Jealousy

tube of arnica ointment. “Because if you haven’t—”

“Give her the goddamn Advil, Dibs. Jesus.” Shanks leaned out, testing the wind, and I had a sudden, vivid mental image of him falling. The windowsill hit him right in the middle of his quads, and all it would take was a good shove. There wasn’t even any screen to hold him back. “She looks like she needs it.”

Dibs shrugged and headed for the bathroom to toss everything. The water turned on in there. He was fanatical about washing his hands after bandaging. I thought about offering him a T-shirt, since his was all smeared with arnica.

I watched Shanks nervously.

A few weeks ago I didn’t even know these guys, and now here I was worried one of them would fall out a window and hurt himself. I didn’t even know if that drop would injure a wulf. They can do some amazing things. “Be careful there, okay? There’s no screen on the window.”

“I was just noticing that. Seems weird, though. The other ones all have screens.” He bent over, braced his hands on the sill. Even so, he looked poised instead of hunched. “Looks like this one had one until recently. There’s scratch marks here, too.”

It hasn’t had a screen since I moved in. My throat was dry. I hurt all over, and suddenly I just wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers up over my head. “Do you think he’ll come back?” My voice sounded very small. The bed was soft, and to hell with climbing into it—I decided I wouldn’t mind climbing under it and hiding for awhile.

“Graves? Yeah. He just needs to run off the rage.” Shanks shrugged. “He’d come back to a burning house for you. Did it once already.” He turned on his sneaker heel and stalked for the bathroom.

“What do you mean, he came back?” I remembered the Schola burning, and I remembered Christophe dragging me out. But Graves—

“He was the one who made us go back to pick you and Christophe up. We would have been hell and gone if not for him.” The bathroom door shut, and Shanks said something I couldn’t hear over the plashing of water.

Every inch of me ached. My heart hurt worst of all. I was beginning to think it was normal to feel like it was being pulled out of your chest all the time. The toilet flushed after a little while, but at least the wulfen were tactful. Whatever they were arguing about, they were doing it quietly. Dibs sounded worried, Shanks determined.

I pushed myself off the edge of the bed, made my legs straighten. Got my hoodie on, zipped it up. Stood swaying for a few moments. The sleeping bag was neatly rolled up and pushed against the night table on this side, and his pillow was tossed back up on the bed. Graves’s T-shirts, including the “velociraptor with a light saber” one —which he’d looked pleased over—were still hanging up in the closet, half of the drawers in the huge antique dresser holding them as well. I’d gotten used to the sound of his breathing in the room with mine. Ever since Dad had shown up dead but still walking, Graves had been the one person I could depend on.

What exactly was I afraid of?

The same thing I was always afraid of, I guess. That I’d be left behind somewhere—like in the hospital corridor after Gran died, just repeating over and over again that Dad was coming, that he would know what to do, that he was on his way, and hoping like hell it was true.

Dad had shown back up and taken care of everything, but I was always afraid one day he wouldn’t. And one day . . . he hadn’t quite come back. Shambling into your kitchen as a zombie and trying to kill your daughter doesn’t really qualify as a grand return.

And Graves . . . he was thinking I was like his mother, or something? Had he just decided I was too much trouble to deal with? Or what? Shanks said he’d come back once he got rid of the anger. That’s what wulfen do— they run it off.

It’s either that or hunt something down and eat it. Everyone should be glad they usually go for the former. Except most normal people will never ever even hear of stuff like this.

The weight in my throat, prickling behind my eyes, was loneliness.

The toilet flushed again. All the starch went out of my legs and I sat down hard. Here I was again, sitting and waiting for someone to come back. But I was hearing wulfen argue in the bathroom, instead of just the creaks and thumps of an empty house while the wind moaned hungrily outside.

It wasn’t much of an improvement, but I’d take it.

* * *

Dibs gave me some ibuprofen and told me to ice my wrist. He looked unhappy, but he just gave Shanks a meaningful stare and carried his medical bag out, shaking his golden head. Shanks shut the door, turned around, and eyed me.

I stood in the middle of the big blue room and felt shipwrecked. Stared back at him. Deep dark eyes, the long fringe of dark hair over them turned aggressive instead of angsty, his sleeves pushed up to reveal lean muscular forearms. Silence stretched like a big old rubber band.

I wet my lips with my tongue nervously. “Get to it. I mean, if you’re wanting to beat me up, too, you’ll have to stand in line. And it would waste all the work Dibs just did.”

As a joke, it was in pretty poor taste. It had seemed funnier inside my head.

“Please.” He rolled his eyes. “Graves would kill me. I’m just wondering if you’re, you know, concerned.”

Concerned? I’m full-fledged paranoiac at this point. “About Anna? Or about—”

“About someone taking the screen off your window. Who’s been visiting? Or have they not been visiting because someone else is sleeping in your room?” One dark eyebrow vanished into the fringe above his eyes. “I’d ask you which side of the fence you’re playing, but the more I hang around you the more I think you ain’t playing at all.”

The sigh that came out of me would have made Dylan proud. “I’m not—”

He held up both hands. “I got it, I know. You wanna take my advice, then, or are you going to snap my head off for even offering it?”

Choices, choices. “Shoot.”

“’Cause you know, you’re svetocha and I’m a lowly wulf fresh outta reform school. You shouldn’t even be talking to us, let alone acting like Dibs and me’s your best friends.”

“But you are my best friends. I can’t trust anyone else!” I actually pitched forward, throwing the words at him like a dodgeball.

“Like I said. But anyway . . . I don’t trust this. Something’s hinky. What with Red getting all aggro on you and someone scratching at your window, not to mention the fact that you shouldn’t’ve been sent to our backwoods Schola in the first place and more vampires than I’ve ever seen in my life chasing you down. And let’s not even talk about Reynard, okay?” He stopped, waited for my nod, and continued. “I’m saying it might not be so good an idea for you to sleep up here if someone you trust isn’t with you. So. Either we stash you someplace nobody knows about, or . . .” His face worked itself up a little, like he was sucking significantly on a lemon. Like I should know where he was going.

It took my poor busted brain a few seconds to figure out what he was suggesting. “Or you stay here. Um, I guess not, Shanks. I mean, I trust you and all, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

He looked almost green with relief. “Well, cool. Because Graves would have a fit. He’ll probably be back anytime now. He knows we can’t leave you alone. So—”

A lightbulb turned on inside my head. “I’ve got an idea,” I said, and I told him.

Like I expected, he didn’t think much of it. “You’ll end up with your guts for garters, Dru.”

I shook my head. “He hasn’t hurt me. Not yet. And can you think of a better place? Nobody would expect it.”

“Bad idea.” Shanks shook his head so hard his shoulders moved, too. “Jesus Christ. You’re nuts. Completely bazonko.”

“All you have to do is act like I’m in here.” I sounded perfectly reasonable, even to myself. “And for Christ’s sake, it’s not like I’m not down there every night anyway.”

“But . . . ” He stopped. “You know, it’s actually not such a bad idea. Completely crazy, but not such a bad idea.”

“Exactly.” I stuffed my hands gingerly in my hoodie pockets. The wrapping on my wrist helped. Once you get all bandaged up, the fight is really over. You can afford to relax a little bit.

Maybe. Until the next crisis comes along. And I was jumpy. Who wouldn’t be, after all this?