Blood Bond (13 page)

Still, it had become harder and harder to
fake it, to pretend everything wasn’t different. Because it was.
Not only had I learned of an entire underground world filled with
supernatural creatures, but there was an entire race of superhumans
created to protect those like Sam, and Angela, from the animals
that roamed the night. On top of that, every time I closed my eyes,
Bailey’s face floated in my mind—happy, blond, smiling—and I had to
bite my cheek to keep from crying. A shopping mall seemed pointless
and stupid and insulting, but here I was.

So, I forced a smile onto my face and
pretended to hang on Sam’s every word. As if parties and boys and
clothes and gossip were the only things that mattered.

We were gathered outside the main entrance,
parting ways to head home, when I caught Angela giving me the eye
again.

“What?” I asked for the fourth time.

She looked at Sam and Cambria, who were
locked in a heated “leather versus lace” debate that didn’t look to
be ending any time soon, then back at me. “I can tell something’s
bothering you,” she said, steering me away and keeping her voice
low. “I want you to know that you can talk to me about whatever it
is. I’m here for you.”

“I’m fine, Ang, really.”

Her eyes narrowed and she stepped closer.
“Cut the crap, Tara,” she snapped. My eyes widened at that. “We
both know you’re not fine, and we both know you’ve been lying about
it for months now. What the hell is going on with you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I
mumbled.

She went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Ever
since you met Wes, things have been different. You’ve been
different.” Her expression crumpled from anger to pained. “We used
to tell each other everything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” I said, fumbling for
what to say. The truth wasn’t an option, but I couldn’t bring
myself to tell another lie right now. A tear slid down my cheek. “I
have a lot going on right now.”

Angela sighed. “Well, if
you change your mind, I’m here. I can keep a secret.” She shot a
meaningful glance over her shoulder and added, “From
everyone,
if need
be.”

“Thanks,” I said, “but there’s nothing to
tell.” I didn’t meet her eyes and she didn’t argue again.

We said our goodbyes soon after. Angela
hugged me tighter than normal. When I pulled away, she wore a set
expression. “Call me … when you’re ready to talk.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to
ignore the growing fissure between the us of now and the us of
then. It made my heart ache and my eyes burn.

“Thanks. I will,” I mumbled before heading
for the black Hummer parked at the curb.

Chapter Eight

Time was officially the enemy. Hybrids no
longer mattered—finding them or figuring out why they wanted to
find me. Not even my fear of shifting concerned me. All that
mattered now was George.

I awoke the next morning to a terrifying
phone call. First, the sound of the ringer somehow melded with my
dreams, becoming my own screams as I thrashed and flailed against a
change I could no longer fight. I woke confused and breathless and
desperate to feel human, to feel in control.

I fumbled with the screen until my fingers
somehow made the right strokes.

“Hello?” I mumbled.

“Tara, oh, sorry, did I wake you?”

George’s voice was clear and strong and full
of life. The sound of it, vibrant and energized, brought me wide
awake. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened, relax,” he assured
me.

“You sound really good.” I couldn’t help the
note of accusation that crept into my words. I felt bad. It wasn’t
his fault he was changing into something monstrous. Still, I needed
him to take longer doing it. I needed time. I hated time.

“I
feel
really good,” he admitted. My
heart sank even further. “I know that’s going to freak you out.
Sorry about that. It’s just that I’ve felt sick for so long, I
can’t help but enjoy this a little bit.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, freeing
my vocal cords. “Have you begun to change yet?”

“No, nothing yet. I feel strong, healthy.
Like me … on Red Bull.” The relief in his voice was unmistakable.
No matter what he’d said before, he didn’t want to die rather than
turn. “You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

I’d been quiet too long. “Maybe. It’s
happening too fast. I need more time.”

“We might not have much left.”

“Don’t remind me.” I buried my face in the
pillow.

Cambria stirred from her place on the air
mattress. I kept telling her she could share the bed but she
insisted she was a kicker and she preferred to sleep alone. I could
see her tossing and turning, trying to cling to sleep despite the
noise.

“Are you still taking the meds?” I
asked.

“Yeah, a little while ago. Fee’s tripled the
dosage, but we think my body is burning it off. Something about a
higher metabolism as a Werewolf. All I know is I’m starving and I
can’t sit still.” There was some rustling in the background, muted
male voices. “Derek’s going for a run with me.”

“You feel well enough to run?”

“Um, yeah.” He sounded apologetic.

I should tell him to enjoy it, that I was
happy for him that he’d recovered so far, so fast, but I couldn’t
do it. It terrified me. The better he felt, the fewer our chances
of finding a solution in time. “Where’s Wes?”

“He went with Cord to the funeral home to
buy Bailey’s casket. Fee’s planning a service here at the house day
after tomorrow.”

My eyes welled automatically at the mention
of Bailey. “How’s Cord?”

“Holding up, I guess. Fee gave her something
last night to help her sleep.”

“I’m surprised she took it.”

“She didn’t at first. Jack had to
practically hold her down. Wes wanted to hide it in a brownie.”

My stomach tightened at the thought of
George hanging out with them at Jack’s. One big, happy family. It
was a little surreal. And for some reason, it made me a tiny bit
jealous.

“We’re going to head out, so I’ll call you
later,” he said.

“Just be careful, all
right? Oh, and do
not
go into town.”

There was a pause. My fingers tightened
around the phone.

“I’m serious, George. All we need is for
someone to spot you and tell your mother. Oh, speaking of, you
should call her while you feel good. She was asking my mom if I’d
talked to you.”

“She’s worried.”

“I know. Which is why you should call her.
Especially if—” I broke off, too horrified to finish what I’d been
about to say.

“Just say it, Tay. If I die. You’re right. I
should call her, just in case.”

“How can you be so calm about it?” I
demanded. I shot a glance at Cambria. She was still except for the
steady rise and fall of her breathing. I kept my voice low. “You’re
not changing into something you can control. It could kill you. Or
worse, you could try and kill someone else.”

“The operative word there being try,” he
said. “You’d stop me before it came to that.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will. I know you, Tay. You’d do
anything to keep your friends safe. In the end, you’ll protect me.
Even from myself. Always … like the song.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, but a hot tear
escaped and slid down my cheek. “Like the song,” I whispered.

*

I didn’t want to ask Vera for help. First,
there was her adamant claim that I was destined to take her place
as a leader of The Cause, straddling the line between two sides
that’d only ever known war. Second, she was dying. And third, and
this one made the other two much more complicated and therefore
became the real reason for my not wanting her help, she was related
to me.

Great Aunt Vera.

It still confused me on an empathetic level.
Was I supposed to bond with her before she died? Spend extra time
getting to know her, simply because we were blood, only to have her
die just as a connection was formed? Is that what she wanted? A
relationship?

It’s not like she made it easy for me to
figure out. The few times I’d seen her before leaving Wood Point
had been purely business. She’d questioned me extensively after
everything happened with Miles and the hybrids. Sometimes she’d
take notes. Sometimes Kane would be present or Headmaster
Whitfield, not that he ever had anything to add.

Since that night at school, when she’d
admitted to me she was, in fact, dying, she’d been only polite and
formal. It felt fake to me, but I suspected it was part of her
personality. Only now I needed her. There was no one else—and I had
no idea how to break through her wall of icy formality.

I managed to escape without Grandma and the
Hummer as an escort. I suspected it was another one of my mother’s
attempts to show she trusted me. Cambria rode shotgun. It felt
really good to be driving my own car again. It wasn’t much, but it
felt comfortable. It felt like me.

“Does the sunroof work?” Cambria asked,
already pushing the button on the console.

“Yup,” I said as she slid it back, letting
in a swirl of warm air. It teased my shoulders and the ends of my
hair. Humidity wrapped in summer sun. Even the wind was hot this
time of year.

Cambria held the button to lower her window
and leaned back, hanging her hand out of the car and riding the
wave of air. She slid her sunglasses onto her face and smiled over
at me. “This finally feels like a vacation, Mission
Impossible.”

I glanced at her. “Why are you calling me
that?”

“It’s your name, remember?”

“That was back when I was putting together
missions.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m not running any missions right now,” I
said.

“Uh-huh.” Her voice dropped an octave, a
sound that said, “I know what you’re up to.” I looked over at her
again, trying to read her expression. Large-rimmed glasses covered
her face.

“Fine,” I said finally. “We’re not going
shopping. I need to talk to Vera.”

She pulled her hand back inside the car and
twisted toward me in her chair. “I knew it. We have a mission. What
is it?”

“I’m hoping she knows a way to help
George.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

I shrugged. “Maybe she knows about this
Astor guy. If we can’t find another way …”

“I don’t think he’s a good idea. He killed
that girl.”

“But, if he’s our only option?”

She shook her head. The
ends of her hair bounced along her shoulders and the purple fabric
of her shirt. “If Miles was your only option, would that
even
be an
option?”

“It’s not the same.”

“You don’t know that. By all accounts, this
guy is crazier than Miles. And just as capable of causing death. We
can’t trust that. I made a bad judgment call once. I’m not going to
do it again.”

I sighed. So much for an ally. Cambria was
too wrapped up in her guilt about Miles’s attempt to use her to be
swayed. “Yeah, okay,” I agreed.

She slid the glasses down
her nose to look at me. “That idea is the epitome of Mission
Impossible
.”

When we pulled up, Jack’s yard was empty of
other vehicles. It made the house look bleaker and lonelier than
usual. I wondered briefly where Jack’s truck was. Had George said
something about him going on the run?

Fee answered the door. Her eyes were
red-rimmed and she clutched a bundled tissue in one hand. Her hair
had come loose from her usual classic twist. Stray strands hung
around her face and collar. “Girls,” she said, smiling through
fresh tears. She looked genuinely relieved for company. “Come
in.”

She waved us inside and closed the door,
washing the entryway in murky shadows. No lights shone and only
filtered sunlight, spilling in at the edges of the drawn shades in
the living room lit the way.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, starting off
toward the kitchen. I nudged Cambria with my shoulder and she took
the hint.

“Starving,” Cambria said, following Fee
toward whatever newly baked goodies awaited.

I veered off down the back hall toward the
library, keeping my footsteps light. Fee’s voice drifted back. I
listened as she offered Cambria a cookie and asked where I’d gone.
I heard Cambria mumble something about the bathroom and then ask
for a glass of milk. I smiled. Cambria wasn’t even playing a role.
She’d have gone with Fee into the kitchen even if I hadn’t asked
her.

I knocked quietly on the library door and
after a low-spoken, “Come in,” poked my head inside.

Dim lighting greeted me and several blinks
later, the room took shape. I was surprised to find that it had
been made over since the last time I’d been in here. Against one
bookcase-covered wall stood a narrow bed. It was higher off the
ground than most, reminiscent of a hospital bed, the way the back
adjusted at an angle and the stark white sheets held their crisp
folds at the edges.

In the center of the room someone had
swapped the rickety wooden table for a set of armchairs,
deep-cushioned and worn at the edges of the upholstery. Vera sat in
the one facing me. Her slender fingers held a steaming teacup near
her lips. The china shook slightly as she tipped it up, took a sip,
and lowered it again. Her sweater hung on her already petite
frame—the fact that she was wearing sleeves in this climate was a
huge indication of her illness progressing.

I felt a pang in my chest in the same place
it hurt when I thought of Bailey. I wasn’t used to losing
people.

“Are you coming in?” she asked.

“Yes.” I stepped inside and nudged the door
closed with my heel. Even after the soft click of the latch, I
stayed where I was.