Betrayals

The black book with Dad’s contacts, because I’d thought it would be a good idea to keep it with me. But if August had disappeared, who else could I call? And it wasn’t like there was a phone here. I hadn’t even seen one in Dylan’s office. Shanks had talked about phonetime, but I had no idea where to even find a line to the outside world.

I was as isolated as a prisoner.

Compass, road map for Florida, and another for North and South Dakota. Neither map would do me any good, but the compass would be useful. Mini flashlight, I flicked it on and off, checked for the extra batteries. It still worked. Those were good things to have.

Travel-size bottle of ibuprofen, small bottle of holy water, bottle of salt. I slid the switchblade in one of the smaller pockets sewn along the back of the bag. It rattled against two large silver dollars and four or five iron nails. Well, they’re steel, actually, but the iron content makes them a good defense against all sorts of things. Revenants, some apparitions, fairies, you name it.

I shivered, thinking of fairies. People who think they’re all sweetness and wings should pray they never run across a sidhe with a bad temper and the ability to steal years from your life. And pray that they never hear silver horns in the dead of night, echoing against the hills as hoofbeats rattle on a lonely stretch of road and the Wild Hunt looks for a victim. Gran taught me about never, ever messing with fairies.

I was even scaring myself at this point, but it felt good to be doing something. To be planning, instead of just being buffeted along with what everyone else wanted me to do. This preparation was something I could have done in my sleep.

Dad’s billfold went in the secret compartment under the flap. I folded the transcript one more time and slid it into Dad’s little black book. Then I picked up the nine-millimeter and checked the clip once more. It was habit. I tore up a pillowcase from the blue bed and wrapped the gun, so something couldn’t press against the trigger. I put the wrapped gun in the bag and wished I did indeed have a holster.

Wishing wouldn’t get me one, though.

Come on, Dru. Think. Think hard, and think fast. How would Dad put it? Think logically.

My logic-thingy wasn’t working too well lately. But I’d give it the old college try.

Anna wanted me to think Christophe had betrayed my mother. But he’d saved me, so that didn’t make much sense. She also thought I was stupid. Just showing me two pictures of the house we’d lived in Before wasn’t going to make me not trust Christophe.

Unless…

Things exploded behind my eyes, my brain finally making some connections. Oh shit.

My hands were shaking. I held up one of them. Even my fingers were jittering. I grabbed for the locket and rubbed it with my thumb, hard, like I could polish away the fear.

Showing me two pictures was useless. Unless she wanted to find out what I remembered about that house. She’d been watching me very carefully while trying not to look directly at me.

And why the hell would she come all the way up here herself, especially since it was so dangerous for a svetocha? Bodyguards and tutors, and here I was locked in a room for them to decide what to do with me.

For Anna to decide? Or for Sergej to decide? Did it matter?

Well, Dru, there’re two words that apply. Fuck that. That about covers it.

But what about Ash? And what about Christophe, asking me to wait? Could I depend on him to come back for me?

It doesn’t matter. You can’t help either of them if you’re dead. Blondie’s on duty to watch you at the moment, but as soon as it’s dark it’ll be time for the first class of the evening and he’ll be gone. You’ll have a chance.

A chance to do what, though? What could I do? I wasn’t about to go crawling around the roofs at night.

At least I knew Christophe was alive. I could be the only person that did know that for sure, and still, anything could happen to him in the next few days.

And there was the fact that Christophe could be using me for bait. Everything inside me rose up in revolt at the notion, because every time I thought of him I felt his warmth against me and smelled a ghost of his apple-pie self. Maybe I should just wait around for—

Dru, you’re counting on other people to save you. That’s not going to happen. I let out a shaking breath. This one’s all about you.

But what about Graves?

Shit. That’s the only hole in this plan. But if I wasn’t around, would he be so much in danger?

And he was happy here, even if it was a reform school. Graves was just peachy hanging out with his hairy friends.

His hairy friends who liked blaming me for even being born. Jesus. A band of shadow was moving up the window as the sun sank, the light taking on that golden-honey cast of the best hour to capture it, if you could. I’d never been much into photography, but I remembered drawing in this light while Gran spun thread or finished dinner, sometimes singing in her queer atonal way, other times muttering imprecations at chicken broth or vegetables. I missed both things, her singing, and the steady hiss-thump of the antique spinning wheel. It was probably sitting under a dust cloth in the corner near the fireplace right where she’d left it. The house, mine under the terms of the trust, was closed up nice and tight, and I had the keys right on my key ring, that was still probably with the truck Christophe had hidden.

But there was another key ring, and I knew exactly where it was. In a metal box buried under the north side of a big granite boulder, the one Gran poured fresh milk over every new moon.

She also bolted the door every new moon. They left her house alone. That’s another reason why I always shiver when I think about fairies.

There’s nothing like waiting for the night to make you really nervous. The plan came together inside my head, and I was really wishing I had access to a car, any car. How did the food get to the school? Who did all the laundry?

It was a fine time to wish I’d been looking around instead of moping up here in my room or skipping classes. Then again, I wouldn’t have been taught anything worthwhile if I’d attended class, now would I. They were actively trying to prevent me from learning something.

So. No car, just me. There was one lonely country road dipping away from the school, hitching up with the county highway a good distance away. Far enough away that I hadn’t seen it from the roof of the Schola.

Two unpainted lanes of blacktop, with a deep ditch on either side, ribboning through the woods and occasional fields. It joined up just north of the town the wulfen were always running to. I could buy a map there and…

Then what? You don’t know anyone around here, and anyone you contact is going to be a question mark. If August was a part of the Order, maybe some more of Dad’s friends were too.

And if he’s vanished, what’s to say the others won’t as soon as you call them for help?

My head hurt trying to think about all of it. But the absolutely essential first step was getting out of here. Once I was on the move, I could figure everything else out.

Graves and Christophe had both pointed out it was easier for the vampires to kill me when I was away from a Schola, even a small one.

But they’d have to find me first.

I got up, left the bag on the bed. What do you wear when you’re running for your life? Layers, boots because your feet are your lifeline and sneakers are too flimsy, and wool. Graves’ shirt had vanished in the laundry. It gave me a funny feeling to think about it.

I felt like I’d just woken up after a long winter’s nap, but I couldn’t stop shaking.