Blood-Kissed Sky (Darkness Before Dawn) (13 page)

“He didn’t know anything about the Thirst.”

“I think that’s a relatively new phenomenon.”

“I’m not so sure. I think it’s been around but the vamps kept it a secret.”

“I guess I can see that, but I see it as a vampire problem.”

Most people will, and that’s my fear.

“But if we ignore it, it’s going to bite us in the butt.”

“Better than the neck,” Jeff says with a grin.

“Not funny,” I scold. “This is serious.”

“We’ve encountered one case,” Jeff says. “That’s hardly a world-ending epidemic.”

I’m glad I convinced Clive of the importance of the Thirst. It’s amazing that Jeff doesn’t see the danger just over the horizon. Then again, he’s never seen it in person like I have. One look at Brady and—

Damn. Whenever I see him in my mind, all I can see is the Thirst-infected vampire he became. Those frightening images—the gaping maw, the pitch-black eyes—have slowly eroded away the brother I knew and loved.

“Dawn, are you all right?” Rachel asks, snapping me back to the present.

“Oh, yeah. Just thinking of Roland Hursch as delegate.”

Brady—I’m sorry.

After breakfast I head out of the apartment. I need to see Tegan.

I catch the trolley and am outside Tegan’s building in fifteen minutes. Her place isn’t as nice as mine; then again, it isn’t paid for by the Agency. It’s one of the few perks that keeps people working for them—nice digs. I know she’s a little jealous of that sometimes, and it doesn’t help that her one-bedroom apartment is crammed with four siblings and two parents. But there’s a life in those walls, one that I want so badly, one that disappeared once my parents died.

I use the call box and she buzzes me in. I start climbing the stairs, the banisters on the sides eaten away by time and oily fingerprints. Halfway down her hall, I see her door open and she meets me.

“What’s up?” she asks, concern on her face. I don’t come around here too often, and considering what’s been going on, she’s probably expecting bad news.

So I put on a smile. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after everything that happened yesterday.”

She leans against the doorjamb. “Michael stayed with me for a while. I cried all over his shirt. He didn’t seem to mind.”

“He’s good at giving comfort.”

“Yeah.” She studies me for a minute. “There’s something else you need to talk about.”

I nod. She looks over her shoulder. Even from here I can hear her siblings fighting inside. She sighs heavily.

“We can go somewhere else,” I say.

“I have an idea.”

Tegan takes my hand and we continue up the stairs. I’ve never been this high up in her building. We head down a hall until we reach a very slender door. She opens it and I see a narrow set of stairs heading up. They don’t look particularly safe, but I simply follow Tegan’s lead, hoping I don’t fall through and wind up in someone’s living room.

At the top, she pushes open another door and sunlight bathes me. It hurts my eyes, and a little warning would have been appreciated. But when we step outside, all is forgiven.

“How come I’ve never been up here?” I ask, staring at the rows of flowers that pack the rooftop garden.

“Do you like them? I just finished picking a few to take to the memorial outside the Daylight Grill. I wanted to do something.”

“That’s good,” I say. “We don’t want to forget.”

“No, we don’t.”

I study the arrangement of riotous colors, the delicate petals that must feel so soft, like silk, like that nightgown Faith gave me. “Did you grow these?”

“Yeah.”

“I never knew,” I say.

“We all have little secrets,” Tegan says. She’s right about that. “My grandma started the garden, actually. But now she can’t make it up the stairs, so I took over. I thought it would be a chore. But I love it.”

“I can see why,” I say, closing in on a rose.

I kneel down and look at it, seeing the city just above its red-lipped horizon. How could something so beautiful survive in a place so harsh?

“You can have that one if you want,” Tegan says. “I was going to give it to you as a gift, but since you’re here …”

“I didn’t mean to ruin your surprise,” I say, reaching out and gently stroking the petals, afraid they might wilt under my rough fingertips.

“To be honest, I’m glad I got to show you my garden. But I know that’s not why you came here. So what’s up?”

I almost forgot why I needed to talk to Tegan in the first place, this array of vibrant colors stealing my memory for a second. But, unfortunately, it’s back to business.

I begin walking around the other rows of flowers, taking them in, each one so unique, so beautiful. I know Clive wouldn’t want me out by myself, and I know he especially wouldn’t want me to tell Tegan what I’m about to tell her. But the thing is, I have to. She’s been through too much, and I can’t just disappear on her.

“Clive is sending me out west,” I say. “I’m going to investigate the Thirst.”

“Dawn, that’s insane,” Tegan says with a measured calm. Maybe it’s the beauty of the garden keeping her levelheaded.

“There isn’t any choice. The Agency agrees that Day Walkers are bad, but we can handle them. The Thirst-infected are more dangerous, and far more mysterious. We just don’t know enough about them to defend ourselves.”

“But they’re way out there.”

“For now,” I say. “But if people don’t donate blood, then Victor’s vampires may resort to feeding on one another, and then …”

“They’re right outside the walls,” she finishes for me, seeing the dire situation unfolding.

I give her a moment longer to think about it, to draw the inevitable conclusion that I
have
to go out there.

“No one else knows about this,” I say. “Clive wants my mission to be top secret.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

I take a deep breath, unsure if the reasons are enough. But I hope she understands. The Tegan months ago wouldn’t have, when we were just kids who let the world do what it wanted. I mean, I always knew monsters were out there, but I guess I wished it wasn’t true. I’m older and wiser now, and it feels like we’ve both aged years in a span of weeks.

“If something happens to me on the Night Train or in Los Angeles, I need someone to know why I went out there. Clive will no doubt eventually tell Rachel and Jeff and everybody why I truly disappeared. But how much of the truth will he reveal? I hate the thought of my legacy being that I ran away because I was scared. I hate the thought of no one knowing I
tried
to stop the Thirst, that my final actions were in defense of not just the city, but all of humanity. I guess … I guess I just want people to be proud of me.”

There it is. Laid out on the table for her psychological mind to dissect. I expect distance, her sharp intellect working through all the hidden meanings. Instead, when I look up, she hugs me.

“We’re all proud of you, Dawn,” she says. “We almost lost you, and when we stood over you in the hospital, watching the heart-rate monitor beat so slowly, all we could think about was the sacrifice you made. The sacrifices you always seem to make.”

I hug her back, feeling the tears start to build up as my best friend tells me what I need to hear.

“Come back,” she whispers. “Please just come back.”

“I will,” I tell her, knowing it’s a promise I might not be able to keep.

B
ecause of the attacks at the carnival, school is cancelled on Monday. I spend the day preparing for my trip: packing, writing letters to those closest to me, putting the sealed envelopes away in a desk drawer to be found later and distributed if I don’t return, napping so I’m rested. After darkness descends, Rachel calls to let me know that Clive has her working on an extra project that will probably keep her in the office all night. I’m sure that’s part of his plan. He doesn’t want her interfering with my departure. After I get off the phone, I write her a note.

Dear Rachel,

I’m fine and safe. I’ve left the city on the Night Train. Tell Eris that if she wants me, she’ll have to find me.

You’ve always been more than my mentor and guardian. You’ve been my friend. Be my friend now and understand that I had to do this. I’ll see you soon. I promise.

Love,

Dawn

I’ve just secured it to the fridge with a magnet when a knock sounds at the door. My heart gives a little lurch, because I know who’s waiting in the hallway and what it means—no turning back.

When I open the door, Clive strides in. He’s followed by a figure shrouded in black—cargo pants, turtleneck sweater, black leather duster, his face hidden behind the balaclava. Around his neck is a medallion that identifies him as a Night Watchman. The design is so complex, weaving different metals in and out of its shape, that it can’t simply be copied.

“This is the Night Watchman who’ll be traveling with you on the train,” Clive says.

“Wait a minute. You didn’t say anything about anyone going with me.”

“I’m not letting you go alone.”

“But, Clive, you need all the Night Watchmen here, guarding the city—”

“Dawn,” he interrupts. “This is nonnegotiable.”

“But the danger you’re putting him in—”

“All the Night Watchmen understand when they sign up that their life expectancy is shortened. Ian Hightower will be watching over you, too, but he’ll be distracted because of his duty to watch the whole train. I want someone with you who is dedicated to watching only you.”

During the war Ian Hightower was a legend, the deadliest vampire hunter in the world. To vampires he was a walking nightmare who plagued them during the day just as they plagued us at night. He was the only human to ever kill an Old Family vampire single-handedly. Now he guards the Night Train.

I know Clive is right—Ian won’t be able to watch me all the time, but I hate the thought of someone else being placed in danger because of me.

“It’ll make it easier for me to sleep at night, Dawn,” Clive says quietly.

I nod. “Okay.”

“Good. Now, here’s your ticket, a letter for Ian explaining who you are, and one for the Los Angeles Agency director. Just before the train leaves, I’ll contact Ian so he knows to expect you, but I won’t give him any details regarding why you’re onboard.” He holds up a key. “This will get you into the last car. I’ve ensured that it’s reserved for you. But I don’t want anyone to see you getting onboard, so …” He picks up a duffel bag from the floor. “You’ll go dressed as a Night Watchman.”

It takes me a long time to get dressed, and Clive definitely doesn’t know the first thing about women’s sizing. Though I doubt the Night Watchman uniform comes in teenage-girl sizes. Nonetheless, I put on the black cargo pants, black sweater, dark coat, and thick boots that are way too big. I look like a kid wearing her dad’s clothes for Halloween, and the end result is a giant black tent hanging from my shoulders.

The final piece is the balaclava. I put my hair up and slide it over my head, covering my face. It’s tight and constricting. It takes me a moment to calm my breathing, to recognize that I won’t suffocate. I feel self-conscious when I step out of my bedroom.

My Night Watchman looks at me and even his mask can’t hide his eye roll. He walks over to me, kneels down, and begins shoving my pant legs into my boots, then rolls up my sleeves, tightens the belt that holds my stakes across my chest. He then plays with my black hood, fixing the fabric, before finally handing me my medallion.

It’s just like his, and the intricate scrollwork and mixing of metals makes me wonder how long it took to make. I put it over my neck and then study my reflection in the entryway mirror. The illusion is complete. The Watchman, with a few simple adjustments, made me look passable.

“Thanks,” I say.

He shakes his head and puts his finger to his lips.

Right. No talking.

I glance over at Clive. He gives me a solemn nod. “You’ll do.”

It’s nearly dawn when my guard and I head out, walking to the train station. He hasn’t spoken a word. Not even after Clive left. He just stood with his back to the door, arms crossed, waiting.

I’m traveling light, carrying a duffle bag with a few changes of clothes, toiletries, and some of my dad’s writings. Maybe I can discover more about the symbol that’s haunting my dreams. My silent companion has a bag as well, but his probably contains an arsenal of stakes.

I’ve heard that before the war people used to leave their cities all the time, would go on something called a vacation. But leaving the city now requires a lot of money. Walking through the streets I can’t help but feel kind of badass in these clothes. The anonymity, the stakes, the cool medallion. While I have some fighting skills, they aren’t up to the standards of our elite guards, but right now, I just need to convince people I’m a Night Watchman, not actually be one.

As the station comes into view, a bit of nostalgia hits me. Michael and I had a tradition of watching the train roll into town. Crowds always gather for its arrival. Not so much for its departure. For many, the Night Train is a symbol that we aren’t alone. We’re isolated but still connected to something beyond us. Twenty other cities, populated by humans. It gives us hope.