“Where are we going?” she demanded.
“My dear, does that matter?” Redgrave rode shotgun. He carelessly yanked the copper key from around his neck and tossed it into the tray between the two front seats. “Soon it will make very little difference to you where you are. Or who you are. It’s enough to say that we’re going to a stronghold of mine only a few hours away. Once we’re there—you’ll see.”
Skye imagined a cage—a literal cage of steel bars—and fought back the sudden, throat-clenching urge to vomit. I’ll fight, she thought. I need to surprise them. That’s the only chance I’ve got. What I need is the right opportunity and the courage to go for it.
She looked out the windows, trying to get her bearings. Though the fear racing through her and the van’s speed threw her off for a moment, finding their location wasn’t that difficult for her in the town where she’d lived her whole life. They were taking the longer but better-known route to the highway, which meant they were going to lead her right by…
Could that work? No telling until she tried it.
The vampire closest to her was Charity, whose beauty and height made it clear that she was Balthazar’s sister, even if nothing else about them was the same. As Charity yanked off the copper chain she wore, breaking the links with no thought of using it again, she said, “Why can’t we start now?”
“Charity.” Redgrave’s voice held a note of warning, despite his undeniable fondness. “You know the rules.”
Charity stomped her foot on the floorboard of the van. “I hate rules.”
Redgrave chuckled. “You’ve been a good girl lately, haven’t you? Coming back when you were called, telling us how to battle the wraiths: all very useful. I suppose we do need someone else to spread the news of what Skye can really do, now that Lorenzo is gone.”
“May I? Please? May I?” Charity’s eagerness had taken on a gleeful edge that made Skye’s skin crawl.
Charity turned to look at Skye with eerie eyes that seemed to penetrate her. They were not unlike Balthazar’s eyes, but—unfocused, somehow. Even as Skye tried to push herself away, in vain, Charity lifted Skye’s arm and bit in just below the elbow.
Skye cried out more in revulsion than in pain, though that was bad enough. Just the sight of Charity, lips curled back, fangs sunk deep in her flesh as red blood welled—it was utterly repulsive.
“Charity! That’s enough!” Redgrave’s polite mask had again fallen; he reached behind to grab Charity by the neckline of her dress and forcibly pull her away from Skye. The pulling away hurt even worse than the bite, and Skye folded her arm against her chest with a cry. Charity didn’t even seem to notice. Her eyes had a glazed, uncertain look.
The mere scent of blood had never been so distinct to Skye before. It seemed to fill the van. All the vampires breathed in deeply, and she could almost see the ripple of excitement that went through them.
All of them except Charity: She remained lost in that far-off place—in her long-lost life, Skye realized. Her jaw was slightly slack, and blood smeared her lips, yet Charity looked more sane … more alive … than she ever had before.
“From now on, nobody touches her but me,” Redgrave said. “Nobody ever drinks from her without my permission, and nobody takes one drop more than I allow. When she’s herself again, Charity will be reminded of the price of even momentary disobedience.” The other vampires nodded, willing to do anything if it meant they had a chance at her blood.
The van took a turn onto a road Skye knew well. She pushed Charity away from her, as if she were too disgusted to bear having her near. Now they were past the old Crouther house—now the Hanna place—
As soon as she saw the intersection she sought, Skye brought both knees to her chest and reached for the door on the other side of Charity. When the other vampire tried to seize her, she kicked him soundly in the jaw with both feet. Her sweaty fingers slipped on the door handle—but she had it. The door swung open, and Skye shoved toward it with all her strength. Both she and Charity fell out onto the side of the road.
The impact slammed into her gut, robbing her of breath, but Skye pushed herself to her feet immediately. She had to stumble over Charity’s inert form; Charity kept staring upward, as if at the stars, taking no notice of what was happening near her. Once she was up and clear, Skye ran as fast as she could down the side street. If she could just reach it—
Behind her she heard the squealing of brakes, the slamming of doors. Redgrave and the others were behind her, gaining fast, and Skye didn’t dare look back.
A weather-beaten FOR SALE sign marked her target, though Skye would have known it anywhere. The yellow paint, now faded, the dark green shutters on the windows: Her childhood home was as she remembered it. She took the front steps two at a time, the way she used to when she was racing Dakota to see who would get the first brownie fresh from the oven. The lock had never been the best, and she kicked the door just beneath it, the same way she had when she got mad about Dakota stealing her Padmé Amidala action figure. Just as it had then, the front door gave way, and she ran into the empty house.
“I’m here!” she called. Her words echoed amid the empty rooms. It hurt to see the place like this—cobwebs in the windows, every room bare and lonely—but there was one thing Skye knew hadn’t left. It couldn’t leave. “Help me!”