Blood Fever: The watchers (32 page)

Once more, I was grateful for this term’s Combat Medicine. I knew the least painful, the safest places to be stabbed. The spots where we’d be least likely to bleed out, those parts of the body that wouldn’t sustain permanent, crippling injury.

Major arteries = bad. Extremities = good.

Feet, hands, fingers, toes were all prime spots, as long as we avoided critical tendons in the hands and stayed far from the arms and legs, which housed some major veins.

The butt, believe it or not, was also a great target, as long as we were careful to avoid nearby arteries. Nick the wrong spot in the butt and you’re toast.

The forehead was definitely something to consider, if we had the opportunity. It’d bleed a lot—head injuries always did—and that would provide some necessary high drama, with the skull protecting all the valuable bits.

The crowd began to hoot and catcall. They wanted carnage, but Emma was hesitating. She was having trouble doing this. I’d have to wake her up, jostle some life into her. See if I couldn’t bring out a spark. It’d be up to me to draw first blood.

I approached and prowled around her, trying to look eager to go in for the kill. I drew a second star, holding one in each hand. I widened my eyes, hoping she’d understand the message.
Stand very, very still.

She froze—she got it. I had only a tiny window to act before we looked too obvious. I threw the stars in quick succession. The first I threw at her head and breathed a sigh of relief as it skimmed her hair. The second hit her foot and stuck there.

She made the tiniest shocked whimper, and I had to purse my lips against the emotion. I had to be strong. We could do this.

It was her turn to act, but she wasn’t, so I stalked toward her, hoping to make it easier for her. I shoved her, then shoved again.
Come on, Emma, fight.

I grabbed her hair and pulled her down hard, making like I was kneeing her in the gut. I tugged back up, and she didn’t need to fake the sound of pain. I hissed in her ear, “A real friend would fight me.” I hated to do it, but I had to goad her to action or she really would be killed.

Emma flinched back, and finally I saw fire in her eyes. She lunged toward me and slashed at my thigh, managing to tear only the fabric and scrape the skin in the most superficial of wounds that also happened to draw a dramatic amount of blood. She’d
been using a Buck knife since she was little and she was
good
. Thank God.

I realized the crowd was chanting,
“Knife, knife, knife.”

The sound turned my blood cold. I guessed I had some real fans in the audience. Not.

Emma’s eyes had narrowed—she was finally feeling the battle lust, and for a surreal moment, I believed it. I believed she’d turned on me. That she wanted to kill me.

It made me feel so alone.

I had to glance at the crowd. I had to. I had to see Carden and feel some sort of support. I looked to the audience, but my eyes lit on Ronan instead. He stood close by, looking like he might spring into the ring and intervene. I had to look away.

Then I spotted him.
Carden.
He looked calm. I’d be calm, too.

Staring back at Emma, I squatted to pull out my other star, flexing my thigh as I did, encouraging the blood to flow where she’d slashed me. I stood and sprang toward her, pretending a slight limp. I threw as I ran, as lightly as I could, hitting her in the belly. I hoped it was shallow enough not to do any damage. I’d had to do something—it’d look too suspicious if I hit her in the foot again.

Weaponless now, I grabbed her and we began to grapple. I spun, trying to flip her in a move we’d practiced a thousand times in our sparring. She slashed, and her knife sliced my butt.

I shouted, shocked at the pain. It was technically one of the “safe” places to be injured, but man it stung. I stumbled backward.

My uniform leggings were soaked with blood. Emma left red footprints on the floor of the ring as blood oozed from her abdomen and foot. We couldn’t take much more of this.

I needed to end it.

I didn’t give myself a chance to think twice. I just ran for her and swatted her hand. Her knife went flying. With its scalloped grip, I knew she’d never have let that thing go so easily, but I had to pretend to disarm her to make my strangulation more convincing.

We grappled, and I put a foot behind hers to trip her. We fell, and I let her roll on top of me. Here it came. We made like we were wrestling, but we had to make it quick. Anything more and it’d look too staged, too fake.

She slammed my shoulders down, and for a moment my head swam for real with the impact. I felt her hands wrap around my neck. Her eyes locked with mine, and I detected the slightest twitch in her eyelids. I twitched mine back.
Do it, Emma.
We were in this together. Friends forever.

Time to let my bestie kill me.

She squeezed, and panic swelled. I tried to suppress it. This was pretend. I’d be all right. We’d both come out alive. I had to trust her. I did trust her.

But still, cold panic and solitude began to swallow me. I was alone. I was being choked to death.

Not alone, I told myself. I tilted my head to catch another glimpse of Carden, standing at the edge of the gym. His strawberry-blond head rose above the rest as he waited for the moment I might need him.

I wouldn’t be afraid. I trusted Emma. Trusted Carden.

I pretended to writhe, but she pinched harder. Even though I’d pushed away the panic, as my vision dimmed, I began to writhe for real. My deep-seated animal instincts flared to life—I couldn’t suppress those. I didn’t need to act out the hammering
of my heels against the ring, the gasping of my mouth, automatic, like a fish out of water.

I let go. Forcefully, I crushed every one of my instincts. I suppressed my all-consuming urge to survive. I let it all go.

I blacked out.

The first thing I felt was cool air in my nostrils, filling my lungs. It felt so good, tasted so good.

My eyes fluttered open. I felt Carden, but I saw Ronan. Fury distorted his features. I didn’t understand. Was he angry I was dead? I willed him to look at me so he could see I was alive.

But he didn’t look, and then I caught sight of Yasuo, too, fuming, raging, his fangs bared. It hit me that everyone in the crowd was looking where they were.

I turned to see, and the pain in my neck was severe. I coughed, and my throat convulsively gagged and gulped, and I had to spit out the saliva that was too painful to swallow. I focused, and it took a moment to make sense of what I was looking at.

Emma’s feet dangled above the ground, kicking at the air. A hand held her up by the neck. Alcántara. He held her, dangling and flailing, but he stared at me. He waited for reality to register in my eyes and then gave me a slow smile.

I tried to mouth words, but couldn’t speak. I coughed again.
What are you doing?
I wanted to scream.

Her hands clawed at his, but he only tugged her closer. He wrapped a hand at her belly and used Emma’s own knife to slash her down the middle.

He dropped her to the ground, a lifeless, bloody heap, and finally I was able to make a sound. A keening, nonsense wail that tore my throat as it came out.

“There is no cheating.” He looked out at the audience and proclaimed, “Only one shall emerge alive.”

I scrambled to my hands and knees, scuttling to Emma. She was dead. I shrieked, pleading, “But it wasn’t her fault. Blame me. It was my idea. Punish me.”

Alcántara slowly turned his head, looking at me with those eyes, cold like black stones. “I just did.”

W
ith the end of the semester came my ascension to Initiate. There weren’t many girls left from my original group, and the vampires held a torchlight ceremony for us in front of the standing stones. In the darkness, I couldn’t see the castle on the hill, but I felt it out there, looming. Full of secrets. The secrets of men.

Once it’d scared me. Now I saw it as a challenge.

The rest of the year was a numbed blur, and how bizarre it all was. Vampires and an oddly sentimental acknowledgment of Christmas, or Yule, as some of them chose to call it. There was a night of lights and incense and familiar melodies sung in eerily somber Latin.

It was so weird to think that somewhere in the world, people were out there, shopping at Target, and doing Black Friday and Cyber Monday and all that. While it felt so timeless here, just me and my new, dark blue catsuit.

Carden gave me a small gift—a replacement for the throwing
star I’d given to Mei-Ling, only this one bore a delicate feather pattern etched along its blades. “A lethal wing, for my wee dove to fly,” he’d told me. There was nothing in the world that could’ve been more perfect.

Well, maybe there was one thing. I don’t know how or from where, but Ronan had managed to steal back the photograph of my mother that’d been confiscated. He gave it to me as a gift…but also as a warning, he’d said, and it was his accompanying advice that was the only thing to sully what was such an extraordinary surprise. The photo was a reminder, he’d said, of who I was. Of being human. In those words, I heard his recognition and admonishment of my relationship with Carden.

I tried to shrug it off and just enjoy the picture. Because I was also determined to enjoy my vampire. McCloud was a greater comfort to me than I’d ever known.

I tried to contact Yasuo, had even asked Josh to intervene, planning “accidental” run-ins, all to no avail. Once, in the dining hall, I’d caught his eyes on me, gleaming with fury and blame.

He hadn’t spoken to me since Emma’s death. He was so angry. So sad. But it was okay. So was I.

Yasuo wasn’t the only one who wanted revenge.

I
t was a new semester, and this term Martial Arts Intensive was my combat class. We were practicing some basic Brazilian jujitsu, doing sweeps. Half the girls were lying on their backs, swiping the feet out from under their partners, who stood above them.

Apparently
my
partner had different ideas. Before I’d regained my footing, she clipped my heel out from under me, sending me toppling.

“What the hell?” I hopped up, giving a shake to my ringing head.

“What?” she asked, playing dumb.

“You’re supposed to let me get into position before you sweep me.” I approached again, taking a tone that was more ridicule than reprimand. “This is practice, Audra.”

“I’m
Frost
,” she snarled, though I didn’t need to be reminded of her ridiculous new name. I’d become acquainted with her when she was Emma’s roommate, and I remembered the day she’d
announced it, chosen in honor of her love of life on
Eyja næturinnar
. Shudder.

I couldn’t help it—I smirked. “Isn’t that one of the X-Men?”

The girl was a nerd the caliber of which made
me
look cool. I mean, I might’ve been smart, but I wasn’t a dork,
thankyouverymuch
. But under that white-blond bob she had a tiny heart and a brittle mean streak that, when combined with her slavish affection for everything the vamps represented, made her a natural fit for the island.