the same empty, desiccated feel of most dead communities: cracked streets, rusting cars, structures falling apart and overgrown with weeds. A herd of deer scattered through a parking lot, leaping over vehicles and rusty carts. Darren watched them bound away with a hungry, regretful look on his face, but Zeke, walking stiffly beside Jebbadiah, didn’t even glance up.

I followed them through the town, hugging buildings and easing around cars, until they came to a small building on the corner of the street. At one point, it had been white, with a sharp black steeple and windows of colored glass. Now the siding was peeling off, showing rotten boards underneath, and the windows had been smashed into tiny razor fragments that glinted in the moonlight. A wooden cross balanced precariously atop the roof, leaning forward as if it might topple at any moment.

This must be a church. I hadn’t actually ever seen one standing; the vampires had razed all the ones they could find. No wonder the group would be attracted to this building; it probably gave them a sense of security. Jebbadiah escorted them in, pushing through the rotting door, and I looked around for a place to hole up, too.

The statue of an angel, broken and corroding away, poked out of the weeds at the edge of the lot next to the church. Curious, I examined it and found several chipped, broken gravestones buried under the long grass.

This must be a graveyard or a cemetery. I’d heard of them before in New Covington, places where families used to bury their dead. In New Covington, bodies were usually burned to prevent the spread of disease. This place, like the church itself, was a relic of another time.

Dawn was about an hour away. Crouching, I was about to burrow into the cool, rich earth that lay beneath the grass and weeds when approaching footsteps made me look up.

Zeke’s bright, tall form cut through the grass several yards away, followed by Jebbadiah, close on his heels. I froze, becoming vampire-still, as motionless as the gravestones around me. They passed very close, close enough for me to see Zeke’s cross, glimmering on his chest, and the smooth white scar tissue on Jebbadiah’s face. Zeke walked stiffly in front of the older man, staring straight ahead, like a prisoner on his way to the gallows.

“Stop,” Jeb said quietly, and Zeke stopped. The older man held something long and metallic, tapping it against his leg.

A car antenna.

Julie Kagawa's books