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I grabbed the kid's hand, yanked a tissue from my pocket and wrapped it around the bleeding finger.
"Be glad that's all you lost," I muttered. "She told you to stay clear."
He looked up at me, eyes wide with shock, and managed a nod.
NINETEEN
I awoke smelling blood.
Even before I could get my eyes open, panic shot through me, those scenes of blood-soaked devastation--the police station, the motel room--flooding back. I jolted up, limbs fla
iling, eyes opening to find myself . . .
A cell. I was in a cell.
I swallowed, flashing back nine years to another cell. The one where my mother had died.
I shook off the memory and lifted my hands. No blood. What I smelled was copper. I heard the distant plinking of water against metal. Copper pipes?
I sat up. There were bars in front of me. Thick, rusting metal bars. Concrete under my feet. Dim light from the corridor beyond. None in here. A stone box with metal bars. Not like any prison cell I'd ever seen. Definitely not the Nast cells.
I'd seen those once when Sean snuck me in to speak to a prisoner I needed to question for a case. They were so similar to the Cortez cells that they could have been made by the same designer. There were variations on the type--from utilitarian holding cells to the long-term, ultra-secure cells--but all resembled a hotel room more than a prison. No bars. No cement. No dark corners. No dripping water. This one needed only chains on the walls to make it a proper dungeon.
I pressed my face between the bars, trying to see down the hall. When my heart stopped pounding, I could hear breathing. Raspy, labored breathing. Only it didn't come from the hall. It came . . .
I turned slowly, then let out a gasp. Adam lay on the floor in the dark back corner. I ran to him and dropped to my knees. He was breathing--obviously--but still unconscious.
The blood had been cleaned from his face and there was tape over a cut on his cheek, but that was the extent of the medical care. Bastards. There are very strict rules for dealing with prisoners affiliated with another Cabal. Rules that do not allow beating them and dumping them in a dark cell.
So what did this mean? Would Lucas even be able to find us? Would Sean? And where was my mother? I squinted in the darkness, but there was no sign of her.
"Mom?" I called. "Are you here?"
A cough from somewhere outside. A hacking male cough. Nothing else.
I shook Adam's shoulder. After a moment, he groaned.
"Adam?" I said. "Can you wake up?"
Another groan. He winced. Coughed. Winced again, hand going to his chest. I pulled open his shirt to see that they'd bound his ribs. He was hurt, seriously hurt, and they just dumped him here without even a cot to get him off the cold floor.
"Adam?"
His eyes stayed shut, but his lips cracked open. "Water."
I looked around frantically. I could hear water, but it wasn't anywhere--
Wait. There was a pile of stuff just inside the bars.
"Hold on," I said.
I hurried over and found blankets, energy bars, bottles of water and a pail. What was the pail . . . ?
Then I realized.
I carried everything except the pail back to Adam. I uncapped the water and let him have a sip, telling him to go slow. Then I wet a corner of a blanket and wiped the crust from his swollen eyes. He opened one.
"Hey," he said, his voice weak. "I feel like shit."
