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Quietly, Balthazar said to Skye, “You can’t stay here.”
“I can’t leave Mom and Dad,” she insisted, as stubbornly as she always had. “Not after they lost Dakota. It’s too cruel, Balthazar.”
“Too cruel,” Charity agreed, in such a singsong tone of voice that Balthazar at first thought she was simply parroting words she’d heard, as she often did. But then she continued, “Crueler if they die because of you.”
That got through to Skye as nothing else had, Balthazar realized. She paled at the thought. Redgrave would have spared her parents because it suited his absurd ideas of his own nobility and fairness; the other vampires descending on the town would have no such qualms.
Craig suggested, “Take them with you.”
“Mom and Dad?” Skye considered this for a moment. “You mean, tell them the truth about all this?”
“Maybe they could handle it?” Britnee said. “I mean, we’re kinda catching up?”
Craig nodded, deep in thought. It occurred to Balthazar that, as Skye’s ex-boyfriend, Craig probably knew the Tierneys better than anyone else in the room besides Skye herself … and his view of them might be less clouded by guilt and grief. “I know they’ve been acting weird since Dakota—well, since Dakota,” Craig said. “But this stuff you’re dealing with is too big for you to carry alone, Skye.”
Balthazar could imagine it now. Spiriting Skye and her parents somewhere out of the way, an unknown location where they could still lead regular lives. He could make sure they remained safe—perhaps allow himself the luxury of remaining with Skye a while longer before letting her get back to being the normal girl she deserved to be.
At that moment the front door opened. Balthazar went for Charity’s blade, now in his own coat, but the new intruders weren’t from Redgrave’s tribe. They were people he’d never seen before—
“Mom! Dad!” Skye’s eyes lit up as she put down her mug and rushed into her parents’ arms. “We were just talking about you.”
“Honey, we came as soon as we could,” Mrs. Tierney said. “The bill’s up for a vote tonight, but we just said, screw it.”
“Your mother means that we knew we needed to be here.” Mr. Tierney was the one his daughter took after, with the same dark hair and pale eyes. “We need to talk to you about this business with the teacher.”
Said teacher, still sitting on the sofa, now felt acutely embarrassed. Before Balthazar could begin making any kind of explanations or excuses, though, Mrs. Tierney gave them all a big smile. “Well, hello, Craig! Good to see you again. And you’ve got all your friends over, honey.”
“They’re trying to make me feel better,” Skye said, “because all that stuff about the teacher is just Madison Findley’s gossip. Ask Principal Zaslow yourself tomorrow.”
Craig grinned, at ease with people he must have known well for years. “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Tierney. I see you guys still keep hot chocolate on hand for the needy.”
“We try,” Mr. Tierney said. Their jokes seemed a little hollow to Balthazar—as if her parents were trying hard to come across as happy and easygoing, but couldn’t quite pull it off. Still, he would try to cut them some slack, now that he saw how comforted Skye was to finally have them near. “Why don’t you introduce us to everyone else?”
Skye said, “Well, this is Balthazar. He’s … in history with me.” Balthazar hoped he looked much younger with his glasses off. “And that’s Craig’s new girlfriend, Britnee, and—and that’s—um—that’s Charity.”
Charity looked cornered; she knew she needed to come across as a perfectly normal teenager, but clearly had no idea how to pull it off. She was casting around for something to say; God alone knew what she would come up with. Before Balthazar could start talking and cover the awkward moment, Charity blurted out, “I love Justin Bieber.”
“Oh, I remember that feeling!” Mrs. Tierney chuckled as she patted Charity fondly on the arm; Balthazar could see his sister resisting the urge to bite. “For me it was Shaun Cassidy. I used to sleep with his LP under my pillow.”
Mr. Tierney said, “As good as it is to see all of you, I think we need to talk with Skye for a while.”
“We’re going,” Balthazar said, rising to his feet and taking hold of Charity’s arm; her gaze toward Mrs. Tierney had only grown more pointed, and he gave her his best don’t eat the nice people look. “Skye, I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Soon,” she repeated. The night hadn’t scarred her; her cheeks were rosy again, and her smile had never been as bright.
Craig and Britnee offered them a ride, but Balthazar refused it. As they drove off, he and Charity walked into the forest; the driving sleet of earlier had turned into light, gentle snow.
“Where will you go?” he said.
“I don’t know. I always used to find Redgrave when I didn’t know what to do. Now… I’ll find out.” Though she still spoke in a childlike tone, Charity made more sense than she had in a long time. Balthazar wondered if—just possibly—Skye’s blood had been powerful enough to work a permanent change in his sister. If she remembered enough of her living self, of the girl she’d been before the savage attack that killed them, she might be different from now on. Maybe that was too much to hope for, but for the first time in nearly four hundred years, he dared to dream.
He warned her, “Constantia’s still out there. She’s going to try to take over.”
“Should we stop her?”
“I think we should avoid her.”
“I don’t like her,” Charity said. “She pulls hair.”
