Hourglass

Page 39

But I remembered what the wraith had managed to do to Charity before, the pain and shock on her face as an ice-blue fist plunged into her gut. Could I bring myself to do that? For Lucas, I absolutely could.
Two would be better than one, I thought. Maxie? Maxie, is there any way you can come with us? Do some of that crazy stuff with the ice?
Don’t think so.
If you could come, I’d really appreciate it. We could talk about—about what it is the wraiths want.
You’ll end up talking to us about that sooner or later anyway.
Maxie. Please.
Couldn’t help you if I wanted to, she admitted. For that kind of mojo, we need serious help. We’d need Christopher.
Who the hell was Christopher? Then I remembered the frost man, the powerful figure who had been the very first ghost to appear to me at Evernight, the one who had saved me from Charity. Was he a leader of the wraiths? I didn’t have time to find out. This mysterious Christopher wasn’t here, and that meant his power didn’t matter now.
Don’t worry. That bracelet will hold you no matter where you go. You’re strong.
Maybe Maxie couldn’t have said anything so encouraging if she’d had to look me in the face. It didn’t make much difference at that moment. We still had only three of us to go up against Charity’s tribe.
Outside the garage, Vic stared down at a small pile of stuff Ranulf had pulled together. As I came near, Ranulf said, “I do not think Vic should attempt to stake any vampires. He would be unlikely to survive.”
“I would resent that if it were any less true,” Vic said.
Ranulf held up a large tin of lighter fluid and a plastic lighter. “Perhaps Vic could start a fire, which would cause the vampires to scatter.”
“That’s dangerous for you,” I said. “For Balthazar and Lucas, too.”
“I agree that fire is only a last resort.” He presented the tin and lighter to Vic before he went back into the garage.
“Hey, we have plenty of stuff right here!” I called, holding up the gardening stakes that could work against vampires. “You found plenty of weapons, Ranulf. Let’s go!”
“Those are not useful,” Ranulf said, maddeningly calm, as he came walking back out with a full-sized, long-handled ax in his hands. Before I could ask, Ranulf threw the ax at the closest tree. It spun blindingly fast, blade-over-handle, until it thwacked so deeply into the trunk that I could hear the wood groan. The handle vibrated back and forth.
Vic and I stared. Ranulf smiled in satisfaction. “The ax is useful.”
“Where did you learn how to do that?” Vic said.
“Remember how I told you that the Vikings sacked my village and took me back with them?” Ranulf was speaking to Vic now; I’d never heard this story before. “All young men among the Vikings were taught to fight.”
Vic slowly said, “This is why you kick so much ass at World of Warcraft, isn’t it?”
We had a Viking warrior on our side. Maybe we could do this after all.
Vic drove with his foot to the floor the whole ride to the McCrory Plaza Six, which luckily turned out not to be too far away. The movie theater had never been a grand one, like the vintage cinema in Riverton where Lucas and I had gone on our first date. Red velvet curtains and scrolling woodwork had nothing to do with this place. It was a squat, sprawling building in the middle of a huge parking lot that had cracked and become choked with weeds. With the theater’s derelict appearance and murky surroundings, it had become the kind of place little kids would dare each other to walk past on Halloween.
“Stay outside,” I told Vic as we got out of the car. Ranulf led the way, ax across his shoulder. “If you hear one of us yell for you, start the fire. If you hear—I don’t know, something else, something bad, call nine one one. Ranulf and I can’t exactly turn to the police for help, but you could.”
“I’m ready.” Vic looked petrified, but he gripped the lighter fluid tightly. I knew there was no way he would leave his friends while we were in trouble.
Quickly, I kissed Vic on the cheek, then ran ahead with Ranulf.
I’d thought we would sneak in, but Ranulf simply pulled open the cracked glass door, which sent shards clattering to the ground. From behind the abandoned concessions stand, a figure with long, bedraggled hair instantly emerged. “What’s going on?” the vampire said, clearly wondering why another vampire had just wandered up.
Ranulf swung the ax with all his might, instantly beheading her. I cried out in shock, and the sound rang throughout the whole theater. With a frown, Ranulf turned to me. “Screaming is not useful.”
“Sorry!”
Vampires, alerted by my shriek, began appearing—two, then three, then five, all crowding into the lobby. Two of the biggest ones sprang at Ranulf, who was armed and the more obvious threat, but Ranulf threw them off like they were nothing. The ax slammed into the floor, shattering dusty tile, and a vampire’s skull rolled past my feet.
“You.” A vampire stepped toward me, and I realized with a shock that it was Shepherd. His rust-brown dreadlocks were gone now; no hair remained on his head. Neither did one of his ears. The fire had scarred his skin so terribly that his features seemed to have melted, and his skin was the revolting color of overcooked meat. “You’re the other one who started the fire.”
His ugly leer frightened me—for about two seconds, until I realized, You know, I’m already dead. There’s not a whole lot else he can do to me.
“You should’ve let us go when you had the chance,” I said, as I fumbled with the clasp of my bracelet.
“When I had the chance?” Shepherd shook his head. “You’ve got a lot to learn.”
“So do you.”
As he pounced at me, I let the bracelet drop to the floor and plunged my hand—now spectral—into Shepherd’s chest.
It felt like the burn of frostbitten skin when lowered into warm water, simultaneously scorching and freezing. Each layer passed through my palm, disgustingly recognizable: skin, ribs, heart, spine. Shepherd jerked upright, stiff and shuddering, clawing ineffectually at his chest as it turned powdery and blue around my arm.
He wanted me to let him go, and I was desperate to shake him off, but I knew I had to use the advantage. “Tell me where Lucas is!”
“Upstairs,” he gasped. “Projection—room—”
I pulled back my hand, and Shepherd collapsed to the floor. I grabbed my bracelet; by now, all I had to do was concentrate on holding it, and I instantly had substance again.
At that moment, Balthazar staggered into the lobby. A thin line of blood marred his hairline, his black clothes were ripped, and one of his lips had been cut, but he held stakes in both hands and looked like he’d had the better of any fight he’d been in. When he saw me, he gasped. “Bianca?”
“Help Ranulf!” I shouted. Ranulf, near the doorway, was holding four vampires at bay—with a little smile on his face—but I didn’t know how long he could keep that up. Balthazar plunged into the fray, and I ran. “Lucas! Lucas, where are you?”
No reply.
I found the stairs to the projection room and climbed as fast as I could, cursing every step and the fact that I couldn’t yet control my powers well enough to simply appear at Lucas’s side. By the time I was near the top, I could hear their voices.
“Why won’t you give in?” Charity sounded genuinely sorrowful. “Without Bianca, what do you have left that’s worth fighting for?”
Lucas had no answer.
I reached the doorway of the projection room, and I had to decide: Drop the bracelet or keep it? If I dropped it, I’d be better able to strike Charity; if I kept it, Lucas could see that I was still with him, and then we could fight Charity together. Keep it, I decided.
The projection room had been decorated with movie posters that spanned decades, one overlapping the other: Angelina Jolie over Meg Ryan over Paul Newman. A projector lay on the floor, and the crumpled black coils were actual, old-fashioned film—the long-abandoned print of the last movie ever to play here. Cobwebs littered every corner, so thick they might have been sheets of silk. Part of the room’s front wall overlooking the theater had been punched through, leaving a gaping hole. Lucas and Charity stood in the center of the projection room, each of them bloody and disheveled. Charity’s ripped jeans and ragged T-shirt might have been tattered to begin with, but I suspected some of the tears were new. Lucas’s shirt had been shredded at the collar. He clutched a stake in his hand.
Lucas looked ready to strike, to jump back into the pitch of battle, when he saw me. I’d thought his face would light up in joy, but instead I saw only blank disbelief. “Bianca?”
“Lucas! It’s okay, we’ll be okay!”
Charity saw me. Her face didn’t change. She spun and kicked Lucas hard in the jaw.
He staggered backward, not unconscious but stunned. Charity smiled, and I realized in horror that she could finish him off now easily.
Dropping my bracelet, I bounded forward, ready to punch through Charity’s chest and finally teach her a lesson. But she simply ducked, grabbed something from the floor, and threw it at me.
No! The pain lashed through me, through everyplace my body would’ve been if I still had one and farther than that, too. Even the air around me could hurt. Blue mist closed in around the edges of my vision, and I nearly vanished from this reality altogether. I felt myself falling and striking the floor, and I seemed to shatter. Crystals of ice scattered across the floor, and the agony of breaking into little pieces was worse than anything I’d ever imagined.
And yet I was still there. I didn’t even have the relief of dying.
“Iron,” Charity said. “I think it was part of the projector. Nothing shuts a wraith down like iron.”
Clutching the bracelet upon the floor, I tried to materialize, but injured as I was, I couldn’t quite manage it. At least I was partly visible, shadowy blue light flickering upon the floor.
Behind Charity, Lucas staggered to his knees, then slid down toward the floor again. Only now could I see how roughed up he was; even before Charity’s last blow, he’d been in trouble.
“Bianca?” he groaned. “Can’t—can’t be—Is it you?”
“I need a family,” Charity whispered. “Can you understand that? How lonely I’ve been? My tribe—they follow me, they help me, but they aren’t family.”
“You have a brother.” I was surprised I could speak out loud.
“You could be with him if—if you would just stop—”
“Stop acting like a vampire.” Charity’s head drooped, and her fair curls tumbled past her shoulders. She took a step toward me. “That’s not the answer. At least now I know what to do. To tie Balthazar to me, I have to tie myself to you. That means we’ll need something in common.”
“Don’t hurt her!” Lucas charged toward Charity, but she wheeled around in time to avoid the blow. He was still stunned, still too weak to fight at his best. Swiftly she grabbed Lucas, jerked back his head, and bit deeply into his throat.
I screamed. It seemed as if the whole world was screaming, as if there were nothing but my scream and the sight of Lucas struggling against Charity, then slumping into unconsciousness as she drank, and drank, and drank. Her lips at his neck darkened with his blood, and her body shuddered with pleasure at every swallow.
Charity finally pulled back and let Lucas go. His body fell heavily to the floor with a thud. My scream cut off, replaced by the most terrible silence.
“That will do it,” Charity whispered. She gave me a pitying look, then glanced sharply over her shoulder. I realized that people were coming up the stairs, and she didn’t look pleased.
Charity ran to the gouged hole in the projection-room wall and leaped out. For a second I saw her dark shape silhouetted against the white screen, but then she was gone.