They dragged Alex into the cell next to mine and let him go. His head cracked off the hard floor. I bolted to the shared wall of bars, reaching through for one solid swipe at one of those arrogant assholes, but missed. They knew enough to stay out of arm’s reach.
Tall Jock, the more skittish of the pair, squared his shoulders and looked me up and down. A noticeable bulge grew in the front of his tight jeans. Definitely a high school student who strayed to the wrong side of the city at night. He whispered to his friend, and Short Jock offered me the same visual appraisal.
I didn’t turn around, but could imagine the poisonous glare on Wyatt’s face. I couldn’t take my gaze off Alex. His ribs moved a fraction of an inch. He was breathing—small comfort. He was still unconscious, at the mercy of the Halfies and their infectious bites.
“Shoulda turned her,” Short Jock said, eyeballing me.
My stomach dropped down to my feet. Blood rushed from my face and set my heart racing. The Halfies laughed as they left the cell. I didn’t look at them. I eyed every cut, every scrape on Alex’s visible skin, looking for a bite. All it took was one. Their combined laughter was cut off abruptly by the door slamming shut.
I slid to my knees and reached through the bars. He was too far, by at least a foot. He was facedown, half his body hidden from my inspection. He couldn’t be bitten. They’d said that to goad me, piss me off.
“Alex.” I pressed against the cold barrier until my shoulder ached. “Alex!”
“Evy, is he alive?” Wyatt asked.
“I think so. I can’t see!”
He didn’t have to ask what I couldn’t see. I tugged at the bars, as if I could pull them apart like putty. I tried the other arm, stretching and bruising it in vain. I screamed Alex’s name over and over, but he didn’t stir. Wyatt didn’t interrupt my mininervous breakdown, remaining quiet in his corner, watching.
Minutes later—or an hour, it no longer mattered—Alex’s left hand twitched. I went completely still. Then he groaned, low and muffled. I held my breath, afraid to break the spell. Another groan, another twitch. His head tilted … the wrong way.
“Alex,” I said.
After a moment’s pause—and probably some superior effort on his part—Alex turned his head in my direction. Both of his eyes were puffy, swollen half-shut. Red tinged both nostrils. A fresh cut decorated his forehead from his tumble to the floor. His old gunshot graze was unbandaged and oozing. He blinked bleary eyes that remained at half-mast, hidden from my desperate need to see their color.
“I’m here, Alex. It’s Evy.”
His nostrils flared. He squinted. His lips moved, tried to form words. No sound came out, but I recognized the shape. It was a name. I bit the inside of my cheek, crouched down, then reached through the bars.
“It’s Chalice,” I said. “Take my hand, Alex, I’m here.”
A pained smile ghosted across his lips. His left hand inched toward mine, dragged there by fingers missing their nails. I swallowed back a small scream, but he didn’t seem to notice. His attention was fixed on my hand. One small task. One centimeter at a time. He closed the gap.
My fingers brushed his. He stopped, satisfied with his progress. Panting hard, his cheeks flushed bright red against a deathly pallor, he gazed at me with shadowed eyes.
“Alex, did they bite you?” I asked.
He squinted, but didn’t seem to understand the question. “Asked me,” he managed, each word a single, wheezing breath. “Don’t know … anything.”
“I’m so sorry, Alex. So sorry.”
“Guess won’t … bury … you after all.”
I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. They scorched my eyes and throat, burning with the sorrow in my heart. I had taken a gentle soul, thrust him into my violent world, and he was dying. Dying because I didn’t stay dead the first time.
“You’re fine,” I said, choking on the words. They stank of lies. I forced them out anyway. “We’re going to get out of here, and we’ll get you to a hospital. They’ll take care of you. All of the junk food you can eat while you get better.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Ice cream?”
“Any flavor.”
“Strawberry.”
“That’s the best you can do? Strawberry? What about chocolate chip?”
“Gross.”
I laughed and lost it inside of a sob. My fingers stroked his, light enough to let him feel me, but not hard enough to cause him more pain. “Fine, strawberry it is. Lots of it, with strawberry sauce and whipped cream. You just have to hold on, okay? You can’t have it if you die on me.”
“Better not die.”
“Yeah, you better not.”
All I could do was sit there and touch Alex’s hand. A few drops of blood leaked from his nose and pooled on the cement. He didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were barely open, but his hair was still solid brown. Maybe I’d get away with only killing him once.
“You,” he said.
I shook my head, not understanding. “Alex?”
“You did this.”
A gunshot to the stomach would have hurt less. Agony squeezed my heart so tightly I couldn’t breathe. He withdrew his hand and left me grasping for air.
“Alex, don’t. I’m sorry.”
He closed his eyes.
“Please!”
His chest stopped moving. I stared, my entire body trembling. Silence pressed down, louder than a thunderclap and deadlier than a lightning strike. He didn’t stir. I’d let him die. It was my fault. I’d done it, and he knew it.
“Alex.”
I dissolved, sobbing harder than I’d done in my life. Curled into the tightest fetal ball I could manage, I wrapped my arms around my knees and wept. Hatred and sorrow and loss and helplessness, all rolled into one broiling emotional cauldron. Rising above the rest was despair, sharp and painful, a thousand splinters in my heart.
“Evy, please, come here.”
I heard Wyatt’s voice, but couldn’t conjure the energy to respond. Crawling five feet to his side of the cell was too hard. Staying on the floor was easier. Pretending it wasn’t happening was easier still. Maybe if I stayed there long enough, the floor would open up and swallow me whole. End it all. Stop the suffering and doubt.
The hysteria subsided on its own. Choking grief was replaced with faint whimpers. My head weighed fifty pounds. My nose and eyes hurt, and my throat felt raw. Every muscle ached from lying on the cement ground. I wiped my face. I didn’t sit up.
“Evy.” The alarm in Wyatt’s voice parted the fog in my brain. I uncurled and lifted my head. He stared past me, lips parted, eyebrows knotted. His eyes widened. “Evy, move!”
I followed his barked order without thought, rolling toward him, over and over until I slammed into the bars of our shared barrier. I pulled into a crouch too quickly, and nearly keeled over. Then the dizziness passed, and a nightmare came into focus.
Alex smiled from his side of the cell, straight-backed with hands clasped in front of him. Cuts and bruises littered his chest, but he seemed not to feel them. He ran one hand through his hair. Brown powder streaked his fingers and dusted his shoulders, revealing the blond peppering beneath. He wiped his hand on his shorts. Eyes finally open wide enough to show a flash of lavender, he grinned like a fool satisfied with a cruel joke.
I waited for more anger to bubble up and spill over. Righteous indignation at his deception. Hatred for the show he’d just put on. Already a Halfie, pretending to die, just to hurt me. Instead, I only had pity. Alex was gone. The half-breed creature in front of me didn’t change that fact. Vampiric infection irrevocably alters a person, not just physically, but also their brain chemistry. His little show had only proved how much the vampire had already overtaken the human.
