It was full, black night when Tana woke. She came out of sleep like a thunderclap—waking from dreams so deep and dark that she couldn’t remember anything but dirt and hands pulling her down into graves with cities inside them. She was covered in sweat, as though she’d slept through a fever.
Outside her window, the lights of Coldtown were glowing like luminous jellyfish floating on a vast sea—candles in some windows and electric lights in others, generators pumping and wind turbines whirring. Tana’s clothes were stiff and rusty with dried blood. She stripped them off and wrapped herself in the poncho like a robe.
It had been two days ago, around sunset, when the vampire had scraped the back of her knee with his tooth. Which meant that forty-eight hours had passed since then, had passed while she was asleep. That was Sunday night and it was Tuesday night now. Which mean that her body must have shaken off the infection. If her symptoms hadn’t gotten worse yet, then, against all odds, she’d beaten it.
She wanted to scream and jump up and down. She settled for spinning around the room, not caring that she was wearing only a weird poncho, not caring about anything except that she was going to stay human. She was going to be fine.
It felt almost dangerous, that something so good had happened. But if she got ready fast, she could be out past the gate and on the road before dawn.
The upstairs of the house had several bedrooms, most of which had been stripped of furniture. She found the bathroom at the end of the hall, and when she turned the taps on in the bathtub, water flowed. It was dark at first and stank of iron, but after she let it run a little while, it became clear. She showered under the icy spray—the water heater having probably stopped functioning years back—finding an ancient cracked lump of soap and rubbing her skin with it until she got the blood off her knees and out from underneath her fingernails. Then, with nothing else to wear, she put her jeans back on along with her new underclothes and shirt.
Back in her room, she tugged on her jacket, slipping one hand into the pocket.
The envelope was still there. With trembling fingers, she opened the flap and took out a folded up page ripped from the Dylan Thomas book. My hero bares his nerves along my wrist. Over the poem, Aidan had written in red marker: I’m not ready to let you leave me. Tipping up the envelope, a quarter slid out into the middle of her palm.
The weight had been right and the shape—it was just the object that was wrong.
He must have written those words as she carried bodies through the streets, knowing what he’d say when she got back. Knowing the whole time that he was going to con her. Tana punched the wall, not caring that her knuckles split. She hit it again, punching it over and over until blood smeared the wallboard.
Never again, she promised herself. No matter what, she was never going to let anyone get the better of her ever again. No more mistakes.
Rufus looked more somber than she’d seen him, when he opened the door. He blinked in surprise at the sight of her. He was wearing plain jeans and a T-shirt instead of his usual finery. His eyes were bloodshot.
“Aidan and Midnight cleared out about an hour ago,” he said, leaning against the door frame. “With Winter’s body.” Behind him, she heard Christobel calling down sleepily, asking who was at the door. He ignored her, but a little bit of snark bled back into his voice when he spoke again, one brow raised. “I guess they don’t need us anymore. Zara’s dead and it was all for nothing. But Midnight, she was wearing her best, most tattered finery, planning on presenting herself to Lucien Moreau.”
Tana slammed her hand into the wall again. “Damn it!” she shouted up at the sky. The stars winked down at her as if they were laughing at how silly she’d been. “Well, I guess that’s where I’m headed.”
“You can’t go to Lucien’s dressed like that.” Rufus sounded apologetic. “If you’re not a vampire, the only way to get in is to dress as deliciously as possible—like a raw, quivering, little pork chop—and stand around with all the other humans, hoping you look good enough to get picked. Unless you know somebody who can get you on the very exclusive list.”
Tana didn’t know anyone who could get her into a fancy vampire party. But she could think of a person who might be on the list, one boy with a vampire girlfriend, who must visit her sometimes, maybe even without climbing across a rooftop.
Tana kept looking up as she walked through the streets, hoping to spot Jameson’s white crow or some sign that he was around. The chance of her actually lucking into finding him was low, but since she didn’t have any other way to contact him, she figured she’d go past places he’d taken her, eat at the cart they’d eaten at before, and ask Valentina at Oddments & Lost Things if he’d brought any other strays past.