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“And why would you think that?”
“Because you are what they are.”
Her gaze met mine, and my blood ran cold. She knew. Rhea help us all, she knew. Part of me wanted to run. Part of me wanted to kill her where she stood.
I did neither. I simply said, “And what might that be, Nuri?”
“You are vampire,” she said, voice flat. “Or rather, you are a déchet whose blood runs with the stain of their darkness.”
The energy and fury stinging my skin sharpened abruptly, snatching my breath and making my own seem minute by comparison. Just for an instant, I saw an answering spark run across Nuri’s fingertips—it was fierce and thunderous, and it was warning enough of the power that was hers to unleash. I silently begged the older ghosts for calm—for restraint—and said, “That does not make me invisible to them. That does not mean I could pass through their ranks any more easily than you. The injuries I received when I stumbled into their nest the first time was evidence enough of that.”
“Yes, but it will enable you to get in with some hope of being undetected, and it will also enable you to get Jonas out.”
“And how do you think I’m going . . .” I stopped. She was talking about shadowing. Or, more specifically, shadowing with Jonas. “I don’t even know if something like that is possible.”
“It is, because I’ve seen vampires do it.”
“Just because they can—”
“You are what they are,” she repeated. “And I have read the future in the breeze and the earth, and you are Jonas’s only hope. You will do this. You must, for your sake as much as ours.”
For my sake? Then I thrust the thought aside. Now was not the time to examine such an odd comment.
“Or what?” My voice was flat. Without emotion. Without hope. I knew the answer, because it was the same one that had echoed down through time and history.
“Or,” she said, her voice as emotionless as mine, “I will not only destroy all that you hold dear, but I will send them to a very special kind of hell—one that is usually reserved for the vilest of souls. The choice, dear Tiger, is yours.”
Chapter 12
The urge to leap over the bed and rip her throat out with my bare hands was so fierce I actually took a step forward. It took every ounce of willpower to not only restrain that urge, but to contain the answering surge of energy from the older déchet still gathering around us.
Nuri, I noticed, hadn’t moved, even though I had no doubt she was aware of both my fury and that of the ghosts.
“I’m guessing,” I said, voice low and flat, “that my fate will be the same?”
“Oh no, you’ll be free to remain here—alive, alone, and fully aware that you could have saved them and failed.” Her gaze narrowed a little. “Just as you failed to save them once before.”
Shock ran through me. She’d read me altogether too well. I clenched my fists and said, “You have no idea what went on in this place after the war—”
“And at this point,” she cut in, “I don’t care. Make your choice, Tiger.”
There was no choice, and we both knew it. But I couldn’t go down without a fight, even if it was only a war of words.
“If you could do such a thing to the young ones who haunt this place, then you are no better than those we hunt.”
“I seek to save the lives of the living.” Though her voice remained calm, the flash of darkness and fury in her eyes suggested my words had hit a nerve.
And so they should have. Murder was murder, whether we were talking about the living or the dead.
“What happens afterward?” I asked. “If I manage to survive—and bring Jonas back—what then?”
“You will help us find the children.”
“And after that?”
She frowned. “After that, you are free to go on as you always have.”
I laughed. It was a harsh and bitter sound, and both the little ones pressed closer to me, their energy both comforting and confused. Not so much about this situation or even the woman in front of us, but rather both by my anger and that of the older déchet around us. Not since the gassing of this place had any of us felt so furious, and yet so helpless.
