I could see his expressionless face. There was nothing of the man I’d once loved there, nothing of anyone, nothing at all.
“Ti—stop,” I ordered, hoping it would trigger something in him. “Stop this right now. I’m Edie. You remember me. I know you do.”
The electric currents of this place were roiling now; it felt like my hair was on end. I pushed Dren sideways, into the wall, and blocked him from Ti with my body. I was going to be killed by my zombie ex-boyfriend, and my bones put into the room with that poor woman. Silver didn’t work on zombies. I pulled out my badge and prayed to someone, anyone, that it might still protect me the way it used to when I was on Y4.
It struck up like a lit match, and Ti paused one stair down from us.
“Dren—go. Somehow. Just go.”
Dren fought against my back, and I moved forward. He fell down a few steps, tumbling past Ti, and then started crawling forward, dragging himself down the stairs with his one good arm.
Ti made to follow him. I raced down the stairs until I was below him, badge still out. The electric jolts were sharper, running up and down my body in sharp snaps, like the charges from a violet wand. My badge sputtered like a dying sparkler, and Ti took a step down, implacable, following Dren. I put myself in his way.
“Ti, say something,” I pleaded, but he wouldn’t. Or couldn’t. I was close enough now to see that his eyes were glazed. He was not himself here. He took another step forward, and I took another step back.
“Please, Ti. No.” The butcher knife was still at his side. I was in striking range now. I had to believe that Ti wouldn’t kill me—I put my dying badge against Ti’s chest, breathing heavy, the electricity in the room buzzing in my ears. We danced together down another stair.
“Ti—I know you remember me.” His eyes tracked me. Was that good, or bad? I hoped that whatever in him was human was listening. “You broke up with me once. You do not get to kill me again.” He stopped advancing. The knife was still low. I could hear Dren behind me, pulling himself against the linoleum floor.
“I’m out!” Dren called from below, just as the light from my badge disappeared.
I took three steps back. Ti didn’t follow me. His body might belong to someone else now, but his eyes were still his, watching me. I didn’t want to leave him here. “Ti—”
“Edie—hurry!” Dren called from the alley.
I dropped my badge, turned my back, and ran for the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Outside, Dren was scrabbling along on the wet ground, and Jorgen was standing guard over him. What had happened to Ti?
“Okay, okay—” If I stopped telling myself what to do I would panic. I reached down and pulled Dren up. He hissed at me, fangs out. “Don’t you dare—”
“Just get me out of here.”
The man who was still lying back there with his broken leg started trying to crawl backward at the sight of Dren.
Dren’s shirt slipped through my fingers as I tried to haul him up. I’d only imagined springing him—it hadn’t occurred to me that after that, we’d somehow have to run and that he wouldn’t be able to walk. I hadn’t thought about bringing a wheelchair along.
Jorgen knelt awkwardly, and I tried to hoist Dren up onto his back, but Dren kept sliding off. There was surprised shouting from down the alley. Perhaps the disappearance of Jorgen’s first victim had been discovered. I couldn’t understand their words, but I could hear their angry tone.
“Dren, we’re going to have company soon. Can you send them away?” We were still trying to scrape our way down the alley, the three of us, unsuccessfully. But I’d been with Dren before when he’d made everyone ignore him, entire train cars full of normal people.
“Can’t. Too weak. Too close to the
“Horrible beast!” Dren yelled, back on the ground.
“This is not the time to be feeding, Dren—”
“I need blood!” Dren yelled.
The man we’d threatened earlier had crawled backward to hide behind the dog cages, and then he started yelling for help.
“Shit!” I hissed. “Come on.” Jorgen looked behind us and took a flying leap back toward the dog cages. “No!” I shouted at him. The dogs squealed. Jorgen stopped, but he was standing over the man who’d given us away. The man started praying at the top of his lungs. Santa Muerte this, Santa Muerte that.
“You’d be better off praying to me!” I hauled Dren away, dragging him down the alleyway like a dead body. Three Crosses men raced out of the building like angry ants, weapons drawn. At a command from someone among their ranks, they held fire and moved aside. I’d never seen so many guns before. My stomach turned to ice.
“What’s happening here?” I recognized his voice. From the clinic—Maldonado. Somehow he was even more frightening than the weaponry.
“I’m rescuing my friend.” There wasn’t any point in lying.
Maldonado smiled. “He was always free to leave. All he had to manage to do was walk out.” Some of his cohorts laughed as Maldonado continued. “He’s the kind of beast we protect ourselves from. Him and la Reina. He deserves what he got.”
Under other circumstances, before this, I would totally agree. But after what I’d seen tonight? No. The bone room had gone above and beyond.
“And what about her?” I pointed back up to where the bone room had been. Dren kept crawling away behind me. I could hear his good arm splash into puddles and the rest of him slide.
“She was with la Reina. As, clearly, are you. Which makes many things of yours forfeit.” Maldonado closed the distance between us. “First your bones, then your life.” He raised his hand, and many of his men put guns away to pull out knives. Somehow the knives seemed worse. I took a step back.
I was cast in sudden shadow by headlights behind me, and I heard the squealing of tires. Some of the Three Crosses men raised their hands to protect their eyes, and I heard “Get in!” from behind me. I whirled and saw Hector, frantically waving at me from inside his car.
“Jorgen! Now!” I yelled at the Hound. He ran back through their numbers, clawing and biting, shoving them aside.
I ran until I caught up with Dren, and hauled him toward the waiting car’s backseat. Shots rang out; I prayed to God that they hadn’t made contact. I hopped in beside Dren, almost on top of him, and slammed the door.
“Go go go!” I looked behind us, at Jorgen, running away.
Hector raced backward down the alley, then went flying down the street.
“How did you know?” I asked his reflection in the rearview mirror.
“As soon as Catrina got home she called me and told me where you’d been.” Hector looked into the backseat at Dren. “Where are we taking him?”
Dren seized his chance. He lunged forward and wrapped his good arm around Hector’s neck, the headrest in between them.
“Dren, no!” I yanked at the vampire. His arm nearest me was too flaccid to get traction on, and his good arm was too strong. I reached out and grabbed hold of his head, hauling it backward by his ears and hair.
“I need blood to heal—” Dren said, and it was clear that he didn’t care where it came from.
“He has to drive! Let him go!” Hector wove from side to side in the empty street, reaching for the glove compartment with the hand that wasn’t on the wheel. He teased the latch with his fingers and it slid open. He grabbed whatever was inside, and then bashed Dren in the head with it. The vampire hissed like a rattlesnake and recoiled, sinking down behind the driver’s seat.
Hector held up what he’d hit Dren with so that it was visible in the rearview mirror. The good old King
