Thornhill (Hemlock) (5 page)

Kyle’s gaze darkened, but he didn’t answer. Maybe he just couldn’t believe I had asked something so stupid.

With a sigh, I pushed myself to my feet and walked to the window. One board looked like it might be a little loose. I pulled at it, then tried ramming my shoulder against it.

Jason cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for a way out.” I glanced at my friends. “You don’t seriously want to stay in here all night, do you?” I hit the board again. “We.”
Hit.
“Are.”
Thud.
“Getting out of here.” With each hit, I visualized Hank’s face.

I stopped to catch my breath, and Jason was suddenly at my side, reaching past me to try and pull the board free. It groaned but didn’t give.

“Regs,” Serena muttered affectionately as she stood and nudged Jason aside. She bit her lip and lashed out with her fist. The bottom of the board moved just enough for her to slide her fingers under the edge. After that, she was able to pull all of the boards off in seconds.

She examined her nails. “And the manicure is still intact.”

Fresh air filled the room. I sucked it down until my lungs were close to bursting.

And then I took a closer look at the window. It was small. Too small for any of us—even Serena—to squeeze through.

I picked up one of the boards and hurled it at the wall as my eyes filled with tears. We were close enough to the outside that I could feel the fresh air on my face and hear the distant sounds of traffic, but we were still trapped.

I walked to the ripped futon mattress and sank down. Hank and his wolves had put us in a box and we weren’t getting out unless they let us. I pulled my legs to my chest and pressed my forehead to my knees.

After a minute, Kyle came and sat next to me. This time, when he tried to put an arm around me, I let him.

“Tess?” I pushed open the door to my cousin’s room. The mattress had been stripped and the closet stood open and empty. A lone wire hanger dangled on the rod.

“She’s not here.” Amy walked across the room and flopped onto the bed.

I swallowed. “You’re going to leave a stain.” As soon as the words slipped from my mouth, a pool of red appeared on Amy’s white cotton T-shirt.

She sighed and sat up. “You are such a buzzkill. Besides, it’s not like Tess is coming back here.”

A tasseled pillow had been abandoned on the floor. I picked it up and hugged it to my chest. “She’ll come back. She wouldn’t leave me.”

Amy shot me a small, sympathetic smile. “Everyone leaves you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” I flinched and she frowned. “Sorry. You know everything gets twisted in here. I end up being the me you think you deserve.”

I didn’t argue.

I wondered, suddenly, if Jason and Kyle had their own versions of Amy, if their guilt, like mine, warped her like a fun-house mirror.

Amy reached back and touched a small indent in the mattress. “He laid his head here, you know.”

A shiver swept down my spine. I didn’t have to ask who she was talking about.

She stood and stretched, then frowned thoughtfully. “Doesn’t it bother you that Ben and Kyle have the same disease?”

“No.” I didn’t even have to think about it. “Kyle’s not Ben and a disease doesn’t change who someone is.”

“Ben thought it did.” She walked to the window and drummed her fingers on the sill, fast and furious like the beat of a werewolf’s heart. “Can you really date one of them? I know I was with Trey, but he never told me what he was. And you do have options. Jason wants you so badly, it’s a miracle he doesn’t spontaneously combust.”

I flushed. “I’m not talking relationships with you.”

“Why not? They’re fascinating.” Amy turned to stare at me, her expression so earnest that I almost believed it was really her. “It always breaks down to relationships. My relationship with Jason. Ben’s relationship with his father. My family tree and the fact that my grandfather is a senator. Everything happens because of a connection. Cause and effect. Kyle knows it. That’s why he ran away from you. He’s scared he’ll be the cause of you getting hurt or infected or dead.”

She sighed. “He hasn’t figured out that no matter what you do, some people just end up broken.”

As she spoke, the shadows in the room thickened and lengthened. Smokelike tendrils stretched out from the darkness. One wrapped itself around my wrist and my skin blistered and peeled.

Amy gazed at me sadly. “You can’t outsmart fate.”

I started awake. Kyle’s arm tightened reflexively around me, but his breathing stayed deep and steady. Even in sleep, he tried to keep me safe. It took me a second to remember where we were, to remember falling asleep with Kyle on the futon mattress.

A few feet away, Jason and Serena were passed out on the cot. Jason slept sitting with his back against the wall and Serena—weirdly enough—had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder. They weren’t far away, but it was hard to see them clearly.

I blinked. A cough clawed at the back of my throat as my eyes teared.

Smoke.

The room was filling with it.

“K
YLE
!”
I SHOOK HIS SHOULDER AND CHOKED OUT HIS
name.

He jerked awake in a sputtering, coughing start as I staggered to my feet and stumbled to the door.

I touched the metal with my fingertips. It wasn’t hot—yet—but the smoke at this end of the room was growing thick.

Kyle roused Serena and Jason. The next second he was by my side, moving me out of the way so he could throw himself at the door.

It didn’t budge.

Serena joined him in the assault—both of them yelling for someone to let us out. Through the haze, I caught glimpses of dark smears on Kyle’s hands: blood. He and Serena were tearing themselves apart against the door, but it wasn’t doing any good.

I glanced back at Jason. He hauled off his jacket and grabbed Serena’s from the cot. He doused them in the sink, then, coughing, squeezed past Kyle and shoved the fabric along the bottom of the door. The flow of smoke slowed but didn’t abate.

Screams and crashes drifted up from somewhere below us.

Serena backed away from the door and pressed her hands to the sides of her head.

“Serena?” I coughed her name and reached for her shoulder. She knocked my hand away so hard that I winced and cradled my wrist against my chest.

“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.” Her eyes were wild and the words were a repeated gasp.

The fire at her house
, I realized,
she’s remembering the fire
.

The smoke tore at my lungs. I stumbled back toward the window. The air here was easier to breathe, but not by much. Light-headed, I slumped to the floor. That’s what you were supposed to do in a fire, wasn’t it? Crawl underneath the smoke?

A few feet away, Jason had the same idea. None of us would hold out against the smoke for long, but he and I had the added disadvantage of reg lungs.

The ceiling pressed down and the walls closed in, mirroring the constriction in my chest.

I don’t want to die here
.

Jason groped for my hand and I wasn’t sure if I had thought the words or if I had managed to choke them out.

Kyle was suddenly there. He crouched next to me and pressed something cold and damp over my mouth and nose: his shirt. He had shredded it and soaked the rags in the sink. He waited until I held the cloth in place on my own before turning to Jason and pressing a second piece of fabric over his face.

I couldn’t see Serena through the smoke, but I could hear the thuds as she continued to throw herself at the door.

It was hopeless. It had to be if Kyle was here and not helping her.

The pounding stopped.

Serena had given up.

An image of Tess filled my head as I struggled to my feet.

We couldn’t give up. I wasn’t giving up.

I made it across the room and began running my fingers along the edge of the door. There had to be a hinge or a gap.
Anything
. Kyle and Serena had tried brute force, but there had to be some other way out. Tears streamed down my face. I could barely breathe, but after a minute, my fingers found part of a hinge and the notch in a screw.

“Screwdriver,” I choked out. “What could we use as a screwdriver?”

Before anyone could answer, there was a screech of metal and then smoke-filtered light poured into the room from the hall. A voice that was almost-familiar-but-not rasped, “Come on.”

I wiped a hand across my eyes and squinted into the haze. Eve. Her long red hair was a mass of knots and her jacket was ripped at the shoulder. Smudges of dirt and ash dotted her face.

“What’s going on? What happened?” My throat was raw and it took me two tries to get the words out as I stepped into the hall, the others behind me.

“A raid. Trackers.” Eve threw a glare back at Jason before heading down the corridor, trusting us to follow. “There are dozens of them downstairs.”

The smoke thinned and my lungs and head cleared. “Where’s Hank?”

Eve pulled open another door, revealing a barely lit stairwell. “He went to check on that wolf and hasn’t come back.” Her voice was thick and constricted.

Shouts echoed at the other end of the hall. Eve grabbed my arm and flung me at the stairs. I barely avoided dashing my brains out against the wall. “Go! Don’t stop until you reach the top floor!”

“Up?” I spun and stared at her. “The building’s on fire and you expect us to go
up
?”

“There’s an escape route on the top floor. A ladder.” She grabbed my shoulder and half shoved, half turned me back to the stairs.

“I trust her,” said Kyle. “Go!”

Figuring we had no choice, I ran, taking the steps as fast as I could, glancing back once to make sure everyone was behind me.

My sneakers slapped the third-floor landing just as a door below flew open.

“We’ve got a group on the back stairs,” yelled a rough voice.

Trackers.

Now we really had no choice but to keep going up.

There was a noise like a tin can fired out of a cannon, and it was followed by a burst of light so bright that I instinctively looked over my shoulder.

Kyle pushed past Jason and Serena and grabbed my hand. “Tear gas.” His grip was slick in mine as he urged me to move faster. There was a second rattle and flash—so much closer—and then a caustic smell that stripped my throat and nose when I inhaled. I tried desperately to hold my breath as we ran the last few steps to the fourth floor.

We stumbled into a cavernous space that was filled with dozens of large, industrial machines. Moonlight streamed through a wall of broken windows, and when I glanced up, I saw gaping holes in the roof.

Serena and Jason came crashing out of the stairwell.

Serena’s eyes were red-rimmed and she was supporting Jason with one arm. Face shining with tears and sweat, he leaned away from her and vomited. Eve tumbled after them a moment later, retching as she hauled off her powder-caked jacket and dropped it to the floor.

Eyes and nose streaming, Eve staggered past us and headed for the far side of the room. She thrust aside a plastic tarp revealing a wall so covered in graffiti that it looked like a living organism.

She ran her hand over a patch of blue paint as we approached. Her fingers closed on a metal loop that had been all but invisible, and arms shaking, she hauled out a section of wall.

I peered over her shoulder and into a passageway that was little more than a crawl space.

“It leads to a fire escape.” Eve stepped away from the entrance and turned. “It’ll let you out on the south side of the building.”

The space was less than a foot and a half wide. It was so narrow that you’d have to walk sideways and anyone taller than me would have to stoop. Complete blackness fell a few paces from the opening. Once the wall was closed, you’d be blind. I stared into the darkness and imagined being roasted alive as fire consumed the building.

“I’ll try my luck with the Trackers,” said Serena, voice shaky.

“We don’t have time for this,” snapped Eve. “The fire is on the other side of the building. The three of you have time to get out if you go now.”

She glared and the look on her face reminded me of my father.

“I’m going to regret this,” muttered Serena as she eased into the passage.

I hesitated as Eve’s words sank in. “Three?”

“Curtis isn’t here, and I don’t know how many people the Trackers have nabbed.” In a blur, she grabbed Jason’s arm. Her eyes locked on mine. “I got you out for Curtis, but the Tracker stays.”

“Eve, he didn’t have anything to do with this.” Kyle’s torso shone with sweat and the muscles in his shoulders and arms were so tense it looked as though he had iron under his skin. “Even if he had wanted to tell the Trackers about the club, there wasn’t any way to reach them without our phones.”

Eve’s gray-green eyes flashed. “Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, he’s leverage.” She stared at Kyle like she was willing him to understand. “All of my friends are down there. Everyone I know.”

“If you think we’re letting you take him, you’re crazy.” I took a step toward her, but Jason shook his head.

“I’ll be all right, Mac.” With his free hand, he reached up and yanked on his torn shirt, ripping it even farther so that there was no way the black brand on his neck could be missed. “Enough Trackers saw me last night that someone will recognize me.”

“Jason . . . No. Absolutely not.”

He turned to Kyle. “Make sure she gets out.” His gaze flickered to Serena, just visible in the opening to the passage. “Both of them.”

Kyle nodded and grabbed my arm. I struggled but couldn’t break his grip. “Kyle! No!”

With his werewolf strength, it was entirely too easy for him to shove me into the passage behind Serena. “We can’t just leave Jason!”

He squeezed his eyes shut for a quarter heartbeat. “I’m not,” he said before slamming the door.

The darkness was absolute.

The walls pressed against me. For a second, I couldn’t breathe, and then I threw myself against the door. It didn’t budge. There was no release from this side. “Kyle! Kyle, open the door!”

Serena’s hand clamped over my mouth. Her skin smelled like smoke and a sharper, stomach-churning scent that was probably the tear gas.

There was a crash followed by shouting on the other side of the door.

A thud shook the wall and someone screamed. It sounded horribly like Jason.

Serena pressed her mouth to my ear. “If we can find the exit, maybe we can loop back and help them.”

As quickly as we could—which wasn’t quickly at all since we could only move sideways and I couldn’t see—we made our way down the passage.

There was a sudden grinding sound behind us and I glanced back as a triangle of light pierced the darkness.

“Go! I’ll be right behind you!” I pushed Serena. She was faster than I was. She could get away even if I were caught.

In response, she grabbed my hand. Holding it in a death grip, she hauled me through the rest of the passage.

Fresh air hit my face as the walls unexpectedly fell away. I stumbled forward and only Serena’s grip kept me from hurtling off the narrow metal platform at the top of the fire escape.

I glanced down: the ancient contraption of ladders and platforms looked like a rusted death trap.

“Come on.” Serena started down, moving at a dizzying speed before remembering I was a reg and slowing her pace.

Four stories down should have been easy, but my hands and feet kept slipping on the rungs. The metal let out a nonstop chorus of squeals and groans underneath my weight, competing with the shouts and screams coming from inside the building.

Just as we passed the second floor, a heavy, masculine voice crashed over us. “Come down slowly.”

Serena froze.

Heart in throat, I peered around her to the ground below.

Three Trackers had gathered around the bottom of the fire escape. For a second, I considered going back up, but then I realized that one of the men held a rifle. As I watched, he trained it on Serena.

There wasn’t any choice. We slowly made our way to the ground. Serena stepped off the ladder, and then held her hands in the air as she moved aside. I followed right on her heels.

Two men with Kevlar vests and Tracker tattoos pulled my arms behind my back and snapped a pair of heavy cuffs around my wrists. A second later, Serena suffered the same fate. One of the men grabbed her a little too roughly and she elbowed him in the ribs.

Gasping, the man reached for the butt of a holstered gun and started to pull it free.

“Kill her and it’s one less head we get paid for,” snapped one of the others before radioing in that they had found two more wolves.

Ash and burning shingles drifted to the ground around us as we were marched to the front of the building. The chain-link fence—which, just a few hours ago, had surrounded the property and made it a fortress—lay flattened on the ground. My sneakers caught on the links as we were herded to a group of wolves—two dozen, maybe more—who waited curbside in cuffs. Black shapes patrolled the edge of the small crowd: Trackers with guns drawn.

From this vantage point, it looked like the building was beyond saving. The fire had spread to the upper two floors and the roof was quickly becoming engulfed in flames.

I whirled as a familiar, smoke-raw voice asked if I was okay. Kyle. There was a burn on his arm and a gash across his chest, but that was nothing to a werewolf; his body would heal the damage in no time. He was all right.

I leaned into him and he pressed his chin to the top of my head. A shudder wracked my body as I pulled in what felt like the first real breath I had taken since he had shoved me into the passage.

After a moment, I pulled away. “Where’s Jason?”

A shadow crossed Kyle’s face. “I don’t know. They saw his tattoo and separated us as soon as we were out of the building.”

My stomach lurched. Under normal circumstances, the tattoo on Jason’s neck would keep him safe from the Trackers, but he had been found in the middle of a werewolf club. If he could convince them that he had gone in for some sort of nefarious purpose, he’d be okay. But if they suspected—even for an instant—that he had any werewolf sympathies . . .

A large truck rumbled down the street and came to a jerky stop in front of us. Two Trackers pulled open the doors to the cargo hold and threw down a ramp. It hit the pavement with a clang that seemed to reverberate in my chest.

The crowd shifted as people were herded aboard. I spotted Eve’s red hair a second before she disappeared inside.

Serena was shoved forward, then Kyle, then me.

I tried to stop, to turn and search the milling Trackers for Jason, but another push sent me stumbling up the ramp. As I reached the top, I heard one of the men say a candle had started the blaze.

I slipped on a small pool of blood and fell to my knees just over the threshold. With my hands bound, there was no way for me to break my fall. I bit back a pained gasp. Werewolves didn’t cry over scraped knees, and if the Trackers realized I was a reg, I’d lose my only chance to find out where Kyle and Serena were being taken.

I shimmied away from the edge of the truck and found a space along the wall. There were no benches or seats: it was a truck built for freight, not people.