My brows rose in alarm. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s back.”
No further explanation was needed. I scrambled out of bed and hustled into my robe as Cameron went to nudge Brooklyn awake. No time for nudges.
“Brooke!” I yelled, causing Cameron to jump a solid foot. I felt bad about that.
“Do you want to wake up your grandparents?” he asked.
He had a point. Before I could even question where Jared was, I kicked Glitch to wake him and tore out of the room, but Cameron grabbed hold of my arm.
“He’s outside.”
“He’s outside? In this weather?”
He nodded toward my window and I rushed to open it, hurtling Glitch in the process as he stirred to consciousness. Jared lay on the ground at the bottom of the metal fire escape, unconscious.
“Oh, my gosh,” I said, climbing out. A bitterly cold rain slashed across my face as I hurried down and knelt beside him, but nothing compared to the alarm I felt at seeing Jared unconscious.
“Lor, what are you doing?” Brooke called to me, but she quickly shushed and ducked back in for something other than pajamas to wear.
Cameron jumped down and landed beside me as I examined Jared. Blood streaked down one side of his head and from his swollen mouth.
“Hurry up, Blue-Spider,” Cameron said, trying to be quiet but shout loud enough to be heard over the pelting rain. I realized Glitch was right behind him, still in his jeans and sweatshirt.
In one smooth movement, Cameron scooped Jared up and draped him over his shoulder. Jared couldn’t have been light.
“Get the door,” Cameron said, and I realized he was taking Jared to his apartment.
Glitch ran ahead of Cameron and jumped to get the hidden key from over the door. He unlocked it and held it wide enough for Cameron to get through with his charge.
“We need medical supplies,” Cameron said, reaching out to turn on a light.
Just then, Jared started to stir. “What are you doing?” he asked, his words slurred and groggy. Then, in a flash of strength that my mind couldn’t quite register, he twisted up and off Cameron. One minute
Cameron was carrying him to his kitchen; the next Cameron was underneath him in a maneuver that left me breathless.
He lodged a knee under Cameron’s chin, his face wary and full of rage.
“Jared!” I rushed forward, and before I had time to blink, a large hand shot out and encircled my throat. I felt the earth move. Saw the room blur. And in the next instant, I was on the floor right next to
Cameron. Fighting for air. Fighting to stay conscious.
Cameron wrapped his legs around Jared’s chest and threw him off balance long enough to get out from under him. “It’s just us,” he said, his voice harsh.
I gasped for air as Jared scurried back onto all fours, crouched, and eyed us like we were his next meal.
Cameron dragged me behind him, then held up his free hand in surrender. “It’s just us.”
Jared fought for balance, then pressed a palm to his head wound. Blood trickled between his fingers as he doubled over and growled in pain.
I wanted to go to him, but Cameron kept his iron grip on my arm.
Brooke crept in behind me and wrapped an arm in mine, keeping a wary eye on our opponent.
After a moment, Jared blinked back to us. He took his time, measuring us with his feral stare. “What happened?” he asked at last just as his gaze landed on me.
“We don’t know,” I said. “You disappeared. You’ve been gone for three days.”
The barest hint of surprise flashed across his face before he caught himself.
“Are you with us?” Cameron asked, waving a hand in front of his face. When Jared scowled, Cameron flipped him off and asked, “How many fingers am I holding up?”
Half an hour later, Jared sat at what passed for a kitchen table, a blue blanket from our linen closet draped over him as Cameron sewed up a huge gash in his arm. An array of medical supplies sat splayed across his countertop along with bloodied gauze and towels. Towels I would have to wash before Grandma saw them.
Jared’s hair, soaking wet, hung in clumps over his bruised brow. The wound on his head that had been bleeding profusely was now stitched and on the mend. It ran along his hairline, and I could hardly see it now.
Brooklyn and Glitch had gone to change out of their soaking-wet clothes, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. What if Jared disappeared again while I was gone? So instead, I stood, assisting Cameron with shivering hands.
Jared raised his lashes and locked his gaze with mine, unblinking even when a drop of rain-soaked blood dripped from the tips onto his cheek. The rich browns of his eyes seemed darker than usual as he stared, more intense.
He reached out and touched my neck, his hands warm and soothing. “Sorry about that,” he said.
“I’m okay. I was just worried about you.”
Before he could say anything, Brooklyn tapped my shoulder. “I brought you some clothes,” she said, wincing as Cameron tugged on a stitch to tighten it.
Jared also had a huge gash on his arm that required sutures. My knees almost gave beneath my weight every time Cameron stabbed. Tugged. Tied. Clearly nursing was not in my future.
“They were waiting for me,” he said without releasing my gaze. “A group of them.”
“Who?” Cameron asked. At his nod, I took the scissors and cut the suture. “A group of what?”
Brooke took the other seat at the tiny table as Glitch scooted onto the counter.
“Unless it was a group of charging water buffalo, I’m stumped,” Glitch said. “Because anyone, even a group, bringing you down is a little hard to believe.”
Jared finally looked back at Cameron, his expression grave. “They were descendants.”
Cameron stilled. I wondered why. What were descendants? And whom were they descended from?
“I didn’t think there were any left,” he said, voice thick with apprehension.
“There are quite a few, actually, but the real question is, why would they attack me?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Cameron said as he plunged the needle again.
The world spun. Brooke took the scissors and sat me in the chair, taking over. I couldn’t help but notice Glitch fold his arms at his chest and glare when she started helping Cameron, but when Jared took my hand into his, a movement that both shocked and pleased me, I lost interest in his annoyance. After weeks of avoidance on Jared’s part, the warmth was nice.
“I wish I could remember,” Jared said. “I can’t. Everything after that initial attack is a blank. I was fighting —and winning, I might add—then I was here.”
“Glitch-head’s right,” Cameron said, tying off another stitch. “Even a hundred descendants would have trouble bringing you down. How did they take you?”
Jared turned his attention toward him so slowly, so methodically, I was certain he did it to goad
Cameron. “Why?” he asked at last, planting a humorous and, if I didn’t know any better, taunting gaze on him. “Looking for pointers?”
“It’s just a little hard to believe.”
“So is reality TV, but there you have it.”
The tension between them simmered, thickened, blanketed the room in silence.
“What are descendants?” I asked, breaking it. They had been getting along famously—or, well, semi-
famously. Now was not the time for tempers to flare. When they were at odds, architectural structures paid the price. “And why on earth would they attack you? Surely they don’t know what you are.”
After a long moment, Jared tore his gaze away from Cameron. “They know exactly what I am. And they are descended from the original nephilim that were created centuries past.”
“They’re nephilim?” Brooklyn asked, her voice soft with astonishment. “Like Cameron?” She snipped the last suture and cleaned off Jared’s wound with peroxide.
“They’re diluted versions of Cameron,” Jared explained, “descended from the original nephilim, so there’s a
