Bloodlines

lamely, hoping to make him feel better.

A small smile played over his lips. “You’re a terrible liar, Sage, but I’m still touched you’d attempt it for my sake. A for effort.”

“Yeah, well, what happened back there seems kind of small, in light of the current situation,” I muttered. “It’s easy to forgive.”

Lee’s frown had been growing as he listened to us. “Do the others know you’re here?” he asked Adrian.

“No,” said Adrian. “I said I was going back to Clarence’s.”

I didn’t know if he was lying or not. For a moment, I didn’t think it would matter. The others had heard me say I was coming here, but none of them would have any reason to come seeking us.

No reason, except the bond.

I caught my breath and met Adrian’s eyes. He looked away, perhaps for fear of betraying what I’d just realized. It didn’t matter if the gang had known where I was earlier. If Jill was connected to Adrian, she would know now. And she would know that we were in trouble. But that was assuming it was one of the times when she could see into his mind. They’d both admitted it was inconsistent and that high emotion could bring it out. Well, if this didn’t count as a highly emotional situation, I couldn’t think what would. Even if she realized what was happening, there were a lot of if’s involved. Jill would have to get here, and she couldn’t do it alone. Calling the police would bring the fastest response, but she might hesitate if she knew this was vampire business. She’d need Eddie. How long would it take to get him if they were back in their dorms?

I didn’t know. I just knew that we had to stay alive because if we did, one way or another, Jill would get help here. Only, I no longer knew our odds of survival. Adrian and I were both confined, trapped with a guy who wasn’t afraid to kill with a knife and who desperately wanted to become a Strigoi again. That was a bad combination, and it threatened to get worse . . .

“Who’s coming, Lee?” I asked. “Who did you call?” When he didn’t answer, I made the next logical leap. “Strigoi. You have Strigoi coming.”

“It’s the only way,” he said, tossing his knife from hand to hand. “The only way left now. I’m sorry. I can’t be like this anymore. I can’t be mortal anymore. Too much time has already passed.”

Of course. Moroi could become Strigoi in one of two ways. One was by drinking the blood of another person and killing them in the process. Lee had tried that, using every combination of victims he could get ahold of, and had failed. That left him with one last desperate option: conversion by another Strigoi. Usually, it happened by force, when a Strigoi killed someone and then fed their own blood back to the victim. That was what Lee wanted done to him now, trading our lives to the Strigoi who would convert him. And then he wanted to do it to Jill, out of some crazy misguided love . . .

“But it’s not worth it,” I said, desperation and fear making me bold. “It’s not worth the cost of killing innocents and endangering your soul.”

Lee’s gaze fell on me, and there was a look of such chilling indifference in it that I had a hard time connecting this person before me to the one I’d smiled indulgently on as he courted Jill.

“Isn’t it, Sydney? How would you know? You’ve deprived yourself of enjoyment for most of your life. You’re aloof from others. You’ve never let yourself be selfish, and look where it’s got you. Your ‘morals’ have left you with a short, strict life. Can you tell me now, just before you’re about to die, that you don’t wish you’d maybe allowed yourself a little more fun?”

“But the immortal soul—”

“What do I care about that?” he demanded. “Why bother living some miserable regimented life in this world, in the hopes that maybe our souls go on in some heavenly realm, when I can take control now—ensure that I live forever in this world, with all of its pleasures, staying strong and young forever? That’s real. That’s something I can put my faith in.”

“It’s wrong,” I said. “It’s not worth it.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d experienced what I have. If you’d been Strigoi, you never would’ve wanted to lose that either.”

“How did you lose it?” asked Adrian. “What spirit user saved you?”

Lee snorted. “You mean robbed me. I don’t know. It all happened so fast. But as soon as I find him I’ll—ahh!”

A yearbook is not the greatest of weapons, particularly one the size of Amberwood’s, but in a pinch—and with surprise—it’ll do.

I’d noted earlier that I wasn’t going to be able to undo the knots in the tie anytime soon. That was true. It had taken me this whole time, but I’d done it. For whatever reason, knot-making was a useful skill in the Alchemist curriculum, one I’d practiced growing up with my father. As soon as I was free of Adrian’s tie, I reached for the first thing I could: Kelly’s junior yearbook. I sprang up and slammed it into Lee’s head. He cringed back at the impact, dropping the knife as he did, and I used the opportunity to sprint across the living room and grab Adrian’s arm. He needed no help from me and was already trying to get to his feet.

We didn’t get far before Lee was right back on us. The knife had slid somewhere unseen, and he simply relied on his own strength. He caught hold of me and ripped me from Adrian, one hand on my wounded arm and one in my hair, causing me to stumble. Adrian came after us, doing his best to hit Lee, even with bound hands. We weren’t the most efficient fighting force, but if we could just momentarily delay Lee, there was a chance we might make it out of here.

Lee was distracted by both of us, trying to fight and fend us off at the same time. Unbidden, Eddie’s lesson came back to me, about how a well-placed punch could cause serious damage to someone stronger than you. Sizing up the situation in seconds, I decided I had an opening. I closed my hand the way Eddie had taught me in that quick lesson, positioning my body in a way that would direct the weight in an efficient way. I swung.

“Ow!”

I yelled in pain as my fist made contact. If this was the “safe” way to punch, I couldn’t imagine how much a sloppy one hurt. Fortunately, it seemed to cause just as much—if not more—pain to Lee. He fell backward, hitting the comfy chair in a way that made him lose his balance and collapse to the ground. I was stunned at what I had done, but Adrian was still in motion. He nudged me to the door, taking advantage of Lee’s temporary disorientation.

“Come on, Sage. This is it.”

We hurried to the door, ready to make our escape while Lee shouted profanities at us. I reached for the knob, but the door opened before I could touch it.

And two Strigoi entered the room.

CHAPTER 25

I HAD MOCKED KEITH when we first came to Palm Springs, teasing him for freezing up around Moroi. But as I stood there now, face-to-face with the stuff of nightmares, I knew exactly how he felt. I had no right to judge anyone for losing all rational thought when confronted with their greatest fears.

That being said, if Keith was here, I think he would’ve understood why Moroi weren’t as big a deal to me anymore. Because when compared to Strigoi? Well, suddenly the little differences between humans and Moroi became negligible. Only one difference mattered, the difference between the living and the dead. It was the line that divided us, the line that Adrian and I firmly stood together on one side of—facing those who stood on the other.

I had seen Strigoi before. Back then, I hadn’t been immediately threatened by them. Plus, I’d had Rose and Dimitri on hand, ready to protect me. Now? There was no one here to save us. Just ourselves.

There were only two of them, but it might as well have been two hundred. Strigoi operated at such a different level than the rest of us that it didn’t take very many of them to tip the odds. They were both women, and they looked as though they’d been in their twenties when they became Strigoi. How long ago that was, I couldn’t guess. Lee had zealously gone on and on about how being Strigoi meant you were “forever young.” Yet in looking at these two monsters, I didn’t really think of them that way. Sure, they had the superficial appearance of youth, but it was marred with evil and decay. Their skin might be wrinkle free, but it was a sickly white, far whiter than any