Defiance

CHAPTER THIRTY

Graves turned on his heel, firing smoothly as Sergej barreled past him. I couldn’t hear the shots over the roaring. I meant to bend down and scoop up my malaika, only made it halfway before my knees gave out and hit the floor with a jarring thud. My fingers closed around the hilt just as my teeth snapped together, fangs piercing my lower lip, and I tasted blood again. Thankfully, it was the sweet crimson of my own blood, not someone else’s. The bloodhunger retreated to a tired glow, and I leaned back. The wall suddenly seemed incredibly comfortable.

Graves was suddenly there, looming over me. His face contorted; he was shouting. I stared up at him wonderingly. Even under the filth and blood and the ashen-gray tone to his skin, he was beautiful. I’d only seen bits of it before, but now that all the flesh was pared away from his bones he was . . .

He reached down and grabbed my arm. “MOVE!” he roared, a loup- garou’s command voice breaking through the crackling rush of the flames. “DAMMIT, DRU, MOVE YOUR ASS!”

I found enough starch in my knees to stand up again. His fingers bit into my biceps, and I suspected I’d be feeling this all over tomorrow.

Assuming we lived to see tomorrow.

He dragged me down the hall, gun held low in his right hand. My malaika tips dragged; I couldn’t lift them but I didn’t want to leave them behind. We stumbled together, and the fire licked closer. Glass shattered behind us, and the draft got stronger. Air swirled around us, lifting my hair and teasing at his coat. The hall stretched like infinity; he slipped and I pitched aside, my dumb body weight keeping him upright; he returned the favor by yanking on my abused arm and almost getting the malaika’s edge against his leg.

I didn’t realize we were running until we rounded a corner and saw the door. It had been busted off its hinges, and the wind around us became a scream. We plunged through the door and into sudden relatively-cool darkness full of little tiny kisses of spring rain.

I dropped the malaika, dug in my heels, grabbed Graves’s arm, and pushed with all the weary strength I had left. We went flying, rolling, his arms around me somehow and wet dirt squelching, as an amazing belch of red-yellow flame shot out of the open door. I lay on my side, cold water seeping into my jeans, and considered passing out.

No way. Still too much work to do.

But I just lay there for a few seconds, Graves in my arms, his head tipped back and his throat working as he swallowed several times. He was definitely hugging me tighter than he had to, and every time he gasped in a breath, he would exhale and his arms would tighten more.

Like he was afraid someone would take me away.

My arm was twisted underneath me, and I was exhausted. Even my toenails hurt. Even my hair hurt. The pain was a river, and I just lay in it.

“Dru. Dru.” He was saying my name. He had his face in my dirty hair. I hugged him back as hard as I could. The fire roared like the sea, and I could see the side of a warehouse. We were on the verge of a greenbelt, wet bushes dripping under the fine misting rain, and the night was painted by leaping flames.

There were still sporadic gunshots. I didn’t hear Christophe screaming anymore. The thought sent a hot bolt of guilt through me. Thick black smoke was heaving itself up into the sky.

“Dru,” Graves repeated raggedly. “Dru. Jesus. Dru.”

“Um.” I could find nothing to say. My fangs were still out, achingly sensitive. “Graves.” Or should I call you Edgar? A thin bubble of hysterical laughter welled up inside of me; I ended up letting out a wheeze that turned into a series of smoke-tarnished coughs.

“Jesus.” Was he shaking? I couldn’t tell, because I’d turned into mud. I could’ve just laid there and waited for morning with no trouble at all.

Except it was going to get cold, and we couldn’t stay here.

“Graves.” The word rasped against the bloodhunger, quivering on the back of my palate. No more danger candy; why had it failed me this time? Had the blooming gotten rid of it?

Worry about that later, Dru.

He hugged me even harder. “Jesus. Jesus.”

I coughed again. “Got. To. Get out. Graves. We’ve got to get out of here.”

Something rustled in the greenbelt, under the suck-back draft of the fire. Graves tensed, and weary annoyance filtered through me. Oh, Lord, what now? Take a number, I’m done for the night.

But we did have to go. And someone was in the bushes.

A shadow loomed over us, orange light reflecting oddly from his irises before he crouched. Soot smeared over his face, his long greasy hair was singed, and he was barefoot. He pushed at my shoulder with those long pale fingers, and a happy grin lit his dirty face.

“Bang,” Ash whispered. White teeth flashed, just like the skunk stripe in his hair.

“Holy fuck.” Every muscle in Graves’s body had turned to stone. “What the—”

“It’s Ash.” I even sounded tired to death. It was hard to talk. “We’ve gotta get out of here. Just us.”

“Bang!” Ash repeated, and pushed at my shoulder again. Nudging at me, like a dog.

I nodded, pushing my chin down and bringing it back up. The wet we were laying on was seeping into my hair. “Bang,” I agreed wearily. “Help me up?” I freed one hand, and his slim strong fingers laced through mine.

“He changed back?” Graves made it to his feet slowly. He didn’t bother brushing off his coat. “Jeez.”

I patted myself down. No bleeding, just aching. My ribs on the left side seemed fine enough, except for hurting like mad bastards. The lump of heat in my midsection from Anna’s blood was gone, and her whispering inside my head had faded to a ghost-mutter, as if I’d just cleared a haunted house and was hearing the echoes. I had my bag, and my malaika lay on the ground.

Think, Dru. Think now, and think hard.

First things first. “Help me clip my malaika in.” I swayed. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

“What exactly are we going to do?” Graves just sounded curious, and I hoped he’d forgotten he was disgusted by my fangs.

It didn’t matter, I told myself firmly. He’d come back and unloaded most of a clip into Sergej. Whether he was disgusted or not didn’t matter.

Not now.

“Catch a cab, ride a bus.” I considered it for a moment as Ash steadied me. He looked damn happy, all things considered. “If all else fails, you get a crash course in how to steal a car.”

“You sure do show a boy a good time, Miss Anderson.” Graves hunched his shoulders. His irises flashed green again. “I’m starving.”

He sounded, of all things, hopeful.

“Bang,” Ash agreed, nodding vigorously. That made it unanimous.

The weight of being in charge, of deciding what to do, settled back on my shoulders. Like it had never left. “Transport first.” I tried to sound absolutely certain. “Then food. Then we find someplace to sleep.”

Graves bent over, straightened slowly with my malaika. The fire painted his bruises with garish immediacy, and I couldn’t read his expression. Ash bounced a little next to me, like a hound who’s just done a good deed and expects a pet or two.

“Good job,” I managed. “Good job, Ash. Get us out of here and somewhere there’s transportation, okay?”

“Bang-kay. Kay. Okay.” He nodded vigorously, and pointed at the greenbelt. There could have been a million vampires hiding in those shadows, and for a moment the urge to just collapse right where I was and let the Order