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Was he claiming her from me?
But then Emma smiled, and it was as sincere as it’d ever been. “Want us to wait for you?”
Was that Yasuo’s hand tightening on her shoulder? Was he giving her a silent message? “Yeah, D,” he said. “We’re happy to wait. ”
I didn’t believe he meant it. “Don’t sweat it,” I told them.
If I’d been concerned before about the implications of their affair, now I was really worried. It wasn’t healthy—or safe—for them to be so isolationist like this.
Amanda’s death had made it clear that we girls were allowed to fraternize with only one set of guys, and they were of the undead variety. That meant no Tracer boyfriends and probably no Trainees, either.
I refused to contemplate my own singular relationship obsession, and if that made me a hypocrite, so be it.
“Can we save you a seat?” Emma asked.
“I don’t know if I’ll make it back. ” I’d have to last without this evening’s shooter of blood. But since kissing Carden, I felt like I could go for days without the refrigerated stuff. “Grab me a couple dinner rolls, though, would you?”
The sun made its final dip behind the rocky horizon, casting us in cool gray twilight. Emma peered at me through the dusk. “You sure you’re okay?”
How long had I zoned out, thinking of Carden?
“I’m fine,” I replied, seeing how Emma didn’t totally believe me.
But Yasuo believed what he wanted to believe. “Then we’re outta here,” he said. “Let’s go, prairie girl. Gotta grab the good stuff before it’s all gone. ”
Guilt gnawed at me as I watched them walk down the path, away from me. They were my friends, but my bond with Carden set me apart from them whether I liked it or not.
It’d set me apart from everyone. There was no one I could tell about it all. And I probably shouldn’t tell anyone I was investigating on his behalf, either. Not even Ronan. If I told him, I knew I’d see only condemnation in his eyes, and I wouldn’t be able to stand that.
I turned my back and pretended to return to the beach. When it was safe, with a quick glance all around, I jogged off, headed south. In search of the keeper of the Draug.
I smelled it before I saw it. It was something I’d smelled once before—the stench of sickness and rot. The scent of Draug. And by the distant echoing snarls, there were several of them.
I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. Could they be tamed? Why were they kept? Was this what prevented them from roaming free, decimating the human population or coming to get young, tender girl flesh in the night? I shuddered, my skin crawling with revulsion.
I knew a spurt of fear, too. It was impossible not to be afraid—anyone who’d ever spied a Draug would be. They were neither vampire nor human, creatures for whom something had gone very, very wrong in their transformation. Which meant some of them had been Trainees. Maybe all of them were—I didn’t know. I’d encountered only two in my life. One whose flesh was so decayed, all I’d been able to discern were rotted black strips of skin, a couple of shining fangs, and the creature’s complete and all-consuming urge to eat me.
By the time I’d encountered the second Draug, I’d known what it was I faced and so had been able to keep my senses about me. Which only meant I was very aware of my tearing flesh, cracking bones, and imminent death. I’d thought I was dead meat until Ronan showed up to stake it. Where blood had once flowed, black tar oozed, seeping from its wound, bringing with it this stench I smelled now. It was the stench of evil.
Josh had said keeper of the Draug. Which meant they were kept. Which meant I was okay. Somewhat. Maybe. Because obviously they escaped sometimes.
Curiosity, reason, and need overcame raw fear. Carden would be staked if I didn’t act.
My eyes swept the foreign landscape. I’d never been to this part of the island before. It was craggier, hillier, with thin paths winding between towering rock formations.
But Carden had taught me about hills and climbing. Had he somehow intuited that I would need those very skills?
Sending up a silent thank-you to my vampire, I chose one of the higher rock faces that also seemed to have a manageable enough incline that I wouldn’t need to do more than scramble up on my hands and knees. It would get me high enough to have a vantage over more land, but it wasn’t so steep that I’d have to actually rock climb up the thing.
Night was coming fast now, and I needed to hurry. What I was doing was dangerous, and it’d become exponentially more so once it was curfew time.
With the darkness came cold. The moon was full and bright, though, and I felt its oddly charged light on my skin. I was still in my gym uniform, and I had that weird feeling of being cold and sweaty at the same time. It was just as well—I’d probably have torn up the knees of my leggings anyway.
A half hour in, and my knees were scraped and my nails blackened from the grit that jammed beneath them as I inched my way up. I was certain that technically the rock formation would’ve only been classified as a hill, but the thing sure felt like a mountain to me.
Finally I reached the top and eased onto the plateau on my belly. I felt a tug at my hips and adjusted my clothing. I’d tied a thin strip of fabric into a makeshift holster for my throwing stars and kept it hidden under my shorts. It was thin enough and tied tightly enough that nobody could see. Clinging as it did to the side of my hip bones, the shuriken didn’t hurt me when I took a hit to my abdomen, and only cut a little when I fell on my side. Unfortunately, both were common occurrences.
It was a small price to pay. These days, it just felt s
