Welcome to Bordertown (42 page)

“I don’t have any notebooks,” Moss said. “I’d need a notebook to be a writer, right?”

“I know where you can find some notebooks.” If there were art supplies at South Street School, I was sure there was a closet with notebooks somewhere. Maybe he’d pay for them.

Before I could ask him that, two humans came up to the table. The bald guy wore a T-shirt that said “TCP” and the girl’s said “IP.” They were a couple, I guessed. I wondered a little jealously where they bought the Ts. “Hi. I like your pictures,” the girl told me.

I could barely stutter out a surprised thank-you, and I wasn’t sure what else to say. She gave me a hesitant wave as they went back to a table full of kids talking loudly about heliographs and pigeons. “Guess what?” she screeched at them. “They found a dead wharf rat under Riverside Bridge this morning.”

“You’d make people feel more welcome if you didn’t glower so much,” Moss said.

“I don’t!” I protested, but all I could think about was that dead wharf rat. Did I do that? Would I get caught?

I looked around nervously and discovered that the little bar had filled up. One gorgeous, willowy elf girl wearing long, long braids streaked silver and rose and a skintight New Blood Review T-shirt over leggings leaned close to talk to Sky as he tuned his guitar. I hated her right away. As I wondered how to interrupt them, the front door crashed open and a human boy, dressed in a motley quartered tabard that featured peace signs and kanji symbols, ran in and banged a beribboned staff on the ground. Everyone fell quiet.

“Territory change,” he announced. “Truebloods back one block. Pack advances.” Then he dashed out, the bells tied around his calves jingling.

People mumbled and several elves left. Soon after that, some Packers swaggered in all black leather and black jeans. Someone said something to someone else, and I had to duck an ashtray that suddenly flew past my ear.

The place became chaos. Some people screamed, and quite a few made for the exits. There were always those who were game for a fight, though, and they stayed.

“The instruments!” Moss cried, and leaped up.

A Packer sporting a hammer tattoo on her forehead took that as an invitation to swing at him. I yanked the table aside as I came to my feet under the girl’s arm and jabbed her in the gut with a left hook. As she doubled over, I finished her with a right.

Moss gave me a shocked glance, but he tugged my arm and we ran for the stage, where the band rushed to move their instruments out of harm’s way. We jumped onto the low platform and defended it from invaders. I kicked and Moss swung the mic stand. His moves were more agile than I expected. I was enjoying myself. The singer belted out a rollicking drinking song as he grabbed the last drum, and the others hustled the amps out back. Sky picked up the impossibly beautiful elf girl, tossed her over his shoulder, and ran for the back door, both of them laughing. A hollow formed in the pit of my stomach.
I have no chance with him. No chance at all
, I thought, and I didn’t have the time to wait for a beautiful elf to fall in love with me. I’d take the one I had.

I pushed Moss in the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.” I dragged him through the middle of the brawl and away from my cruel disappointment. He followed willingly, whooping with excitement as we ducked and weaved.

We ran out the front door hand in hand.

Rain had fallen while we were inside, and the air smelled fizzy and full of life. I expected the street to be deserted, but people like a train wreck. Gawkers strained their necks to see through the windows and “oohed” and “aahed” at each crash. I felt sorry for the owner, who would have to clean the mess.

“Sluggo’s is the wrong name to give that place,” Moss said.

I must have looked blank.

“Sympathetic magic,” he elaborated. He must have seen my eyes glaze over because he changed the subject. “Those notebooks,” he said. “Can we fetch them now?”

I hesitated a moment. Normally I would have insisted on going for them alone to protect the location of my stash, but South Street School was quiet and deserted. And what I had to do might be noisy.

“Okay,” I said.

“Great!” He rubbed one of my hands between his own. “You’re cold.”

He was warm and friendly, not aloof like his brother, and I was planning nasty things. I removed my hand from his. “Yeah, I’m cold.”

“Wait a minute,” he ordered, and left me at the curb while he dashed off around the corner. He came back pushing a bright orange Vespa scooter. If I had friends, I wasn’t sure I’d want them to see me on that.

He waved his hand over the spellbox, and the engine burst into life. I’d seen other people struggle and fiddle for minutes to start their bikes. “You’re good.”

“I have a knack,” he said quietly. He seemed pleased that I’d noticed. When he smiled, he actually looked kind of cute, and to my surprise, I felt a fluttering response.

I climbed on behind him and he revved the engine. “No one
is impressed,” I snapped, because that flutter had thrown me off-kilter. I told him how to get to the school; then I wrapped my arms around him as we left the curb. This close, he smelled even better than his brother did. “Don’t stop if you see the Pack,” I yelled.

He might be a friend
, I thought.
A real friend. I should let him go.

I wanted to scream. I couldn’t wait for him to like me enough to forgive what I was and maybe, just maybe, help. I was out of control. I had to stop myself now. And whether his blood cured me or not, I would have to go back to the World. I liked Soho; I didn’t want to ruin it with me.

The night air whipped through my hair and tangled it, and the sleeves of my jacket flapped. The tears in my eyes were from the wind, I told myself.

No one was hanging around the school, so Moss secured his scooter to a pillar and we went through the front door. He brought a bag.

“Notebooks aren’t heavy,” I informed him.

He shrugged and pulled a flashlight from the bag. He intoned “abracadabra,” and the light turned on.

“Joker,” I said.
Damn him for making me smile.

As we climbed the main steps, our feet crunched dried leaves and rat shit. Water dripped musical notes from a hole in the decaying roof to a puddle somewhere above us, and an object clattered on the third floor landing—maybe a twig from a nest?

We were inside. Alone. I could do it anywhere here, but I led Moss down the corridor to the art room anyway. Most of the doors were off their hinges or were missing entirely. Skitters erupted in one of the classrooms as we passed, and I heard the occasional squeak. Moss inspected the ceilings and the walls and peered into the rooms. He’d probably never seen a human school before.

Moss helped me move the file cabinet away from the supply
cupboard and waited respectfully for me to find him what he wanted. I hated to leave that lovely loot behind, but I just grabbed two small spiral-bound sketchpads and three blue exam books and walked out of the storeroom.

“Will these do?” I asked.

He balanced the flashlight on top of the file cabinet and reached for them.

It has to be now
, I thought.

As he bowed his head to put the books in his bag, I slid behind him and placed my hands on his shoulders. He chuckled. He probably thought I was coming on to him. If only that were true.

If only? When had I started to feel
that
way?

Ignore it
, I told myself.
Be prepared to grab him tight.
Grip him until paralysis sets in.
My throat ached and my eyes stung with tears, but I could think of no other way to get elf blood.

I lowered my teeth carefully so I wouldn’t rip him like I had the kid the night before.
I’m so sorry.
His skin was fragrant and smooth, and the sight of that funny kinked ear tugged at my heart for a moment. I tightened my lips.

But no fangs grew.

What the …?

I grimaced and willed my fangs to emerge.

Nothing happened.

Was he immune? I choked back a howl.

He raised a hand and laid it over mine. “You know that Truebloods live for a very long time, don’t you?

“What?” I gasped.
I can cut him
, I thought.
I can still have his blood.

“But still, there are those who lust for more,” he continued, oblivious to my panic as I realized I had nothing sharp.

“They use blood magic,” he said.

All thoughts of cutting him fled and my panic condensed into pinpoint attention. “What did you say?”

“We have descendants in the World who have only a drop of the Trueblood, but want to use it to live forever. They use blood magic for power over death, but it changes them. And it changes those they use in their rites. What they don’t tell you is that you can change back. Trueblood magic favors life.”

“What are you talking about?” My voice was shrill.

“Away from the attentions of your maker, you are coming alive,” he answered, and twisted into my arms.

I stepped back to break his embrace. I was icy sober. “You … you know what I am?”

“Yes. You are a drinker of blood, trapped between life and death, the victim of a Lankin. But you are mending.”

Fury possessed my tongue. “And you knew I couldn’t bite you, you fucking tease?”

He blinked. “No, I didn’t know that,” he admitted, “but I was curious.”

“Are you crazy?” I shrieked. “I’m evil. I killed someone last night.”

“No, you didn’t.” Moss tried to take my hand again, but I snatched it away. “You pulled him out of a puddle so he wouldn’t drown, and you propped him against a wall. You tied a bandanna around his neck to stop the flow of blood.”

“Yeah, but it obviously didn’t work—they found him dead.…” My mouth fell open as I realized what he had just said. “Wait a minute—you weren’t there.”

He looked embarrassed. “I followed you. You were my adventure—my mystery. Everyone said rotten magic surrounded you, and I wanted to find out the cause.”

Rotten magic?
That’s
why elves didn’t like me? “But the dead wharf rat this morning …”

“Some other fool who fell off the bridge … Shhh!” He raised a finger, then cocked his head.

While I stood dumbfounded, he pulled a wadded bundle out of his bag. I recognized volleyball netting. What was he going to do to me? Panic surged once more. I took another step back, ready to run.

A high-pitched squeal and a
fwap fwap fwap
broke the silence. I looked up. A bat hurtled toward my face. I shrieked and raised my arms to ward off the creature.

Moss pointed to the bat, pursed his lips, and sucked.

I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t breathe. The bat crashed to the floor with no air to hold it up. Moss threw the net over the struggling beast and blew out softly.

I dragged in a ragged breath as atmosphere returned and looked at Moss, aghast.

“Lessons,” he said.

I didn’t know what he studied in the Realm, but it sure as hell wasn’t calculus. “You sucked the fucking air out of the room!” I cried.

“That was merely symbolic,” he explained.

I didn’t answer right away because I was too busy panting. “You knew about that bat?” I asked finally. My voice trembled.

“It tracked you last night,” Moss told me. “It reeked of evil and bad intentions. I almost caught it outside your home, but it got away.”

I remembered the noises in the bushes.

“What is it?” he asked.

“One pissed-off bat
,”
I said, but then I looked closer.

“That’s the bastard who turned me into a monster!” I kicked the bundle. The bat squealed and thrashed. One of its claws was lumpy and scarred. I wondered if the fire I’d set had done that. I hoped so.

“The Lankin himself!” Moss seemed to grow taller; his fists clenched.

“Will that net still hold him when he changes back?” I damned my shrill, frightened voice. My heart thumped hard. I’d forgotten that feeling.

“I believe it’s trapped in that shape,” Moss said. His eyes were fierce. “Even pure power warps in the Borderlands; what chance has magic already corrupt?”

“Are you sure he’s stuck?”

Moss uttered some angry words I didn’t understand. “I am now,” he said coldly. “Ask Wolfboy about all that.”

A claw inside of me loosened its grip. For a moment, I felt lighter than air. I couldn’t find my voice.

“What do you want to do with it?” Moss asked after a minute. He sounded calm and amused once more. “Do you want to keep it as a pet?”

I shuddered. I wanted to kill it, but I suspected Moss wouldn’t approve. “Let’s dump it in the Nevernever,” I said.

“It might find its way back to the World,” Moss warned.

“Yeah, but it might get eaten, too,” I answered.

“Or regain life?”

“If it has to,” I answered.

Alive
, I thought.
He said I’m coming alive.
No wonder I threw up blood.

I made Moss carry Dr. Vee to the scooter—the bat shape creeped me out. Maybe I was in shock, but I was kind of a pest all the way there.

“Am I cured now?” I asked.

“Your craving for blood might come and go,” he said, “but we’ll work something out.”

“Can I eat real food?”

“I’d take it slowly if I were you, Fang.”

I rolled my eyes. “Will other elves stop hating me?”

“That’s up to you.”

“Will my color come back?”

At that point, he started to laugh, but that didn’t shut me up. I was too excited.

“Will I age now?”

“Maybe gradually.”

“That makes me a perfect girlfriend for an elf, doesn’t it?”

“As long as you don’t expect that ‘elf’ to solve all your problems.”

“I’ll stay put and solve my own problems from now on,” I promised, “but you’ll help, right?”

“I expect so.” He grinned, and my face hurt because I was grinning, too, and couldn’t stop.

“Are you some kind of wizard?” I asked as I took charge of the prisoner so Moss could drive.

“Sort of,” he answered.

“You’re extra good at magic, aren’t you?”

“So far, but we’ll see.”

He was looking for trouble. I could tell.

“You’re a mystery, too,” I whispered as we set off for the Nevernever.