The Burning City (38 page)

“Yeah, being dead is great.”

Did their mother think they were dead too? Had she accepted the idea? When June closed her eyes at night, it wasn’t thoughts of the Institute that plagued her, or the war that was slowly building, or what they’d do if the police—or worse, Eric Greerson’s supporters—finally found them. Her mother’s face loomed in the darkness. Her friends back home in Sacramento, uninformed and uncertain, haunted her thoughts. She was a spectator at her own funeral and she couldn’t get her balance.

They crossed the street. On the other side, Zack slowed again.

“Not far now,” he said.

Fewer people walked this side of the street. Shadows crawled across the pavement and cloistered them. She raked a hand through her hair—her right one, because Aaron’s doctor told her the more she used her arm the better it would get, which so far had proved to be bullshit. Her arm fell limply to her side again when she lowered it. Her long hair was badly in need of a cut and shaping, not to mention her roots were showing like a bitch. Haircuts and shopping trips were infrequent while in hiding.

“Don’t feel bad about being forgotten.” They turned a corner onto a darker, quieter street with low-rise buildings and a few houses. “This whole city is about to collapse. It won’t matter soon.” He chuckled, an oddly tantalizing and companionable sound in the darkness.

“Sounds ominous.”

“At the end of the coming clash, the vampires will be the only ones left standing. That’s the beauty of neutrality. We’ll be sifting through the ashes when the fight is over.”

“Like scavengers. Picking the bones for treasure.”

The media heralded the “coming clash” every day on TV and in the papers. The Paranormal Alliance grew more and more radical by the day. Members of the SNC—Aaron’s secular non-paranormal group—had either joined forces with Sam’s group or splintered into rogue factions. All of them wanted the Institute closed down. Unrest swelled: violence, riots, even bomb threats and arson attempts on the Institute.

“The scavengers will inherit the earth,” Zack said. “When the rest of you get done killing each other, we’ll gather up what’s left and rebuild this city in our image.”

They stopped outside a brick building four stories tall, a small porch attached to the front. Lights were on in many of the windows. Music drifted out.

“How’s your lung feel about climbing stairs?” Zack asked. “Because we’re going to the top floor, and the elevator’s been out of service for months.”

June groaned.