Shadowed (Fated) (29 page)

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

She couldn’t look him in the eye. ‘OK,’ she
mumbled, ‘tired.’

He pushed open the door to the bookstore and let
her pass, his gaze falling naturally to the long, bare length of her legs. Man,
did she look hot in just his sweater. He wondered if she was still wearing the
paper underwear or if she was going commando.

He pushed the thought away. Now was not the time.
The café was starting to fill up with early morning customers. Evie darted
between them, self-consciously tugging at the bottom of the sweater, trying
futilely to get it to cover more than just the tops of her thighs.

‘Cyrus!’

He pulled up sharply, wincing.

‘Darcy,’ he said, turning around slowly to confront
that waitress girl from before.

She was looking at him almost as accusingly as his
mother. ‘You didn’t call,’ she pouted.

Was she going to cry? Oh god. He wasn’t sure he
could deal with that. ‘Yeah, um,’ he stuttered, ‘you know. I’ve been kind of
busy.’

Darcy’s eyes went wide at that point. She was
staring at something over his shoulder. He turned to see what she was looking
at. Evie was standing by the door, waiting for him. Her hair was mussed up. Her
lips were chapped and the colour of crushed rose petals. She was, of course,
wearing only his sweater. She looked like she had been fully and completely
ravished. Which she had. Only Darcy didn’t know it hadn’t been by him, or at
least not so completely by him, but by a thousand-year-old bloodsucker. He
turned slowly back to Darcy, the waitress.

‘I can see just how busy you’ve been,’ Darcy said,
before he could say anything. She slapped on a fake bright smile, then spun on
her heel and headed back to the cash desk.

Cyrus sighed. Was anyone going to cut him a break
today? He turned back to the door. Evie smiled quickly, apologetically at him.
He ignored her, and walked out onto the street to hail a cab.

‘I need to go to Flic’s. I need a change of
clothes.’ Evie said as they settled inside the cab, both of them squeezed
against opposing doors, the faux leather of the seats practically igniting with
the tension.

She leant forward and gave the driver the address.

‘I lost my blade,’ she said when she sat back. ‘Do
you know what happened to it?’

He shook his head. ‘Victor might have taken it.’

He could tell by the way Evie was staring out of
the window, shooting death stares at the street, that she was pissed off. It
was OK. If Victor refused to part with it, he’d make him.

After a few minutes of awkward silence she cleared
her throat. ‘Have you heard from the others? Are they OK?’

Cyrus studied her, not sure whether she was ready
to hear the news about RJ. She had bruise-coloured shadows under her eyes that
on anyone else would have looked awful but on her only managed to accentuate
the blue of her eyes. The bandage on her throat made her look more vulnerable
than he knew she was. He had a sudden flashback to the night before, when his
fingers had traced up her throat, had felt the silky warm skin at the base of
her neck and the smooth flat of her stomach.

‘They’re fine,’ he said, his voice hoarse.

‘You never did tell me, by the way, how you managed
to break us out of the hospital.’

He smiled to himself, ‘I told them that Victor had
just bared all.’

‘That he what?’

‘Exposed himself, gave you an eyeful of his magic
wand.’

Evie searched his face for evidence he was joking.
‘Are you serious?’

He shrugged in answer. Evie suddenly burst out
laughing. It was such an unexpected sound that he couldn’t help but stare at
her. It was the first time he’d actually ever seen her laugh – look
relaxed and not like she had the burdens of the realms weighing on her
shoulders. His heart practically burst in his chest at the sight.

But then it was back. The haunted, hollowed-out
expression she usually wore, as though she didn’t really believe life would
ever deal her anything other than a bad hand. Her eyes lost their shine. And he
wanted nothing more than to reach over to her in that instant, pull her against
his side and tell her that everything was going to be OK – that he was
going to make it so.

Evie felt light-headed as she walked down the corridor towards Flic’s
front door, her feet dragging. Her whole body was hurting as if she’d been run
over by a bulldozer. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be back to fighting fitness
and definitely not by later today.

Cyrus had dropped her at Flic’s and gone on to meet
the others at Victor’s, apparently sensing her need to be alone, or possibly
– more likely – because he didn’t want to be anywhere near her ever
again.

She wished she could take it all back, rewind time.
Never kiss him. What had she been thinking? She’d been awake most of the night
replaying it over and over in her head. Though this morning Cyrus had seemed
back to his normal nonchalant, sardonically smiling self. Maybe she had just
been another notch for him after all. Maybe the hurt look in his eyes the night
before wasn’t from a bruised heart but from a bruised ego. But, she paused,
replaying it yet again. The way he’d kissed her, the tenderness she’d felt in
his touch and the intensity in the way he looked at her, suggested otherwise.

Which made things even worse.

She’d been betrayed before – by Tom –
so she knew how it felt to be on the receiving end. But Cyrus’s ego had
probably never suffered any kind of knocks before. It was titanium plated.

She knocked lightly on Flic’s door, resting her
forehead against her fist.

Flic must have felt her coming because the door
opened almost immediately. She looked hurriedly over her shoulder as if
surprised to see Evie standing there.

‘What is it?’ Evie asked, checking around to see
who else Flic might have been expecting.

‘Nothing, nothing,’ Flic said quickly. ‘I just …
you didn’t see anybody just now, did you?’

Evie stared at her, puzzled, ‘Like who? The
mailman?’

Flic shook her head, ushering her inside. ‘Come in,
come on in.’

She followed Evie into the living room. ‘Where did
you go last night? You left the hospital.’

Evie swallowed and crossed to the sofa.
Let the lies begin.

‘Um, Cyrus took me somewhere. The police were
around and …’

‘Yeah, they were asking lots of questions of us
too,’ Flic broke in. She seemed agitated, jumpier than normal, though her eyes
were shining. Maybe it was just the residual effects of the fight last night.

‘The police were all over that hospital,’ she
carried on. ‘The ER could barely keep up. You weren’t the only neck wound that
they brought in. Burns too. It’s hard to believe. I mean, there are Mixen and
Scorpio walking around in broad daylight. The
Times
is starting to sound like the
National Enquirer
.’ She threw a copy at Evie across the coffee
table.

Evie scanned the front page, words jumping out at
her:

Full-scale panic

Massacre
    

              
MONSTERS!

Killing

                                   
Green skin creatures

She could barely focus enough to read the article through. Flic jabbed
her finger at a smaller block of text at the bottom of the page. Evie read a
few lines then looked up, her gut tightening, nausea welling up her throat.

‘RJ? Are they talking about RJ?’ she spluttered.
‘Was it him? Did he die?’

She remembered the scream she’d heard from the
street, the noise that had distracted her from whatever Selena had seen on the
other side of the wall.

She saw from Flic’s expression that she was right.

‘I thought Cyrus would have told you,’ Flic said.

Evie swore, throwing the paper across the table and
standing up, a sob fighting its way up her throat. ‘I told Victor. Goddamn him.
I told him they weren’t ready.’

He was dead. He was just a kid. He should never
even have been there.

Flic studied her for a second and then walked out
of the room. Evie followed her into the kitchen.

Neither of them spoke as Flic made coffee. Evie leant
against the counter, watching her, unable to shake the memory of RJ standing on
the sidewalk with a look of utter terror on his face. What a way to die.

‘So, you and Cyrus?’ Flic suddenly asked, making
Evie startle.

‘Cyrus what?’ Evie asked, her mouth suddenly drier
than a desert.

Flic raised her eyebrows suggestively. ‘You and he
…?’

‘No! No, what are you talking about?’ Evie burst
out. How had Flic known?

Flic’s laser-gaze swept Evie from top to toe.
‘Well, you’re wearing his sweater, and not a whole lot else. It’s kind of a
giveaway.’

Evie took a deep breath. ‘It’s not what you think.’

‘So you didn’t kiss him. then?’ Flic asked.

Evie swallowed. She should have tried to get some
new clothes before coming here. ‘I … er, yeah, OK, I kissed him. I mean, we
kissed.’ She could feel the tears building, the panic fluttering in her chest.
She realised it was because standing here in front of Flic felt like standing
in front of Lucas, having to justify her betrayal.

‘Do you like him?’ Flic asked.

‘No!’ Evie burst out. ‘I mean, yes, I like him,
he’s different now. But that’s not why I kissed him.’

Flic smiled sadly. ‘You know, Evie, it’s OK. You
don’t need to feel guilty.’ She turned around and started pouring hot water
into mugs.

‘You want to know the truth?’ Evie asked after a
beat. ‘I was thinking about Lucas the whole time. That’s why I kissed him.
Because I miss Lucas. Because I wanted to feel safe again and protected, and
for a moment I got carried away. I wanted it to be him. So, of course I feel
guilty. I feel guilty for betraying Lucas.’ She pressed her fists into her
thighs. ‘And I feel guilty for hurting Cyrus. It was stupid and I shouldn’t
have done it.’

She shook her head and stared at the ground, her
voice dropping to a whisper. ‘I can’t give Cyrus what he wants – whatever
that is. I’m never going to feel the way I feel about Lucas ever again.’ She
took a deep, racking breath, which left her body in a shudder. ‘I just wanted
to feel something other than this constant ache that I feel all the goddamn
time.’

She looked up expecting to see Flic glaring daggers
at her, but instead she found she was grinning at her slyly.

‘I’ll get you some clothes,’ was all she said.
Forgetting all about the coffee, she yanked Evie into the hallway. ‘Come on. We
need to get to Victor’s.’

Cyrus stood in the centre of the room, his gaze sweeping the
photographs on the wall. The red pins in the map obliterated any street names.
Another thirty murders last night. Soon the wall was going to be one big red
blot.

No one in the room was talking. The girl Selena was
slunk in the corner with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her eyes were
red-rimmed. She’d been crying all night over RJ.

Ash and Vero were leaning against the other wall,
Ash with his arm around Vero. The two of them looked exhausted.

Victor on the other hand looked like he hadn’t given
RJ a second thought. He appeared well slept and was wearing a cleanly pressed
suit and shiny cravat thing around his neck. For a moment Cyrus considered
grabbing it and twisting it garrotte style. But he didn’t. He just processed
for a little longer what Victor had just said to him.

‘My mum?’ he finally asked. ‘You want my mum to
join us?’

‘She’s a Hunter.’ Victor answered, the ripple of a
shrug visible beneath his suit.

Cyrus frowned at him. ‘Can she fight? I mean, isn’t
she too old?’

Truth be told, it was less about the age factor and
more about the mum factor. Even though he was still hazy on the filial bond
stuff, she was his mother and what kind of son let his mother fight his battles
for him?

‘She was pretty good in the fight at the Bradbury.’
This from Ash.

‘I don’t know,’ Cyrus said, shaking his head. ‘I
don’t think we should involve her.’

‘There are six of us now. Jamieson’s out.’

‘I want in.’

He started in surprise. Selena had lifted her head
from her knees.

‘I want in,’ she said again.

‘I don’t think so,’ Cyrus told her.

She stood up, shakily, using the wall for support.

‘I ran, I know. But not next time. Next time I’m
going to show those things just how we fight in my world.’

He recognised the emotion, the shaky defiance in
her voice. This was about regaining face, about proving herself. As if this was
some gang and she’d failed the initiation test and was begging for a retry.