His sister Peg shoves me, and in my surprise, I fall on my bum. “I hate you,” she screams. “I hope they eat you soon, do you hear me?”
A chill runs down my spine, but it has nothing to do with the superstitions Peg is spewing and everything to do with the shadow covering all three of us.
“Get on with you,” the stable master snarls at the gardener’s children.
They scurry away, never looking back, and I scoot toward the wall, hoping Ansel doesn’t notice me. As always with Mum’s servants, it’s a pointless hope. His eyes dart to me. I blink and scramble to my feet.
“Forget what those urchins told you,” Ansel says, his tone sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes are red and terrifying. I can’t look away, even though I want to.
A commotion among the horses draws his attention, and I run directly into the sunlight outside the stable. Ansel doesn’t follow, and deep in my belly, I know he won’t. I keep running until thestitch in my side is impossible to ignore, and my face stings from the heat of the sun.
Cursing, I blink rapidly and replace the memory of the bright summer day with the reality of my dim, shuttered apartment. As a boy, secrets called to me, just as they call to me now.
I won’t be able to let this go.
The aching burn in my throat spreads to include my mouth. I can taste my own thirst—a mixture of salt, bile, and desperation.
I glance at the sink, filled with one broken mug and a dozen opened pouches of blood. Inexplicably rancid, all of them, I’ve tried and failed to drink from every single one.
Shaking my head, I chuckle wryly.
I traded the sun’s burn for another twice as insistent. Mum would call me a fool. Perhaps she would be right. One thing is clear to me: if I don’t hold blood down soon, everyone around me will be in danger.
Starving vampires don’t ask permission.
SIXTEEN
Unspoken rule of the Fringes #502:
Habits can be deadly; make life-saving ones instead.
CELINE
I spit blood into the bowl of the ceramic toilet and flush, watching the pink swirls disappear down the pipe. Brushing his teeth, Luca watches me from the corner of his eye.
“Spit it out,” I sigh, knowing he’s got something to say.
He shrugs and turns his charming grin my way, toothpaste bubbling from the corners of his lips. “Looks like you already did, baby.”
I secure my hair in a loose bun on top of my head and turn the shower on. “It’s only a bruised lung, Luca. Minor. The kind of injuries mostnish thatshawouldn’t notice.”
“Metal,” he says, spitting into the sink, then rinsing his mouth out.
As I strip, my annoyance simmers. Since I’ve already stowed my wings in preparation for my shower, the itch between my shoulder blades is impossible to ignore.
Biting my lip to keep from picking a fight with Luca, I step into the shower. Steaming water rolls down my back. Rotating slowly, I keep the spray off my hair and let it crash against my chest instead.
Even the tiny drops of water hurt.
I took a blow last night that sent me crashing into the cage wall. My wings helped me get away before my opponent could snap me in half with his follow-up attack, but my entire body feels bruised.
Under the stream, I sag, breathing deeply through the pain. Every rise and fall of my chest squeezes another ache out of my body.Be positive, Celine.
I am getting better; I know that. I’ve won every fight so far, although there have been some close calls. Good for business, according to Resker—except I can’t stop worrying that one of these days, I won’t be fast enough...
The worst of it all is the anticipation. Peeking around every corner. Tossing and turning every night—haunted by memories of the past and fears for the future.
What is my father waiting for? Will his assassins strike once they see me hobbling around, bent over with pain? I’m sure he would love to prove all my efforts are futile before killing me. A double victory for him. A hopeless death for me.
