Soul Bound (11 page)

And it’s all my fault.

“Rayne…” she tries to speak, but I can see it’s an effort to do so. “Rayne…”

“Shhh…” I try to shush her. “Be still.”

“You’re the best sister a girl could ever have. I love you.” Sunny whispers before closing her eyes. I watch in horror as her breath dies in her throat and her body goes limp.

“No!” I cry, trying to shake her awake. “Sunny! Stay with me!” But even as I scream and pound at her, I know it will do no good.

My sister. My beautiful, innocent, sweet twin sister is dead. Forever. And there’s nothing I can do to bring her back.

I
can’t tell you how long I sat there in the cold, dank, dark abandoned subway tunnel underneath the skin of New York City, my sister’s lifeless body resting silently in my lap. I can tell you that I didn’t cry much at first. Not that I didn’t want to, but for some reason the sobs refused to break free from my frozen body. Instead, I mostly stared into space, into the darkness, numb with overwhelming grief and filled with wild wonderings of when the hell I was going to wake up and realize this was all some terrible nightmare. That my sister wasn’t actually dead.

Because she couldn’t be dead. That’s not how this story was supposed to go. I was supposed to rescue her and we were supposed to live happily ever after. I mean, who would ever want to read a story or see a film where the heroine dies a bloody,
nasty death for a crime she didn’t commit? Hollywood doesn’t work like that.

Unfortunately, real life, I realize with a sickening thought, often does.

Eventually I manage to haul myself to my feet, dimly aware that, though at the moment, nothing else seems to matter, in truth something does. Jareth and Magnus—did they survive the attack? Are they worried sick—wondering where we are? I need to get back to them. I need to tell them what happened. If they’re even there to tell. My stomach heaves and I lean over to empty the rat blood I drank a mere hour ago, mixed with Bertha’s vile bodily fluids. It’s insane how one hour can change the rest of your life.

I want to take Sunny. I don’t want to leave her lifeless body sprawled out on the tracks, a gourmet meal for some lucky subway rats. But try as I might, I can’t manage to carry her dead weight in my arms. Especially not through the tiny crawl space we came from. You know that old sixties song “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother”? Well, either that dude had some seriously anorexic brother—or he spent way more hours than me in his local gym. Finally I give up, deciding to drag her to the collapsed section of the tunnel and cover her body as much as I can with stones and debris. The best burial I can do under the circumstances.

“Dear God,” I murmur when I’m finished, kneeling down in front of the pile. I’m not a very religious person by any means, and let’s face it, God probably isn’t all that into vampires either.
But for Sunny’s sake I try. “Please take care of my sister,” I whisper, the tears now falling unchecked from my eyes. I place her birthday present—still unwrapped—into her hands. “She didn’t deserve this.”

I find I can’t say any more. The lump in my throat is too big. I rise to my feet and slowly head back down the tunnel from where we came. As I crawl through, no longer really caring whether the ceiling collapses on me or not, all I can think, all I can beg for in my muddled, grief-stricken brain, is that Jareth is there, waiting for me on the other end. Because otherwise I seriously don’t know how I’m going to deal.

Soon, I arrive at the trap door, pushing it open and standing up into the purple tent, which, I quickly realize, has been torn to shreds. In fact, the entire camp is pretty much in shambles. The aftereffects of what appears to be a massacre. Vampires scurry past me, blood bags in their arms, rushing to and fro to attend to the wounded who lie scattered everywhere, their mournful cries sound tracking the air.

“We need more blood over here!” cries a blond vamp nearby.

“This is the last bag!’ calls another from across the camp.

I want to puke all over again. It’s hard enough to believe these vampires have survived as long as they have drinking mostly rodent blood. And they’re going to need a serious surplus of the human stuff if they expect to heal these types of wounds. All around me I see torn limbs, slashed-open stomachs, and massive head wounds. The kind of injuries that, without human blood transfusions, may take decades to heal on
their own. The wolves came in and did their worst. It would have almost been kinder of the Consortium to send in a hundred slayers armed with stakes. At least that way death would have come quickly and painlessly.

But Pyrus, I realize, has never been one for kindness.

My eyes search the camp, frantically looking for a familiar face. At last I see Cinder carrying two buckets of blood over to a large group of wounded. She’s scraped up pretty bad but looks damn healthy compared to the rest of them. That human blood I let her drink before the attack probably saved her immortal life.

“Where’s Magnus? Where’s Jareth?” I ask, rushing over to her and grabbing her by the arm, not one hundred percent sure I want to know the answer to either question.
Please don’t let them be dead. Please don’t let them be dead.

Cinder turns to me, a solemn look on her face. “Lord Magnus surrendered to the wolves,” she says. “He let them take him away.”

“What?” I cry. They took Magnus? So everything we tried to do was for nothing? “Why would he do something like that?”

She gives me a hard look. The look of someone who has seen far too much pain in her life. “To save the rest of the camp,” she says flatly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get this blood distributed.” She tries to push past me, but I stand my ground.

“What about… what about… Jareth,” I manage to finally spit out, though I have no idea how I’m going to take the news that something happened to him.

“He’s over in one of the remaining tents,” she says, giving
me wan smile. “Some of the vampires… well, they believe he brought the wolves upon us. I felt that it was best he remain out of plain sight.”

“So he’s… alive.” My heart surges with hope.

She nods. “He’s doing much better than most. But then, he started out healthier to begin with.” She looks around the camp, dismay in her eyes. I rest a hand on her arm.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“No more than I am,” she replies, then rushes away to deliver the blood to those who need it.

I draw in a long breath, then start toward the tent where Jareth hides, my stomach feeling as if it’s going to flip inside out as I step over dismembered limbs and bloody entrails. How could Pyrus get away with something like this? Was it simply because the other Consortium members have no idea what’s really going on? I force myself to pull my iPhone from my pocket, wincing as I click it on and see the wallpaper photo of Sunny and me making funny faces at the camera. Somehow I manage to find the photo app and start taking pictures. The others must know what went on here today.

“Get out of here!” cries a redheaded vampire in a ratty woolen dress, kneeling over a bloody child. “Don’t you have any respect for the dead?”

Guiltily, I stuff my camera back in my pocket. “I’m sorry,” I reply. “I didn’t mean… I mean, my sister died, too,” I tell her, my voice cracking as I relive the scene all over again.

Her face softens, and she rises to her feet, placing a comforting hand on my arm. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “It’s all so terrible.
I thought when I came here I left all the atrocities from home behind. That I finally had a chance to make a fresh start. But even here, deep in this pit, it seems we are still not able to shrink from the Consortium’s grip.”

I don’t know what to tell her. Words seem so meaningless. I mean, sure they can try to rebuild. But now their secret world has been breached. They’ll probably have to abandon their home and find somewhere else to hide. To try to make a new life for themselves, somewhere.

“I promise you,” I vow, anger rising within me, “someday, somehow, I will make this right. Pyrus will pay for what he’s done to you.”

She gives me a sad smile. I know she doesn’t believe what I say. But it doesn’t matter. I believe it. And I’m not going to rest until justice has been served. Until my sister—and all of these innocent vampires—have been avenged.

I say my good-byes and continue to the tent, pretty sure the only thing keeping my legs from collapsing out from under me is the knowledge that Jareth is inside, alive and well and waiting for me. That in a moment I can throw myself into his arms and stop being brave. That I can scream and cry and mourn and he’ll be there to pull me close and kiss away my tears.

“Jareth!” I cry, stumbling into the tent.

At first glance I think I have the wrong place—I don’t see him anywhere. Then my eyes fall upon a crumpled, trembling heap in the far corner. I rush to his side, hurling my arms around him. “Oh, Jareth,” I cry. “Thank God you’re okay!”

I wait for him to lift his head. To pull me into a strong embrace. Instead, he cringes at my touch, burrowing farther into the canvas wall of the tent.

“Go away,” he growls in a low, menacing voice.

I back away, staring down at him in shock. “What?” I whisper. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. Go away.”

Okay, obviously he’s suffering from some kind of post-traumatic shock. “Jareth, it’s me! Rayne! I’m back. I’m okay.” I decide not to mention Sunny just yet. I don’t want to make things worse. I try to put my arm around him again, but he shrugs it away.

“Please, just leave me alone,” he begs.

“Absolutely not!” I cry. “Jareth, look at me.” My voice cracks as I try desperately to reach him. But it’s as if he’s built a tall stone wall around himself and refuses to let anyone through.

“Go home, Rayne,” he whispers.

“I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Well, I’m not going back.”

“What? What are you talking about? You have to go back!”

Suddenly, Jareth turns, his bloodshot eyes drilling into me like knives. “And why is that?” he demands in a raw, angry voice. “What is there to go back to? Because of me, the Blood Coven will be kicked out of the Consortium. Magnus will be staked through the heart. Your sister—”

I burst into tears. He gives me a grim look.

“She’s already dead, isn’t she?” he asks flatly. Somehow I
manage a nod. He shakes his head slowly. “Once again my actions—my bad decisions—have doomed all those around me. Just like long ago with my own family. Magnus, your sister, the Blood Coven. All these vampires here at the camp. It would have been better if I’d never been born.”

“Jareth, please!” I beg, my heart breaking in agony. “This isn’t your fault! You can’t blame yourself for what Pyrus has done!”

“Not my fault?” he cries, his voice filled with disbelief and scorn. “I’m the Master. The Blood Coven general. The one vampires count on to make the right decisions and keep them safe no matter what. But what I do instead? I let my emotions—my personal connections—color my decisions. I let them cloud my judgment and allow me to make foolish choices.” He scowls. “Magnus told me that he would rather die than see his people harmed. And yet I willfully put them in danger, in order to save his life. Because he was my… my friend.” He shakes his head. “What is the saying? ‘With friends like these’…”

“Jareth, please,” I beg. “I know you’re upset. But you must come with me. We have to stick together. I can’t make it without you!”

He looks up at me with bitter eyes filled with resolve. I shiver under his gaze. “Well, you’re going to have to try,” he whispers hoarsely. “Because after today, you’ll never see me again.”

D
on’t ask me how I made it back up to the streets of New York City. I wouldn’t be able to tell you. And don’t ask how many days and nights I wandered those streets—without sleep, without blood—with only my grief and anger to keep me company. Those hours are lost forever in a nauseous haze as my mind worked overtime to replay all the could-have-beens. The ones that might have given us all a chance at a happily ever after.

But unlike in video games, real life has no do-overs. You can’t restart from your last save point; you can’t begin all over again. In real life, my sister—my other half, my best friend in the world—is gone forever. And nothing I can do will bring her back.

I try to remember the good times, but truth be told, it’s
much easier to remember the bad: the ones where I let her down or messed up her life. Or wasn’t there when she needed me. That first night at Club Fang plays over and over again on a nonstop loop. What if I hadn’t dragged her there? What if I didn’t make her wear the bite me shirt? What if Magnus hadn’t mistaken her for me?

Would she still be alive right now, living the happy-go-lucky normal life she so deserved?

How am I going to tell Mom? Heather? Stormy? How am I going to go back to Vegas and face Slayer Inc. and Vice President Teifert? Will they know somehow that I murdered Bertha? Will they be forced, under Pyrus’s directive, to nano me? And, more important, do I really even care if they do? After all, what is there to live for now? Sunny’s gone. Jareth’s left me forever.

My stomach twists and turns, as if knotted up by rusty barbed wire. I dimly realize I haven’t eaten for days. The hunger inside me blurs my vision as I wander down the streets of Manhattan’s Lower East Side. Only a few people are still out at this hour—the kind of people, I note, whom most wouldn’t miss if an empty shell of a vampire made them her dinner.

I shake my head. No. I can’t go there. These people may seem pathetic and lost, but hell, am I really so different? They may be down on their luck, but they still have brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers. Who am I to steal them away from their loved ones simply to satisfy my vile emptiness?

Then again, a little voice inside chimes in, why should they be spared when my sister was not? They’re untouchables—drug dealers, murderers, alcoholics, abusers, child molesters—the
lowest of the low. Why should they walk the streets, thumbing their noses at the law and hurting innocent people? Why should they be allowed to live, when my innocent sister had to die?