Meg Cabot - Insatiable

“Oh, that’s just great,” Meena said. Her voice was shaking as badly as her knees now. “Let the vampires wipe themselves out. But obviously no one cares what happens to my dog!”

It was as she said the word dog that a projectile burst through the kitchen windows, shattering glass everywhere.

Something heavy and hard hit Meena in the midsection, sending her flying to the floor. She realized belatedly that it was Alaric Wulf. He’d tackled her almost the same way only the night before.

But this time it wasn’t to keep her from running away from him. It was to shield her from the flames of the Molotov cocktail that had burst against the wall.

“Are you all right?” he lifted his head to ask her, his face just inches from hers.

The impact of his body weight slamming her into the floor had completely winded her. She knew she’d be sore tomorrow, but she was otherwise unharmed. She nodded, then gasped, “Jon?”

“I’m all right!”

Peeking around Alaric’s broad shoulder, she saw an arm waving out from beneath the kitchen table.

“I’m good,” Jon cried. “But there’s glass everywhere. And the wall is on fire.”

“Everyone take cover!” Abraham had rushed to fill a pitcher at the kitchen sink to douse the flames. “Stay away from the windows. It’s starting.”

The swinging door burst open, and a man in a clerical collar called, “Is everyone all right? We thought we heard-oh, dear.”

“Yes, yes,” Abraham said. “They seem to have followed Alaric from uptown, as we feared. We need to go make sure Father Joseph has closed the chapel for the night. Evening prayer’s going to have to be canceled. We can’t have any civilians on the property. I suggested they put signs up saying there’s been a small flood from a broken water pipe. Jon, go see how Father Bernard is doing making stakes out of last year’s manger-”

“On it.” Jon wiggled out from beneath the table just as Alaric lifted himself off Meena and offered a hand to help pull her up from the floor.

She took it, casting a quick glance over her shoulder at the smoldering kitchen wall as she followed Alaric out into the hallway. Nuns and friars-St. Clare’s was staffed by Franciscan friars and Poor Clare sisters, the rectory behind the church with the convent just next door to it-were scrambling to get to their battle stations. Meena had never seen so many crucifixes in her life.

“Alaric,” she said breathlessly, trotting after him. “Please just let me call Lucien. I have to talk to him right now. He’ll stop them. He’s their prince. They’ll listen to him.”

Alaric let out a grim chuckle, apparently at Meena’s naïveté. “Haven’t you been listening? No, they won’t. Not if they’ve launched an all-out rebellion against him. Which, trust me, they have. In fact, now that I think about it, that’s what the bodies of those dead girls were probably all about in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

“Bait,” Alaric said enigmatically.

Meena shook her head. Really, he was so frustrating sometimes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Yalena said something about bankers-”

“Bankers?” Alaric kept striding through the rectory, dodging nuns with crossbows.

“Alaric,” Meena said, shaking her head. “Where are you going?” This question was seconded by an all-too-familiar voice behind them.

“Wulf!” Abraham Holtzman yelled. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Alaric froze, causing Meena to ram into him.

Slowly, he turned in the hallway to face his boss, who was leaning out of a doorway.

“I’m going,” Alaric said with deliberation, “to get the dog.”

“Dog?” Meena turned her head sharply to look up at him. “But-”

Abraham Holtzman cut her off, annoyed. “You can’t be serious, Wulf. We’re in the middle of a battle zone here. We need you! Besides, it’s a fool’s mission. You’ll be walking into a trap.”

“I’m used to that,” Alaric said. “And you have more trained fighters here than you need. Sister Gertrude could kill a Dracul with her eyes closed. Father Bernard took out a half dozen after last year’s Christmas pageant with the angel off the top of the tree.”

“That’s not the point, Wulf,” Abraham hissed, lowering his voice when one of the novices tittered upon overhearing this. “Don’t go playing the hero just to impress the girl.”

Meena, realizing she was the girl he was referring to, wanted to point out how badly Abraham was misjudging the situation. Alaric Wulf hated her.

“You’ll only end up getting yourself killed.” Abraham went on. “And we actually need you here, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I’ll be back with the dog in less than an hour,” was all Alaric said, and then he disappeared through yet another swinging door.

“Stubborn fool.” Abraham rolled his eyes and disappeared through his own doorway.

Meena, looking from one doorway to the other, realized belatedly that she’d made an even bigger mess than the gasoline bomb had. How did she keep doing this?

She was after Alaric like a shot.

“Wait,” she called.

He was in the rectory’s foyer, buckling on his scabbard. He didn’t appear, from the look he threw out at her from underneath the hunk of blond hair that had once again fallen over those blue eyes of his, excited to see her. She didn’t blame him.

“What do you want?” he asked.

She suddenly felt aware of his size, which was enormous. His hands, his feet…all of him was big, just huge. When he came into a room, he didn’t just come into it, he lumbered, he banged, he swaggered into it.

She couldn’t count how many times she’d wished over the past twenty-four hours that he had never showed up at her door.

And yet now that he’d saved her life-twice-she couldn’t find the words to express how glad she was that he had. And she was supposed to be a dialogue writer.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean I wanted you to go,” she finally settled for saying, reaching out to lay her fingers across one of those huge, almost ungainly wrists. “You don’t have to do this.”

His hands, busy working the buckle to keep his sword in place, stilled. “Yes,” he said to the threadbare, flowered carpet. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have forgotten the dog.”

“But you didn’t know, Alaric,” Meena said. She curled her fingers around his wrist. His skin felt warm in all the places, she now remembered, Lucien’s had always felt so strangely cool. “You didn’t know any of this was going to happen. How could you have?”

“You knew,” he said, throwing the words at her almost accusingly. And now, she saw, he was looking at her, those bright blue eyes searching her face. “You know everything before it happens.”

“No.” The directness of his gaze unnerved her. “Not everything. Only…well, you know.”

“Right,” he said, dropping his gaze again. “Only how people are going to die. Not dogs, though.”

She shook her head. “No. Not dogs. Only people. Look-” She lifted her chin, attempting a brave smile. “Forget what I said before. Jack Bauer will be all right. You said yourself, he’s a vampire dog. He’ll be able to take care of himself. So stay here. Really. I want you to stay here. I’m going to. I’m going to stay. Please stay with me.”

He lifted his gaze to meet hers once more, narrowing his eyes at her. “You don’t need to worry,” he said. “Holtzman will protect you while I’m gone.”

“Me?” She realized he didn’t understand what she was trying to say to him at all. “I’m not worried about me.”

Now he looked confused. “But I’ll be all right,” he said. “And you want the dog.”