Blood Rules (35 page)

Why would she have to prepare herself?

At any rate, the monster community had decided that all of us were-creatures, especially me and 562, should go into chained and guarded lockdown tomorrow night. Those who'd been held captive here had said that the old force fields would've been enough to restrain 562 and us weres before the power had gone out, but that wasn't an option now with the far less secure bars. And it wouldn't do to have wild things running uncontrolled outside the hub, attracting attention from anyone waiting for that fictional mosquito scare to lift. It also wouldn't do to have me and 562 springing any unwanted surprises on the community.

I said good-bye to the vampires, and they gave me a jaunty salute while manipulating the unbreakable glass they'd discovered in a depot on the other side of the hub. They were workhorses, and part of me felt bad about their great efforts because, these past nights, after we Badlanders had relocated from the mine shaft, we'd mostly been resting from what we'd put our bodies through, changing to and from our were-forms with such frequency. We'd been changing so much that we'd needed some downtime while the other monsters guarded us from the threat of Stamp and those sentinels, none of whom had shown themselves.

At the same time, the monsters built natural light into the asylum, and they were working on ways to better transport the water stores from the General Benefactors corporate buildings so that those who needed it could have good access. We didn't have any tech at all since the power blaster had fried everything, but, seriously, we were doing just dandy without any.

But another part of me did very much enjoy the gratefulness the other monsters were extending. Aside from the Badlanders, I didn't know what most preters were really like, and they were making a good impression, although Pucci kept reminding us that there were crappy preters who wouldn't be so helpful, too, just as there were good humans with the bad.

I took one of my group's solar lanterns in hand—one of the few that had been saved in our mine shaft from the power blaster—and let the light guide me down the hallway, which already had a couple of unbreakable, sliding-door skylights installed. The idea was that vampires slept during the day, so they wouldn't be about while the skylights were open, but the doors were there as a barricade just in case an intruder had a way to break the unbreakable.

Monsters were on top of things, all right. Thanks to their ingenuity, the government hadn't invaded GBVille yet. The oldest vampires were still out there, imitating voices of civic officials over manual bullhorns to any distractoids who might be listening. We'd also sent out our most humanlike monsters as messengers so that word would spread about the imaginary mosquito that was keeping travelers out of the city.

The mosquito story wouldn't last too much longer as an excuse, though, so the monsters were already planning for that, too. When they did start allowing humans to enter GBVille, a few at a time, they intended to capture them.

All of this would need to be done under the protective shields of the hub buildings, though. We didn't know where satellites might be aimed, if there were any.

If we were careful enough, a full monster takeover just might work, because some of the escaped monsters had made it to other underground sanctuaries outside GBVille where preters were hiding. More of us were trickling into the hub by night; none of us had known there were so many monsters out there—especially the Civil ones, who didn't have the Reds' human appearance. My dad's monster book had never really talked about these kinds of preters, who didn't drink blood. I'd always thought monsters were just what humans called water robbers, but they were sure coming out now, emboldened by the change, just as the mutant animals in the Badlands had done after the world had altered. As a matter of fact, we had so many new recruits now that I couldn't keep track of who was coming or going.

We really were becoming Monsterville.

As I walked down a darker part of the hallway, the lantern light bounced off the surroundings, creating wall-bound, grotesque shapes from the other passing monsters—humanlike were-creatures, more chimeras with lion and tiger bodies mixed with human features as well as reptilian. I even saw what looked to be a mummy, but without bandages; his skin was real shriveled. I would bet that, somewhere in those shadows, we even had people like Leon and Taraline amongst us.

I hadn't seen her for a few nights, not since the monsters had come to the mine shaft and invited us up here. Gabriel had told me that 562 had asked Taraline to do an exchange. It must've been when Taraline had gone into 562's head that one time, and that was what had made her so unsettled.

I think, now, our shadow friend was turning the option over in her head. What was better, being a vampire or a dymorrdia victim? Losing your soul was a major choice—it was something I hadn't literally needed to deal with as a were-creature—and Taraline had so much of a soul that even I had a flitter of doubt about what she should do.

Sometimes, I even believed that she stalked me in the shadows, waiting to ask me for advice but too reticent to come out. At least, I hoped I'd be worthy of that.

I was so deep in thought that, as I strolled, I came upon two monsters—probably were-creatures, based on their humanlike forms—who were garbed in hats that rode low over their eyes, their bodies swathed by scarves and huge coats. One was helping the other down the hallway, as if there'd been an injury during construction and one of them wanted enough privacy to change into were-form and heal. Accidents happened, even to weres.

I said hi to them, noting that the shorter were-creature had a bump on his back and walked funny. Probably a hunchback shapeshifter gargoyle or something. Who knew?

The two monsters didn't even look at me, just kept their heads down as they disappeared through a side door.

Okay. Not that I was a diva, but usually the preters treated me differently. It was because of the whole busting-into-theasylum thing. They kept calling us Badlanders “heroes” and singling me out in particular because I'd been the first monster inside. The Saving Grace, some had nicknamed me.

But I didn't need to be worshipped.

As I kept walking, I thought I saw Chaplin up ahead.

“Hey, there, boy!” I said. Throughout all the chaos, he hadn't been round much lately, and I missed him like the dickens.

Yet just like that, he was gone.

Had he darted into one of the rooms?

Why?

I rushed down the hall, toward a room where I thought he might've disappeared to, but he wasn't there.

I lowered the lantern, and the light it cast on the walls sank, just like something else inside me.

I could've sworn that Chaplin had been there, and he'd seen me. And, deep inside, I knew what was going on.

Chaplin had always told me that he'd never leave me behind, but ever since I'd taken 562's blood, that was what I'd done to him. Did he think I liked 562 better now or something?

Did he think he'd been replaced?

The more I thought about it, the more I couldn't stop comparing me and my dog to people like Pucci and Hana; no matter how much of a jerk he was to her, she stayed. Had Chaplin gone the other route? Was he showing me that, no matter how much he loved me, he needed better treatment than I was giving him?

Or was he . . .

Scared?

Dismissing that notion, I left the empty room, coming upon another office that was under construction. The oldster—we all had such a hard time remembering that his name was Michael—was helping Hana and Pucci turn it into a bedroom. The monsters had agreed that we heroes deserved to have our own newly designed spaces, and it was kind of embarrassing. But turning them down would've been rude, I think.

“How's it coming?” I asked the oldster. I needed conversation or something to get my mind off my dog.

They all started at my voice, and they got those looks on their faces—the ones that said they were watching me closely to see what effect 562's pure blood had wrought—blood that hadn't been filtered through the generations. When I'd told them about the exchange, they'd thought I was foolish, but I reckoned that they considered me their test case. Another possible cure. They were also thinking about how 562 might affect bitten were-creatures as opposed to born ones. My friends were all true-born creatures, so their situations might not even be the same as mine.

The oldster had even asked me what would happen if a true-born just drank 562's blood without an exchange, since he'd never technically been bitten. Like I knew. It was the full moon that would reveal more about where we were going and where we'd come from.

My pulse began to skip at that, but none of my fellow Badlanders seemed to notice. They just pretended not to be checking me out so thoroughly.

The oldster—
Michael
—brushed off his hands on his trousers. He'd found new clothing in one of the hub wardrobe closets, but it was gray, a color that hardly suited him.

“The room's coming along.” He fairly beamed, what with nesting into a new home.

Even Pucci seemed contented. At least he didn't toss any smart-ass comments my way as he worked on hammering nails into a bedpost by the light of a lantern.

Hana was measuring out sheer mahogany material that she'd probably hang round the room, giving it some style. “I will be ready to meet with you in an hour, Mariah. How does that sound?”

A nurse to the end, she'd been monitoring my temperature and keeping tabs on my body because of 562's influence.

“I'll drop by then,” I said.

Pucci finally deigned to address me. “Gabriel's been looking for you.”

My stomach did a flip-flop. I hadn't seen much of Gabriel since he'd found out about me and 562. He'd pulled away, and I'd missed him so badly, like a part of me had stopped working. Lately, he'd been filling his time by fraternizing with older vampires, probably asking for tips on how to contain his bloodlust, knowing him. Or maybe he was beyond that by now. Maybe he was soliciting ideas on how to get blood with more ease....

Anyway, he hung round with the vampires going in and out of the hub and masquerading as humans to keep outsiders from discovering what was really going on in GBVille. I hoped he was learning a lot from them.

But I also felt as if I were losing Gabriel as he got further and further away from the guy I'd known. The arrow-straight, honorable man inside the vampire. I'd wanted him to be comfortable with what he was, but now that the process had finally started happening, I was second-guessing myself.

Should
he take 562's offer? It'd probably mean an increase in his bloodlust, and even though I'd encouraged him to embrace his vampire, I felt possessive of what had made him different from other monsters in the first place—the belief that he didn't have to conform. The capacity to weigh decency against overkill.

His full acceptance was a death of sorts, and I didn't want Gabriel to die, although he was already dead in a lot of ways. Something inside me wanted to save him, just as he'd always saved me. I wanted to keep him . . .

I grappled for a word, but then again, I'd always known it.

Pure. I wanted to keep Gabriel, the best thing to happen to me, just as he was. Maybe, when I'd told him that we couldn't be anything but monsters, it was because I thought this separated him from the vampire who'd loved Abby.

Yeah, that was
exactly
what I'd been doing.

I gestured a thanks to Pucci for him telling me about Gabriel, then at Hana and the oldster, before I opened myself up to Gabriel's presence, trying to find him amongst all these other monsters.

My connection to him was functioning on high lately, and when I sensed him near the asylum doors, I didn't move for a full minute, overwhelmed by how good it felt just to be near him.

Through the moonlight shining inside, I could see he was with a couple of other monsters, probably vampires, judging by their pale skin and lithe movements. Two women who wore painted, flirty glances, even though they were actually garbed in the gray fashion of a GBVille citizen. No matter, they reminded me of how saloon girls might've acted in the 1800s with cowboys who had some pay to spend. For all I knew, the females could've been ex–sporting girls from a watering hole of old, what with them being long-living vampires and all.

They sure acted like floozies, getting too close to Gabriel for my comfort. But it also struck me that most of the monsters had been putting off a bored, restless vibe. A communal sexual stirring. Maybe even one that touched us far deeper inside than that.

We all tried to make up for a soul sometimes, I think, even those of us who still had one.

Feeling plain against the vampire women, I merely held to the sight of him leaning against the wall with one hand on a hip, his expression showing neither interest nor boredom.

A poker vampire face that had been so much more expressive and humanlike in the Badlands.

He must've felt me near, because his gaze wandered to me, and the expression that came to him shot me straight through.

It was the way men used to look at women in films before carnerotica had taken over, like he was surprised and rattled, yet so very happy to see me. Like his breath had been taken away.

But Gabriel didn't have to breathe.

Even so, the inside of my chest got light and fluttery, and our link imitated the silliness as he kept looking.

Looking.

At me.

Then he broke off the glance, leaving me hanging, and I busied my hands, tugging down my untucked shirt, as if I'd meant to stand in the middle of the asylum doing just that. How smooth I was.