Fractured (22 page)

I dropped back into my seat, scanning the crowd. We were surrounded by Mazikin. I grabbed his hand. “We have to go, all right?”

“What?” he whispered. “The smell isn’t that strong. Just because there’s a stoner—”

I was nose to nose with him before he finished his sentence. “Ian, get your ass up out of that chair and come with me. Right. Now.”

He looked at me like I was insane, but he let me pull him out of his seat and drag him along the row, stumbling over people’s feet. I was barely watching where I was going—I was too busy looking behind me to see if anyone was following us. Caroline and her girlfriends stared and whispered, but stayed in their seats. When we got to the aisle, I pushed Ian in front of me. “Watch your step. Come on. The emergency exit.”

Ian had parked around the side of the theater because it had been so crowded. His SUV had to be close to this exit. All we had to do was get to it.

A woman wearing a high ponytail and heavy black eye makeup stood up and stepped into the middle aisle, and I recognized her—she was the Mazikin that Jim had chased to the gas station. With her gaze on Ian, she descended the steps in parallel with us. My hand settled on Ian’s waist as I urged him forward. We would make it to the door before she did. Then I caught a sudden movement in my periphery. Holy crap. Two scruffy teenagers were now on the aisle steps behind us, coming down from one of the back rows.

Ian stopped suddenly, and I ran into his back. “Excuse me,” he said to someone in front of him as a dizzying wall of scent washed over us. I grabbed a handful of his shirt to pull him back.

“Hey!” he shouted, ducking to avoid the swipe of a clawed hand. The girls in the row next to us screamed as Ian jerked his arm forward and punched the Mazikin in front of him, a skinny gray-haired guy who went flying into the laps of the girls.

“Go go go!” I barked, but it was unnecessary. Ian’s hand closed around mine, and he pulled me toward the exit. We reached it a few steps ahead of the ponytailed woman. I kicked her away as Ian ripped the door open and yanked me through it.

“What the fuck?” he yelled, spinning around to face the woman and the two teens who had followed us out.

The three of them had taken a few steps toward us when an usher from the theater poked his head out the door. “I’m calling the police!” he said in a tremulous voice.

The ponytailed Mazikin turned around and crouched low, hissing at him. The usher gave me a quick, scared glance before he pulled the door shut, locking us out.

“You heard the guy,” I said to the Mazikin. “The police are coming. You better get out of here.”

The Mazikin tilted their heads. “No sirens,” said one of the teenage guys, his shirt stretched tightly over his protruding belly. “Boy,” he said, pointing at Ian. “We are here to retrieve you.”

“This one. She’s one of
them
,” rasped Ponytail, pointing at me. She looked over at her comrades and began to cough and grunt in that hideous Mazikin language.

I cursed as three more Mazikin rounded the corner of the theater and assembled themselves on our right flank. This was a full-scale ambush. They’d been watching. They’d followed us, not knowing I was a Guard at first; their eyes were on Ian. Just as I’d suspected, Ibram had made him a target.

“Ian,” I said softly. “I want you to run. Get to your car.”

His hand tightened over mine as he backed up toward the parking lot. “You’re kidding, right?”

I squeezed his hand and then let it go. “I’m sorry about this.”

The skinny gray-haired guy burst out of the theater, wiping blood from his face. He bared his teeth, revealing that they had been filed to sharp points. “Girl with the hair,” he snarled at me, recognition burning in his eyes, “I didn’t realize you were protecting this one, but I’m glad.” He swept his clawed hands in our direction.

The Mazikin all charged at once, and Ian took off, sprinting away with incredible speed. Two of the Mazikin went after him. I only had time to feel a flash of fear for him before Ponytail was on me. I kicked her in the stomach and elbowed her in the neck, and then caught her arm and swung her into her chubby pal. Another Mazikin jumped on my back, so I bent forward sharply and dumped him on the ground, where I stomped on his neck and punched another oncoming Mazikin in the face.

My knuckles split. My fingers throbbed. I heard Malachi’s voice in my head, calm and sure, reminding me to use my elbows and knees. To keep my movements short and quick to avoid giving them anything to hold on to.

But the odds weren’t good. I was weaponless, facing down a bunch of able-bodied Mazikin. I might have made several of them bleed, but there was no way I was going to win. I pivoted on my heel and took off toward the road, weaving in and out of the parked cars, followed by the heavy pants and hard pelting sound of a Mazikin’s four-legged lope, getting closer by the second.

Its weight slammed into my back and its sharpened fangs tore through my sleeve and into my flailing forearm, sending me crashing into a median lined with square green shrubs. A few people screamed, and I knew we had an audience. Which was a shame. Because I was ready to kill this Mazikin with my bare hands. I suspected I knew who he was—I’d only met one Mazikin that filed its teeth. My arm was held tight in his jaws, so I rolled over on him and pressed down with all my weight. “Is that you, Clarence?” I huffed, determined to knock his fangs down his throat. “Did you think we’d make it easy?”

His eyes bugged out—but they also sparked at the mention of his name. He tried to close his teeth and take a hunk of my flesh, but I punched him in the side. He let go of my arm.

Tires screeched. Another Mazikin landed on my back. “Stupid girl,” Clarence hissed as his friend began to yank me up. “Now you’re ours. Sil will be thrilled that I caught you.”

The Mazikin on top of me grabbed a handful of my hair, but then it shrieked and jerked as something hit it with enough force to crunch bone. Clarence’s eyes grew wide as he watched over my shoulder.

I scrambled to my feet and turned, ready to face whatever new threat was coming my way, only to see Ian standing between me and the rest of the Mazikin, who were coming around his SUV but looking extremely wary.

Ian was holding a baseball bat, swinging it with threatening precision. His first victim—the Mazikin that had jumped on my back—lay groaning at my feet.

The wail of a siren cut through the momentary silence. Clarence screeched at the others. As if they shared one mind, the horde of Mazikin, several of whom were bleeding and limping, threw themselves into four-legged mode and sprinted toward the far side of the parking lot.

“We have to get out of here,” Ian said as he grabbed my hand. He tossed his bat into the open back door of his SUV and helped me in after it. He hopped in the driver’s seat. The engine was already running.

But instead of peeling out, he calmly put the thing into gear and slowly drove out of the parking lot. I stayed low as we drove past curious bystanders, but realized that we had been hidden behind the SUV when he’d used the bat. If they’d seen anything, it was me running from a bunch of four-legged freaks.

“The windows are tinted,” Ian said, still a bit out of breath. “You don’t have to hide.”

I straightened up and peered out the window. At the far end of the parking lot, an old blue van swerved out of its spot, jumped the curb, and drove over the sidewalk, narrowly missing a couple who’d been walking hand in hand. To the soundtrack of at least a dozen car horns, the van plowed into traffic, swerved, and was out of sight almost instantly.

Ian took a more subtle approach. He drove to the main exit, never missing a turn signal, slowing at every speed bump, stopping at the yellow light. He turned onto the road and accelerated neatly to exactly five miles over the speed limit. I watched out the back window as two police cruisers zipped past us into the theater parking lot, too late to do anything but gather statements. Fortunately, the Mazikin had put on the big show. We were the forgettable ones.

My mauled forearm throbbed, and I gritted my teeth. “Thanks for the rescue.”

He glanced into the backseat when he heard my voice. “They hurt you.”

I looked down at my arm, examining it in the dim light. “It’s not bad.”

“Should I drive you to the hospital?”

“No. It’s fine.” I needed to get to Raphael, but I probably had an hour or so before it got really bad. I hoped. I’d never been bitten before.

Ian laughed dryly and shook his head; then he took a sharp right turn. He pulled into the school parking lot and stopped next to my car. His hands stayed on ten and two, but his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. His shoulders lifted as he took a single deep breath. Then he turned around to face me.

“So,” Ian said, his voice completely level. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

I put my hand over the bite wound, wincing as I felt the sticky warmth of my own blood beneath my palm and the hot throb of the venom now being carried through my veins. Fortunately, my brain was fully functional, enough to let the lies flow. “You know these were the folks who sold to Aden, right?”

Ian nodded. “Same smell. Aden reeked of it that night. But they were after me. And they seemed to know you.”

“They knew … of me. Come on, Ian. You didn’t think I was a prep school girl, did you?” I prayed he’d back down easily, as soon as he was challenged. Rumors about me had swirled ever since I’d arrived at school, so why not use that to my advantage?

He let out a short breath. “No, Lela, I didn’t, but—are you saying you’re like a gang member or something?”

Never. But I couldn’t think of any other explanation. I shrugged. “Aden certainly seemed to think so …” I tried to move my fingers, but my entire left hand was numb. I needed to get home. “I’m sorry, really.”

Ian shook his head. “You’re lying. I know you’re lying. There’s something else going on.”

“Look, um … I guess my past kind of caught up with me,” I said, wishing that killing Clarence only once had been enough. “But I’m going to try to make sure no one bothers you again, all right?”

He cursed under his breath and threw his door open. A second later, he wrenched open the rear door and climbed in next to me. I instinctively reached for the opposite door handle.

“Who’s going to make sure no one bothers
you
again?” he snapped. “Look at you. Your arm’s bleeding. They would have done serious damage if I hadn’t been there.”

Suddenly exhausted, I leaned against the seat, curling my bitten arm against my body as my hand hung limp. “I can take care of myself.”

He laughed. “No kidding. It’s part of why I like you. But we were attacked by seven drugged-out freaks tonight, Lela. You may be able to kick ass, but you’re not a superhero.”

“Never said I was. I’m just saying I’d feel awful if you got wrapped up in this.”

“Too late. You’re bleeding in my backseat.”

I opened the door and stumbled out onto the blacktop, clumsily pulling my keys from my pocket. Already my legs were tingling, as was my right arm. Malachi had been able to run for over an hour when he’d been bitten by Juri in the dark city, so I prayed I could hang on as long.

“Lela, wait!” Ian hopped out of the backseat after me. “I wasn’t telling you to leave!”

“I need to get home,” I said. “I’m tired, and this could get infected or something.” I waved my arm at him.

“Call me tomorrow,” he said firmly. But the question in his eyes gave him away.

“I will. Please be careful, all right? Keep an eye out for their van, and call me if you see it.”

His mouth lifted into this bemused kind of smile. “What would you do about it?”

I sighed. “Fine. Then call the police. Whatever. Just—be careful.”

He took a step closer. “You’re worried about me?”

With hesitant fingers, he touched my chin, trying to lift my face. I let him, even though he was standing too close, making my heart thump with panic. “I’m worried about
you
,” he said softly.

“Good-bye,” I whispered, turning to open my car door.

“Let me drive you home.”

“Not necessary, I promise.”

“Lela …” He sighed. “Fine. But I’m following you to make sure you get home safely.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to scream. I didn’t have time for this, even though he was being incredibly sweet—after being totally badass back at the theater. “Waste of gas, but if it’ll make you feel better …”

I opened my car with my right hand. Once behind the wheel, I focused everything I had on driving slowly and smoothly to Diane’s. I pulled into the driveway, got out, and waved to Ian as he drove away.

Then I got back in the car and headed to the Guard house. Raphael was waiting for me when I arrived and staggered haltingly up the front steps. Fortunately, no one else was home, so there was a minimum of drama. I let him send me into peaceful nothing and woke up a few hours later to the sound of distant thuds.

A light was on in the hallway, so I padded over to the basement and listened. Grunting breaths, shuffling feet. The memory of Henry telling me that Malachi trained at all hours when he couldn’t sleep. As quietly as I could, I descended a few steps and peered through the wooden railing.

His skin shined with sweat under the lights, every muscle defined as he trained. Each of his movements was completely controlled, and it made me instantly jealous. Malachi’s hand shot out, loose at first, deceptively fluid. But as it moved forward, it compacted into a fist that struck a dummy in the chest, leaving a deep dent in the frame. He pivoted in place and kneed the dummy three times before elbowing it into oblivion. It fell to the floor, bent in half, its head almost completely detached. He pivoted to destroy another dummy, and I saw that his expression was distant, unfocused. It was like he was on autopilot, like his body was here, but his mind was far away.

Only a week ago, I would have joined him. I would have put my arms around him, and he would have welcomed my touch. Even this dangerous mission had felt possible because we were together, and no one and nothing could get between us. And now … there were so many things blocking my path to him, and I had no idea how to get around them, or if it was possible at all. Watching him there, so close yet so far away, the loneliness of it hurt like an open wound. I crept back up the stairs and drove myself home.