Bad Bloods (29 page)

A
gunshot rang out, and my eyes sprung open to darkness. Familiar,
aching darkness. The smoke jolted my consciousness awake.

“Daniel.” I recognized his voice before I saw
him. He shook me just as much as his whisper shook. “Daniel, wake
up. We have to get Luke—”

He didn’t give me time to process what was
happening. He dragged me out of the bed and yanked me toward the
hallway. I stumbled after him, watching dust collect on his brown
hair instead of what was around us. I didn’t look away, not even
when we got to the stairs. The lamp gave the dream away.

Even though Robert was eight and I was six
and this was supposed to be the Western Flock ambush—and we were
supposed to be running for the basement where Luke was, where all
the sick kids slept—we stopped running at the top of the stairs,
and Robert stared at the snowflake lamp. We weren’t in the Western
Flock’s house at all.

“In here,” I said, moving toward my room—the
other room, the one in the Northern Flock’s house, the house we
were in. The ambushes were blending together, but there was one
essential difference in this dream I had figured out.

Robert followed me.

I burst through the door, and sure enough,
Luke with his teddy bear laid in front of me, on my bed, on Blake’s
bed, and as soon as I thought of his name, Luke turned into Blake.
The only thing that remained the same was the bear, the lifeless
stuffed animal.

“Blake—”

“Save him,” Robert screamed, shaking my
shoulders as he spun me around. “Save him, Daniel. Save him. Get
Blake—”

And it happened as it happened before. Over
Robert’s shoulder, I saw the officer in the doorway lift a
sawed-off shotgun. I pushed Robert away. The man pulled the
trigger. The light blinded me, and the sound blew out my ears. I
was on the ground, and my shoulder was in pieces.

But, this time, Blake hovered over me. “Why
didn’t you tell me?” His voice was sweet—as soft as he had been, as
innocent as I had allowed him to be. “Why didn’t you tell me about
the Western Flock?”

Somehow he sounded older.

“Blake,” I choked out, the taste of blood
filing my mouth. Last time, I had called out for Robert. “I love
you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” he said, lying down next
to me, in the same crevice Luke had died, and he placed his teddy
bear on my chest. “It’ll make you feel better.”

And it did.

***

I didn’t jolt out of my sleep or awake in a
fright. I simply opened my eyes, slowly, like I had a hundred times
between the first and the second ambush. Air filled my lungs, not
smoke, and I knew I wasn’t covered in blood—or holding Blake’s
teddy bear.

It was just a dream. Another dream. But a
dream I’d never had before.

Tears pushed against my eyes, and I draped my
arm over them as I forced them back. I didn’t have time to cry. I
didn’t have time at all. I had to see if any others had arrived
during the night. I had to be a leader.

When I sat up, all my plans were ruined. Cal
sat on the edge of my bed, and for a moment, I could picture the
very first day I woke up—on the same bed, with a different
injury—staring at the man who saved my life.

A noise escaped my throat, and Cal
immediately turned to face me. “You’re awake.” His hand even landed
near mine. It was then that I noticed the morning light pushing
against the navy blue curtains.

“How long were you sitting here?”

“An hour or so,” Cal said. “You were dreamin’
again.”

“Blake—” Even though I was monotone, Cal
tried to shush me, but I had to say it. I had to feel the words
come out. “Blake died. Just like Luke died, and Michele…she told me
not to open the door, and I did, and—” I inhaled. “I did it. I got
him sick too. I got him sick just like Luke.”

“Daniel,” Cal stopped me, and I concentrated
on his hand, now on my shoulder. “Just,” he sighed. “This isn’t
your fault.”

And I didn’t believe him at all.

“Others lived.”

I stared at Cal, studied him, to make sure I
wasn’t imagining his words, and he nodded to guarantee it. “Ami
showed up with Peyton,” he said, turning grim quick. “Peyton didn’t
make it through the night. Neither did Huey.” One alive, two
dead.

I swallowed. “Who else?”

“Ryne made it.” The boy without a memory.
“Told us that Kally didn’t. She went back for Timmy. Neither came
out.” The only human among us was also dead. Kally, too. Fourteen
years old. Timmy was nine.

“Steven’s gone,” I said. “Same with Jake,
Briauna, and probably Floyd.”

“Justan told us.” Cal confirmed what I
suspected. The entire time I had fought my way out of the house,
Justan must have been there, close enough to see but too far away
to help. “We don’t know what happened to Maggie or the others.”

Even though Cal spoke of the redhead, Adam’s
face filled my mind first. “How’s Adam?”

“Resting.” His tone said so much more.

I searched Cal’s face for the words he was
hiding. “What is it?”

His jaw popped. “Robert—”

“Is he dead?”

Cal shook his head. “We don’t know that,
but….” When he faded off, I grabbed his only arm.

“What is it?” I pressed.

“The news. They’re saying Robert helped,” Cal
repeated what the officer had said.

I shook my head. “There’s no way.” Robert
could hate me, he could hate the world, but he couldn’t hate his
flock. He couldn’t even hate mine. “He would never do that. They’re
just trying to pin this on us, to make us look cruel before the
final votes, to discount everything Henderson said in his
speech—”

Cal squeezed my shoulder. “I know.” When his
grip left me, he stood. “You should take a shower.”

It was only then that I remembered how
yesterday went. We cleaned up Huey—now dead—and Tessa, still alive.
I spoke to Justan, even found him a place to sleep upstairs, and
then, I went to my own bed. I passed out without even pulling the
cover over me. Dried blood stained the sheets.

When I moved to stand, my muscles ached. I
could smell the night on my skin, the gunpowder, the sulfur smog,
the betrayal of a city. My feet itched to cross my bedroom to the
shower, but a stronger urge controlled me. “Can I see them
first?”

Cal nodded.

I practically leapt for the doorway, and I
walked down the hallway before Cal could change his mind. I was
relieved to see he wasn’t lying. Adam was sleeping on the couch,
Tessa tucked under his arm, and Ami sat on the ground in front of
them, Ryne leaning against her. As I entered the room, almost
smiling to see more of us, I lost all happiness when the two sheets
on the table came into view. Huey and Peyton. Their bodies were
still here.

“I’ll put them upstairs,” Cal muttered as he
passed me, but I managed to jump in front of them.

“You can’t,” I gulped. “We can’t keep them
here.”

Cal looked past me, but agreed. We both knew
I was right, even though I didn’t want to be. “I’ll take care of
it.”

We never spoke of it again.

I moved to Ami and Ryne, and they dragged
their eyes away from Cal to meet mine. One Southern Flock kid and
one Northern Flock kid were now just kids. No direction. No flocks.
Just each other.

“I’m—”
I’m glad to see you’re okay?
I
couldn’t say that. They weren’t okay. No one was. And I couldn’t be
glad at all. I didn’t say a word.

Ami lurched up and yanked me into a hug. Ryne
patted my leg like it was his equivalent. I forced myself not to
wonder what either of them saw, but Kally’s relationship with Ryne
had always been an unusual one. A girl with ice powers and a boy
with fire. They butted heads but always helped one another out.
Now, one was without the other, and Ryne’s fixed glare said his
fire ran deep.

“Get some rest,” I said, looking more at him
than Ami, but she nodded first. “And take care of Adam for me?” Ami
nodded again, and I realized why she looked so strange, so
different from before. Her braids had fallen out. With straight
strands and chubby cheeks, she looked much younger now, like a
regular fourteen-year-old.

I tore my eyes away from her and tried not to
search the room, but it was too late. I didn’t see anyone else.
Including me, our flock of twenty-four had dwindled down to nine,
and Catelyn was nowhere to be found. Neither was Melody.

“I’m getting cleaned up,” I grumbled,
disappearing down the hallway, heading back to my shower, all the
while pretending it was possible to wash it all away, that I could
be clean again.

I didn’t think a single thought as I turned
on the water, got undressed, and stepped inside. The warmth didn’t
even console me. I was numb, completely unfeeling, as the water
rushed over my skin and took away all the dirt and blood. My eyes
followed the colors as they swirled down the drain, and I wondered
if the sight was one Serena had witnessed when I’d taken her in
after the blood camp escape.

What would she think when she saw what
happened to us? What did she think now? How could I ever face her
again? How could I face anyone in my flock again?

I peeled open my eyes only to check my cuts
that hadn’t healed the night before but found that they had since
then. My powers had healed my outside injuries well—at least, for
now.

I turned off the shower and ran my hands
through my clean hair, no longer stuck together with miscellaneous
fluids. My lungs even felt better, like the steam had cleaned out
the smoke, and my legs no longer ached. I grabbed a towel and left
the room, trying to fight any underserved happiness at the sight of
my clean clothes. Cal always kept some for me, but it felt wrong to
have them when everyone else had nothing. I even contemplated using
my old ones, the ones from the night before, but I didn’t have the
strength to force myself into it.

“That really is a terrible scar.”

Her voice made me stumble into my desk. A
photo rattled until it landed facedown, but I didn’t dare look at
it to see which one it was. Adam and I, Blake and I, or Calhoun and
I. I was too busy for that. I was staring at Catelyn.

“What—how’d you get in here? You’re alive?” I
couldn’t decide on a question.

Her blue eyes stayed on my shoulder. Her
focus reminded me of how naked I was—in more ways than one—but I
was relieved I had jeans on.

“How long have you been standing there?” I
asked.

She didn’t even flinch. “Too long.”

“I should tell the others.” I moved for the
door, but she said my name.

“Can we talk first?”

I turned and looked her over—really looked
her over—and noticed the lack of blood, dirt, and grime that
everyone else had. She wasn’t marked at all.

“I’ve been here for a day,” she said. “Came
in with Ami.”

“But—”

“Melody,” she explained. “She kept me
invisible, and I guess…she can also keep you silent, keep your
voice invisible too.” Her mouth twitched. “Who knew the kid had
more power?”

“Catelyn,” I stepped closer to her only to
stop myself. I cleared my throat. “People are worried about you.
Ami and Justan—”

“Steven,” she said his name, and the reminder
of his death would’ve made me vomit if I had eaten anything at all.
“You said he was…” She faded off, not quite sitting, not quite
standing by the edge of my navy blue bed. When her eyes watered,
her irises were just as blue. “I need him.”

I barely managed a breath. “I know.”

Her lip quivered. “And?”

“He’s gone.” She needed to hear it. She
needed me to say it in the same way I needed to talk about Blake.
“Steven’s gone.”

“But—”

“I saw him myself.”

This time, she did sit down, and her fingers
dragged across my blanket—the stained one—and I wondered if she saw
him in there, right in the mix, a stain on the darkened
comforter.

“We were going to get married,” she said, “if
bad bloods ever got rights.”

I listened.

“I was always surprised he even wanted that
right,” she continued. “His stepdaddy’s the reason he ended up on
the streets.” She smiled, actually smiled, and I knew she hadn’t
lost him completely. “He was fourteen and so stupid.” A laugh even
escaped her. “Serena found him. Did she ever tell you that?”

I shook my head.

“Well, she brought him home, and Robert was
mad—that was his way of expressing concern—and Serena kept looking
at me, like she wanted my help, but I ignored her. I ignored her
because there was Steven, sitting there, bleeding on himself in a
jacket that was way too small for him.” Another laugh, a mad laugh.
“Serena gave him her jacket. It looked terrible, but he…he looked
like freedom.”

“Catelyn—”

“I want you to hear this.” Her eyes burned
with her smile. “I thought that love at first sight was something
that was only in cheesy movies and romantic novels until that
moment.”

Until the moment she saw Steven.

“You understand that, right?” Her cheeks
flushed and all tears melted away. I nodded. “Did he say
anything?”

She misunderstood me. I had seen him, but I
hadn’t been there when he lost his life. I didn’t have the heart to
tell her. The longing in her eyes was too much.

“He loves you very much, Catelyn,” I heard
myself speaking as if I had no control over myself. “He said your
name.”

Her lips twitched, almost as if she’d lost
the ability to smile. Before I could say anything else, Catelyn
stood up and crossed the room, heading straight past me for the
door. When she paused at the exit, she turned into a shimmering
hologram of herself, and I wondered if that was how her powers
worked. A person who could turn into light.

“Thanks for telling me that,” she said.

Even she knew it was a lie.

My hand landed on my desk to keep myself
standing, and my fingers grazed the photo I knocked over. By the
other two that were standing, I knew which one was down. Blake.