Reckoning

Christophe was suddenly there, right next to the phone, resolving out of thin air with a chittering sound. He scooped up the receiver before it could shrill again. Lifted it to his ear and waited, silently, a statue.

Graves was at the window, peering out through a slit in the heavy curtains. Both the shades and the curtains were mostly drawn, and now I knew why someone had left those two inches of space there. It meant you could look out without twitching the curtains and giving yourself away.

“Where?” Just the one word, clipped and short. Christophe held the shotgun loosely, pointed at the floor, and not a hair was out of place. Did he ever sleep?

Two knocks on the door. Crisp, authoritative, precisely placed. I actually gasped.

Christophe laid the phone down in its cradle. “All’s well,” he said over his shoulder. “Lights.”

I suppose he meant it to be a warning, but I still wasn’t ready when he flicked the switch by the door and undid the locks. I blinked, tasted morning in my mouth, and hoped I hadn’t been snoring.

The door opened. I tensed, and Ash growled again.

“Chain the dog, Dru-girl,” a familiar voice said. He sounded like Bugs Bunny—half Bronx, half Brooklyn, all New Yawk. “We come in peace.”

What the hell? “August?” I sounded squeaky. “Augustine?”

“In the weary flesh. We have to get her out of here, Reynard.”

Christophe didn’t stand aside, blocking the door. He still had the shotgun, and his shoulders were tense. “Who’s with you?”

“Hiro and some of the wulfen. We’re all that could be spared. We’re being hit on all fronts, and this entire area is crawling. Somehow they’re everywhere.”

“Augie?” I took two steps forward. How did they find us?

“Thank God,” Graves said, softly.

I glanced at him. He’d turned away from the window, and his entire face had relaxed. Why? Jesus, it was someone from the Order who’d turned him over to Sergej in the first place—

“Ah.” Christophe stepped back, opening the door. Ash was still growling, and everything in the room rattled. “Dru, calm the Broken down. Enter, Dobrowski. I presume the loup-garou was calling you, then?”

Golden-haired Augustine looked just the same as always—white wifebeater, red flannel overshirt, jeans and heavy engineer boots, and not a day over twenty-two. He’d hit the drift late and looked old for a djamphir. There were bruised-looking circles under his dark eyes, though, and that was new. “Calling us? We got wind of her through the wires. A cop and a grocery store manager—hey, Dru.” It would’ve been impossible for him to look any more relieved. He pushed past Christophe, who shook his head and swung the door closed. “You’ve bloomed. Thank God. Sweetie, can you get him to stop that? I don’t want to have to hurt him.”

I gathered myself. I couldn’t even feel gratified that Augie noticed I was different now. “Ash.” Just the one word, but it cut off the growl like flicking a switch. Then Christophe’s meaning caught up with me. “Wait, hang on. Graves?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else to do.” His shoulders sagged, and his eyes were so dark. “So I was going to call them.”

My brain froze. “Wait. When was this?”

“When you went to town. With Ash. I went down the road looking for a cell signal. Then, while you were at dinner, I called an Order drop-line.” Graves hunched his shoulders. He was shaking, actually, and I wondered why. “I’m sorry, Dru. I just . . . it’s best. They can protect—”

I stared at him. “You called them? Well, great. What the hell. Maybe that’s how the vampires found—”

“Dru.” Christophe’s voice cut across mine. “He did the right thing.”

“They found you?” August pushed past Christophe into the room, sweeping the door shut behind him. “When?”

Christophe had things he wanted to know, first. He locked the door, then slid past August and stalked into the room. “An incident with the police? Dru?”

I stopped dead. Stared at Graves.

You shouldn’t trust me.

No. I couldn’t think it. I just couldn’t. “Where did you get the cell phone? If you were looking for a signal, Graves, where did you get the phone from?”

His irises were black now, no trace of green. His hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumped. “Stole it out of some lady’s purse. That WalMart in Pennsylvania.”

“Oh, so that’s where Ash learned to shoplift, I bet?” My hands curled into fists. “God damn it, Graves—”

“Dru.” Christophe was suddenly next to me, his hand curling around my shoulder. “Leave it. If he had not called the Order, I would have sooner or later. You must be protected.”

“Yeah, real bang-up job they’ve been doing of it so far.” I tore away from him. “Who died and left you in charge of me, huh? I’m not going back to the Order. I’m heading we—oh.” I shut up. Telling August where I was headed was not a good idea. Except I’d already spilled the beans to Christophe.

Christophe grabbed my arm again, his fingers sinking in. His eyes burned blue. “The Maharaj have decided to ally with my father instead of with us. For what reason I cannot guess, unless they know something we do not and wish to treat with the victor instead of the vanquished. The Order will have a difficult enough time fighting on two fronts, and if the djinni-ji are watching for you as well, I prefer you safe within the Order’s defenses. Gather your things.”

All this time I’d been wishing for someone else to show up and take charge, and now that he was doing it, I seriously wanted to smack him. “The Order’s not going to protect me.” I tried yanking away from him again, but his fingers bit down and I stopped, glared at him. “Or Graves. Look how well that turned out. Why should I give them another chance to screw up and make my life miserable, huh? At least out on my own I know who to depend on!”

“Oh, I don’t think you do.” The aspect settled over Christophe, his hair slicking down, the blond highlights eaten by darkness. He looked as grim as I’d ever seen him. “I think you trust entirely the wrong people, kochana. Now.” Either he was shaking or I was, I couldn’t tell. “If you do not pack your things, August will, and I will drag you to whatever extraction point they’ve managed to hold in this city. Do you understand me?”

I stared up at him for a long moment. Ash whined softly, deep in his throat. The entirely mad idea that I could use the touch to make him jump Christophe floated through my head, but that would be stupid.

Still . . . the thought had some merit.

“Dru.” Augustine stepped forward, avoiding Christophe’s malaika on the floor in front of the TV. “Dru-girl, princess, please. There’s me and Hiro. And your wulfen friends. Reynard’s right, if the Maharaj are playing fast and loose we need to get you under cover. I know you’re scared, but please. Listen to us. We’ve got to get you out of here. There are nosferat all over the city; they’ve been on your trail since the warehouse. I don’t know how you’ve stayed alive so far—”

I don’t know either, Augie. It’s been a hell of a ride. For the first time, August was talking to me like I was a fellow adult. I couldn’t even feel happy about it.

“Let go of me.” I didn’t sound like myself. Christophe eased up a little, and when I took my arm away from him I could feel the aspect smoothing over bruises his grip had left. “Thanks, Augie. You’re the one who asks me instead of tells me whatever-the-fuck to do.”

He actually looked shocked. “Language, kiddo.” It was the same thing he would have said during the month I spent with him while Dad was up hunting something out Canada way—hunting, probably, for Sergej. I’d figured out that much later, at least. “Come on. Please?”