Alliance (2 page)

In the exam room, a little girl is wrapped in a tight ball on the bed, with her curly strawberry hair splayed out against the stark white sheets. Her pants are too short, her tennis shoes scuffed and worn through in places. She smells clean though, so it’s hard to tell if she is being neglected or not.

I knock on the doorframe, and the girl looks up with tearstained eyes. Scared eyes.

“Hey there, Abby. My name is Maggie, and I wondered if I might sit with you for a little while.”

She says nothing, just watches me. I leave the door open and pull up a chair so I’m on her level. My emotions are already taut as a high wire. I need to tread carefully: my other side is close to the surface.

“Have you ever been to a hospital before?”

At first she doesn’t respond. This isn’t my first time through something like this, so I’m not too surprised. Although usually I’m dealing with sulky teens, not little kids like this.

After a minute passes she slightly shakes her head. Aah, progress.

“Do you know why you’re here?” I make my voice soft, a trick I’ve learned to help people overcome their natural aversion to me.

She squeezes her eyes shut. “Grandpa hurt mommy,” she whispers.

Before I can respond, there’s a commotion outside the room. A man shouting, getting closer. I jump out of my chair as he barrels into the room.

His face is scruffy like he hasn’t shaved in days, and his clothes are dingy. I don’t need my vampire senses to smell the alcohol and smoke on him.

Abby squeals and scrunches herself backwards against the bed’s headboard. I put myself between them. Through a string of profanities I translate that his daughter can run away, but she’s not taking “the grandkid” with her.

A nurse hollers for security, but there’s no time. He tries to move around me, but I sidestep.

“Sir–”

He curses again and demands that I move. He reaches for me, and that’s enough.

Too tired to be polite; I grab his wrist. My vision clouds over, and he’s staring into my now-black eyes. Like a cobra and its prey, he’s unable to look away.

I don’t let the beast all the way out, but who wouldn’t be creeped out by someone’s eyes changing from green to black in an instant? I don’t even need my fangs to get this guy’s attention.

“Sir, calm down,” I command. “You are not walking out of this hospital with this little girl just because you scream at me. Now before you get in a situation you
don’t
want to be in, I suggest you take a seat in the waiting room, and wait for someone to come get you.”

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Two security guards enter the room, equipped with batons and pistols. After what I’ve just done, they could’ve had nothing more than a water gun and this guy wouldn’t protest. I let go of his wrist, and blink my irises back to green.

“I think this gentleman is ready to be escorted into the waiting room.”

The
gentle
man—yeah right!—doesn’t argue.

I turn back to Abby. She’s pulled her knees to her chest and is shaking. It takes some coaxing, but after a few minutes I get her chatting about happier things.

She tells me she’s in preschool, and her favorite part of the day is snack time. Her favorite color is pink, and so is mine. We’re relating to each other just fine when the nurse returns with her mother.

Samantha Howard. She could be a beauty queen if not for the bruises and tired eyes. She has the same blue eyes as her daughter, but Samantha’s don’t sparkle anymore, like someone dampened the fire in her.

The bruise on her cheek is the shape of an open hand, and I grind my teeth together to keep the beast from resurfacing. Changing in front of this girl won’t help me gain her trust.

The problem is I know I can annihilate the man who did this to her. I wouldn’t even have to drink his blood to do it, although that is becoming more tempting by the minute. He deserves a taste of his own medicine—someone stronger than him showing him what it feels like to be hit, really hit.

That won’t help Samantha, I remind myself. If she doesn’t know she’s worth fixing, she will end up in bad relationships her entire life. She has to make the choice to get out, and then I can help her.

Abby jumps in her mother’s arms, and when Samantha flinches I notice a cast around her wrist. Broken bones?

“Hey sweetie, who’s your friend?”

Abby smiles, and it is beautiful. “Maggie. She talkded to me. We both like pink.”

“Is that right? Honey, I’m going to talk to your friend outside for a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Samantha places Abby back on the bed, and I step out into the hall with her. The appalling hospital gown does nothing to hide the bruises covering her body.

“My name’s Maggie Wells, I’m from–”

Samantha holds her hands up. She has tears in her eyes and won’t meet my gaze. “I don’t care who you are. I won’t file any reports, so you have no business talking to my daughter.”

“Is this a familiar process for you?”

She maintains eye contact with her slippers.

“I know this is difficult. I’m here to help you–”

“I don’t need your help. I want to go home. With my parents.” She really wants to take the kid back to that? What is
wrong
with her? I tamp down my temper, but it’s hard.

“Samantha, do you know that most children who suffer abuse at a young age either get in abusive relationships later or become criminals? Is that what you want for Abby?”

She shakes her head. I’m not even touching her. “My parents would never touch her–”

“Maybe not
yet
, but–”

She turns away. I feel sick.

“Okay,” I say, because I can’t change her mind. I go into my schpiel, although it’s the last thing I want to do. “The hospital is required to report this to the police. That means there will be a record of this treatment, in case you decide to file charges later.”

Her shoulders tense, but she doesn’t respond. I have one last try.

“Take this.” I press a business card into her hand. She glances at it but there isn’t much to see, only a telephone number. No name. “If you need me, day or night, I will come get you. For your little girl’s sake, I hope you will.”

She walks back into the room, ignoring me.

Hannah waits at the nurses’ station. I shake my head the tiniest amount, and her shoulders slump.

“I’m sorry I wasted your time. I know you need to get some sleep.”

“You know that’s not why I’m angry.” I keep my voice low, can’t help the growl in it. “I just hate thinking about that little girl being back in that home. If the mom wants to be there, that’s her decision. A stupid one, but it’s still up to her. But that kid doesn’t deserve to be there. She gets no choice.”

I could work some magic and get the mom to change her mind if you want.
Hannah’s mouth doesn’t move, but I hear her voice in my mind loud and clear. Secret conversations are one of the perks of being her best friend.

I keep my voice low. “No, witchy woman, we’re not taking away her free will. You know that never ends well.”

I’m just saying, if you feel that strongly about it–

“Just because you
have
the ability to persuade her decision, doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do.”

“Blah, blah, blah. Because that wouldn’t at all be like someone turning all creepy and intimidating in order to get an abusive jerk under control.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever, Hannah. The point is that if this girl wants help, she’s going to have to decide that for herself. Otherwise the change won’t stick. And in the meantime, I’m going to hope that nobody ends up seriously hurt.”

Hannah’s pager beeps. “I gotta go. See you back at EW.” She can’t hide her stress behind her smile. Not from her best friend.

We definitely need a vacation.

~o~

The cab drops me off in front of E.W. House around one a.m. I tiptoe in the side door and up the stairs. Mine and Hannah’s dorm room is on the fourth floor, but I detour to the third. I need to eat, bad.

I step out of the stairwell expecting darkness, but I’m surprised to find all the lights on and a girl with black hair sitting alone in a corner of the game room. She looks up and her unnaturally blue eyes barely register my presence before she’s glaring at me.

Great. Just what I needed to make my day complete. An altercation with Lily James before bed. But I can’t ignore that she should be in her room. “What are you still doing up? It’s after lights out.”

“None of your business,” she snaps. “What are you doing on this floor? Shouldn’t you be in bed, getting your beauty rest?”

Her attitude warns me off, but what I smell pulls me a step closer. Is that
marijuana
?

I can’t see Lily’s right hand; it’s behind her legs on the couch. Her left fiddles with the hem of her over-sized sweatshirt. I’m too tired and hungry to play games, so I just ask. “Are you smoking pot?”

Her gaze narrows on me. “Are you just getting in for the night?”

I step closer; she shifts so her legs are tucked up underneath the sweatshirt. I still can’t see her hand.

She goes on the offensive. “Wonder what Director Phillips would say if he knew Little Miss Perfect broke curfew?”

Her threat doesn’t scare me. “Who do you think he’ll believe? Me or you?” She doesn’t know it, but the Director has been in my pocket since the day he was hired.

She moves again, and this time her untidy onyx hair falls into her eyes. Geez. I wince at her unkempt appearance. I’m no Barbie Doll, but I at least own a brush.

Lily doesn’t reach up and brush her hair out of her eyes like I expect. If she does have a joint on her, she knows I have to report it. Those are the rules, and she’s had two strikes here at E.W. House already. Three and she’s gone.

“Look, can’t you just forgot you saw me?” she asks, and the venom in her tone makes it clear how much she hates having to ask me.

“If you need someone to talk to—”

“Yeah, yeah, all right.”

Her quick dismissal gives me pause. It smacks of more than just her desire to get rid of me. Is there something else going on? And now that I think about it, why would she break the rules out here in the open? She wouldn’t, she’s too crafty for that.

“Why aren’t you in your dorm room?”

She shrugs, but can’t keep her face from tightening. I must have hit on the real problem.

“Is Landry,” her roommate, “doing something?”

“More like
someone
,” she says under her breath. A normal human wouldn’t have been able to hear it, but my senses are on high alert because I’m so hungry. “Look, I just wanted to watch the Late Late Late Show, all right?” This she says louder, and nods to the TV in the corner. Which she so wasn’t watching when I came through here.

She probably promised not to rat out her roommate, who is breaking a big rule if she has a boy in her room. I spin and start down the hallway, intending to find out.

“I was just watching TV!” Lily calls out behind me. Yeah, sure.

Guess my dinner is going to have to wait. A girl’s job is never done.

2 - Shane

I pound the steering wheel again. It still doesn’t help. My temper flares dangerously and I let it out by yanking on the handbrake and forcing my truck into a drift around a corner.

It’s a risk, because this isn’t one of Boston’s worst neighborhoods, and there’s a good chance a cop might actually be paying attention to traffic around here.

But getting steamed is a risk too—I might just strangle my sister when I manage to track her down. Where could Rachel be?

“Um, Shane?”

“What?” I snap.

My youngest sister Chloe cringes in the backseat, and guilt surges. Way to go. Make the eight-year-old feel bad. It’s not her fault that we’re out at two a.m. looking for our other sister, Rachel.

I work to calm my voice, but my temper still simmers inside. “Sorry, Chloe. What is it?”

“Can you slow down? Your driving is wearing on my nerves.”

What kind of kid talks like that? I’m reminded once again that my littlest sister isn’t normal. Like I can ever really forget.

I lay off the gas and the truck coasts down to the speed limit. Stress is one of Chloe’s triggers and the last thing I need is for her to have a seizure while we search for our missing sister. I can only handle so many problems at once.

I just don’t understand where Rachel would’ve gone.

I’m the first to admit I don’t get teen girls. Never have. Never will. Even relating to an eight-year-old is a stretch. And I didn’t have the best parenting examples to follow, so most of the time I feel like I’m flying blind.

This isn’t the only knock-down-drag-out fight Rach and I have had. Maybe the worst, but not the first. And running away like this isn’t her style. She usually hides in her room for awhile until she cools off, then comes out and tells me matter-of-factly how I was wrong.

My temper heats again. She
knows
this is my prime hunting time. Vampires are at their most active between one and five a.m.—

Suddenly, I know where she went. On a solo hunt.

That’s
what all her griping about “more responsibility” has been about, even though she hasn’t said it directly.

Fear clenches my stomach as I whip the truck around, pointing it toward the warehouse and the small coven we identified last night in our family’s version of a sneak and peek. If Rachel tried to take down four vampires alone, she could already be dead. She’s not ready, I know she’s not.

I can’t let what happened to Cassidy happen to her.

My cell phone vibrates against my hip. I dig it out of my pocket, but don’t recognize the number. It could be Rachel calling from a payphone, so I answer.

“Hi, is this Shane Campton?” a polite, female voice asks.

“Yes, it is.”

“Hello, this is Meredith from Mercy Hospital. We have you listed as the emergency contact for a Rachel Campton?”

Dread fills my veins.
No, no, no
. “Yes, that’s my sister. Is she there? What happened?”

“We’re not exactly sure. She claims she’s been in a fight this evening. Is that something you would know about?”