Lili St Crow - Defiance

It looked like a set designer for a really bad period movie had thrown up in here. Nathalie would have called the pink velvet atrocious .

Thinking of Nat pinched me way down deep in my chest. I hoped she’d forgive me. Hell, I hoped I’d see her soon and she could kick my ass for being such a bitch. I’d even sit still and take it with a big wide goony grin.

Hell, I’d even let her take me shopping . For clothes. Without complaining.

Anna was near the door, crouched down. Every other time I’d seen her, she’d been perfectly polished, fashion-model finished.

Not now.

Her red-gold ringlets were a tangled mess, there was a dark nasty bruise on one high flawless cheek, and her pretty red silk dress was ripped up, torn petticoats showing through the rents. Wine-red ribbons trailed through the rat nest of her long hair, her boots were scuffed, and the silk stockings were full of ladderlike runs.

She was taking the goth Lolita thing to new heights, I guess.

But the way she crouched, hugging herself and rocking slightly, wasn’t right. And she was paper-pale, not to mention shaking like she had what Gran would call the delirium tremens. The shudders went through her in waves, and she was sweating, too. Little pearly beads of perspiration dotted her flawless skin, almost glowing in the dimness.

She was still beautiful, even all messed up like this. I probably looked like I’d swept up a barn with my hair, and I had that odd dirty feeling you get from sleeping in your jeans. It always pinches; denim is so not pajamas.

“Jesus.” I eased up on Graves a little, swallowed hard to clear the sudden sourness on my tongue. The bed creaked a little as we shifted, like a rowboat in a shallow river. “What happened to you ?”

“This.” She lifted her tangled ringlets, and I saw the fang marks on the white column of her throat. My vision sharpened, and my skin was suddenly two sizes too small. Hard little bumps of gooseflesh stood up all over me.

The marks were white and worn-looking in the middle, bruised all the way around like an enthusiastic hickey. She dropped her hair over them after letting me have a good long peek. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I thought we were toxic—” I began.

“Oh, yes. But he could stand the poison long enough to sink his teeth in, and now I’m too weak. And he’s stronger.” She shuddered, turning even paler, if that were possible. “He’ll eventually drain both of us dry so he can walk in the daylight.” Anna laughed again, and her rocking back and forth sped up a little. The floor creaked slightly as her high heels dug in. “I thought I was so clever. So very very clever. You’re Elizabeth’s vengeance on me, after all these years.”

Yeah. My mother’s vengeance. Please. Anna had fucking shot me because my mother “stole” Christophe. Leon had maybe betrayed me to the vampires because of something Christophe did to him years ago. Just great. Just wonderful .

Jesus Christ . Was there anyone around who didn’t hate me or think they loved me because of something that happened before I was even born ?

As soon as I thought that, though, I knew there was one person. He was hanging on to me right now, terribly battered but alive. I’d gotten him into this, and here we were.

You’d better start thinking fast, Dru. But my thinker was kind of busted. I shook my head, curls falling in my face, as if that could jar my brain into working. “My mother’s dead, Anna. We’re here; we might as well get on with it. Where the hell are we, really?” And Sergej brought me here for snacking later. Me and Anna, in the freezer like good little rodents for a snake to choke down. Ugh.

“I think we’re in Jersey.” Graves hissed an in-breath as he moved slightly, and I loosened up a little more. “Of course, if I owned this place and Hell . . .”

The laugh that bolted out of me felt wrong. But it helped a little, before falling lifeless in the dead air. “Are we underground? It feels like it.”

“Dunno. Think it’s a warehouse. I was underground for a while. In a . . . a cell.” Graves shivered. Gooseflesh roughened up his marred skin, and I got the idea he would be pale if it wasn’t for the bruises. “They would come down at random times, ask me questions about you. Things they . . . Hey.” He leaned in, his eyes burning. “Nice earring. I wondered where that went.”

My fingers came up. I touched it, the skull and crossbones. “I . . . yeah. Thanks.”

“Shhh!” Anna stopped rocking. “Shut up!”

Graves flinched. We stared into each other’s eyes, those shadows gathering in the depths of the green, and for that one moment I saw right down to the bottom of him. He talked a good line, and he was really brave.

But at bottom he was just as terrified as I was.

Danger candy filled my mouth with thin, rotting, waxen citrus. The taste was oddly attenuated, fading. Feathers brushed my skin, and I heard wingbeats. “Vampires,” I whispered.

Graves shook his head. He pulled back, his fingers sinking into my arm, and dragged me off the bed. My legs buckled, but he held me up. “Maybe,” he whispered back. “Maybe worse.”

It was probably a mark of how screwed up my life was that I didn’t ask what could be worse than vampires. I didn’t want to know, so I let him pull me around. My legs trembled. The rest of me wasn’t too steady, either.

He shoved me back into the corner next to the lamp. Then he turned around, and the cuts across his back made me feel sick all over again. The light was scorching, making my eyes water, which didn’t make sense. It was just a night-light-dim bulb shielded by a thick dusty shade; it shouldn’t have stung me so bad.

I heard movement now. Stealthy little footsteps, taps, too fast or slow to be human, and something about them told me there was a hallway outside our door. A long one.

“Shit,” Graves muttered. “Lot of them this time.” He propped me against the wall. “You okay?”

My legs firmed up. I nodded, brushed hair out of my eyes. Blonde slid through the curls, and they clung to my fingers. What the hell?

Anna rose slowly, as if her joints were resisting. If she felt anything like I did after Christophe had bit me, I could understand why. And Christophe hadn’t taken more than he absolutely needed, I guess.

I only borrowed, little bird, I did not take. Remember that.

I owed him an apology bigtime, but I didn’t want to think about that while I was propped against the wall behind Graves.

Anna’s eyes glowed blue, her fangs peeping delicately out as she glanced at us. I leaned against the wall, the cold of it scorching through my T-shirt. The wood was slick and freezing, hard like it was glued over concrete and slightly sticky the way paneling in a long-empty room will get. I cast around for anything that might serve as a weapon, but there was nothing except the wrought-iron lamp base. Hitting a vampire with our only source of light didn’t seem like a good idea.

But there was nothing else. All the other furniture was too heavy to lift, and if there’d been anything else in here, Graves probably would have already picked it up. I reached out, touched the lamp’s long slim length. Yup, it felt like iron.

Anna’s lip curled. “You’re going to defend her, loup-garou ? It’s a lost battle.”

“You just do your part,” he returned, just as sarcastically. “I’d rather go down fighting.”

“Wait, we have a plan?” This struck me as need-to-know information. “What’s the plan?”

“There is no plan . There’s only improvisation.” Anna straightened, and I supposed now was not the time to tell her she sounded a little bit like Christophe. She put her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and turned on her heel to face to door. Swayed a little bit, but settled into a ramrod-stiff posture. She’d looked about ready to fall over before. What was this? “I am svetocha . I do not submit . Not if I can help it.”