Part 28 (2/2)

”Because.” His face, undecided between man and beast, was gruesome. ”Because life isn't fair,” he said, sounding like Helen. ”I shouldn't have been bitten. I should have been born. And because your Lucas is unfit to rule.”

”I don't understand-” I protested, trying to scoot back.

Jorgen laughed at this. ”Do you think I care?” Then he leapt.

We were so close it was like a body slam. All I had time to do was hold the knife up inside my purse, like a cartoon funeral rose. There was the sensation of impact. All over my body, a crus.h.i.+ng physical blow. The hilt of the knife pounded into my stomach and knocked all the wind out of me. But it was wedged up. Caught on something.

Jorgen's sternum.

”Get off me-” I shoved at him and he groaned. His hands found purchase and he rolled himself away. I let the knife go and it sliced my purse free as it rolled with him. I sat up, holding the leather shreds of my purse, stunned, watching blood pour out of Jorgen like he was a fountain.

He tried to pull at it. There was an electric snap from the blade as he touched it, repelling his hand.

”Get it out-” he begged.

If I took it out of him, there was a chance he'd heal. If I didn't take it with me, I'd let Anna down tonight. I didn't think vampires believed in extenuating circ.u.mstances.

I squatted beside him, still catching my breath. ”Tell me why.”

”You saw me hit him with my truck.” Jorgen's hands played through the blood he was losing, trying to keep some from spilling out.

I hadn't seen the driver of the car that hit Winter ... but Jorgen a.s.sumed I had. Because it had been him.

Why would Jorgen hit Winter? Wasn't Jorgen bitten-a faithful were-follower? I swallowed. What could possibly change his mind?

”Tell Helen I love her. I've always loved her,” he said, reaching a b.l.o.o.d.y hand out to me, then lowering it to the ground.

”Why'd you hit him, Jorgen?” The wolfman didn't respond. ”Jorgen?” I resisted the temptation to shake him, to try to wake him up. There was so much blood, and Jorgen's breathing was shallow.

I could kill him for sure with the knife. Carve it down and slice his intestines through. But I knew what a stab wound through the gut felt like. I didn't have it in me. I stood, shaking.

”Don't follow me if you get up.” I reached down, yanked out the knife, and headed for the limousine.

I stepped on my ID badge on the way to the limo. I freed it from the muck and shoved it into my pocket, lanyard and all, and then got into my ride.

Most of the blood on me wasn't mine, but my knuckles and thighs throbbed. The heat was on in the limo, keys still in the ignition, so I revved it up and pulled away.

The limo had GPS, and the driver, now dead and gnawed on in my parking lot, had been kind enough to enter in his final destination before he left.

Driving it was like driving a boat. Luckily it was automatic, not stick.

I didn't look at myself in the rearview mirror. I knew that would be a bad idea. I knew bruises were welting up all over my body, that my jeans were torn, that my sweater was covered in were-blood, and what else, who G.o.dd.a.m.n knew.

No matter how much I might have loved a monster once-I didn't sign up for this.

If I let go of the steering wheel, the limo would slide to the side of the road, into a s...o...b..nk, and I would cry, and be frozen there like a woolly mammoth until a snowplow happened by or the first thaw of spring. No, I would not look up, and I would not look down. I would only watch the road and the little blue dot on the GPS's screen that meant we were heading toward something, somewhere else. I followed that little blue dot, went out of town, and out into the countryside, until it pulled me into a parking lot circled by a white picket fence. I looked out.

It had once been a church.

I pulled the limo up. This parking lot was huge, so the church must have been prestigious, before ... the fire. I nodded to myself. Snow didn't hide all the charred blackness of the roof, and I could see blue tarps underneath it, trying to keep some of the weather out. I bet the congregation hadn't had enough money or time to rebuild before winter, and now, this.

I parked the limousine. I didn't want to leave it. It was warm here, and it was safe, and I was starting to stick to the seat. A knock on the window startled me.

”You're late!” Sike said as I opened the door. I could tell she didn't expect to see me driving. ”You stink of were-blood. What happened?”

”Your driver got jumped.”

”How are you?” she said, and for the first time, I felt she meant it. She put out her hand.

I stood even with her, so she could see all of me. ”I'm fine. But after this, I'm f.u.c.king through. You're getting me out.” I knew she had no say in the matter, but saying it firmed my resolve.

”When you're done here, you should probably go to Y4. To get were-shots.” She touched a hand to an earpiece I hadn't realized she had. ”We need a disposal team at the Amba.s.sador's personal residence. Driver two is gone.” Then she gestured. ”Please, follow me.”

Some Amba.s.sador I was tonight. Limping, I followed.

Seeing as the church had holes in some walls, it was freaking cold inside. It wouldn't bother the vampires, but it irritated me. I'd been through enough already tonight, I didn't need to freeze too.

The inside of the church had at one time been a Catholic affair. There was a clean s.p.a.ce on a blackened wall where a crucifix had been removed, like an inverse cross. The rest of the inside was hollowed out, gutted by the fire. After that, I bet congregants had taken everything they could salvage. Construction lights made everything cast long shadows.

”Why the h.e.l.l are we here?” I asked Sike.

”We wanted the most neutral ground possible. Churches make all vampires uncomfortable,” she said as she led me in. ”Plus, it has a sense of flair.”

”Remind me to never go shopping with you,” I muttered, following behind her, holding Anna's knife.

Because the pews were gone, vampires stood where the congregation should be, cl.u.s.tered together in their tribes. Sike led me around them and up to the raised altar at the front. I recognized the other people standing there. Gideon, Veronica, Mr. Galeman-a prior patient of mine whom Anna had bitten-Sike and I took our place by their side. Veronica still looked as feral as she had at my house, and as if to make up for it, Gideon was eerily calm.

”How'd they rope you into this,” I asked Mr. Galeman, who stood beside me.

”Free beer,” he whispered back. Sike hissed down the line at us, then glared at us to keep quiet.

Well. That. Was. Encouraging. I stood there, exhausted, and my legs kept complaining, each claw mark stung-I wasn't going to need just rabies shots, but teta.n.u.s as well. I looked like that chick from Carrie, or one of any number of segments from Battle Royale.

”Now the ceremony can begin,” said a vampire I didn't recognize from the side. Organ music welled up, pretentious, dramatic.

”Is it always like this?” I asked Sike.

She glared at me. ”Shut it.”

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