Jealousy

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

It took three glowing-eyed djamphir, all of them torn-up and bloody, to pick up Ash and start carrying him away. I pulled against Christophe’s hands. “No, please—no, I’ve got to go with him, no—”

“Stay still.” Christophe dabbed at a scratch on my forehead, one I couldn’t remember getting. “No broken bones, no bleeding. Dziękuję Bogu, moj maly ptaszku . . .” Blue eyes sharp, he glanced at my face. The blond highlights had slid back through his hair as his aspect retreated. The fox had vanished, but I wasn’t worried about that. “Be still.”

“I want to go with him.” I glared at Christophe, my throat full of dry rocks. “Where were you?”

“Keeping watch on your window. I told you I wouldn’t leave you unprotected. I also told the wulfen to take care of you. When I get my hands—”

Which brought up another question. I tried to slide away again. “Shanks. Did you see him? Is he—”

Christophe grabbed my shoulder. “Robert? He’s wounded but otherwise hale. Where is the loup-garou? I would have thought he’d be with you. Now please, Dru. Be still, calm down, let me work.”

“Work? Jesus Christ, those were vampires! Ash—is he—”

“He may live. I would never have believed a werwulf could do this. But he’s Broken, and . . . well. In any case, you’re safe. Everything else is immaterial.”

“Reynard!” A familiar voice. Benjamin rocketed around the corner, his sneakered feet slipping in greasy crud and rotting vampire blood. He took in the scene, dark eyes passing over everything in a brief, contained arc. “What the hell are you doing here?” He looked like hell. He was beat up and battered, bruises puffing up along one side of his face, his hair wildly disarranged. His clothes were torn, too, and I saw with no real surprise that he was holding a single malaika in a white-knuckle grip. He saw me, too, and almost choked. His eyes blazed.

“There you are!” He took a single step forward. “Where were you? What were you doing? How did you escape? We were about to—”

“Leave her be,” Christophe said mildly, and Benjamin turned white and almost swallowed his tongue. “Your cadre?”

“Still efficient. Some slight wounding.” But the djamphir’s shoulders straightened, and he actually looked proud.

“My faith in you is restored.” But Christophe didn’t look away from my face. His eyebrows drew together. I swallowed hard and slumped against the wall. “Assess the damage to Milady’s chambers, if you please, and send me Leontus. Thank you.”

I think it was the first time I ever heard a djamphir actually dismissed, though not in so many words. Benjamin made a curious little salute with his free hand, glanced at me. “Milady.” And he vanished back down the hall, running flat out.

“Have you been sparring hard?” Christophe’s hand came up. I flinched, but he rested his fingertips against my cheek. I’d almost forgotten the shadows of bruising on my face, thought that maybe the confusion would cover it up. I should have known better; he didn’t miss much.

“Anna.” The single word blurted out, and I instantly regretted it. Christophe’s face hardened, and he let go of me.

A swarm of djamphir filled the hall now, mostly older students. They were making certain the vampires were out of commission, and the cracking and tearing sounds made my gorge rise. The hall was full of nose-scorching smoke, too, from vampire blood eating into fabric. Christophe started barking orders, and every single one of the djhampir hopped to obey like he was a teacher or something. They even looked relieved that someone was there to tell them what to do.

I know that feeling. I always felt better when Dad was around to tell me what the hell was going on and what my part in it was. I tried not to look at the mess on the floor. Every bruise and muscle I owned began to shake. My hair hung in my face, blonde streaking through the curls and retreating as the aspect boiled through me and receded.

A lean blond djamphir arrived at a dead run with, of all things, a can of Coke. Christophe plucked it from his fingers with a nod and turned to me. “Here. You need the sugar.”

“Reynard.” Leon appeared out of thin air. “The Council’s got wind of this. They’re en route.”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s safe.” Christophe pressed my hand around the cold aluminum, the can already sweating condensation. “And I can afford to be caught now that I’ve run my course.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Leon gave me a dark look. “She’s all but helpless. I can’t be everywhere at once. Neither can Calstead. Especially since they didn’t give him or the others class waivers.”

“They didn’t . . .” Christophe took this in, shrugged. “Where’s the loup-garou?” He said it mildly, like he didn’t care.

Leon stiffened. “He’s not with her?”

“No. Just the Broken. And why, in the name of everything that is holy, was she left alone with Anna?”

“What?” Leon gave me a good hard look, his gaze passing over the shadows of bruising as well. He cursed, slowly and softly. There was a commotion around the corner, drawing nearer. Shouts, information passed along. “Go,” the mousy-haired djamphir said in an urgent whisper. “If they catch you—”

Christophe’s smile was a marvel of edged sweetness. When he grinned like that he looked handsomer than ever, the hint of danger just about threatening to stop a girl’s heart. “Why, Leontus. I didn’t know you cared.” He looked back at me. “I said drink, little bird. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

I cracked the tab and took a long cold fizzing mouthful. Carbonation stung my throat. Everything wavered in front of me, the hall seen through a haze.

Where’s Graves? He should be here. The reality of what had just happened hit me. I turned my head, rusty iron cords in my neck creaking. “God,” I whispered. There was a huge black stain in front of the door, still steaming.

I just really, really wanted to see Graves. I wanted to see his face and hear what he’d make of all this. I wanted to have his arm over my shoulders because when he did that I felt like I could handle anything. Including this.

Instead I sagged against the wall and took another mechanical slurp of Coke.

“I’m serious,” Leon said urgently, and the commotion around the corner reached a higher pitch.

“Svetocha!” It was Kir; I recognized the voice. “Where is the svetocha?”

He skidded around the corner, and the hall was suddenly, magically empty. The older students disappeared, and I didn’t blame them. It felt like a thunderstorm approaching, or the weird calm after the sirens but before a tornado.

Hiro was behind him, and Bruce completed the trio. All three of them stopped dead. Kir went red up to the roots of his hair, and Hiro surged forward.

Bruce grabbed the Japanese djamphir. “Steady on, man.”

“Yes, keep him back.” Christophe folded his arms. “I would hate to have his family seek to avenge him.”

Hiro hissed something, fangs out and lips twisting. It didn’t sound like a polite hello.

I couldn’t help myself. All the carbonation rose in my throat. and I belched. It was a nice long loud one. But it did settle my twisting, cramping stomach. The sugar in the soda would help stave off shock. I’d crash later, of course.

Leon actually laughed, a chuckle behind his hand as if he wanted to trap it and keep it for posterity.

Christophe smiled very slightly, but he was tense. And the aspect hadn’t left him. Hiro’s eyes had turned an odd amber color. His short black hair stood up, and his hands curled slowly into fists before they loosened—and curled up again like he was imagining Christophe’s throat under them.

I didn’t care what they did as long I could go lie down somewhere. I was half-sick with wanting to see Graves again.

I decided I’d better get some answers while I had everyone’s attention. “Graves. Where is he?” Because I’m blowing this town. I just can’t take any more of this.

“I don’t know.” Leon’s hand dropped back to his side, but I noticed he was placed very carefully between Christophe and the three from the Council. “I thought he was with you, Milady.”

“I haven’t seen him since . . . since gym.” That about took all the starch out of me. From one nasty fight to another, and Ash . . .

There was nothing I could do. I just ran out of steam and stood there woodenly, the Coke half-lifted.

“Is that where you gained those bruises?” Christophe didn’t even look at me. He was too busy staring Hiro down. “Love-taps, no doubt. Where was the Red Bitch during my little bird’s sparring practice, Kir? You are the one most likely to know, aren’t you? And Bruce. I see you’ve stopped drinking from the vein.”

“The Lady Anna is on her way.” Bruce still held Hiro’s lapels. His own hair was standing up, the dark curls writhing against each other almost like the female vampire’s had, and I felt sick all over again. “When she gets here it will force a decision. I don’t want to arrest you, Reynard. You’d best leave.”

“And leave moja księżniczko here to your tender mercies? When she’s already suffered this? The flower of the Order here, sworn to defend her, and a Broken werwulf has to do the job.” Christophe shook his sleek dark head. “I am sorely disappointed.”

Kir turned a deeper shade of crimson, almost matching his hair. Bruce gave Hiro a meaningful, gauging look and released him. Hiro brushed the lapels of his gray suit, his long beautiful fingers moving with spiderlike precision.

Leon finally moved. He slid behind Christophe, stepped in front of me. “You should drink more of that. You used your aspect, right? It’s getting stronger?”

I nodded. “The . . . there were three of them, and Ash . . .”

“Thank God they didn’t catch you in that cell. Even so close to blooming, you’d have been killed.” He pitched the words loud enough to make it clear he was trying to smooth the ruffled waters, or something. Nice of him.

I searched for words. “Ash went nuts. I . . . I let him out. He led me this way.”

“Away from the fighting.” An approving nod. Fine lank hair fell in Leon’s eyes. He looked just the same as he did every morning, and I was glad about that. If I just focused on him I could shut out all the rest of it. “More of them broke into your room, Milady. Tore it apart looking for you. These three were probably seeking to euthanize the Broken.”

“Euthanize? Since when do you engage in euphemisms, Leontus? You mean murder.” Christophe hadn’t relaxed at all. I got the idea none of them dared to get any closer to him. “I trust I have shamed you all sufficiently for you to remember your duty?”

Leon actually snorted. “I was where I was supposed to be, Reynard. Save your ire for whoever betrayed the exact location of this girl’s room to a cadre of nosferatu killers.”

This girl. Like I wasn’t even here. I mean, that would have suited me just fine, not being here. I shut my eyes and leaned my aching head back.

I felt her arrival like a storm front. Warm perfume clashed with the rot of vampires and a stray draft of Christophe’s apple-pie scent. The mix made me feel light-headed. It was like gas fumes just waiting for a spark.

Leon steadied me. He didn’t grind his fingers into old or new bruises, and I was grateful for that. “She’s passing out,” he remarked calmly.

“Is there anywhere here that qualifies as safe for Elizabeth’s daughter?” Christophe’s tone could have cut stone.

“Christophe.” Anna, strangely breathless. “What’s going on? What are you doing here? Kir, why hasn’t he been arrested? He’s a traitor—”

“Watch your mouth,” Christophe’s voice cut across hers. Leon was strong for someone so wiry, and I was really glad, because my knees buckled. The can of Coke hit the floor with a hollow chipping, sloshing sound. More mess to clean up. “I demand a full Trial, according to the Codes.”

“You’re outside the Codes.” You could just see Anna’s self-satisfied smirk, the way she said it. It occurred to me that she never really had anyone argue with her. She couldn’t have, not when she sounded like that. “You’re a traitor, Reynard, and you’ve overreached yourself.”

God. None of them even talk like kids. I kept my eyes shut tight. Material rustled. The temperature dropped, almost as cold as it had been a few minutes ago while the vampires were stalking Ash and me.

Christophe’s fury was like a draft of air-conditioning against already-chilled skin. “If they come any closer, Red Queen, you will lose your pretty bodyguards.”

Silence. Tense, ticking silence. I pried my eyes open and looked over Leon’s shoulder.

Anna stood behind three slim dark-haired boy djamphir. All three had red T-shirts, and I had the not-so-nice idea she’d chosen them for their looks.

Not twins, but brothers, maybe. And in red shirts? Not a good choice. Hadn’t any of them ever watched Star Trek?

Two of them had 9mms pointed at Christophe. The one in the middle—I’d seen him before—just stood, hands loose and eyes empty, staring at him. Kir, Bruce, and Hiro stood aside, Hiro shifting his weight just a fraction forward. The idea that he might just throw himself at Anna returned, circled my pain-fogged brain.

Anna’s blue gaze locked with Christophe’s. Her heart-shaped face was bloodless-pale, and her hair was a perfect mass of clustered red-tinted ringlets. She was in silk again, a tightly laced old-fashioned dress with snow-white lace around the square neckline, more lace fountaining from the cuffs.

I got the idea she’d done her makeup up special for this. Not that she needed much. She was utterly and completely beautiful, except for the hate shining in her eyes.

It was like an old Western showdown. I wouldn’t have been surprised if there were tumbleweeds.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Actually, he’s not outside the Codes.”

Anna darted him a bright, venomous glance. “I am head of the Council, and—”

“You’re svetocha,” Hiro said flatly. “The Codes are in the keeping of the princeps of the Order. Which is Bruce, as provisional head of the Council.” He paused. A ghost of nasty satisfaction tinted his tone. “A full Trial is within his purview to declare.”

“Just a goddamn second.” Kir shifted his weight as if to step forward, thought better of it when Christophe’s cold attention settled on him. “How do we know he won’t vanish again?”

“I have no intention of vanishing,” Christophe informed him. “If you want to find me, you need look no further than wherever Dru is. Her quarters are not kept secret as Anna’s are, her Guard not given class waivers as Anna’s are, her person in jeopardy”—here he elegantly tilted his head, and Anna’s lip curled for a fraction of a second before her face smoothed—“and while she’s in class, she’s in with the general population rather than being given tutors like Anna was. What, precisely, is going on here? Be so kind as to enlighten me, Kir.”

“I am the head of the Order!” Anna surged forward, petticoats rustling, and pushed past the matched djamphir. “This is Reynard! He’s a traitor! He’s Sergej’s son!”

God, she really hates him. I concentrated on beating back the dizziness threatening to swallow me.

“He’s also within the Codes to request a full Trial, Milady.” Bruce’s tone was deceptively mild.

“Council meeting, then. We’ll vote.”

Bruce straightened, drawing himself up. His chin lifted a little. “It’s not a voting issue. But if you wish to call a meeting, by all means do so. We’ll have to wait until Milady Dru is able to attend or designates a proxy, though.”

I had the idea I should protest this, but Leon shook his head. Just a little.

I just wanted to see Graves. I got the idea he would help me sort this out. Or at least if he was here I could let go of consciousness and know that things would be okay when I woke up.

If I had to, I would beg him to just lie on the bed next to me and breathe. So I could know things were all right.

The realization hit me then.

He’d probably left, the way I’d been wanting to. He probably got tired of all this, of me, and left me behind. I’d promised not to leave without him, but he hadn’t promised.

“She’s not fit to be on the Council.” Anna’s teeth were clenched so tight the words had a hard time getting out. Red sparks danced in the back of her pupils, spinning. “Bruce, you cannot—”

“I can and I will. She’s svetocha; she has a right. Remember? Your own words will come back to haunt you, Milady. I think you’d best be quiet. Especially since I intend to inquire fully into Christophe’s accusations. I did not sign a directive to put Milady Anderson into the general population.”

“Traitors,” she hissed. “All of you. Traitors.”

“You bandy that word about so frequently.” Christophe leaned forward, all his weight on the balls of his feet. I recognized that stance. Dad looked that way when he was picking out someone for a fight. “Why is that, I wonder?”

“You and your little bitch—”

I slid over to the side, losing the battle with the darkness. Leon caught me, and at least he didn’t bruise me. “Fight later,” he said over his shoulder. “Or at least let me get her out of here. For Christ’s sake, she’s not even bloomed yet.”