Blood Bond (45 page)

None of the people here were conscious. A
few moaned when I touched them, no matter how gentle I tried to be,
but they did it from behind a wall of oblivion. I’d made it to the
outer edges of the group, the furthest from Olivia I’d been since
waking, and knelt beside the next body—a man with sagging skin that
hung off him in sickening ripples. His jawline was pronounced, his
cheeks sunken and dotted with splotchy stubble. I didn’t pay much
attention. Like the others, his eyes were closed, his breathing
labored. I held the syringe to the vial, tipped it up, and slowly
pulled back the stopper, letting it fill with red.

Without warning, the man’s hand shot out and
locked around my wrist. I froze and met his now-open eyes. They
were a dull gray, absent of hope.

“It’s all right. I’m here to help,” I said.
He didn’t respond or let me go. “This,” I said, holding up the
syringe and the vial, “this will help you. It will make you
better.”

“I …refuse to be …a monster.” His body
heaved with the last word. His chest shook on a silent cough and he
gasped for air. I tried to think of something to do but there was
nothing, no way to help. All I could do was assure him.

“With this,” I said, “you can be
yourself.”

His eyes flickered to the scene behind me.
“Not … with her.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. His body shook
again, struggling to talk and breathe at the same time. “She
controls you somehow, doesn’t she? When you’re a wolf?” He
nodded.

I thought of Astor’s theory, that what I’d
done with George could work on all of them. And I remembered Vera’s
words, about George and him being my pack. I looked down at the man
and took his hand off my wrist, squeezed it. “After this, you won’t
be with her,” I said. “You’ll be with me.”

After that, he didn’t object to my sticking
him, nor did he ask me to elaborate, which was good, since I had
absolutely no idea how to explain. Astor said it could work on them
all, but was it really as simple as sharing my blood? It had been
with George. But George had been healthy, and getting healthier the
closer he got to the change. These people had only gotten sicker
and sicker. Was a small shot of blood in the arm enough to break
whatever hold Olivia had on them? Was I really willing to bind them
all to me?

One thing was clear: Olivia didn’t know. If
she did, no way would she be letting me inject all of these people
with my blood. So as far as she knew, it was simply a cure-all for
rejecting the change. If I could find a way to use that, maybe—

Urgency, like a flood of adrenaline, washed
over me so fast and so hard, I almost dropped the syringe. I
managed to finish pumping blood into the man’s arm and then threw
my used supplies into the box. I glanced back. Olivia was still
watching me. She looked bored, but impatient.

The urgency came again.

I paced my movements, desperate not to give
it away, and walked to the next body. I crouched and began
methodically preparing for the next injection. I kept my head down
and scanned the woods out of the corner of my eye. Nothing. No
movement, no sound. Even the birds had gone quiet. Still, the
urgency in my mind continued to stream. An itchy tingle worked its
way down my spine, starting at the back of my neck and
spreading.

“George?” I whispered.

No answer. I didn’t dare whisper again.

I completed the injection and moved on.

The urgency grew, making me restless. My
palms itched and my eyes darted from point to point. I did the next
few injections with shaky fingers. At every twitch of a leaf or
sway in the breeze, I expected George and the others to come
barging out of the woods in rescue. It never happened.

As I circled back around and neared Olivia,
the urgency faded. It gave way to a void, an empty feeling that I
couldn’t push aside. Whether it belonged to me or George, it felt
hopeless, final, and I knew one of us had admitted defeat.

When I’d finished the injections, I stood in
front of Olivia and handed her back the box. I didn’t bother
looking at her or the gun. Somewhere along the way, I’d accepted
what came next. I didn’t even have it in me to summon tears or
images of the faces I’d leave behind. I stared at my shoes and
waited.

“Let’s get going,” she snapped. “Chris!”

He snapped awake from where he’d dozed
against the wooden slats of my cage. When he saw me standing there,
he stood. He looked better than earlier, a little steadier on his
feet. She waved at him to lead the way. He glanced at me and my
breath caught. His eyes were frighteningly clear and glowed yellow.
I fell into step behind him only after Olivia prodded me hard
between the shoulders with the point of the gun.

“Why don’t you just shoot me and get it over
with?” I said dully.

“I have no plans to shoot you,” she said.
“Unless you give me a reason. Walk faster.”

“I saved all your monsters. What else do you
want from me?”

“That has yet to be seen. Either way, it was
only the first batch.”

I stopped walking to look at her. “There’s
more?”

“Keep walking.” She shoved me forward. My
feet moved mechanically. Her tone became smug, confident. “I told
you, I’m not my son. Nor am I my husband. I do not share their
weaknesses. They thought too small. And you. You were a weakness to
them, but not to me.”

“Miles wanted to take over both the Werewolf
and Hunter world, but he thought too small?”

“He thought the only way to do it was with
you. That’s where he went wrong.”

“Because you think you can do it alone?”

“Actually, I don’t have to do anything at
all except stir the pot. You’ll destroy each other in the end with
your hatred. When the dust settles, I’ll rebuild.”

“I didn’t hate Miles,” I began.

“And yet, he’s dead, so it doesn’t really
matter, does it? Shut up and walk.”

I fell silent and kept pace with Chris. He
was faster now. It was a struggle to keep up with him. I wasn’t
sure how much longer I could stay on my feet. We reached the door
and Olivia handed Chris the key for the deadbolt. He twisted it in
the lock and pushed it open. It swung inward, and I caught a blur
of fur and teeth as it whizzed by on its way into the woods. From
the dimness of the hallway a wolf appeared and hurtled toward me.
Then another and another. I flattened myself against the building
to get clear. Eight wolves darted into the trees, their snarls
echoing as they spread out among the trees.

“Return.” Olivia’s voice rang out above it
all. The wolves slinked back into view. Their eyes shone with a
fevered yellow. Their jowls hung loose and dripped with saliva. The
joints in their legs stuck out starkly against their wiry limbs.
“You may hunt but return as soon as you’ve finished. There is work
to be done,” she said. They blinked and then sprang way.

“Looks like you’re the cure, after all,” she
said to me before shoving me through the door.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

There were seven dead in the clinic when we
returned. I wondered if it was because the injections weren’t
completely successful, or if they’d been dead already when I’d
injected them. I hadn’t exactly felt for a pulse. Olivia wouldn’t
have listened, anyway. The rest were in various stages of waking up
or moving around. Their attempts were slow and they looked dazed,
like suffering from bad hangovers.

Olivia ordered me to dump the box of used
syringes into the garbage and then motioned for Chris to move me
into what looked like a break room. A faded, once-white
chipped-plastic table and two chairs were the only furniture in the
space. A mini-fridge sat on a warped green countertop, along with a
beat-up microwave, which hummed and whined pathetically in its
attempt to heat a bowl of chicken soup.

“Eat,” Chris said, dropping me into one of
the chairs and setting the bowl in front of me.

I started to lift the spoon to my mouth and
stopped again when a water bottle appeared.

I panicked.

The vision of Mr. Lexington towering over me
as I lost consciousness took over. I leapt from my chair and swung
at Chris without conscious thought but exhaustion slowed me. He
ducked aside and landed a punch in my gut. Not hard, but enough to
get my attention and let me know he was feeling better. I slumped
back into the chair and grumbled at him as he backed away.

Grudgingly, I went back to my soup and
water. After closer inspection, I realized the seal hadn’t been
broken on the bottle. Even so, I sipped slowly, expecting the
worst. But it wasn’t poisoned. I remained awake.

The food cleared my head, which wasn’t
entirely a good thing, since I couldn’t seem to shut off the panic
and desperation that wormed its way in.

Muffled sounds drifted in as I finished. My
stomach cramped painfully as it accepted the food. I waited for the
dizziness to subside, sure it was due to dehydration and hunger,
but it remained. The room didn’t spin, exactly, but my vision was
fuzzy around the edges. The back of my neck ached.

“Uh-oh,” I said under my breath.

Chris looked up, curious, but said nothing.
A minute later, Olivia walked in. A half smile twisted her lips.
She wiped her hands on a rag. The cloth came away stained red. I
couldn’t bring myself to ask why. Cord’s name echoed in my
head.

“They’re up.” She walked up to Chris,
scrutinizing him. “How do you feel?”

“Better, stronger,” he said.

“Good.” She nodded. Her eyes flickered to
me. “Give her a needle and some more vials. I’m going to spend some
more quality time with my new friend.”

“Don’t touch her,” I said, jumping from my
chair. I wasn’t sure if it was the food or the unsettled feeling of
my skin, but the anger surging through me was sharp and hot. I
couldn’t sit quietly any longer. “We had a deal. I give you blood.
You leave her alone.”

Olivia’s head bobbed in an
almost imperceptible nod. She stalked toward me, her eyes lit with
rage. Chris slid in behind me, grabbing my wrists and twisting my
arms painfully behind my back. “You seem to have forgotten who
makes the rules,” she said. “I told you I wouldn’t kill her
yet.
”

The truth of her intentions hit me hard. I’d
hoped—maybe because there wasn’t any other choice—if I went along,
did what she asked, she wouldn’t hurt Cord. The look in her eye
made it easy to see that had been a lie.

My body went taut. The pain in my arms
intensified but it only fed my anger. “I’m not giving you any more
blood,” I said.

“Then I’ll take it.”

Chris dragged me toward the door, and I lost
it. I kicked out, the first few attempts catching air, but the food
energized me and I managed to land a heel in his shin. He grunted
and his grip loosened. I wrenched free and tore down the hall. A
voice in my mind screamed at me to turn back, that I couldn’t leave
Cord alone here if I ever wanted to see her again, but I couldn’t
help her by cooperating any longer.

I made it out the door and to the tree line
before I was tackled from behind. Chris’s breath blew across the
back of my neck and then my body twisted as he flipped me over and
pinned me. I blanched at the sight of his face. It was something
not quite Werewolf, not quite human. Fur covered every inch of his
skin. His eyes glowed hot and yellow, fully hybrid now. I could see
the struggle inside him, could feel him shaking. I wriggled but it
was no use; his strength was definitely that of a Were.

“Get a hold of yourself,” Olivia snapped. I
wasn’t sure which one of us she referred to.

I couldn’t see her over Chris’s head but I
could smell her. It smelled like the decay of the bodies earlier,
sickly sweet and full of death. I wondered how I’d missed that
before. Chris flipped me again and began to bind my wrists. I cried
out when he wrenched my arm too hard and pain shot into my
shoulder. The sharp throb that remained even after he let go made
it clear I’d sprained something. He yanked me up, breathing heavily
against my back.

“Put her in the box. I need your help with
the other one. I’m tired of waiting.” Olivia’s footsteps faded and
the door to the clinic slammed shut. Chris shoved me toward the
trail.

“Move,” he said. The air around the edges of
his body quivered.

“You can’t turn, can you?” I said.

“Not yet. It’s coming.” His voice was
strained.

We walked a few steps in silence. I knew
this might be my only shot. “My blood saved you.”

“You want a medal?”

“You owe me a life.”

He didn’t answer for a long time. I heard
his breathing even out and wondered if he was closer or farther
away from his human form—the side of him that allowed compassion,
feeling. I searched my thoughts for any sign my blood had connected
us in some way, but there was nothing. Only emptiness, like
before.

We reached the clearing where my wooden cell
stood. He shoved me toward the ladder.

“You could save her,” I said.

“You are not my master.”

He shoved me through the hole in the roof. I
landed on my knee and rolled, trying to absorb the impact. My
shoulder twisted at an odd angle from my hands being tied. Pain
shot through the arm I was already sure I’d sprained. Black spots
danced in front of my eyes. I lay there for a few minutes until the
worst of it faded.

I blinked back tears—partly from the pain in
my arm and partly from desperation. How had the situation turned so
badly? Wes and the others—where were they? I felt nothing from the
bond. What did that mean? Had something happened to George?

Every second I sat there felt like an
eternity. I tried not to imagine what Olivia was doing to Cord, but
it was impossible. I didn’t bother trying to hold back the sobs or
the tears. They fell against the wood and left watermarks that grew
into tiny pools of moisture as more and more fell.