Stolen (21 page)

“Then that’s two of us.”

Finally the guys passed the second floor. On the walk to the girls’ room, Julia heard a strangled sound and glanced over to find Meredith’s hand over her face. Carlin noticed at the same time, and the two of them practically collided trying to wrap their arms around her.

“Honey, what is it?” Carlin asked.

Meredith’s sobbing intensified, and a second later, Julia spotted the public bathrooms, where the three of them filed into a shower stall and Meredith sank down to her knees.

Julia could barely make out what she was saying, but she thought she heard “Herbert.” A second later, “Anise” was clear, followed by more unintelligible weeping. And then: “Nathan!”

Carlin was holding onto Meredith’s arm, looking teary herself, and, having no idea what else to do, Julia stroked her friends pretty hair and leaned close to her.

“He’s okay, Meredith. You said you thought he made it.”

“I just…miss them! I can’t believe they’re gone! It’s just not fair.”

“No, it’s not.” Carlin’s voice cracked and her lower lip trembled.

And for the next ten minutes, Julia experienced her first-ever group girl-cry. She found it both more and less sad than crying alone. It hurt her to see her friends so upset—having been at the compound longer than she had, they were more upset than she was—but it was also amazing, the feeling of comfort she felt when the three of them were huddled on the cold tile floor together.

A few minutes later, a girl came in, chattering loudly in Spanish, and Carlin suppressed a giggle.

“What?”
Mer
sniffled.

“She’s talking about her butt.”

“Huh?”

Carlin giggled—this time more loudly. “She’s telling her friend on the cell phone that she got her butt crack waxed. Now it’s very smooth, just like a seal!”

They all started laughing, and everything seemed a little less awful.

After a few more minutes, Meredith had decided they needed a good diversion, and was trying to convince them both that it would be even safer than merely staying downtown if they were to stay downtown
and
go hopping.

“Hopping?” Julia asked.

She nodded. “Bar hopping.”

“Yeah… But how would we get in?”

She shrugged. “We don’t need fake IDs.”

“Why not?”

“We can charm our way in. Isn’t that right, Carlin?”

Carlin nodded, though Julia could tell she wasn’t taking Meredith’s plan seriously.

“I mean this! I think all three of us could use a little…adventure. The good kind.”

Pausing from searching the hallway wall for their room number, Carlin looked at Julia. “Are you and Cayne together or not?”

Julia put her head down in her hand, and Carlin said, “Yes, then it’s settled. We’re definitely going.”

“What about the guys?” Julia asked.

“Drew can come,”
Mer
said. “He’s one of the girls.”

“
Edan
?” Carlin asked.

Meredith wiggled her brows.

“I was just—”

“No you weren’t. Come on, girl. Don’t even try to lie to these eyes.” Meredith jerked her thumb at herself and did a little dance.

Julia tried to keep up, but her head was throbbing—a headache that had been getting worse since the plane had landed.

“I guess I could use a little…escape,” she heard herself saying. She wondered what it would feel like to drink alcohol. Whether it might make her relax; she was pretty sure her headache was of the tension variety.

Their room, a cozy, colorful place with a desk, two bunk beds, and art deco posters, became a dressing room as Meredith pulled lipstick and mascara from her pocket and Carlin set about finger-brushing everyone’s hair. The bathroom drawer had a random pack of bobby pins, which Meredith used to make Julia a fun
updo
.

“What about our clothes?” Carlin asked, nose scrunched.

“Scrubs,” Meredith said with a dismissive wave. “We work at a dentist’s office—where we all wear cheap trucker t-shirts.”

“Those are some dirty
chompers
,” Carlin said in a dorky accent. “Kiss me, Mr. Man.”

They all shared a laugh that only felt a little forced, and for reasons unknown to her, Julia volunteered to let the guys know where they were going.

She wiped her eyes with the heels of her palms and jogged up the nearest flight of stairs with her stomach in her knees. She pounded on the door of room 303, surprised when Drew answered shirtless. Behind him, she saw
Edan
brushing his teeth.

It was such a far cry from the death and destruction in the Commons, for a moment her head spun. Then she pulled it together, looking at Drew’s face to avoid the awkwardness of checking out his torso.

“I wanted to let you guys know…we’re going out for a while. To get some air.” Reluctantly, she smiled. “I think Meredith may have other plans, too. Do you want to come?”

To her surprise, Drew high-fived her, grabbing her hand and tugging her into their Dali-themed room. “I’m in.” He glanced at
Edan
, his face souring slightly. “What about you?”

 
“Why not?” He raised his brows, his chiseled face looking a lot like a model’s, despite his toothpaste moustache. “I can get us into the good ones.”

“And how is that?” Julia asked, hand on her hip.

He grinned. “I have my ways. And before you wonder, yes, they’re ‘Chosen-safe.’”

For just a moment, Julia allowed herself a pinch of gladness at experiencing what felt like regular social interaction… but then there was the matter of notifying Cayne. Her sort-of, kind-of, maybe-ex boyfriend—the Nephilim.

By the time she knocked on his door, her head felt like an atomic bomb about to blow. She rapped gently with her knuckles—knuckles he had kissed not twenty-four hours ago. When no one answered, she checked the door, but the number—308—was right. Andrew had said Cayne was staying in this room, but when she opened the door, she found herself staring at an empty bed.

*

Scotland was never in his plans. Didn’t matter. There he was, inhaling deeply of the cool, damp air—watching humans move about in scarce clothing, touching and talking and laughing with a lightness he would never understand.

The country was different now, the cement, glass, and light as foreign to him as the stone and heather had been so many years before. Scotland had never been his home.
 

He tracked a pretty girl with long, long legs and mocha skin, staring at her from behind the tinted window of his cab. For a time Kat had been something close to home, and after that…

He ran a hand over the ripped knee of the too-loose jeans he’d found in the Misplaced bin on the first floor of the hostel. Shifted his weight in the leather seat so his black t-shirt—a little snug—pressed down on his skin. One of his hands was damaged from Samyaza’s dagger, but it was nothing put against the pain inside his chest. That was a burn—a dry-ice, vacant, aching burn where Julia had been.

He missed her very badly, and being so near to her was making it more difficult to bear.

At the train depot in Virginia, he’d thought…

He shook his head.

Of course she wouldn’t let him close. He didn’t deserve it. There was no denying that.
 
In Virginia, he had been too weak to keep himself from Julia. Now he would. She didn’t want him, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d gone downstairs to apologize one last time, to explain that he would track her from a distance, keeping her safe while sparing them both the pain of interaction.

When he’d reached the door, he’d heard their plan—about the “hopping.” Cayne had paid
Edan
—with “a favor, which I’ll ask for when I think of it”— to take them to a bar that appeared safe and stick on Julia all night.

From what he knew of Stained, none was powerful enough to reach this continent tonight, so Julia would be safe.

He had somewhere else to go.

Aside from the weight of Julia on his mind, he was bothered by what the girl who was not a girl had said—about his birth. He felt ill thinking of it, but if he was really the first Nephilim born after a 2,000-year dry spell, during a time when it was difficult for Nephilim to enter the Earth, he could be…

Something else
.

The thing had said he serving some kind of purpose; so had Samyaza. But what? Did it have something to do with Julia?

He rubbed his forehead and looked through the lit-up windows of the club for long brown hair. He’d paid his cabbie with the wad of pounds Carlin had given each of them, so he had time to do what he thought was called “creeping”: staring into a Wild West-themed bar as Julia downed a beer, danced atop a wood plank stage with the one called Drew, leaned her backside against the decorated walls, and talked to an attractive human male. By all appearances, she seemed intact, but her hands kept fluttering at her temples. Was she worried?

Of course she was. He wanted to comfort her. To be the version of himself that she’d let close.

Cayne had always regretted his time as a Hunter, but until now he hadn’t felt remorse. Killing Stained was just one of the things he did at times. He didn’t get any particular pleasure out of it. Not like Samyaza, who seemed to relish a messy slaughter.

He watched Julia do a wild dance with
Edan
, ignoring the bite of jealousy that sparked inside his chest. When the guy knew Julia wasn’t looking, he flashed Cayne a thumbs-up, and Cayne told himself it was time to go. Still—he lingered, and good thing. A few minutes later, while
Edan
was dancing with a girl with pink hair, Julia said something to Meredith and then walked out of the bar—alone.

Drew rushed out after her, but Julia gestured at the busy sidewalk.
No one’s going to get me. Look at all these people
. Cayne didn’t know what she said, but he knew Drew must be an idiot, because the guy went back inside, leaving Julia to shoulder through the crowd alone. The perfect target.

He asked the cabbie to wait, reaching her in less than a dozen strides and grabbing her bare arm. His fingers sizzled.

“Julia.”

She grinned, wide and…loose. She swung her hand up toward his face. His gut clenched tightly, but she didn’t touch him. “Nephilim.”

The word was like a dagger in his chest. For a second he could only breathe, pitiful shallow breaths. He looked into her eyes, seeing her intoxication, loathing Drew.

“Julia… You shouldn’t be out alone.” He looked down at her arm; her skin; he was touching her. “Let me give you a ride.” He expected some resistance, but instead she nodded happily, pointing to her gum-pink All-Stars. “My feet hurt. And I have a headache.”

She tolerated his hand around her elbow as they made their way back toward the car, and when he held the door, she turned around to face him.

“Cayne,” she said loudly, standing close enough so he could smell her shampoo. “Where’d you go?”

He assumed she meant where was he
going
, and he saw no reason to lie. “To
Killin
,” he said quietly.

Her eyes bulged. Her mouth made an exaggerated “o.”
 
She jerked away from him. “Who?” she demanded loudly, and several passersby laughed.

“I’m not talking about a person.
Killin
is near where I was born.”