A Drop of Red (37 page)

Polly spoke from behind the tree. “I think they’re gone.”

“Cowards,” Della hissed. “Every one of you ran away from them.”

“They had weapons!” Polly said. “No one on other nightcrawls has ever carried weapons. Right, Vi?”

Violet snarled, growling until Della gripped her wrists tighter, making the other girl hiss because of the pressure on her burned skin.

“We shouldn’t have begun our nightcrawl early at all,” Noreen added.

“We didn’t realize those servants had vampires with them because we were concentrating on the humans’ scents,” Polly said. “It was all brilliant until the dog-killer vampire appeared.”

“Not even the bullets scared me.” Noreen had ventured away from the trunk a tad. “Neither did Frank the vampire. And if we had got his little servant man back to our underground room, he would have been such a treat. Wolfie might have even liked the girl if she weren’t so old.”

Della recalled the female with the braid winding down her back. How could she forget when the woman had put Della into a strange freeze merely with an intense stare? Did she have some manner of servant powers from her master vampire that allowed her to mentally captivate others?

And was she the reason the dogs had been flying round—because her mind willed it?

Perhaps Frank the vampire had somehow given her those powers, seeing as he’d come into Della’s own mind after saying the words “Kate Lansing” and “vampire.” Della didn’t know how he knew about Kate, but it had caused her to think about that particular nightcrawl, then others. And by the time Della had banished him from her thoughts and sprung at him, Noreen, then Polly, then Violet had fled, their playtime turned into a nightmare they’d never expected.

“We should have never left the house,” Della said, remembering how she had made just such an error in judgment when she’d buried Kate Lansing’s head. She’d promised never to disappoint Wolfie again, yet the others hadn’t listened to her warnings. “Have we been so coddled by Wolfie that we don’t know how to make good decisions when we’re on our own?”

Polly got saucy, coming out from behind the tree. “He’s always taught us to enjoy what we are, and that’s all we were trying to do.”

Della bared her teeth at her, and Polly shrank back.

“We’re too used to his protected nightcrawls,” Della said through those teeth. “We’re well versed in choosing recruits, yet we have no notion about how to handle anything beyond that. I know we have nearly a year of education left, and Wolfie will no doubt teach us how to fight for the dragon in the proper manner, but I sincerely doubt he’ll be proud of how we responded to our first test tonight.”

As she thought of the punishment that would come their way, her burned skin flashed with more pain.

It wasn’t fair. She alone had known of a possible blood brother in the area because Wolfie had never given her permission to share the information she had obtained by breaking into his mind. Yet she had done everything within her power to stop the group from this particular nightcrawl without breaking Wolfie’s confidence.

Even so, punishment or not, he would have to be told that Frank the vampire could be a blood brother or even a scout for one. And she would have already contacted Wolfie or the cat if they hadn’t been out of range at the sub-Underground common room, waiting for them to report for the scheduled nightcrawl.

As the sirens clamored even closer to the property, making them cringe, Della noticed that human students were gathered at all the glowing boarding houses’ windows.

Violet took advantage of the distraction by rearing up and aiming her teeth at Della’s arm.

Taken by surprise, Della did something she’d never, ever thought to do before.

She spit on Violet.

The other girl jerked back, her eyes saucering as the expectoration bubbled on her bare brow, then trickled down her hairless skull and past her wolflike ear.

Della braced herself, but when Violet remained still—she was afraid? She was afraid!—Della’s pulse began to chug.

She leaned closer to the other girl, done with the fear, done with always being the lowly one.

“You should have paid mind to me when I told you I had identified the scent from those trees,” she said to Violet. Then she gazed at Polly and Noreen, who were hiding again. “Yet none of you thought this was significant. Not coming from me. And you even seemed to take pleasure in proving that I was wrong. What fun you would have with a little man like the one from school, you said. How delightful it would be to bat him round while we waited for Wolfie. Afterward, we could always charm the intruders into forgetfulness, no harm done.” Della’s tone had risen in pitch, competing with the sharpness of the sirens, but now her voice snarled in resentment. “We could charm them just as we did to Melinda Springfield after the raven attack.”

None of the others responded, making it obvious that the sirens had abruptly stopped. Bobbies, who’d no doubt been summoned by a report of gunfire near the far football field, were probably at the school’s gates.

Polly and Noreen came out, sniffing at the air.

Jasmine, Della thought. They had been detecting the scent since this morning, and it had caused them to wonder whether it was coming from flowers or too much new perfume on a student.

It was stronger than ever now.

As a matter of fact, it’d been stronger during the confrontation.

Violet remained unmoving, and Della could feel how the other girl’s muscles were tensed, as if in retracted humiliation.

Della gazed down at their fallen leader, and for the first time, confidence flooded her.

I’m not afraid anymore,
she thought, her mind open for all of them to hear.
Not afraid of you, not afraid of answers.

“Do you even care that you led us into danger tonight?” she asked Violet.

The other girl laughed—a weak sound compared to all her other laughs—and Della dug in harder with her claws.

“Before we sneak back inside, you’re going to tell me what you know about Blanche,” Della said. “And Sharon and Briana.”

Before Violet could laugh more, Della choked her off by wrapping a claw round her throat.

There was fear in Violet’s eyes . . . absolute fear, because she knew Della was beyond caring now, that she had taken the last of any abuse.

Flash fast, Della used her other paw to whisk at Violet’s face. A warning.

Blood beaded out of the gashes on the girl’s red-burned skin as she refused to speak.

“One more opportunity, Vi,” Della said. “Something has been happening with our group, and I’ve had the sneaking suspicion you might be responsible.”

Violet tried to shake her head, a last-ditch effort to cling to her dominance as her wounds began self-healing.

But this was the “leader” who’d broken Della down, encouraged her to feed off Melinda, had made her feel like compost that only existed to allow the others to grow.

All Della’s bottled resentment exploded, and she leaped to her feet while still gripping Violet by the neck. She swung the other girl round, released her, sent her flying toward a tree.

Violet slammed into it, slipping to the ground while Della stood, hunched, waiting.

The trunk vibrated in an aftershock, heaving leaves to the ground as Violet bared her teeth and growl-hissed.

Della needed no more invitation.

She sprang at her, grabbing her ankle and spinning her body once again over her head then letting her careen into another tree, which shed more leaves as Violet stayed on the ground, scrabbling at the dirt.

Coming to stand over her, Della kept her arms arced at her sides, her back bent. “What do you know about our old friends?”

Polly and Noreen were behind their tree again, but Della could hear their thoughts opening, stretching for answers.

Violet wrestled to breathe, then glared up at Della while struggling to all fours. “Wouldn’t you like to—”

Della kicked with all of her might, with all the hurt that had collected and waited for a moment such as this.

Violet screeched up through the air, and in what seemed to take hours instead of seconds, she crashed against another tree. But this time . . .

This time a branch speared out of her left shoulder, flaring blood as she shaped her mouth into a silent scream.

A scream that ripped through all of their minds.

Polly and Noreen winced as Violet shuddered, then gaped at the red sprout of branch at her shoulder.

Della’s breath scraped in, scraped out.

Power. Was this what it felt like?

Whatever this was, she had finally grown into it, was accepting it, just as Wolfie had accepted himself so long ago.

Her ears perked as the mad shuffle of running footsteps came into range. Bobbies, headed for the football field.

Time to leave. But first . . .

“Violet,” Della said, believing now that her voice
could
be so solid, so resonant with command. “Tell me about Blanche, Sharon, and Briana.”

The hanging girl opened her mouth, but nothing came out. And when Della looked into her mind, it was nothing more than a jumble of yelps and cries.

Violet—the consummate liar. The one who normally seemed to pin consequences on anyone else if she could manage.

She wasn’t going to escape this time.

Della growl-hissed, and Violet’s mouth finally worked round the thoughts coming to the surface.

I have no idea what happened to them,
she said.
I wanted you to think I knew, but I didn’t. . . .

Della suspected the truth in her words but didn’t believe the purity act.

You were happy to have them gone,
she said.
Why?

Why?
Did you ever care about where they went? Or were you content as long as Wolfie turned his gaze upon you in their stead?

All right, I wanted them gone.
A tear ran down Violet’s creature face.
I swear to you, this is the entire truth. Please, heal me. I hurt.

But Della’s frustration had only been stoked.
You rejoiced when each one of them left because you had that much more of Wolfie’s affections. Even worse, you blocked the rest of us out of your head and made us believe that you
did
know their fates. This gave you power, didn’t it, Vi? It made you think you were so much better when, all along, you knew you weren’t. You were frightened to death that we would discover it someday.

Violet’s hair began to flow out of her skull. Her pain wasn’t allowing her to hold the vampire form.
You’ve made your point. I promise, I’ll never say a harsh word to you again.
She turned all the way back into her human shape.
Please, Della.

Violet took hold of the branch jutting out of her shoulder, as if that would somehow dissolve it and set her free. Yet if anyone deserved pain, Violet did, especially since she couldn’t even bring herself to apologize for the bullying. It wasn’t often that the world offered justice—not in Della’s experience—so who was she to put a halt to it?

But then Polly and Noreen crept up behind her, pawing at her legs in a plea.

For a moment, Della didn’t understand. . . .

Then she did.

She saw another tear fall from Violet’s eye and knew this was her decision to make.

Della’s gaze cleared, the flashing glare from the bomb finally abating.

Power. Violet had mauled it. If Della did the same, would that put her on the same base level?

She shook her head, wondering if she would regret this.
You’ll never actually heal where it counts, Vi,
she mind-said before scampering up the tree.

She extracted Violet, the branch sucking out of her shoulder, making the other girl moan. Then Della brought her down, handing her over to Polly, who cradled Vi as they started back toward the house.

At the edge of the trees, Della willed herself to change into humanlike form again, just as Polly and Noreen were doing.

We’ll heal Violet at the house,
she said from her position at the front of the group.

Noreen trailed at the rear.
We won’t tell anyone what happened? Let’s not tell.

Della thought of the eyes of the cat and how its gaze would flicker in bruising disappointment once it heard everything.

But there was no other choice.

We have to tell,
Della said, drawing on more courage than she’d ever known herself to possess.

Before she lost any of it, she ran toward the house. The others followed, whining at what was surely to come once they reported in.

When they arrived, they sniffed round the door to discern if the path would be clear of humans before they entered. No danger. Yet they found themselves locked out nonetheless, having left their card keys in their rooms.

Thus, Della covertly led them crawling up the wall, pulling Violet with them, to her second-level quarters. The window had been left slightly ajar, so accessing it was a simple matter.

Polly and Noreen laid Violet on the bed while Della headed straight for the door.

Put a chair under the knob after I leave,
she mind-told Polly.
It’s the best lock we’ll find to block any room checks that are sure to be occurring. While I’m gone, heal Violet.

Polly stood away from the reclining Violet, who was beyond pale as Noreen pressed her hands over her wound. A glow suffused the dim room.

Must we?
Polly asked.

Della swallowed.
It’ll be worse if they find out on their own.

With that, she went through the door, shut it behind her, and listened for Polly to jam the chair under the knob. When she did, Della dug her nails into her palms then began her trek down the hall.