Bad Bloods (7 page)

“Daniel,” he repeated my name carefully, like
he’d learned the meaning of my existence over this one-minute phone
call. “You’re the Northern Flock boy.”

I wasn’t sure if it was more of a statement
or a question, but I said, “Yes, sir.” It was only then that I
realized I had spoken to Henderson—actually spoken to Alec
Henderson—and I had interrupted him of all things. My throat
tightened.

“I want to tell your story too,” he said.

Cal had told Alec everything.

I jumped up, almost knocking the table over,
but Cal gripped my wrist like he could force me to calm down. And
he did. I sat back down, but I trembled, and my tremors caused the
table to rattle. Damn it. I meant to fix the broken leg.

“Daniel,” Cal said my name like it mattered
anymore. “It would help him win. You and Serena would help him
win—”

My stare silenced him before my words could,
and I yanked out of his hold. “You told me this was about
Stephanie.” In the two days following the rumor’s break, more
information had released, including her full name—Stephanie
Mackenzie Henderson—and a photo of her. She was only nine when she
was last seen, and she had her mother’s blonde hair and her
father’s round face. Aside from her blue eyes, she actually looked
like what I imagined Serena would’ve looked like as a child.

“It is about Stephanie,” Cal said, quieter
this time, and he pulled a folder off the floor only to slide it
across the table. When I didn’t touch it, he opened it, and I
stared at a fake ID—much like the one I had—but Serena’s face was
on it. How he got her picture, I didn’t know, and I doubted he’d
even tell me, but if I had to guess, I would’ve guessed the blood
camp’s files. It would’ve been something Alec could get access to,
and Serena looked too healthy in the picture for it to have been
taken afterward. Her eyes were even brighter, her cheeks rounder. I
saw the girl I’d never meet, the one who had to die to make the one
I now knew.

“Daniel, my boy,” Henderson said. “Listen.
The public needs to see you are human. They need to see your
weaknesses, your pain. They need to see their own children in you.”
He paused. “And the officials need to see that the blood camp girl
survived. That bad bloods won’t die easily, that they will never be
forgotten.” Stephanie’s name was next to Serena’s face on the ID.
They were already blending together. “We will protect her as
Stephanie and guarantee that no one will test her or arrest her
again, and we will win with the both of you standing by my side.
You have my word.”

I closed my eyes. “I can’t leave my
flock.”

“But—”

“I can’t,” I said. “You can use my story, but
I can’t leave my flock.”

His breathing was loud, louder than
Calhoun’s. “And the girl?”

My eyes squeezed tighter, like they could
shut all the images out. Serena. Stephanie. All the others. “I have
to talk to her,” I croaked.

“Of course,” Henderson agreed too quickly.
“But we only have a couple of days, Daniel.”

I opened my eyes and stared at the phone,
still resting in Cal’s gigantic hand.

“You survived because of this,” Henderson
said.

I pushed my chair back and stood again. When
I looked away from the phone, Cal met my eyes. He nodded, knowing
exactly what I had to do, and I did it. I left. And I didn’t know
when I’d come back. I just had to go away for a while. And I hoped
everyone would forgive me when it came time to return and carry out
a plan I never saw coming, a plan that seemed too risky—too good—to
work out.

In the few days
since the rumor broke, Robert hadn’t allowed anyone to leave the
house. That left secret errands up to Catelyn—the only one of us
who could walk straight through a wall—and she had left us over an
hour ago to pick up ice cream. It was one of the only cheap treats
that comforted the youngest children in the flock, and even though
they weren’t completely aware of the election, they knew Robert’s
containment orders were unusual. In their eyes, something had gone
terribly, terribly wrong, and Robert was too busy discussing
possibilities with the eldest to calm them down. In the meantime,
we were on rotation, and Catelyn and I were assigned to watch the
kids, while Steven, Niki, and Ami went over escape routes.

I tried not to think about it as I watched
Jake practice his abilities. The dark-haired twelve-year-old
normally controlled his doubling abilities with ease, but tonight,
a twin of himself bent out of his torso only to snap right back
into place. From the corner, Briauna watched, chewing on her
fingernails like they would turn to scales too, and Timmy slept in
a cot, tucked beneath the stairs. I could only make out bits of his
white hair in the darkness, but I knew Melody was sleeping near his
feet, curled up like a cat. The only one who didn’t seem cold was
Justan. He didn’t shake at all as he focused on Jake. Every time
Jake lost control, Justan looked like he was breaking. Justan was
one year older than Jake and admired him for his ability to control
his powers. The fact that Jake was now struggling must have been
shaking Justan’s hope that one day, he too would be able to control
himself.

I watched them all carefully, half-expecting
Justan to lose it right then and there and cause a wooden-skin
spike to shoot across the room at a deathly speed, but nothing of
the sort happened. Instead, Justan lost his concentration and
looked up. When his eyes widened, I knew someone was standing next
to me—even though there wasn’t a door in the basement. Catelyn had
walked straight through the wall. When I glanced at her, her pale
skin was bitten red by the cold wind outside, the scar on her cheek
brighter than any other part of her. Even then, her eyes were what
caught my attention. They were glazed over like she had held back
tears or seen something she shouldn’t have.

She dropped the bag of food straight on the
floor—something she’d been excited about before—and she left it on
the ground like it meant nothing. When she made a beeline for the
staircase, I shot a smile at the kids.

“I’ll be back,” I promised.

None of them responded; they knew I wouldn’t
come back. Still, I chased her, and when I reached her, she was
already heading for the next staircase, this one leading upstairs.
I grabbed her arm, but she went straight through me, and my stomach
sunk. Something was definitely wrong, but she wasn’t going to get
rid of me that easily. I was used to her ghostly antics.

I followed her to her bedroom, relieved that
Steven was nowhere in sight, and shut the door behind us. “What
happened?”

“The main square,” she snapped, like that
explained everything.

I pressed my back against her door, waiting
for the real explanation.

Her big blue eyes met mine like she wished
she didn’t have to tell me what she was about to say. “Daniel.” His
name came out in an exhausted whine, and her forefingers pressed
against her forehead like she wanted to steal her own memories. “He
came up to me, Serena.”

I could barely breathe. “What?”

“I know it was him—mainly because he told
me.” Her hand fell to her side in a dramatic thump. “He remembered
me from the alleyway,” she hissed the last part, like she was
afraid Niki was listening, and then she collapsed on her bed. “I
think he thought I was you at first.”

We did look alike—especially when wearing
hoods that hid the details—but up close, the scar gave her away,
and my gray eyes gave me away. Those were the only traits we didn’t
have in common.

“He was”—my hands knotted at my sides—“He was
looking for me?”

Catelyn didn’t respond, and I knew she wasn’t
telling me something. In fact, she was actually considering not
telling me at all. I could see it in her scowl, directed at the
floor.

I crossed the room to stand in front of her.
I laid my hands on her shoulders and forced her to look at me.
“Catelyn.”

“He wants your help with something,” she
managed. “I just—I just don’t know about this.” Her voice shook
with her head, and her blonde bob swished from side to side. “He’s
in the Northern Flock, right? What could he want with you?” She
emphasized the last word like a curse, and for once, I wasn’t sure
if she was cursing me or him or everyone, but a part me knew it was
the latter. She reached up and squeezed my right hand before
asking, “Are you leaving us?”

I sighed her name as I sat on the bed next to
her. We lingered in silence as I rested my elbow on my knees and
placed my head in my hands. I concentrated on breathing before I
looked up and stared at the wall. “I need to know what he said,” I
managed, but Catelyn didn’t respond. “Did he ask you to tell me a
place and a time to meet?”

Catelyn still held back.

“It might have to do with the election,” I
pressed, knowing she was well aware of our situation with
Henderson’s missing daughter, but Catelyn managed to furrow her
brow. Like she could afford skepticism. I gripped her arm. “Daniel
has plans.” He had to. “We’re going to get through this together,
but I need you to tell me what he said.”

She wasn’t going to talk. I had to resort to
horror.

“They kill the boys first.” The executions
from the blood camp ran through my veins, but Catelyn’s face paled
like all her blood escaped her. “The boys go first,” I repeated,
emphasizing what reality we could face. If I had to imagine
Daniel’s death, she had to imagine watching Steven’s. “I need to
see Daniel, and I need you to trust me.”

Catelyn slumped, but she didn’t budge away
from me. “Two days. On Debary’s Lane.”

I normally
fled from the echo of approaching footsteps, but tonight was
different. Tonight, I was waiting for Serena, and every passing
moment of silence increased my desire to be near her. I hadn’t
known her for long—barely two weeks—but I couldn’t shake her off my
shoulders like I had been able to shake everything else away. No.
She stayed just like my scar, forcibly imprinted into me, a
reminder that my life would never be the same no matter what I
wanted. Even though I wanted her.

I stared at the curve of the ground where
Shadow Alley curled into Debary’s Lane, and I knew I was starting
over where everything had begun. It was why I wanted her to meet me
here—two blocks away from Calhoun’s apartment. I only hoped she
knew where it was, right next to Mulberry Street where we met.

“Daniel?”

I blinked, and she suddenly appeared like a
ghost. One second, she was nowhere to be seen, and another second,
she was right in front of me, inches away. Her hair shimmered like
honey beneath the golden lights of the back alleyway, and her gray
eyes were two little moons, round and bright in the darkness of
night. She tilted her head as if she had been standing in front of
me the entire time, waiting for me to respond. Maybe she had been.
I might have zoned out. After everything I’d been through, it
wasn’t uncommon.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and I realized I
had yet to respond to her at all.

I reached out, and my fingertips skimmed her
face. She didn’t even flinch. It was almost as if she had been
expecting it.

“You’re not okay,” she decided finally,
grabbing my hand like that would fix everything. “Me neither.” She
started walking down Debary’s Lane, slowly, like we were tiptoeing
past a police station, and stopped about halfway through the
cobblestone street. It was the first time I’d seen her stand
still—ever—and even then, the wind whisked her long blonde hair
past her shoulders like a thousand golden threads. I followed her
gaze to the red door of a townhome, but she didn’t speak.

“I need to talk to you,” I managed.

“That’s why I’m here.” She kept her eyes on
the door. “But why here? Why not at Cal’s?” It came out as a
whisper, and I realized “here” meant something to her, that this
red door was more than a red door halfway down Debary’s Lane, and
the location I had picked was not just meaningful to me.