Jealousy

* * *

The Schola Prima felt empty, but I knew better. I couldn’t tell who was watching as I followed Christophe through the halls.

He paused in front of the door with the carving of a leering face. “Dru . . .”

“What?” I put my hand down, away from my mother’s locket, with an effort.

“I just want you to know something.” He indicated the door with a brief sketch of a movement, but said nothing else.

“What?” I repeated nervously. The hall looked just the same as it always did. Velvet, old wood, marble busts. It really wasn’t the kind of place I belonged. I shifted my weight, and the funny idea that the bruises might change their mind and come back floated through my head for the twentieth time.

“Whatever happens in here, whatever they offer me, my loyalty is to you. Don’t doubt that.” His chin tipped down slightly, the aspect brushing over him, slicking his hair down and making his eyes glow.

I swallowed hard again. “That loyalty thing . . . isn’t that Anna’s thing?”

He cocked his head. “Loyalty’s all we have. The nosferatu have used us against each other many times. Anna isn’t the first to turn traitor. She won’t be the last, either.”

“That’s really comforting, Christophe.” I didn’t mean to sound snide. “Let’s get this over with. I want to look for Graves.”

He looked about to say something else, but visibly decided not to bother and pushed the door open. I wiped my sweating hands on my hoodie surreptitiously and hoped this wouldn’t take too long.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Four old djamphir standing to attention. The chair at the head of the table was empty. Alton, Ezra, Bruce, Hiro, all stood ranged in front of the table like a firing squad. There was no breakfast laid out this time.

Christophe closed the door. I folded my arms self-consciously, trying not to wonder if any of them had stolen a peek while my T-shirt was torn. My hair was behaving for once, but I was still glad I’d braided it back tightly and drenched it with conditioner to keep the frizzles down. Not that it was frizzing much lately, but habits die hard.

Bruce clasped his hands together. His face was set and white under his coloring, and it didn’t do him a lot of good. His eyes were burning coals. “Milady.”

Outside the sun was shining, and the birds were chirping. But in here there was no daylight. I shifted my weight uncomfortably. Kept my hands in fists so I wasn’t tempted to touch my mother’s locket. “What? I mean, what do you want?”

“I think this would go better if you sat down,” Hiro said gently. But I looked past him, and there was a dent of darkness on the table’s mellow polished shine.

My heart crawled up in my throat. “God.” I sounded half-strangled. “No. Oh, no.”

I shoved between Hiro and Alton and grabbed the black thing. It was a long black canvas trench coat. It would go all the way to my ankles, but it would hit him at midcalf. It smelled like cigarette smoke and healthy young male loup-garou.

It was torn all to pieces. Another piece of it was in my bag right now. I’d fished it out of my other jeans and stowed it carefully.

There was an envelope, too, heavy cream linen paper with a wax seal on it. The seal had already been broken. “We wanted to make sure—” Hiro began.

I dropped the coat and snatched the envelope. Ripped it apart.

“When?” Christophe was right behind me. “Exactly when? After he disappeared? And where?”

Alton’s face was set and ashen. “We don’t know. A box was delivered a half-hour ago, containing the coat and the envelope.”

One piece of that heavy expensive paper. Spidery but firm antique handwriting, good enough to be called calligraphy. You could almost see a fountain pen scratching at the paper, its nib scraping along like a busy little insect.

Since you have taken my Broken, I will break another.

“No.” My mouth kept saying it. “No. No.”

Christophe subtracted the letter from my nerveless fingers. Scanned it briefly. “Dear God.” He didn’t sound horrified. Only . . . thoughtful.

I was horrified enough for both of us.

I picked up the coat again. It was torn, one sleeve almost severed, and there was drying mud splashed all over it. Mud, and another darker fluid that had dried to a crust.

I didn’t want to think about it.

A scream was rising in my chest. I shoved it down as hard as I could. It didn’t want to go. Think, Dru. Think.

I looked up, my fingers turned into claws in the ruin of the coat. Met Christophe’s steady, icy gaze. “What are you going to do?”

Even though I already suspected the answer. He was just loup-garou . They wouldn’t care.

Not the way I did.

Come find me. Oh, God.

“There’s precious little we can do.” Bruce picked up the ripped envelope. A silent snarl drifted over his handsome face, his proud nose wrinkling. “The boy might have left school grounds; nobody saw them take him. It’s been long enough—he could be anywhere by now. Sergej hopes we will be drawn into a rescue attempt because of your attachment to—”

“Anna,” Christophe said flatly.

Hiro gave him a dark, eloquent glance. “We cannot lay every misfortune at her door.”

“Dru ‘stole’ me; Anna said as much. Why not ‘steal’ the one person Dru trusts absolutely? It has a certain symmetry, and it’s how the Red Queen operates. She knows no other way. We find Anna; she will help us find the loup-garou. And answer every question we have about her activities, from eleven years ago to today.” Christophe’s shoulder lifted, dropped. “Simple.”

“Now hold on,” Ezra piped up.

“We can’t risk—” Hiro, again.

“This is madness,” Alton weighed in.

“There’s no guarantee—” Bruce began, but I tipped my head back and let out a sound halfway between a strangled scream and a growl, and everyone shut up.

“You assholes.” This time the aspect didn’t feel like warm oil. It felt like a crackling cloak of lightning settling over me, and I had to work to pronounce the words the way I wanted them. “I’m out of here.”

I spun on my heel, my bag bumping my hip, and pushed past Christophe. Or tried to.

“Dru!” He grabbed my arm, and I seriously had to work to throttle the instinct to punch him. “Don’t. Please.”

“It’s Graves!” Tears blurred my eyes. “He’s got Graves! I have to find him!”

“We will. But you cannot help the loup-garou by running out of here without a clear idea of what to achieve. Sergej won’t kill him. Not yet.”

“Let go of me!” My voice broke like a little boy’s. “It’s Graves! He’s got Graves!”

It was like a nightmare. Something else kept happening. And I suppose that ever since I’d picked that piece of fabric off the thorns, this was what I’d been dreading. I just hadn’t said as much to myself.

Because I was turning out to be a coward. I’d rather accuse Graves of leaving me behind, even if it was