Shapeshifted (21 page)

“The bones. They take them out each night. Alternating. And then I heal, and then they take them out again.” His voice was dancing on the edge of mania.

I grit my teeth to not puke, and took a step forward. Stumbling, he came with me.
Okay, okay, okay. Do this. Don’t run.

“Jorgen’s outside.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Dren said, his face tucked in against my neck.

*   *   *

I would have rather saved the old grandmother again than Dren. This place was so much worse than the storm drain where I’d found her. It’d only been trash there, things forgotten. This place was full of bad intent. Someone had done this to Dren—was doing that to Adriana.

“Is there any way—” I started to ask, even though I had no idea how I’d manage to carry them both out. And Dren couldn’t even use both his arms.

“No. She’s as good as dead. Just hurry—go—” he pleaded.

I was saving the vampire instead of the girl. I heard her whimpering as we crossed the upper landing. She must know we were leaving her behind. She deserved saving more than Dren, but he was the only one I could get out. It felt so wrong, but I couldn’t think of how I could undo her cage’s knot.

How much more moral ambiguity could I take? I’d work on sorting it out tomorrow.

“I’ll come back,” I whispered to the girl, praying that she could hear me, that she’d understand—that no one had ever lied and told her that before.

I just needed to get Dren over to Jorgen. Who knew where the hell they would go together, but after that, he would owe me. This had to be worth some blood.

And then maybe I could come back for her. I didn’t know what I could do against welded rebar and magic, but there had to be something, something, something—we reached the top of the stairs, and the door opened below.

Fuck.

Dren started panting into my neck. “Don’t let him hurt me, Edie. Don’t let him hurt me again—” His voice was rising like a boy’s.

“Shhhhh.” There was nowhere for us to hide, only one way out. I thought about throwing Dren down the stairs—it wasn’t like he could die, right?—and somehow tumbling after him, getting the door open again, somehow hauling Jorgen inside to help us.

That was a lot of somehows.

The bottom floor’s new occupant arrived at the bottom of the stairs, putting his foot on the first creaky step. He stepped into the half-light the downstairs switch provided. And I knew him.

“Ti?” My zombie ex-boyfriend. I almost dropped Dren in surprise.

“Ti—this is awesome timing—can you help?” I shouldered Dren up higher as he hung limp against me, like a rag doll. “Dren’s been hurt, and there’s this girl upstairs—” I began, and I realized my great luck. “You’re strong enough to open her cage, awesome!”

“Edie,” Dren warned, with true fear in his voice.

Ti was silent as he came up the second and third stairs.

“Ti?” He had to have seen me. Right? “Come on. Hurry up and help.”

Dren started quivering, trying to control his disobedient limbs and lurch away. “See if you can get us past him—hurry!”

“What—” I looked down at Dren, who was trying to let go of me and brace himself against the wall, and then back to the still-ascending Ti.

Who was holding a long butcher knife.

“No. No no no. This is not happening,” I bartered aloud. I backed us up an awkward step as Ti rose. “Ti—you can’t do this. This isn’t you.”

The Ti I knew put honor above almost everything else in life. Wanted to help people, not hurt them, not unless they deserved it. Wanted to get to go to heaven when he died, once he’d earned back the lost half of his soul. “Ti, please—”

I could see his expressionless face. There was nothing of the man I’d once loved there, nothing of anyone, nothing at all.

“Ti—stop,” I ordered, hoping it would trigger something in him. “Stop this right now. I’m Edie. You remember me. I know you do.”

The electric currents of this place were roiling now; it felt like my hair was on end. I pushed Dren sideways, into the wall, and blocked him from Ti with my body. I was going to be killed by my zombie ex-boyfriend, and my bones put into the room with that poor woman. Silver didn’t work on zombies. I pulled out my badge and prayed to someone, anyone, that it might still protect me the way it used to when I was on Y4.

It struck up like a lit match, and Ti paused one stair down from us.

“Dren—go. Somehow. Just go.”

Dren fought against my back, and I moved forward. He fell down a few steps, tumbling past Ti, and then started crawling forward, dragging himself down the stairs with his one good arm.

Ti made to follow him. I raced down the stairs until I was below him, badge still out. The electric jolts were sharper, running up and down my body in sharp snaps, like the charges from a violet wand. My badge sputtered like a dying sparkler, and Ti took a step down, implacable, following Dren. I put myself in his way.

“Ti, say something,” I pleaded, but he wouldn’t. Or couldn’t. I was close enough now to see that his eyes were glazed. He was not himself here. He took another step forward, and I took another step back.

“Please, Ti. No.” The butcher knife was still at his side. I was in striking range now. I had to believe that Ti wouldn’t kill me—I put my dying badge against Ti’s chest, breathing heavy, the electricity in the room buzzing in my ears. We danced together down another stair.

“Ti—I know you remember me.” His eyes tracked me. Was that good, or bad? I hoped that whatever in him was human was listening. “You broke up with me once. You do not get to kill me again.” He stopped advancing. The knife was still low. I could hear Dren behind me, pulling himself against the linoleum floor.

“I’m out!” Dren called from below, just as the light from my badge disappeared.

I took three steps back. Ti didn’t follow me. His body might belong to someone else now, but his eyes were still his, watching me. I didn’t want to leave him here. “Ti—”

“Edie—hurry!” Dren called from the alley.

I dropped my badge, turned my back, and ran for the door.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Outside, Dren was scrabbling along on the wet ground, and Jorgen was standing guard over him. What had happened to Ti?

“Okay, okay—” If I stopped telling myself what to do I would panic. I reached down and pulled Dren up. He hissed at me, fangs out. “Don’t you dare—”

“Just get me out of here.”

The man who was still lying back there with his broken leg started trying to crawl backward at the sight of Dren.

Dren’s shirt slipped through my fingers as I tried to haul him up. I’d only imagined springing him—it hadn’t occurred to me that after that, we’d somehow have to run and that he wouldn’t be able to walk. I hadn’t thought about bringing a wheelchair along.

Jorgen knelt awkwardly, and I tried to hoist Dren up onto his back, but Dren kept sliding off. There was surprised shouting from down the alley. Perhaps the disappearance of Jorgen’s first victim had been discovered. I couldn’t understand their words, but I could hear their angry tone.

“Dren, we’re going to have company soon. Can you send them away?” We were still trying to scrape our way down the alley, the three of us, unsuccessfully. But I’d been with Dren before when he’d made everyone ignore him, entire train cars full of normal people.

“Can’t. Too weak. Too close to the
bruja
’s power.” He hauled himself up Jorgen’s side desperately and planted his fangs into the Hound’s neck. Jorgen snarled and twisted, dislodging him.

“Horrible beast!” Dren yelled, back on the ground.

“This is not the time to be feeding, Dren—”

“I need blood!” Dren yelled.

The man we’d threatened earlier had crawled backward to hide behind the dog cages, and then he started yelling for help.

“Shit!” I hissed. “Come on.” Jorgen looked behind us and took a flying leap back toward the dog cages. “No!” I shouted at him. The dogs squealed. Jorgen stopped, but he was standing over the man who’d given us away. The man started praying at the top of his lungs. Santa Muerte this, Santa Muerte that.

“You’d be better off praying to me!” I hauled Dren away, dragging him down the alleyway like a dead body. Three Crosses men raced out of the building like angry ants, weapons drawn. At a command from someone among their ranks, they held fire and moved aside. I’d never seen so many guns before. My stomach turned to ice.

“What’s happening here?” I recognized his voice. From the clinic—Maldonado. Somehow he was even more frightening than the weaponry.

“I’m rescuing my friend.” There wasn’t any point in lying.

Maldonado smiled. “He was always free to leave. All he had to manage to do was walk out.” Some of his cohorts laughed as Maldonado continued. “He’s the kind of beast we protect ourselves from. Him and la Reina. He deserves what he got.”

Under other circumstances, before this, I would totally agree. But after what I’d seen tonight? No. The bone room had gone above and beyond.

“And what about her?” I pointed back up to where the bone room had been. Dren kept crawling away behind me. I could hear his good arm splash into puddles and the rest of him slide.

“She was with la Reina. As, clearly, are you. Which makes many things of yours forfeit.” Maldonado closed the distance between us. “First your bones, then your life.” He raised his hand, and many of his men put guns away to pull out knives. Somehow the knives seemed worse. I took a step back.

I was cast in sudden shadow by headlights behind me, and I heard the squealing of tires. Some of the Three Crosses men raised their hands to protect their eyes, and I heard “Get in!” from behind me. I whirled and saw Hector, frantically waving at me from inside his car.

“Jorgen! Now!” I yelled at the Hound. He ran back through their numbers, clawing and biting, shoving them aside.

I ran until I caught up with Dren, and hauled him toward the waiting car’s backseat. Shots rang out; I prayed to God that they hadn’t made contact. I hopped in beside Dren, almost on top of him, and slammed the door.

“Go go go!” I looked behind us, at Jorgen, running away.

Hector raced backward down the alley, then went flying down the street.

“How did you know?” I asked his reflection in the rearview mirror.

“As soon as Catrina got home she called me and told me where you’d been.” Hector looked into the backseat at Dren. “Where are we taking him?”

Dren seized his chance. He lunged forward and wrapped his good arm around Hector’s neck, the headrest in between them.

“Dren, no!” I yanked at the vampire. His arm nearest me was too flaccid to get traction on, and his good arm was too strong. I reached out and grabbed hold of his head, hauling it backward by his ears and hair.

“I need blood to heal—” Dren said, and it was clear that he didn’t care where it came from.

“He has to drive! Let him go!” Hector wove from side to side in the empty street, reaching for the glove compartment with the hand that wasn’t on the wheel. He teased the latch with his fingers and it slid open. He grabbed whatever was inside, and then bashed Dren in the head with it. The vampire hissed like a rattlesnake and recoiled, sinking down behind the driver’s seat.

Hector held up what he’d hit Dren with so that it was visible in the rearview mirror. The good old King James. “I was raised Catholic, motherfucker. Stay in the backseat.”

The rest of our ride passed in silence. I’d done it. I had some help—but we were gonna be okay. No one had gotten hurt. My mom was going to be just fine. To borrow a phrase from Hector, I had saved the motherfucking day. As the streets got nicer and it was clear we were out of Three Crosses’ realm, I began to beam.

“Why are you so pleased?” Dren asked from beside me.

“Because.” I inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Just because.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Hector pulled the car into a well-lit place—the parking lot of a Catholic church. As soon as we parked, he got out and slammed his door.

I hopped out after him, leaving my door open.

“We’re going to kill that thing.” He popped the trunk of his car, bringing out duct tape and a tire iron.

I took a step back. “We’re not going to kill him, and I’m not going to ask you why you’re driving a kidnap-mobile.”

“He tried to kill me,” Hector said, shaking the tire iron for emphasis.

“I need him! To save my mom! Remember?”

“Technically, I only wanted some of your blood,” Dren said from his slumped position inside the car, eyes glittering in the night. “I didn’t need all of it.”

I pointed at him. “Do me a favor, and don’t try to help.” Then I moved to stand between Hector and Dren. Normally, a vampire would have no problem fighting back, but since Dren was missing half of his long bones and starved for blood and Hector was pissed, I gave humanity an even chance. “Let me explain. Some. As much as I can. Hector—that place up there—it was awful. They were torturing him. Taking out his bones and using them to decorate—” My voice failed me at the memory. “Adriana’s up there, Hector. She’s trapped in a cage of bones and rebar. It is literally insane.”

Then I looked to Dren. “And you swore to help my mother. I need some of your blood. She’s got cancer. I want to heal her.”

Dren’s eyebrows rose up on his forehead. A smile pulled up the edges of his lips, and then he gave a barking laugh. He laughed again, and again, sounding like an overexcited dog, until he started coughing, and the coughing won out.

“What’s so funny?” I stood outside the car with my hands on my hips. “You promised—you swore!”

Dren recovered himself from the coughing. “You need to make your oaths more precise. Trust me, you do not want your own sweet mother to be bound to my blood.”

“Fuck you, Dren.” I took a step nearer to the car, strength building in me. “You’re doing this.”

He slunk forward in the car, crawling out of it with his one good leg and arm, and both Hector and I scooted back. “If she were bound to me, I would make you regret giving her my blood until the day you died. She would come to hate you as the person who enslaved her to me.” He paused to arrange himself on the pavement once he was on the ground, straightening out his messed-up leg. Then he appeared to think, and smiled, full of fangs. “Just think of all the things I could order her to do. Oh, my.”