Red (12 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Kia

I drank a triple-shot latte with extra cinnamon syrup, waiting for the sugar and caffeine to make me feel normal again.

There wasn’t enough sugar or caffeine in the world.

“Now there’s a face to scare small children,” Sara said.

“Gee, thanks.” My palms itched again.

“I’ve just the thing for a wretched temper,” she added, ignoring my tone and petulant grimace. “Come here.”

I sighed. “Sara, I don’t want to waitress or fry up goose livers or any more disgusting things today.”

“Do I look the type to eat goose livers?” She motioned me closer with a sharp flick of her wrist. Flour drifted through the warm yeasty air. “I’m making bread,” she said. “And there’s nothing like kneading dough to clear your mind.”

I was skeptical, but a clear mind sounded like a nice change.

“Wash your hands, you savage.” Sara clucked her tongue.

I went to the sink, muttering. I turned back to the wide counter and stared at the lump sitting on a bed of flour. “Now what?”

“Get your fingers in there.”

I poked it. It was sticky and cool. Sara rolled her eyes. “It’s not going to bite. Grab hold and roll it.” She paused, watching me gingerly squish the dough. “Pretend it’s one of Ethan’s friend’s heads.”

I punched it.

Sara guffawed so loudly I jumped. “Attagirl,” she said. “Now roll it into a ball and fold it in half. Use the heel of your hand.”

After a few more minutes of kneading the bread, I did feel better. I was still confused as hell, but I could breathe again. There was space in my head between the frantic whirl of thoughts. Sara put the dough into a bowl and covered it with a towel. She slid a second bowl, already covered, toward me. The dough inside had risen into a perfect curve, delicate and smooth.

“Punch that down, will you?”

It was the best part of my day. I think I might have made one of those warrior shouts you hear in karate movies. The ball of dough punctured and fell in on itself. Sara grinned as I wiped sweat off my forehead. “Better than all that yoga Tobias is always doing.”

I was momentarily distracted. “Tobias does yoga?”

She chuckled. “Sounds like a lost cow with all that mournful ‘om.’” I chuckled, and she patted my shoulder gruffly. “Now get out of my kitchen.”

“That’s what I like about you, Sara,” I said. “You’re such a people person.”

“Takes one to know one, sunshine.”

Still, I wasn’t going to figure things out by drinking lattes, making bread, or sitting in my room. There was only so much stalling a girl could do. Besides, if I waited too long it would be dark, and I wasn’t quite
that
stupid.

The lake was so still and smooth I was tempted to walk along the beach, but I made myself head to the woods. The trees turned mostly to red pine, standing tall as spears. There was barely any undergrowth, nothing for any creature to hide behind. Downside was, there was nothing for me to hide behind, either.

I held a thick branch in one hand, my Swiss Army knife, a cell phone programmed to 911 in my pocket, and a backpack stuffed with flashlights, water, three paring knives from the kitchen, and bolt cutters from Abby’s tools. I also had a can of wasp spray because I’d read somewhere that it worked better than pepper spray. I was prepared.

Stupid, but prepared.

When I got to the barbed-wire fence, I snipped the metal and peeled it back like the rind of an orange. I crawled through to the other side, my palms burning hot enough that it was uncomfortable. Sweat soaked into my hair despite the cold air. The sun leaked light pale as chamomile tea through the branches. I walked so far I got lost. The shadows stretched longer; my calves ached. I had no idea where I was.

I expected werewolves, Ethan, ice monsters. Not another fence, this one electric. I stumbled to a stop, peering up the length of a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire and electricity. Something was definitely being locked out of this area.

Or locked
in
.

Smoke lifted from the grass under my boots. I jumped, heat licking up my ankles. I stomped the sparks out quickly, glancing all around. There was bound to be a gate somewhere. I caught a glimpse of iron and crept closer, staying hidden in the downward-sloping branches of a cedar. I smelled animal: fur, hay, sweat. It was primal, wild, cloaked in sweat and blood and raw meat piled in some of the pens. “A zoo?” I said to myself. “The Blackwoods have a stupid zoo? I’ve been freaking out over a
zoo
?”

Not exactly.

A closer look didn’t reveal tigers or bobcats or even wolves. There were no endangered owls or gorillas. There weren’t even any of the peacocks Ethan had told me about when he gave me a lift home. At first I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing. I didn’t know what I was looking at, but it was nothing so simple as animals in cages. And it should have been impossible.

Never mind the way fire could start at the touch of my hand, or my imaginary werewolf—this was something else entirely. The noise alone was disorienting: the rattle of metal bars and chains, the pacing of great beasts, the roar of some enraged creature I couldn’t see. The ones I
could
see fixed their eyes on me both pleading and predatory, both sad and savage.

I blinked, then blinked again, but they didn’t vanish.

There was a lion with eagle wings, a man covered in fur who clearly wasn’t a man at all, a creature of stitched animals like some crazed quilt. A cross between a giant lizard and a giant bird hissed at me. I stumbled back a step, even though it was in a cage and there was an electric security fence between us. My fingers trembled, clenched into sweaty fists until my skin burned. Tiny burn blisters throbbed on my fingertips.

A mad part of me wanted to set them free. There was too much intelligence, too much suffering in each of their impossible faces. And then the hissing and spitting faded under a growl, a single sound so near it had to have come from my side of the fence. Mouth dry, I turned, adrenaline spilling through me so violently I felt sick.

Not ten feet away, a wolf watched me, crowned with a low-hanging branch of cedar. This was no ordinary wolf; it was too big, and its eyes were incongruously human, down to the round black pupils. I’d never seen anything more disconcerting than those human eyes in a wolf’s face.

The creatures in the zoo paced their confines frantically, pressing against the iron bars. The chorus of howls and hisses made the hairs on my arms prickle as if they’d turned into needles. The wolf growled, dark lips lifting off large pointed teeth and hackles stiff with warning. The muscles bunched under pewter-gray fur as it prepared to leap at me. Something snarled behind the fences.

I was trapped between monster and monster.

“Ethan,” I said, my voice cracking, hoping he could understand me in this form. The wolf gave one sharp, furious bark, and my heart leaped right out of my chest. I had no idea where it landed—under my spleen, behind my knee—for all I knew, it was still hurtling through the air even now, a wet, thumping mass of muscle and fear. “Ethan, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

His voice, so cool and sharp behind me, was the last straw. I’d thought the voice was coming from the wolf. But there was Ethan, blond hair ruffled by the wind. I felt as if I was held together by electricity. Smoke curled out from under the soles of my boots, catching in the undergrowth around me.

“Kia.” He approached me slowly. “Don’t move.” He eased in front of me while I gaped idiotically at his perfect profile. His arm crossed me protectively, resting on my hip bone.
He
was close enough that I could see a tiny nick of a faded scar on his jawbone and the tail of a more jagged vicious scar under his collar. Tiny flames licked at the dry needles on the ground between us. Ethan looked at the wolf, but I noticed he wasn’t making direct eye contact. “You know me,” he said. “
Remember.
”

I could have sworn the wolf rolled its eyes. Its pink tongue lolled out of the corner of its mouth, hackles flattening into regular fur again. “But…” I remembered scratches on his arms, blood on his hands, the rabbit torn open at my feet. “But…
you’re
the werewolf.”

His glance was gentle and disdainful, as if I’d amused him. “Werewolves don’t exist, Kia.” I pinched him as hard as I could, until he frowned at me. “Ow,” he added.

I didn’t say anything, just pointed to what looked like something out of an encyclopedia of mythical creatures. Or one of my comic books. His mouth actually quirked, as if he was going to smile. “That’s just a wolf,” he murmured.

I knew a lie when I heard one.

The electric fence shuddered loudly, shooting sparks. Ethan tensed. His hand tightened on my hip. The wolf swung its head away from us, snarling.

Something was loose inside the zoo. The creatures went wild, and their shrieking made me nauseous. Fire raced toward the fence, sending more sparks into the air. A shadow coalesced, all teeth and sharp edges. It was as big as a horse but with a lion’s mane and coloring. Its face was disturbingly humanlike. Ethan jerked his head toward the woods. “Go!” He grabbed me tighter when I tried to run. “Not you.”

The wolf streaked into the trees as I jerked out of Ethan’s grasp. “Are you nuts? Let’s get the hell out of here!”

“You can’t run blindly,” he said grimly. “That’s a manticore.”

“Is that a nickname for big-ass monster?” I said.

“Just stay behind me.” He took a step back and I had to do the same, since his arm was still across my waist.

“Why?”

“Because they eat human flesh.”

“What?”

“And worse.”

“There’s
worse
?”

“They shoot poisoned quills from their tails,” he added, shoving me back so suddenly I sprawled on the ground. I spat out a mouthful of burning pine needles. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice. Poisoned quills were a little distracting. One of them slammed into the dirt next to my face and quivered like a plucked guitar string.

I jerked away. “Your dad couldn’t keep regular lions like other billionaires?”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me along. “Stay down.”

Quills shot through the air over our heads. Ethan launched himself over me. We lay in the pine needles and smoke, Ethan’s body over mine. He rolled his head back so we could keep track of the quills and the manticore ripping at the fence with his paws and teeth. Electricity sparked around him, but he was too maddened with the need to hunt to care.

“This is insane,” I whispered. Ethan was still on top of me, pressing so close I could see the muscles tensing in his jaw and feel his heart thumping in his chest, beating so hard I could confuse it with my own heartbeat. The manticore roared so loudly we both jumped. The sound of metal screeching on metal made my teeth hurt.

“Son of a bitch,” Ethan breathed. “He’s going to break through the fence.” The manticore was using his teeth, flinging saliva and quills as he worked feverishly at the metal. “If he breaks through, we’ll never outrun him.” Ethan’s hand clamped over my wrist, and he hauled me up, shoving me forward through the trees. “Go!” he yelled. “Go, go, go!”

A quill shot between us, nearly grazing Ethan’s shoulder and my cheek. I threw myself behind the nearest tree. Ethan rolled into a bush. “Kia!” he shouted. “Are you hit?”

“No,” I panted, trying to catch my breath.

“Make a run for the castle!”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

He was going to make a shield of his body for me. He was risking poison and pain for a girl he sneered at, a girl who was every bit as freakish as the creatures behind those bars. “Like hell,” I muttered. I turned slightly, glaring at the manticore through the branches. His fur was golden, his stature arrogant and majestic. Under different circumstances, he would have been beautiful, even with those eerie humanoid features. Sparks showered over him from the wobbling fence. The smell of burning fur was unpleasant.

It was about to get a lot more unpleasant.

Mr. Yang would say act, don’t react. Screw that. I was going to react all over the damn place.

I concentrated on the sparks, willing them to burst into flames, willing them to burn and scorch the fence, the ground, anything between the manticore and us.

Nothing happened.

So much for Solar Flare, rescuing the day.

I tried again, even as Ethan started yelling at me to run. I barely heard him. The world narrowed and narrowed until it was just me and the sparks, flinging like fireflies. Just me and the sound of fire and air pushing into each other. Just me and the crackle of dry needles and leaves, the hiss of electricity arcing off the fence, the hot tingle of my palms as I rubbed them together, willing them to remember what fire felt like. My throat was parched, my skin feverish. Ethan slid into the undergrowth beside me. “What’s the matter with you?”

He probably thought I was frozen in panic. It didn’t matter; I just needed one more second. One more burn of lava under my skin, searing my veins, filling the air with wavering heat.

The manticore screamed. He jerked back, paws blistering with burns, fire racing along the interconnected metal grid of the fence. Flames licked around the perimeter of the zoo. An alarm sounded, screeching.

Then we ran as fast as we could, feet pounding the ground, hearts racing. The wind filled my ears, layered over a distant, soft kind of humming, almost like singing. I stumbled. It was pretty. Ethan’s grip tightened. “Keep running,” he ordered. “Don’t listen.”

“But…”

He pulled so hard my shoulder snapped, pain flaring briefly. It was enough to snap me out of my momentary distraction, and I burst into a run again. Smoke tickled my nostrils, rasped the back of my throat. Sunlight flashed between the trees as we leaped over a log, skirted an impenetrable cedar. We finally made it to the stone wall without being eaten. We crashed through the gate, and I bent over, hands on my knees, trying to remember how to breathe.

“The guards are coming,” he panted.

“So?” I gasped. Spots danced in front of my eyes. “Won’t they put out the fire and fix the fences?”