Jealousy

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The session with Ash was mercifully short that night. He had quieted down long before dawn. I hadn’t wanted to leave him, but Graves rolled his eyes and told me he needed some sleep. And I was so worn-out and jumpy I just gave in.

I turned over, punched my pillow again. Sighed.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” Graves’s voice, not quite a whisper but not normal volume either. I guess he thought that if he said it that quietly, I had the option of ignoring.

I considered telling him about Anna, but if I did Christophe would come up. That was no good. It was such a tangle I didn’t even have it right inside my head yet, and until I did I couldn’t hope to explain it to him in a way that wouldn’t end up with him thinking something I didn’t want him to think. About Christophe, and more importantly, about me.

I decided to test the waters a little bit, so to speak. “Council meeting didn’t go well.” That was a massive understatement, as well as kind of a lie. There was no meeting.

Just Anna. And Kir. Very chummy, those two. Little red lapdog, Hiro had said.

“You don’t like those anyway.” Sound of shifting material as he moved.

I scooted to the very edge of the bed. Kept my eyes closed, though, and rested my fingertips on the edge of the mattress. “This one was even worse than usual.”

As usual, he didn’t need any help getting the message. “That girl, huh. The other svetocha.”

I did not jerk as if stung, but it was a close thing. “She doesn’t like me.”

“Course not. Girl like that.” Graves made a dismissive noise, almost a raspberry. “Bet she’s been queen bee here a long time. All these boys for her to play with, set ’em against each other. I know the type.”

Do you know my type, too? I almost asked him, decided it would sound like I was digging for a compliment or something. “She really seems to hate me, though.” Something surfaced briefly—a memory, or a dream.

Don’t let the nosferatu bite.

I pushed it away. A shiver raced down my spine.

“Well, duh. You’re cuter than she is.” He said it like he might say, Grass is green or, Gravity works.

Something warm opened up inside my chest. It was a nice feeling. I snorted. “I can’t even get my hair to lie down.”

“Whatever. Anyway, what happened?”

I tried to get it into some kind of reasonable shape inside my head. Silence stretched between us.

“Jesus,” he said finally. “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

Dammit, give me a second to think. “I’m trying to figure out how to say it.”

More silence. I fidgeted. So did he.

“Dru.” Very soft, just a breath of sound. “My mom did that, you know. She’d clam up. Every . . .” A deep gulp of air, like he was swimming and had just reached the top. “Every time one of them hit her. Her boyfriends. She would try to act like nothing was happening. But I could see the bruises. I’m not stupid.”

It was the most personal thing he’d ever said to me. I got the idea he didn’t like talking about how he ended up squatting in a back office at the mall. And, you know, I had my own personal stash of stuff I never wanted to share. Most of it involved Dad and the various jobs we’d done all across the States. Some were from schools a long time ago, when I hadn’t been so practiced at sliding by unnoticed.

I pushed my hand off the edge of the bed. It hung in space as I stretched, my fingers touching emptiness.

“She hates me. Because Christophe bit me.” I almost whispered the words into the pillow, kept my arm out straight. My cheeks burned. If he could see me, he could probably tell something from the way I was blushing. The fang marks in my left wrist tingled faintly, but the sensation receded.

When his fingers laced through mine, it was both a shock and a relief. Warm skin, a gentle touch. He absorbed this, and then he said the last thing I’d expect.

“Girl like that won’t believe you don’t like him.” He coughed slightly. Guess he was wishing for another cigarette right about now. “Jesus.”

“I don’t like it here.” I sounded way young. And scared. “I’ve got some money. We can get supplies.”

He thought about it.“At least you’re not being attacked by vampires anymore. That’s something.”

“You told me it was us against the world.” You were holding my hand then, too. “I figure we can get out of here. Run and keep running. I can teach you how to—”

“They know things you don’t. And Shanks and Dibs watch out for you when I can’t.”

He had a point. Still . . . I considered tugging my hand back out of his. “Have you changed your mind?”

I didn’t mean to sound like a toddler with a toy taken away. I really didn’t. He sighed, heavily.

“No. If you’re serious about getting the hell out of here, Dru, I’m going with. But . . . it really does seem safer here. That girl’s just a petty bitch. Why let her run you out?”

Someone here wanted me dead. That’s why we were stuck at the other Schola. That’s why the other Schola burned down. The words stuck in my throat. I’d been counting on him wanting to come with me. “You didn’t see her.” I couldn’t put it any clearer than that. “She really meant it.”

His fingers slipped away from mine. I tried not to feel bereft. He moved around, and the next thing I knew, he was pushing me over so he could lie down on the bed. He stretched out, moved around and got comfortable, his hands laced behind his head. His eyes glimmered, little green gleams. I breathed him in—salt and male, the tang of loup-garou like silver in the moonlight.

“I think you’re safer here. I’m learning all sorts of stuff. Even you said you didn’t know enough.”

“I know how to run.” How to get cash and how to keep our trail clear—hopefully. But he was right, sort of. If I could stay here long enough, learn enough, when I bolted I would be better prepared.

Or I just might leave too late and end up dead.

I wish Dad was here. The thought was like probing at a sore tooth. A thin thread of anger worked its way around inside my chest. Why did he have to go and get himself killed?

It wasn’t really fair, I guess. But why was he going after Sergej anyway?

I could guess. For Mom. He missed her at least as much as I did.

“Don’t leave without me. I’m just sayin’, Dru. We might stand a better chance if we stick around here for awhile. Get our hands on some more stuff, find out more.”

I rolled away, turning my back on him. “Okay.”

He waited a little bit. “What?”

Was he deaf? I sighed, half-pushed myself up, turned my pillow over, and dropped back down again. “Okay. You’ve got a good point. We’ll stay here for awhile.” I just hope I live to see us leave.

Contemplating your own gruesome demise is a sure way to make you definitely un-sleepy. But there hadn’t been an attack the entire time we were here. I could just stop going to Council meetings and stay out of Anna’s way. Sometimes bullies just got tired of it and left you alone after awhile.

Except I was the only other girl in the whole Schola. It wasn’t like I could blend. I wished there were some wulfen girls around, but they don’t come to the Prima. They either stay at home to help protect the compounds, or they attend satellite Scholas as day students. Still, it would have been nice.

Though with my luck, they’d probably hate me, too, for some reason. I’ve never been the girl other girls like.

Graves lay very still. “I think you’re the only person who’s ever listened to me.”

“The other wulfen did.” I closed my eyes. Sleep was an impossibility, but my entire body was so heavy.

“You know what I mean.” A restless movement went through him. “Ah, Dru?”

Now that I knew what I was going to do, I felt heavy all over. I’ve always been like that—the thing that bugs me most is not having a plan. “What?”

“Can I . . . I mean, do you mind if I sleep up here? If you don’t, I, um, understand. I just—”

“Yes.” The word bolted out of me. “Yes, please. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep if you’re here.”

“Okay.” Did he sound pleased? Was he just tired of sleeping on the floor? Did he have something, well, a little more active in mind? Like another liplock? Or was he afraid I’d take it the wrong way if he asked to sleep up here and expect a liplock?

Sometimes having a pretty active brain is no picnic. Because it starts serving up fifty different what-ifs for the way anyone acts, and having to choose which one to believe revs your mental engine until it wears you completely out.

We lay there. I listened to the sound of him breathing. I think I dozed after awhile, lulled by that steady inhale-exhale. The last thing I remember is his arm creeping around me as gray dawn came up outside the window. He settled against me. I sighed and he froze, but then I relaxed all the way.

I finally felt safe again.

When he spoke again, it was a quiet murmur in the darkness. “Dru? Don’t leave without me.”

What could I say to that? I said the only thing I could.

“I promise.”