Secrets and Shadows (33 page)

“Wake up, idiot! I need to know where every bul et landed. Your body’s trying to seal. And I’d bet they’ve spiked the ammo.”

“
Da
,” he agreed groggily. “They’re not stupid. As long as they can get one of us, they’l have what they want.”

“What the hel is he talking about?” Amy asked.

“Nothing,” Cat insisted. “He’s been hit on the head. Makes him even more stupid.”

“But…”

“Get me the Leatherman by the door,” Cat commanded. “Have you kept it sharp?” she asked Alexi.

“As a razor.”

“
Horashow
. We need markers, too. Otherwise we might lose one … Sharpies are in the drawer.”

Taking Pietr’s hand, I made him press the gauze tight to his own head wound while I found markers.

“You boys run the risk of not being so pretty,” Cat muttered as she swabbed the Leatherman’s blade with alcohol. “Or so alive.” She looked at me. “Get Pietr’s shirt off and circle each entry wound. Then look for exits.”

Nodding, I hesitated. How could I get his shirt off without hurting him more?

Cat’s gaze flicked to me and she ordered, “Tear it off,” as she focused once more on Max.

I grabbed the neckline of Pietr’s shirt and pul ed, the sound so like Cat’s final transformation I froze. I fought to keep my eyes open, to view the wounds that marred Pietr’s beautiful body, so pocked with holes.

Hand trembling, I circled each one.

Pietr snared my wrist, steadied me. “It’s not so bad, Jess,” he said, catching my eyes with his own.

My vision blurred, eyes fil ing with tears. “I’m the liar in our relationship. Don’t you start.”

He leaned back, watching through narrowed eyes as my hands stumbled across his body, circling the wounds already trying to close.

“I need to see your back.”

He grunted and rol ed awkwardly over.

“Is it good or bad there’s one exit wound?” I asked.

He insisted, “It’s fine,” but the last word came out with a wheeze.

“Liar,” I protested.

“
You
do it!” Cat shrieked at Alexi. “Damn human hands—not steady at al .” Shaken, she stood by Max, the blade bloody in her hand.

Alexi reached up and took the knife, making soothing noises. “Circle the other wounds,” he whispered.

“I’l cut. I have more practice with my damn human hands.”

“Here.” Amy was beside me, kitchen knives in her hands, blades bright and stinking of alcohol. “Take them al out?”

“Yes, every single bul et.”

She nudged me. “Scoot over. Should we clean our hands?”

“I—” Regular infections didn’t seem to matter to werewolves, but what to tel Amy? At what point were lies more harmful than the truth? Probably always. “Just get the bul ets out.”

“ ‘Lucy, you got some ’splainin’ to do,’ ” she said in her best Ricky Ricardo impression. She set a hand on Pietr’s stomach, nestling the tracing of the bul et hole between her spread index finger and thumb.

Pietr gasped when the knife dug in and I grabbed his hand.

“They heal so fast.…”

“Yeah.” No point denying it.

She reached her fingers into the hole, digging around for the bul et’s metal head.

Pietr writhed, face contorting, and I pul ed my hand free of his so I could rest al my weight on him. My face inches from his, I stared down into his glinting eyes, ignoring the pinch of pain in his features and the way Amy apologized each time she withdrew another bul et’s head from Pietr’s rapidly healing flesh.

Instead, I kept my best smile pasted across my lips and told him about the things we’d do when winter arrived. I promised snowbal battles, sled races, and icicle sword fights ending with hours wrapped up together by a roaring fire, sipping tea and hot chocolate. And the whole time I talked, my heart ached, not knowing if he’d live to let me keep a single promise.

By the time Amy got to the last bul et, the wound was completely sealed, the skin smooth and soft as a newborn’s.

Beside us, Alexi was cleaning up Max and himself. Cat was stil and silent in the shadows, a tumult of emotion washing over her face.

“Are you sure there was a bul et there?” Amy asked, running a finger over the perfect flesh.

“I only circled bul et holes.”

“And this one didn’t have an exit?” She tapped his chest with the knife’s handle.

Pietr had fal en into an uneasy sleep, my hand again in his, his unnatural y strong body exhausted.

“No. I’m sure something’s there.”

Max began to snore. Alexi gathered up the chunks of flesh. “Better burn these,” he suggested to Cat.

“Too good a sample for them to add to their col ection.”

She nodded, mute, and fol owed him out of the sitting room.

When Pietr convulsed, I jumped, crying in pain as his hand crushed mine. His eyes were wide and wild

—unseeing—red flaring like wildfire. “Oouut!” he screamed. “Get it ouuut—”

“Shit!” Amy shrieked, losing her grip on the knife.

Pietr clawed at his chest, at the negligible circle of Sharpie marking his sealed wound. Blind with pain, he thrashed and howled, hands raking across his skin.

“Max!” I bel owed.

He was on Pietr in a heartbeat, taking him to the floor and pinning his arms over his head.

Pietr kicked out, his foot connecting with Amy’s head. She crumpled where she stood, the knife she’d just retrieved clattering out of her grip. Alexi and Cat jumped on Pietr’s legs, weighting them down.

Frozen in shock as he writhed, I watched al my promises to Pietr evaporating into nothing but worthless words.

“One’s stil in!” Cat growled. “Cut it out, Jessie!”

Gasping, I fel onto Pietr’s chest, straddling him, digging the knife into his skin. “I can’t—” I sobbed. “The rib—it’s grown back—it’s blocking my knife!”

“Hel !” Max snapped, adjusting his position and keeping Pietr’s arms down with his knees. He raised a fist and slammed it down on Pietr’s rib cage. Bone cracked beneath his assault, and foam speckled Pietr’s gaping mouth.

“
Now
cut!”

I stabbed the knife in and pul ed free a plug of flesh and gore, sweeping the wound with my fingers until I found the bul et. With a grunt I tore it loose, holding it above Pietr’s prone body like the grimmest of prizes.

It sizzled, burning the bits of flesh and blood that stil clung to it.

Alexi snatched it from me. “Spiked. As if the genetic time bomb in them isn’t enough.”

Pietr stil ed beneath me, his face taut with pain, his eyes closed, breathing final y steady. I brushed the hair, soaked with sweat, out of his eyes. I kissed him, gently, not caring that my lips came back tainted with sweat and blood.

“Amy!” I rushed to her, but Max was there already, cradling her in his arms.

“She’l be okay,” he whispered. “Another bruise…”

“At least this one was unintentional.” I pried open her eyelids, looking at her pupils. “Yeah, I guess she’l be okay.”

“So fragile,” Max whispered, his gaze shifting from Amy’s peaceful face to my troubled one. “Maybe if we weren’t…”

“Weren’t what, Max?” My heart rattled.

“Weren’t here.” He picked Amy up and laid her on the love seat. “What if we weren’t here, Jessie?

What if the danger just left with us?”

“I’d find you.”

He sighed. “Not if we didn’t want you to.”

“Don’t you dare threaten me with leaving.”

“We’re threatening you by staying.”

Alexi agreed from the doorway. “You’d be safer without us. You could have a nice, normal life, Jessie.

Graduate high school. Go to a nice state school and get a degree. A good job. Meet a nice guy—settle down and have some kids and a dog. Live a nice, safe, long, and normal life, with a husband who wil also live a good, long, normal life.”

Tears prickled at the edge of my eyelashes. “Pietr can live a long life if he takes the cure,” I protested, fingers folding into fists at my sides.

“He won’t take it,” Max said, examining the ceiling. “Not after what happened tonight. Neither of us wil .

We need the additional strength and abilities to free Mother.”

I crossed the floor and sat on the edge of the love seat, taking Amy’s limp hand. “Then stay away from her. You’l hurt her much worse than Marvin ever could if she loves you and you choose…” I struggled with the word. How could anyone choose
death
over a shot at life and love? “If you choose … to go.”

Max knew what I meant. They al did.

“It’s too late for me. Do you understand? I
love
Pietr.”

Alexi started to open his mouth, but I stuck my hand up. “No, Alexi. I know what you’l say. It’s the same thing my dad would say: I’m too young to talk about love. But I feel what I feel. I’ve had a lot of loss recently, you know?” I couldn’t look at them, at their sad eyes, so I fixed my gaze on the bloodstained carpet. “I’d just like to hang on to love for a while now instead. It’s too late for me,” I repeated, stroking Amy’s hand. “But it’s not too late for her.” I glared at the boy with the tousled curls. “Stay away from her, Max.”

As much as I didn’t want to, Dad insisted I go to the match Wanda had arranged. During the day she came to pick me up, she asked, “Have you practiced enough to make this worth our time?”

“I’ve popped off a few rounds here and there.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t bother.” She closed my door and sat in the driver’s seat, her face drawn.

“Seriously?” A yawn stretched al the way along my spine, struggling out of my mouth.

“If you’re tired…”

“I’m relaxed. Focused. Don’t you want to go? I figured you’d put me on display—if I do wel .”

“You’l do wel ,” she said, pul ing into what passed as traffic on Junction’s outskirts. She didn’t sound like she believed it.

“Geez, Wanda, you’re such a downer. Tel me good news for a change.”

“Good news? How about I tel you how stupid that stunt was your boyfriend tried to pul the other night?

Nearly got himself made into Swiss cheese, from what I hear.”

“Yeah, he nearly died trying to free his mother. Did you even have a mother, Wanda? Do you know what it’s like to lose one or know you’l lose her way too soon?” I turned to face her, straining against my seat belt. “God! Were you there? Did you have a gun on him?”

She pul ed over. “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t even told when the shooting started. Do you know what that means, Jessie? Do you?”

I glared at her.

“I could lose everything because I keep stepping in on their behalf. The CIA wants to storm their house

—drag their asses in, and I say,
Oh no, can’t we be reasonable? They’re kids
, I remind my superiors.

They’re just confused—you know how teenagers are
.
Let’s get them to cooperate
.” She grabbed the steering wheel and shook it like she’d tear it off if she could. “I’ve cal ed off so many plans to just take them in—
by force
, Jessie. And then they do this!”

“What do you expect them to do? She’s dying!”

Wanda took a deep breath, shaking out her rage. “I expect them not to put me in that situation ever again. We have guys who are hospitalized.”

“No one’s dead?”

“No. It seems your boyfriend has pushed a no-kil policy with his little pack. I don’t know if that’l help them or hurt them. By the way—where was Cat? She didn’t get into the firefight at al , according to the report.”

“Are we going to the match or not?”

We tore back onto the road as I sank into the seat, plugging in my MP3 player and focusing on rhythms like the beats between bringing a pistol up, firing and getting it down again. I didn’t waste worry on anything

—the Rusakovas were resting up at home with Cat and Alexi watching the perimeter. The CIA was stil probably piecing stuff back together. I just worked to visualize my setup, the target, my moves.

In twenty minutes we came to an older rod and gun club. Wanda pul ed the car to a stop on the gravel lot. She was tapping the dash.

I noticed the absence of other cars. “Huh. First ones here.”

“We’re early.”

“Good.” I liked to look at a range before anyone else got to it and started acting nervy. It let me adjust the picture in my head and perfect my visualization before I even took out my gun.

“Jessie.”

I dreaded her words.

“Do you real y think I’d put you on display if you did wel ? Like, make a big deal out of it? Embarrass you?” Wanda was even weirder than normal today.

“You’ve coached me a little. The best thing some coaches do is take credit.”

“Oh.” She turned off the car.

I caught her staring at me. “What?”

“I’m sorry I tried to push you toward that footbal guy and away from Pietr.” She sighed. “You’re freakishly loyal, and that’s a rare thing.” She picked at the steering wheel cover with one of her blunted fingernails. “I’m … I’m proud of you, Jessie. You put yourself out there for the people who matter most in your life. You can be real y mature sometimes.”

“I’m the product of my environment. You grow up fast around werewolves and CIA agents.”

Wanda nodded and reached into the backseat to get my pistol case. I thought she said something like,

“Sometimes you don’t grow up at al .”

“What?”

“Check out the range. In and down the hal .”

I nodded.

“It’s downstairs,” she added.

“They leave it open?”

“Joe usual y comes in, unlocks stuff, and goes in to town to get real coffee,” she nodded. “He makes the other stuff but won’t drink it. Used to be a competitor himself.”

“Cool.” I opened the clubhouse door. The scent of coffee greeted me, a few empty Styrofoam cups stacked near a bottle of non-dairy creamer, some packs of sugar, and a single spoon damp with coffee.

“Just say no.” I turned down the hal , my feet echoing across the peeling linoleum tiles and stirring up spirals of dust motes. The place needed a good cleaning.

I took off my jacket and tucked it under my arm. Opening the door, I peered down the stairs.