“Then what?” Potter asked me.
“We deal with McCain ourselves,” I said.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I wasn’t in pain, but I could feel myself going taut as if I were turning brittle somehow. My throat was burning up and my stomach was cramping. I had the flat of one hand pressed against my chest, and I could feel the blood pumping from the wound was already starting to congeal. Feeling the sticky red stuff between my fingers made my stomach ache and I wanted blood more than ever. But I felt so heavy, like I was made of stone somehow.
“Oh my god, what have I done?” someone said close by me. “What have I done?”
I forced my eyes half open, and I could just make out Sam hovering beside the bed. “Kayla what have I done to you? You look like you’re turning to stone,” he cried.
“My bag,” I whispered. “Get my bag.”
“Bag?” he asked confused. “What bag?”
“Beneath my wardrobe,” I mumbled. “There are some glass tubes — pink stuff in them.”
I closed my eyes again and listened to Sam rummaging around beneath my wardrobe. I heard my bag slide across the room and the zip open. “There aren’t any tubes,” he panicked. “What are you talking about?”
“There is a cut down the side of the bag…” I wheezed. “Look in there.”
I heard the sound of the glass tubes clinking together as he fumbled for them. Then he was at my side again. “Open one,” I gasped, the cramps in my stomach now agony. The sound of the cap being unscrewed beside me was almost deafening.
“Now what?” he gasped.
“Give some of it to me,” I whispered.
I felt Sam’s hand slip behind my head as he tried to raise it off the pillow, but it seemed too heavy for him to budge. So he placed the brim of the tube against my lips. I opened my mouth and he poured in some of the Lot 13. It tasted bitter and sweet as it rolled over my tongue. I swallowed, then took some more. Almost at once, the cramps in my stomach began to ease, and I felt my whole body begin to soften. The blood from the wound in my chest dried beneath my fingers.
“Is it helping?” I heard Sam ask, taking the empty tube away from my lips.
I lifted my free hand off the bed and it no longer felt like it were tied to a giant weight. The knife that Sam had plunged into me was still sticking from my chest, so wrapping my fingers around the handle I pulled it out.
Sam made a gasping sound. Then, before he knew what had happened, I had sprung from my bed. Without being able to control the change within me, my fangs were out, as were my wings and claws. I sprang through the air towards him. With a look of horror on his face, I pushed him in the chest, sending him smashing into the wall. Then I was on him, one claw around his throat and the other holding the knife just an inch from his heart.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” I hissed into his terrified face.
“What are you?” he wheezed, my claws so tight about his throat that it was difficult for him to him breathe.
“You don’t really want to know what I am,” I warned. “You don’t really want to know the truth — you couldn’t handle the truth.”
“You looked like you were turning to stone, just like that statue that chased us,” he gasped. “What happened to you?”
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling scared.
I loosened my grip on him, and rubbing his throat, he said, “I was right, though, you are different. You’re not like us.”
“Just get out,” I barked, and turned my back on him.
“Are you a vampire?” he whispered, just in case someone might be listening.
“No, I’m not a vampire,” I snapped. “Now get out.”
“What are you then?” he asked, coming towards me.
I turned to look at him, and flashing my fangs and letting my wings tremor, I said, “I’m dead, that’s what I am.”
“So it was you in the newspaper,” he gasped. “It was you on the beach that day.”
“I wasn’t on any beach with you,” I spat. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“But that was you in the paper, right?”
“Yes,” I told him.
“So how? Why…?” Sam stammered, and I could see that he couldn’t take his eyes off me. He didn’t look scared, exactly, just curious. “How come you are walking around with wings, fangs and stuff? The newspaper said you were dead.”
“I don’t have time for this,” I said. “I need to get…”
“On with your mission,” Sam cut in.
“What are you talking about?” I sighed. “What mission?”
“To save me and the others who are locked up in here, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” he asked, his eyes wide and full of hope.
Looking at him with pity, I said, “Sam, I’m not here to save you or anyone else. Despite what you believe, I’ve never seen you before. I wasn’t there on the beach that day with you, the first time I ever spoke to you was by the Poor Box and my parents didn’t drown.”
“So why are you here then?” he asked me.
“To find out who murdered Miss Clarke,” I told him. “I have friends waiting for me on the outside. That’s why I wanted to search Miss Clarke’s room. I was looking for that camera. I left it in the woods today to be collected by my friends.”
“I don’t believe you,” Sam said softly, sounding let down. “I have seen you before. You’re like an angel who’s been sent to rescue us. You even have wings like an angel.”
“I’ve had these wings all my life, Sam,” I said. “Way before I was murdered and died. It’s who I am. That’s why I used to get bullied, because I was different from the other girls I went to school with.”
“But you were made different for a reason, Kayla,” Sam said. “Can’t you see that?”
“Whatever the reason may be, Sam,” I said gently, “it isn’t to come here and rescue you. I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” he said, slumping down onto my bed.
“I wish I could help, but me and my friends can’t risk bringing attention to ourselves,” I tried to explain.
“Are your friends like you then?”
“Yes. And they’ll be waiting for me to contact them,” I said. “If the stuff on that camera shows what happened to Miss Clarke, I can get out of here.”
“Take me with you,” Sam said, getting up from the bed and coming towards me.
“I can’t,” I whispered. “You’re not one of us — it would be dangerous for you.”
“Any more dangerous than being matched with a wolf?” he said.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” I started, checking my pockets for my iPod. I wanted to speak with Kiera; I was desperate to find out what was on the camera so I could get out of Ravenwood School. But as I fumbled in my pockets, I realised that it was gone.
“What are you looking for?” Sam asked me.
“My iPod,” I snapped, now searching the pockets of my blazer.
“You’re not allowed to have iPods, mobile phones, or anything like that at Ravenwood,” Sam started to explain.
“I couldn’t give a shit,” I said, not really listening to him now. Then, looking at him I added, “Have you taken it?”
“Why would I have taken it? When would I have taken it?” he asked.
