All Just Glass

At first it seemed uncomfortably loud and jumbled. She struggled to make out what people were saying as they sang over each other. She made out enough of the opening song—“No One Mourns the Wicked”—to wonder what kind of “theme” the show had that Kendra thought she should appreciate. After all, Kendra had given a group of hunters permission to kill her tonight. Was this supposed to be a warning?

As the show continued, she felt like she alternated between frowning and suppressing a chuckle—but come the finale of the first act, she found herself sitting forward in her seat.

If her heart still needed to beat, she knew it would have been pounding at that moment.

She felt hands on her back and realized that Kristopher and Nikolas had both reached out to her. When she leaned back, Kristopher took her hand, and Nikolas left a comforting hand on her shoulder. The touch grounded her and reminded her where she was. She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch the characters in front of her anymore, but she could not block out the music.

Friendship, sisterhood, rebellion, betrayal. Was there a lesson she was supposed to learn here, or was she just supposed to feel like she had been kicked in the gut?

The first act ended, and Sarah stood, pulling away from Nikolas and Kristopher. She didn’t even want to look at Kendra.

“I have to get out of here for a bit,” she announced.

“Do you want—”

“I need some space,” she said, interrupting Kristopher.

“If you don’t want to watch the second act, we can go somewhere else,” Nikolas said.

Sarah shook her head. “I want to watch the end. I just need to be alone for a minute.”

“Be careful,” Kristopher warned, and she nodded.

She needed to compose herself, away from the comforting and critical gaze of Kendra’s lineage. She hadn’t decided yet whether she liked the show. All she knew was that it was too much for her right then.

Before she could take herself away from the theater, seeking silence and solitude, she sensed a familiar aura. It was mostly hidden, but Sarah never could have missed it. She knew that power too well.

Adia was alone. She had found her way to an unused dressing room, doubtless using the combination of power and guile she was so good at to bypass security as easily as Sarah did by appearing in the room without walking through the halls at all. Adia had obviously been waiting for Sarah.

There were tears in Adia’s eyes, though she still had enough Vida control to keep them from spilling down her face. Seeing them, Sarah felt her own throat tighten. She didn’t know what Adia wanted or expected. All she knew was that seeing her sister made her heart simultaneously jump in elation and constrict with fear.

“Hey, Little Sis,” Adia said with a sad smile. “I was hoping you would come say hi.”

“Hi,” Sarah said, uncertain how to proceed from there.

“Michael called us,” Adia said. “I made sure I was the one in the theater, since I knew you wouldn’t be stupid enough to walk outside. I just …” She drew a deep, shaking breath, and then suddenly the words were pouring out. “I wanted to see you. Needed to see you. Things suck without you, Sarah. I’ve been stuck in the safe house with a freaking Marinitch telepath. I just found out Zachary has been letting vamps snack on him in his free time. Dominique’s practically disappeared. I don’t think she can stand to even look at the rest of us. I want it to be over. I can get the others on my side, and force Dominique to drop her call for the Rights. I just …”

Her voice trailed off. Sarah stared at her, watching Adia as if her own reflection had suddenly lost control and started to weep. And Zachary! He couldn’t possibly—but then again, that was what enough people had probably said about Sarah. She couldn’t possibly be involved with a vampire.

Sarah wasn’t sure which one of them made the first move, but suddenly they were both walking, and then Sarah found herself wrapped in the tightest hug her sister had given her since the day their father died. Moments of physical affection had become rarer and briefer since then, more perfunctory if they occurred at all.

This was the kind of hug she had given Sarah that day, to try to get her to stop railing and screaming and destroying everything at hand.

“I love you, Sarah,” Adia said. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Before Sarah could question why, Adia shifted just enough, and Sarah felt the knife. It slid into her back under her shoulder blade and between her ribs with the perfection only a professional hunter could achieve, not even nicking the bones to hamper its progress.

“I’m sorry,” Adia said one more time. “But I gave my word. And even if the rest of the world goes to hell, a Vida’s word to her kin needs to be …”

The words were choked off.

“Bye, Sarah.”

CHAPTER 25

SATURDAY, 9:02 P.M.

ADIA LET SARAH fall. She took a step backward, and another, and halfway through the next one, she felt herself grabbed and thrown with careful violence, so that her breath was slammed out of her lungs as she struck the wall. She was able to tuck her head just enough to keep her skull from smacking the floral wallpaper, but knew she would have bruises later.

She tried to push herself to her knees to protect herself even as she struggled to pull air into compressed lungs. Her head was spinning, and for a minute she thought she was seeing double, but then she realized it was the two brothers, and if someone didn’t talk fast, Adia was going to die.

The twins approached like avatars of fury.

One reached down and dragged her to her feet by her throat. “You traitorous little—”

“Nikolas!” the other protested.

“No, Kristopher,” the one choking Adia protested. “You do not protect her after —”

“Wait.”

The choked voice made everyone freeze. Adia raised a hand to try to peel the fingers off her windpipe, but knew better than to draw a knife even in her own self-defense at that moment.

The twins turned to look, Kristopher leaving Adia a wide-open shot if Nikolas hadn’t been careful to keep the hunter clearly under control. She wondered if Kristopher was careless, or just trusted his brother that much.

Adia had known that Sarah trusted her that much.

She felt her vision start to waver. The two twins became four in her blurry view.

“Hi, Sarah,” she wanted to say as the world went dark.

Adia saw their father’s body, but before she could even think what that meant, Sarah started screaming and throwing things. Adia tried to hold on to her and calm her down, but it wasn’t any use.

Sarah put her fist through one of the etched-glass panes on the doorway.

“There is no rainbow,” she declared.

Another punch, another pane, another concussion of sound followed by the gentle ring of the window’s remains falling to the ground.

“Sarah Vida!” their mother shouted, trying to get Sarah’s attention, but Sarah wasn’t listening. She seemed hypnotized by the window.

“No rainbows,” she said, tears streaking her face. “It’s all …”

Zachary was old enough and big enough that he finally managed to pull Sarah back before she could hurt herself more.

Weeping, Sarah whispered, “It’s all just glass.”

Adia woke with someone’s lips on hers. The instinct to protest was replaced by the need to start coughing, and only when she did, and the individual above her drew back, did she realize that he had been doing CPR. She had stopped breathing.