I laughed. “Yeah, whatever.”
He rolled and got up, and this time I did let him help me stand. I wiped the sweat from my brow.
“You’re a pretty sick fighter,” Luc said, crossing his arms over his cut, bared chest. “But let’s add a few obstacles.”
I shrugged. “Okay, whatever you want.”
Luc grinned, and it made me shudder.
That
made him and Phin laugh.
When it came time to add in jumps and rolls and throwing blades while running? God, I needed practice. At least it would keep me busy, and part of my brain thought that was what the whole thing was about anyway: keeping my mind off of Seth.
And Eli.
The real shocker came later that afternoon. “Hey, Luc, why don’t you and Phin be moving targets?” Josie said, smiling. “I think that would be wicked cool.”
I’m not sure why it took me by surprise, but it did, and I suppose the alarm was evident on my face.
“No, seriously—it’s fine,” Luc said, and flung a practice blade directly at Phin. I watched it sink into his flesh, all the way to the hilt.
“Whoa!” I hollered when Phin pulled it from his chest, flipped it, and flung it back at Luc. Luc caught it in midair. No blood anywhere, but then vampires don’t bleed their own blood, do they?
“Totally not real silver, don’t forget,” said Josie, who sat perched on the windowsill, swinging her skinny-jean-clad legs and All Stars. “The practice blades are sharp, but fake—steel. That’s why they’re
practice blades
.”
I glanced at her, then at Eli’s brothers. “That makes me feel lots better.”
They all laughed.
Over the next couple of hours I worked on moving targets, and I was glad not to have a squeamish stomach. It took a little getting used to at first—flinging a sharp blade at a live being, although technically, Luc and Phin weren’t alive. I missed—a lot.
When Phin laughed at a blade that pinged off the wall, I turned to him. “It’s a hell of a lot easier hitting still dummies than moving ones.” He merely laughed again.
Practice was grueling. I had good aim, though, and a steady hand—so said Gilles as he and Elise came to watch, and eventually I hit my mark—Luc and Phin—a few times. Jack and Tuba stood near the door like a couple of bouncers and kept their gazes trained on me. Big and silent, they were in fact intimidating. I’m not convinced they’d be a match for the Duprés, though I’d never confess that to Preacher. Maybe there was a lot more to Gullah magic than I originally thought. Rather, Preacher’s sort of magic. He and his family were definitely unconventional Gullah.
The last of my first practice day consisted of Luc and Phin tag teaming me while I threw. One would be the moving target; the other would come after me.
I started running from the back of the room, Luc and Phin flanking me. I aimed my practice blade at Luc and threw, then kept my eyes trained on Phin as he lunged toward me. I ducked, rolled, and hit my feet running, but he was too fast. His body full-impact hit me, and I landed on the mat with a heavy thud. His eyes twinkled down at me with victory. “This is the most fun I’ve had in a hundred years,” he said with a smirk.
“Get off me,” I said, struggling to breathe.
“Again,” Luc said.
I groaned.
I hit the mat so many times, I lost count. It was a hard workout for me, effortless for the Duprés. They’d crammed all the lessons into one day. Apparently I’d be doing the same every day from here on out. I could barely wait.
I jogged home from Monterey Square, Phin beside me, and dusk was just approaching. A slight breeze now shifted the moss hanging from the oaks, and I dodged tourists as they window-shopped the myriad antique and specialty stores lining the historic district. We jogged past a walking ghost tour, the tour guide dressed in Colonial wear and swinging a lantern, flashes from the tourists’ digital cameras lighting the darkness as they aimed at various structures. As I ran by, I noticed a horse-drawn carriage with a couple snuggled together, and the woman in the carriage glanced down and smiled at me. The first thought that crossed my mind was,
You have no freaking clue what’s really out there, do you?
How cynical I’d become. Phin chuckled.
After a quick shower, I quickly ate a can of SpaghettiOs and changed into something Phin suggested: comfortable, movable clothes. I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but I took no chances: a pair of baggy jeans that sat below my hips, a black ribbed tank, and a pair of well-worn Vans. I pulled my hair into a high ponytail, slipped on a belt to keep my baggy pants from falling around my knees, and was ready to go. At least, I thought I was. I was learning real fast to always expect the unexpected. I popped four ibuprofen tabs to keep away the soreness I knew my body would be experiencing—was already starting to feel—from the Dupré workout. It was well after dark when we left, and Luc as well as Josie joined us.
For the first hour, we simply mingled in the streets with the tourists. Sunday nights were typically slower than the rest of the week, but there were still a good handful who stepped out into the historic district to wallow in Savannah’s atmosphere. I found myself obsessively searching for a crowd of delinquents wearing dark hoodies but never caught the first sight of them. We hit all the main squares, walked Broughton Street east and west, and even strolled through Starbucks. Mullet was in there with his übertall girlfriend, and I spoke to them for just a few seconds before leaving.
It was nearly midnight when we found ourselves in a small alley two blocks over from the Panic Room, and that was when I caught sight of them. Huddled together, they knelt on the sidewalk next to a streetlamp, completely engrossed in . . . something on the ground. Phin grabbed my arm as I moved forward.
“No way, Riley,” Phin said, and we all fell into the shadows. “Watch, not approach, or don’t you remember the other night?”
I glanced at him. “Yeah, I remember.” Todd could have killed me.
“They grow stronger every day,” Josie said beside me. “And Seth doesn’t know you anymore.”
I’d already known it—Eli had said as much. But somehow it hit harder now, and it hurt. An ache spread through my chest at the thought of my brother not knowing me. I studied each of the boys and couldn’t determine which one was Seth.
Just then, one of the boys shifted, and I saw all too clearly what they were so intrigued by: a
body
. By the size of the chunky black boots I estimated a male; I couldn’t tell whether he was dead. My stomach lurched at the thought, and I wanted to react. No way in hell was I going to sit by and watch as my brother sucked the blood of some dude lying on a dirty sidewalk. I moved, and a hand abruptly stopped me.
“We can’t drink the blood of the dead,” Phin said, grasping me with a steely grip. “It’s lethal for us. That’s why they use dope.”
“To sedate and subdue,” Josie said flatly.
I felt my face lose what little color it had. “Will they kill him?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“No,” Luc said. “They can’t make their first kill until the quickening is complete.”
“They’ll take him back to the Arcoses, and they’ll kill him,” Josie offered.
In the next instant, I shifted—barely a movement, from one foot to the other—and one of the boys heard. Several hoodies glanced my way, but one in particular had enough light from the streetlamp illuminating his face for me to get a good look. Seth’s extraordinarily pale face and lightened eyes stared hard at me; blood was running from the side of his mouth. I reacted—I
lunged
. And Seth lunged back, both of us at the same instant. He was close enough now that I could see the depth of his eyes: crazed, unfamiliar, incoherent—nothing at all remained of the loving, sweet brother he once was. The others stood, glaring; the energy around us snapped, and I knew they were ready to pounce.
“Shit—get her out of here!” Phin yelled, and Josie grabbed me and yanked so hard I thought my arm had popped the socket. She all but dragged me away, and behind us I could hear the fight that had started. We ran—hard—I had no choice, really. It was run or be dragged. I followed Eli’s sister and rolled beneath a red-tip shrub and into a neighboring yard. The grass was damp and cool with dew, prickly and stiff. We both jumped up, crossed the lane, and started running.
“You have to go back and help them,” I said breathlessly. “I’ll go straight home—promise. But seven against two are bad odds—even for a vampire.”
Josie stopped and stared hard at me. “Promise?” she asked, then frowned. “Swear it.”
I nodded. “Swear it. Now, go,” I said.
She watched me for a split second longer, gauging her trust of me, no doubt, then took off. I ran in the other direction, toward home. While my gut told me to stay and fight, my brain told me to get the hell out—I was nowhere near capable of handling myself against a newling—much less a group of newlings. It ate at me to run away—it just wasn’t in my nature. But all three Duprés together could fight off Riggs and the others, and my being there would be a total and possibly lethal distraction—to both parties. As I ran hard and fast beneath the streetlamps, my Vans pounding the paved sidewalk, I prayed the Duprés wouldn’t accidentally hurt my brother.
I turned at the intersection at Martin Luther King and ran up River Street, the lights and activity at the west end not nearly as heavy as at the east end, but I’d get there soon enough. I hurried up the cobbles, the old Atlantic Paper Company on my left, then past the Hyatt. I crossed over to the river walk, slowing now to a jog. I glanced over my shoulder and didn’t see any hoodies, so I began to walk, out of breath. I couldn’t help but wonder who the victim on the ground was; I’m glad I hadn’t seen his face. I knew I’d never rid my mind of Seth’s pale skin, with blood dripping off his chin; it was too horrific. I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs; I felt like hitting something—I felt sick to my stomach. I started to run again—ran
hard
. Very few people were out on a Sunday night at midnight—even on River Street, and I had free rein on the walk. I jumped over the short wall barrier and headed to the river. At the section across from Inksomnia, I stopped, leaned over the rail, and threw up. Never, ever would I forget what my brother had looked like, what he’d unknowingly done. I hated this. I hated
all
of this.
I stood there grasping the metal railing, breathing hard. The night air was stagnant, the low tide making the scent of the marsh pungent, and the shoals of oysters bubbled and popped across the river from Dafuski Island. The mosquitoes were out in armies, and I slapped my neck as they bit. Damn, I hated mosquitoes. I pushed off the rail and turned to go inside—but gasped and jerked to a halt as I stared straight into the vacant, opaque eyes of my brother.
I stood frozen in place; my eyes widened and my insides quivered as I stared at Seth. I hated being afraid of my brother, but I was. He almost looked dead, with his skin so pale and translucent, his eyes a completely different shade of green—nearly white now—and his lips a darkish blue. Dried blood streaked his chin. His nostrils flared as his gaze settled on the side of my throat, at my carotid, and I took a step back. With a sound emanating from his throat that no longer sounded human, he moved slowly toward me. Again, I froze, and he stopped. I know he didn’t recognize me, and was pretty sure he’d followed only because he’d caught sight of me. Josie and the others had said more than once Seth wouldn’t remember me or his previous life. Had she been wrong?
The air tensed around us; Seth and I were both on edge and about to lunge—I could feel it. I slowly eased back a few more steps, until my flesh grazed the rail, and my hands followed, encircling the metal in a tight grip. “Seth,” I said quietly, steadily, my eyes directly on his; hopefully he would concentrate on my face and not my hand movement. I was going to freaking jump in the river if I had to, despite the bull sharks that patrolled the waterways—another thing not mentioned in the tourist mags and brochures. I inhaled slowly, and even that slight movement was noticed by my brother. He flinched and jumped at me. “Seth!” I said, louder, and he jerked as though he’d been struck. His chest rose and fell rapidly, faster than human, and his Adam’s apple bobbed unnaturally—like he was swallowing something rapid-fire, over and over.
Then his face drew taut and his eyes widened, and in the next second, he lunged for me. In the same breath I threw my legs over the handrail, and before I could drop, Seth’s body just . . . stopped coming at me. I tightened my grasp and held on to the railing, suspended, until my hands started to sweat and my fingers grew cold and numb. Nothing happened. I had no idea whether he stood there, waiting, or . . . what? No more than thirty seconds passed, and I’d decided a swim with the bull sharks was going to be my finale for the night. Then Phin’s face appeared over the rail, and he reached down with one hand, grasped one of mine, and effortlessly hauled me back over. “Riley—what the hell are you doing?” he asked.
I looked at him, then looked around. “What’d you do with my brother?” I asked, ignoring his question, still scared but trying to shake it off.
In the lamplight, Phin’s flawless pale face, chiseled features accented by the light dusting of scruff on his jaw, all but glowed. Even though he had different colored hair he looked a lot like Eli. He cocked his head. “What are you talking about?”
I glanced up the river walk, toward the west end. I saw nothing. “I left Josie and ran here, stopped, and barfed over the railing.” I looked at Phin. “When I turned around, Seth was right behind me.” I met his gaze. “He knew me, Phin. I could see it.”
Phin’s face turned hard. “In his opaque eyes, you mean? He didn’t recognize you, Riley. Not this far into his quickening.” He shook his head. “No way.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, glanced upward at the more than half-circle moon that slipped in and out of misty clouds, and sighed. “He did. He lunged at me, and when I called his name”—I looked at him—“he flinched. He stopped when he didn’t have to.”