“Out of what?” I asked. My hands seemed to want to move the gun toward Jameson, the moving threat, but I forced myself to keep it pointed at Lucy.
Jameson’s lips quirked up in a wry smile. “Ice, believe it or not. I was making a run for ice before our guests arrive.”
A snort burst through my lips. It was so ridiculous it had to be true. “Please move away from him,” I said to Jameson, who had sidled closer to Wyatt. “I want him to heal.”
“Oh.” Jameson looked down at Wyatt for a moment, then shrugged and moved closer to Lucy and me. It was a huge room; there was still plenty of space.
Jameson looked between us. “So I see you two have met,” he said cautiously.
“Yes, and I’m ready for you to kill her now,” Lucy said imperiously. “At first I thought she might be of use to us, but she’s more trouble than she’s worth.”
I glared at her. “Um, hello? I have the gun.”
She scoffed. Now that her guy was here to back her up, her confidence had returned. “Please. I doubt you even know how to use it.”
I raised the Beretta, flicked off the safety, and sent one bullet straight into the forehead of the poor stone bust behind the bronze railing.
Both Jameson and Lucy jumped at the sound, and I made a mental note to thank Jesse for forcing me to the stupid range all those times. It might have been my imagination, but in my peripheral vision I thought I saw Wyatt stir. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.
“Scarlett, what the hell?” Jameson burst out. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” I said incredulously. “You’re killing people! You literally came here tonight to kill people!” He tried to answer, but I wasn’t finished. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time, and for what?” I gestured to Lucy. “For them? For their fucked up genocide plan? You and me, we could have—” My voice broke then, and I stopped talking before I started crying in earnest. Lucy was smirking at me, but she knew better than to say anything at that moment, while I had the gun.
There was no chance for Jameson and me, not anymore. I knew that, but it still pissed me off that he’d thrown us away. Now the best-case scenario was me getting him out of the country alive, and that would require a hell of a lot of luck.
“To kill vampires,” Jameson corrected, his eyes hard.
“What?”
“I did all this to kill vampires. Not people.”
“That might be how she sees it,” I said, gesturing to Lucy. The gun was getting sooo heavy. “That’s how she thinks. But you and me . . . God, Jameson, when we get close to them they’re humans again. You of all people know that beneath the magic, they’re just like anyone else.”
His face went to stone. It had been the wrong thing to say. “Malcolm is not like anyone else,” he hissed. “And neither is Claire, or even your precious Dashiell. They think they get to decide, Scarlett. The think they control us. At best, we’re chess pieces to them, and at worst, we’re goddamn Happy Meals. A snack and a toy, all in one package.”
“Good analogy,” I muttered.
“It’s wrong,” he said, his voice starting to shake. “What they do is wrong.”
“What about my Ellen?” said a gravelly voice from the floor. Wyatt’s eyes were open, and his neck was no longer at that disturbing angle. He still lay on the floor on his stomach, but his head was turned sideways so he could see and speak to us. “She never hurt no one. Hell, most of our blood comes from a family of willing volunteers. Witches, who have called her Auntie Ellen for five generations now. Why did my Ellen deserve to die?”
“I . . .” Jameson looked like he’d been slapped. He glanced from Wyatt to me, as if to ask is this guy with you?
I nodded. “It has to stop, Jameson,” I said quietly. My hand holding the gun was officially shaking, but I managed to keep it pointed at Lucy Holmwood. “Listen to me. If you want to go to New York and kill the shit out of Malcolm, I’ll come along and back you up, every step. But Old World or not, you can’t exterminate a massive group of people just because some of them mistreated you.” I took a breath. “I won’t let you.”
Jameson’s eyes welled up. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, I felt a quick flash of new vampire in my radius, and then Arthur Holmwood appeared in the doorway and shot me.
Chapter 34
At the range, Jesse was always telling me to wait before I pulled the trigger, that if I rushed to take the first shot I could, I was going to miss my target. Apparently no one had given Arthur Holmwood this advice, because he’d fired the gun before he had a good angle. The bullet hit me from the side, going into my upper right arm, coming through, and digging a furrow of skin out of my shoulder. It wasn’t fatal, but it hurt like hell, and fresh blood immediately soaked the side of my tee shirt. I dropped the knife belt and the gun, instinctively clutching at the wound with my left hand, trying to staunch the bleeding and duck away from the doorway at the same time.
But Arthur simply walked through it, stepping forward as he took aim again.
“No, wait,” Jameson cried, stepping between me and Arthur. He held up his hands. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Lucy sputtered. “Just kill her and be done with it. The guests will start to arrive soon.”
“You don’t have to kill her,” Jameson pleaded, looking at Arthur, who was glancing at his wife for his cue. “There are handcuffs right here. We can—”
“Oh, this bitch has to die,” Lucy said, glaring at me. “Even if she weren’t irksome and unpredictable, I simply see no reason to keep her alive.”
“You say the sweetest things,” I muttered.
“How about because I asked?” Jameson said to Lucy, a little heat in his voice now. “I’ve come along with you on this twisted little kamikaze mission, and I haven’t asked for a single thing. But I’m asking now.”
The three of them began to argue, but I stopped listening. I was getting light-headed. I’d donated blood to Cliff—oh, God, had that been just this morning?—and now I was on my second wound of the night, after the gash in my forehead. Not to mention all the bruising from my cheekbone and my back, where my vest had stopped a bullet. The pain seemed to suddenly crystalize, and I could feel myself starting to sway.
But my eyes caught motion: Wyatt was beginning to move his arm. Right toward the bulletproof vest. I didn’t understand why he was bothering—until I realized the walkie-talkie was still resting on top of it.
Wyatt’s hand crawled over to it, and he fumbled at the emergency button. Which was nice and all, but I wasn’t sure how much good it was going to do when we were stuck inside the house.
Still, I didn’t want Jameson or the Holmwoods to see what he was doing. “I could cure you,” I blurted.
All three of them turned to stare at me. I looked at Lucy. “I can turn you into a human again. Isn’t that what you want? To undo what Claire did to you?”
She hesitated, her eyes jumping around the room. “That’s impossible,” she said uncertainly.
“I can do it. I have before.” I tried to concentrate on the outline of my radius so I could start the process, but I had nowhere near enough focus. I was in too much pain. “Well, not right now, but, you know, later. I can.”
Arthur looked at Jameson. “Is this true?” he asked hopefully. “Can you really cure us of this filthy curse?”
Jameson looked at me, his eyes weighing me. “I’ve never heard of a null being able to do that,” he said at last. “I couldn’t.”
Lucy snorted. “You see? She’s just a lying piece of trash.”
I almost laughed at the irony. I was the only one who could give Lucy Holmwood the one thing she wanted . . . except she was going to kill me before I could.
She looked at Jameson. “She dies.”
“Fine,” he snapped. “At least give me a minute to say goodbye to her. You owe me that much.”
Looking victorious, Lucy held out her hands in a be my guest gesture. “I need to go get cleaned up, anyway,” she said imperiously, glancing down at her dusty outfit. She seemed more offended that I’d made her lie on the floor than by the actual assault. “Arthur, you’ll see to this?” she asked her husband. She was intentionally not looking at me now, wanting me to know that I wasn’t even worth her sticking around to watch me die.