Blood Bond Page 2
“I’m going to head back. Get some sleep. I leave early so you won’t see me in the morning. Bye, Tara.”
He spun on his heel and began a long retreat down the gravel path that led back to school. I stood there, torn between wanting to respect his wishes and needing to give him what I could. The ache won out. My dress flared up around my legs as I sprinted. I held it down and kept running.
“Alex, wait!”
I threw myself into his arms. He staggered backwards before catching his balance, holding me to him and lifting my feet off the ground. He didn’t complain that I’d come after him.
I wrapped my arms tightly around his shoulders, burying my face in his neck. I breathed in his scent of outdoors and bar soap and committed it to memory.
“Be careful,” I said when he finally lowered me to my feet. “And—you’re my family, too.” His expression clouded. “I know you said not to respond.” I grabbed his jacket lapels to brace myself and rushed on, not caring whether the gesture was right or not. “I just had to say that, so you know it’s mutual. No matter what.” I squeezed my eyes against all of the rest that I couldn’t respond to and added only, “Always find me, okay?”
“Okay.” His voice was hoarse. His hands closed over mine, gently removing my fingertips from his jacket front. “I have to go.”
“See you later, Alex.” I dropped my hands from his.
This time I let him leave.
Chapter Two
I couldn’t work up the motivation to return to the party. I wandered, surprised at all of the memories that sprang to mind as I passed various locations on the grounds. Vincent Hall library, where I spent more and more time these days on the computer, emailing Sam and Angela even though their responses were fewer and fewer.
The courtyard, which I still avoided at all costs because even though Victoria’s torture had subsided, most other kids still called me “mutt” or tried to trip me when I walked by. I’d grown used to it enough to ignore it most days. Like an old shoe.
Then there was Lexington Hall and the dorm nestled underneath it, both of which felt like home, even after only a couple of months. It would be strange to sleep in my own bed again.
My phone rang, startling me since it rarely had a signal unless I was on the rooftop of Griffin Hall. I pulled it from my bra, where Cambria insisted all girls tucked their cells in the absence of purse or pockets, and read the incoming number.
“Hi, Grandma. What’s up?”
“Just checking on you. How’s your last night at school? I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”
“You didn’t interrupt anything.”
After the Miles-slash-hybrid fiasco, Grandma and Mom had driven up several times. Mom, so she could lecture me and hug me and shake me for scaring the crap out of her. Grandma, so she could throw her influence around with CHAS and make sure they got a new security person out here to handle the wards in Vera’s place.
During their whirlwind stays, I’d felt the weight of Grandma’s sharp eyes more than once when Alex was around. She suspected something more between us, and I had a feeling as much as she liked Wes, she was pleased with the idea.
“How’s George?” I asked, changing the subject to the only reason I called home anymore.
“He’s holding up.”
“Is Fee’s healing preventing the change?” I asked.
“It’s slowing things down a great deal but, honey, I don’t think there’s anything that can stop it.”
I ignored that. I couldn’t think about such a scary possibility when I was so far away. “What is everyone in town saying? Have you spoken to his mother?”
“Your momma says George convinced his own that he was going away to some training camp for sports this summer.”
“That’s good.” I exhaled.
When I’d made arrangements for Fee to care for George while we figured out his condition, I hadn’t taken his family into account. As far as they knew, he’d taken a weekend road trip here to see me. No big deal. But by the time he’d gone home, he’d been the victim of a syringe-induced change that would eventually make him a Werewolf—a human-wolf hybrid creation, courtesy of the late and creepy Miles DeLuca.
If we were lucky, George would survive.
Miles had sounded certain that George’s change would end in death—unless I shared my blood with him. Even then there was no guarantee. Miles had a problem with full disclosure. I could only imagine what sort of reaction George would have to an injection of my DNA. It could make him worse, or speed things up. I’d decided to hold off until we could learn more about the possible side effects of such a treatment.
“Don’t worry about anything happening here until you get back. I’ll see you tomorrow around lunchtime. We’ll figure things out then. Oh, and so you know, Vera asked to catch a ride back with us. She’s going to Fee’s for the summer.”
“Good. She shouldn’t be driving on her own,” I said.
Vera Gallagher, built like sinew, was a powerful Hunter with an extra-sensory gift that allowed her to do various forms of magic. That probably wasn’t the right word, but there wasn’t anything better. She could do locator spells, though they seemed to work only on Hunters, and weave wards, a protective but invisible barrier that kept Werewolves out of a designated space. Vera’s official job, besides being a leader of The Cause, had been to maintain the wards that protected Wood Point from Werewolves and any other unwanted visitors. The wards also kept this place off the map for humans.
But Vera was sick. A mysterious illness had taken hold, slowly robbing her of her magic, and the wards failed. After the breach with Miles and the hybrids, everyone agreed the best thing was for Vera to step down.
“How’s she feeling? Have you seen her?” Grandma asked.
“Um, I had tea with her a couple of days ago. She seems all right.”
Vera was my great aunt. I’d found her name in my family tree during my lineage project and confronted her about it. She’d admitted the relation and ever since, it seemed like she was edging toward developing some sort of friendship with me. Every time I sat down with her, I felt like I was facing aristocracy. I hadn’t visited often, but I didn’t tell Grandma that.
“Hopefully, her strength is up. It’s a long trip home and it’s bound to tire her,” said Grandma. “You make sure to rest up too.”
“I will. Oh, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask you. Who is Astor DeLuca?”
Grandma whistled, long and low. “I haven’t heard that name in … wait, where did you hear it?”
“Oh, um.” Miles had given me the name just before Cord killed him to save me. I hadn’t mentioned that fact to Grandma yet. I’d decided I wouldn’t until I knew who he was. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Grandma—I didn’t trust Miles. “I came across it during my lineage research for school. Apparently we’re related?”
“Huh. Well, I guess the closest thing is uncle. He’s the younger brother of your grandfather, on your father’s side.”
My head spun as I struggled to connect the branches. “So, great uncle then?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Anyway, he’s always been a little … detached, we’ll say. Genius on paper, but not all his screws are properly tightened.”
“He’s crazy?”
“And unpredictable to boot. Nobody’s seen him in years because he never leaves his house. Good thing, too, since CHAS would probably have a fit if he did.”
“What do you mean?”
“Years ago, he was experimenting with the properties in metal that allow us to kill Werewolves. There was an accident and a girl died. Ever since then, we all steer clear.”
“But if it was an accident—”
“Tara, he’s bat-crazy, which is apparently rampant on your daddy’s side, God rest his soul, so don’t even worry about it. He’s best left alone.” The edge in her voice made it clear she meant it.
“Bat-crazy, got it,” I said. She huffed out a breath, apparently satisfied. “One more thing
. Is it all right if Cambria comes home with us for the summer?” I gave her the story about Cambria’s mom being in rehab and how Cambria would be spending the summer alone otherwise.
“I’ll talk to your momma to be sure, but I don’t see a problem with it,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“Oh, ‘Army Wives’ is on. I have to go.”
I heard rustling sounds and then the line went dead. Army Wives? I shoved the phone back into my bra—glancing around to see where I’d wandered. There was something familiar about these trees. My mouth went dry as I made the connection.
This was where I’d fought the hybrids with Wes. This was where I’d blacked out.
I spun on my heel and hurried back to the path and the twinkling lights of the courtyard. I couldn’t get away fast enough; images bombarded me. The way hybrids had poured out of the trees toward Wes, their eyes yellow and glowing and intent on killing. The way they seemed to enjoy the violence of the fight. When they’d taken Wes down my heart stopped. I thought I’d faint or freeze up from the fear. Instead, I went mad. Something inside me snapped, and I became more animal than human. It wasn’t a conscious decision and it wasn’t something I could control.
When it was over, broken bodies—some wolf and some human—littered the clearing. Wes said I’d killed without mercy. He also said I smelled like a wolf.
It took us three hours to bury the bodies so no one would know what I’d done. I’d made Wes swear not to tell anyone about it and prayed it wouldn’t happen again.
Professor Flaherty met me on the way inside. Her red hair hung loose down her back, like a floating flame. “Tara, you look nice. Are you enjoying the party?” she asked.
“Yeah, I just needed some air.”
“I know what you mean. I was just taking a breather, myself.” I moved to go around her, wanting the solitude of the ear-splitting noise, the absence of conversation. “Oh, Tara, before I forget,” she called, “please use the summer to think about my offer to mentor you next year.” She smiled wryly. “I’m told mine wasn’t the only offer, so I understand if you turn me down. It’s a hard decision. Kane usually only extends the opportunity to one student at a time. It’s quite an honor.”
“Um, I’m thinking about it,” I said.
She nodded. “Like I said, consider it over the summer. You can let us know in the fall.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that.”
“In case I don’t see you tomorrow, have a safe trip home. Tell Vera I said the same.”
“I’ll tell her. See you later, Professor.”
I made my way back to the party. Cambria met me at the door. She smiled and leaned in closer than necessary. “Where’ve you been? You’re missing all the drama.” Her breath reeked of alcohol and her eyes were lit—a little too lit.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Professor Kane caught Levi spiking the punch and they got into it. The DJ cut the music so all you heard was the yelling. It was hilarious.”
“How does that explain the alcohol on your breath?”
“I might’ve charmed the kitchen lady into letting me have a cup of the punch before they poured it out.”
“A cup?”
“It was a really big cup?”
“Cambria!” I hissed, glancing around.
“Relax. No one saw me. They were all too busy watching Kane ream out Levi. Demi was pissed. You should’ve seen her face.”
“I’m quite content not having seen her face. In fact, if I never see it again, I’ll die happy.”
Demi became the new Queen Bitch after dethroning Victoria a couple of months ago. She’d also had her hand in helping Miles with his attempt to take over the world using hybrid Werewolves. Demi was not my favorite person. She made Victoria look like a walk in the park.
“Can’t disagree.” Cambria glared at something behind me. Demi, judging by the intensity of her expression. I didn’t bother to turn. “Ugh. I still can’t believe I liked Phillipe, or Miles, or whatever. Leave it to me to pick the psychos.”
“It’s not your fault. He used you.”
“It’s still gross. I feel weird about it.”
I didn’t answer. Whenever Cambria brought up the fact that she’d been briefly fooled by Miles, who’d posed as a security guard for the school to gain her trust, I bit my tongue. It wasn’t her fault. He’d lied. Still, Miles had been creepy before I’d known who and what he really was. How had she missed that?
She took a deep breath and let it out. I had the impression she was expelling the conversation with it. “Well, I’m off.” She bumped me as she passed, wobbling slightly.
“Where are you going?”
“Christian Norton.” Her eyes glazed over and she wore a dreamy smile.
“Who is Christian Norton?”
“He’s a senior. Long legs. Tight jeans. Mmmm.”
“You’re half drunk.”
“So?”
“So I am not letting you run off with some guy you barely know. What if something happens?”
“Um, that’s the idea, genius.” Her pupils dilated and I blinked, wondering if I’d imagined it. At the same time, a feeling of serenity washed over me. I had the urge to stop arguing, to let her go.
I shook my head and the feeling cleared. I put a hand on my hip. “Are you compelling me?” I demanded.
“No! … Not anymore.”
“Cambria.”
“Sorry. It gets a little out of control when I drink.”
“Point proven. You’re not meeting Christian like this. We’re going to bed.”
She pouted. “You’re no fun tonight. Did something happen with Alex?”
I sighed. “Absolutely nothing happened with Alex, nor will it. Let’s go.” I took her hand and led her out.
Chapter Three
The next morning, Cambria’s eyes were dull and glassy.
“Did you drink enough to get a hangover?” I asked.
“For a normal person? No. For me? Yes.” She scowled as she pulled her boots on and ran a brush through her hair. Her white streaks were already fading to gray as a result of the cheap dye she’d used. Her complexion almost matched.
“You look sick, Cam.”
“Thanks. You look gorgeous too.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know, I know,” she said, waving her hand and scanning the room distractedly. She tugged her school-issued gown from a pile of laundry and pulled it over her head. “Alcohol and compulsion don’t mix. It’s my own fault. Let’s go before they come looking. I’m not trying to start next year off with detention.”
We made it there just as the doors began to close. Professor Hugo glared at us and waved us to a seat without a word. When our names were called, we were given a certificate of completion. It wasn’t the same as a diploma and seemed completely pointless to me, except it gave us a reason to cross a stage in front of a clapping crowd.
Headmaster Whitfield beamed like a fluorescent bulb, as if each student crossing the stage was a testament to his ability to lead and mold. When my turn came, I shook his hand, doing my best to ignore the glower he aimed at me.
We returned to our seats and the lights dimmed. A video began on the screens mounted to either side of the stage. It was a slideshow of pictures, yearbook style. I squeezed my hands together and prayed I wouldn’t be in any. I’d rather be left out than featured during one of Victoria’s or Demi’s attempts at public humiliation. Please, God, no dog food pictures.
One of the last slides showed a picture of the courtyard. Kids scurrying to class or stopping to socialize filled the screen. I recognized the couple in the left corner just as Cambria poked me in the ribs.
“Is that—?” I began in a whisper.
“Logan and Victoria sucking face. Yes.” Cambria made a gagging noise.
I heard a few snickers as the slide changed to another picture. When it ended, the lights came on and Headmaster Whitfield returned to the podium to tell us to have a safe summer.
Her sweatshirt, a throwback from some cross-stitch-meets-iron-on situation sitting atop her elastic-waist jeans made her look like the typical grandma-next-door. A cookie-baking, church-organ-playing, senior citizen—but looks could be, and in Grandma’s case, definitely were, deceiving. She was one of the best Hunters I’d ever seen. Like an old lady version of Chuck Norris. I loved her.
“Hey, baby,” she said, reaching over the chair backs from the aisle ahead of me and pressing a kiss against my cheek.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked.
“Oh, she stayed behind. Flower emergency,” Grandma said. “You both looked gorgeous up there.”
“We did, didn’t we?” Cambria slid her gown over her head and threw it over a chair.
“How long until we leave?” I asked.
“Soon,” Grandma said. “I need to find Vera and load her bags and then we’ll get on the road. Why don’t you two meet me in the parking lot out front of Griffin Hall in an hour or so?”
“Sounds good. I need an aspirin,” Cambria said.
Grandma headed off in the direction of Headmaster Whitfield. He was still hovering near the stage talking to Professor Kane. They looked up as she approached. Headmaster Whitfield smiled wide enough to split his lip. Kane’s eyes flickered from her to me and held for a moment, a slight frown on his face. The way his mouth tipped downward elongated the scar on his cheek. I shuddered.
“You okay?” Cambria asked.
“Um, yeah,” I mumbled. Kane turned his attention back to Grandma and the heavy feeling passed.
“Hey, you.” Cambria snagged Logan’s arm as he walked by with Victoria close behind. “Tara and I are leaving in an hour, so if we don’t see you before then …” Cambria trailed off. Her version of goodbye.
Logan pulled his hat out of his back pocket where I’d seen him hide it before the ceremony, and yanked it securely onto his head, facing backward. Strands of sandy hair peeked out the front and sides. It looked funny with the black robe he still wore over his jeans and sneakers.