Defiance

He already looked hopeless. And I was just about to make it worse.

“Get out,” I whispered.

He stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language. I hoped like hell he couldn’t read my face. At least the skin lay stiff and masklike against my bones; maybe it would help keep what I was planning a secret.

I slid off the bed. Swayed for a moment, and Nat reached forward as if she was going to help me. My hand flashed out, and I slapped hers away. The sound of the slap was like the last piece of my heart shivering into pieces.

Dibs let out a small, soft, hurt sound. Leon was watching me very carefully, his odd-colored eyes narrowed.

I found my voice again. “Get out. All of you, out.”

“Milady—” Nat had gone white, and I didn’t want to see the flash of pain in her wide blue eyes, no trace of yellow glow left in the irises. I didn’t want to see the way she’d grabbed her hand, either, as if she’d touched a hot stove.

Or as if I’d hurt her, with just my puny human strength.

So I half-turned and pointed at Ash. “I said get out. And take him with you.” My hands turned into fists, and I dropped them.

Ash looked at me gravely, his scarred boyface set and pale. His head was cocked just a little, and the way his hair fell in his scar-jawed face hurt me suddenly. Would Graves end up like this?

Broken?

Oh, hell no. Everything that had shattered came together inside me again, sharp edges sliding together like puzzle pieces.

“Dru—” Leon, now. He stepped forward, but I rounded on him.

“I am svetocha,” I said quietly. “And I want you all to get out of my goddamn bedroom. Right. Goddamn. Now.”

The words rocked him back on his heels. Dibs let out a squeak and bolted for the door, fumbled with the locks, flung it open, and was gone. I pointed at Ash. “You. Down.”

He hopped fluidly off the bed and crouched, hands and feet on the floor.

“Take him, Nathalie. Ash, go with Nat. Don’t give her any trouble.” Who was the girl issuing orders in this crisp, cold voice? It couldn’t be me. My face was frozen, and the ice was starting to work down to the rest of me. I had to get them out of here. Because once dusk hit and Christophe got back, good luck doing any of what I had planned.

“Milady—” Leon attempted, again. Maybe he thought he was going to calm me down.

That was so not happening. The entire room flexed around me, a sudden drenching wash of spice exhaling from my skin, and an odd crackle ran along the surface of my skin.

“Get. The. Fuck. OUT!” The last word was a yell, and Nat actually jumped out of her chair. She reached down, her fingers slipping through Ash’s greasy hair, and the two of them were suddenly at the door. Ash looked back, but Nat jerked on his hair like it was a leash, and he piled out into the hall with her.

Leon and I faced each other. His shoulders were up, but high flags of color stood out on his cheeks, and he wore an odd, set little smile that was more like a grimace of pain.

“What are you going to—” he began, but I took two steps toward him. My hands were knotted up so tight they made little creaking sounds, and I felt little prickles in my palm that weren’t just fingernails. My wrists ached, twin fiery bracelets. The aspect slid over me, oil-hot and soothing, and for once I didn’t care that my teeth were tingling and he could almost certainly see the little fangs dimpling my lower lip.

I held his gaze, and his pained expression grew deeper, like silt building in the bottom of a clear pond.

I didn’t care. “Get. Out. Or I will hit you.”

He backed up, watching me like you’d watch an angry rattler. For a single second I felt a flash of guilt. Nat and Dibs would probably never forgive me for losing my shit; I’d probably scared the hell out of both of them. Hurt their feelings big-time. And Leon?

Who cares what they think? The cold was all the way inside me now, determination taking shape. It’s not important. The important thing is getting that door locked and getting your gear.

Leon backed out the door. His hand flashed out, caught the knob, and drew it closed behind him. It closed with a definite snick, and before I knew it I was across the room, locking every single lock. I settled the iron bar in its brackets and saw the thread-thin lines of blue warding sizzling as they ran through the physical fabric of the walls and spun together in a complicated Celtic knot in the middle of the door. They were getting brighter, trembling on the edge of the visible, and that made it official. The touch was stronger. I was stronger.

Something was happening to me, building inside me. Some change, like the tide shifting. Whatever it was, I didn’t care. If it was the blooming, finally, great.

It would make it easier to kick some ass.

I stood there for a couple seconds, my eyes suspiciously prickling.

I won’t push, and I don’t pry . . . All I ask is a little attention, Dru.

Christophe had laid right there on the bed. Held me while I cried. Kissed me, and all the while he knew where Graves was. He knew. And he hid it from me.

From me, and because of me.

Jesus.

I swallowed the stone in my throat. Forced the hot prickles in my eyes away. My fangs pressed out, insistent and achingly tender. The bloodhunger quivered at the back of my throat, and that made me conscious of what, exactly, I was feeling. There was a whole complicated tangle, but the biggest dog in the pile was clear, cold anger.

Not anger.

Rage.

I turned around and surveyed my room. I had my emergency bag, and there were my mother’s malaika hanging in a harness, on their peg next to the vanity. Dusk was gathering in the window, and Christophe and the Council would likely be back any moment now.

Get going, Dru.

I got going.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Getting off the Schola grounds without Nat was child’s play with the aspect so thick on me. It ran over my skin in intensifying waves, no longer warm but just on the verge of hot, like a good strong shower. I didn’t have the benefit of one of Nat’s braids. The curls occasionally slipping free of the sloppy ponytail were veined with gold, long and loose and silky.

For once, my hair was behaving in a pinch. But I couldn’t even care.

It was dusk, time for the changing over of the guards roaming the Schola grounds, and I’m sure that helped. I moved when I didn’t hear anyone, froze and faded into the walls or bushes when I did, and when I got to the wall I hopped up on top of it like it was a stepping stool. No Nat around to give me ten fingers, but with the aspect, I didn’t need it.

Poor Nat.

Once I got off the grounds it was time to worry about transportation. Ran into a problem there—with the malaika harness on, I couldn’t take a cab. Could I slide by on the subway?

I thought about it, and I decided if I could take on a sucker in a moving subway car, I was probably able to handle some cops. At the very least I could get away, and that was good enough.

When you’ve run with werwulfen, a human can’t hope to catch you.

Still, it was probably best to stay below the radar. A cop would babble into a walkie-talkie, and if anyone was listening to cop chatter on a scanner they might catch wind of me. I couldn’t afford that right now; I couldn’t afford