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“You want revenge?”
My breath scraped in. I gave a short nod.
“Then don’t get mad. Get even.”
We stared at each other. I looked after the spawn, then back at my brother. His face wore that look, the one that meant he had a plan.
My chest heaved. But I bit. “How?”
“I’ll help!” Rafe bounced on his heels like an eager puppy.
Gabriel considered him, then nodded. “All right. You can be the lookout.”
And we’d gotten even—in a devious, very-Gabriel way. Those spawn had woken the next evening with mice crawling on them. Actually, more than crawling. The mice had been nibbling on them because we’d sprinkled sugar on the two boys while they were sleeping. Trust my brother to know mice have a sweet tooth.
The spawn’s shrieking had woken everyone. They darted out of the room they were sharing, tearing off their clothes, slapping at their bodies, shaking mice out of their pants.
Gabriel, Rafe, and I had come out of our own rooms and laughed with the other kids.
Gabriel grinned at me out of the side of his mouth. “Guess they forgot dhampirs don’t have to sleep all day.”
Now I shook my head, blew out a breath and climbed down the ladder.
I crawled back to the sleeping bag and collapsed on top of it. I let myself lie there for fifteen minutes or so, then made myself get up again, knowing that I needed to eat if I wanted to get better. I vaguely recalled a burger, but Reaper must have finished it herself or tossed it. Probably a good thing, if three days had passed.
I stood up and shuffled to the table, because I was damned if I’d crawl again. I ripped off a small chunk of bread, cut myself a piece of cheese and made my way back to the sleeping bag. I took a cautious bite, washing it down with the wine that Reaper had left near the bag. When that stayed down, I tried another bite. That stayed down, too, and I kept going until I’d finished the small meal.
I lay down on the sleeping bag. Above me the cemetery was quiet except for the rustle of wind in the trees and a pigeon’s mournful coo. Reaper had found an out-of-the-way corner, because I’d been to Lachaise once with my family. It might be a graveyard, but it was also a popular tourist attraction, with thousands of visitors each day.
I rubbed my forehead. The light from the hole in the ceiling had darkened. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the air had that heavy feel it gets when a storm is on the way.
Friday afternoon.
And Moreau had released me on Tuesday.
I’d wasted too much time already, but Reaper had been right to bring me here. I’d been too sick to travel.
I stared down at my hands. They still shook.
I felt frail. Helpless. Ashamed at my loss of control. But it had served its purpose.
I was furious at Moreau and Étan and Slayers, Inc. and whoever else was behind this, and that was good. I could ride that anger, use its strength. But I couldn’t let it control me. That would be suicide, and it wouldn’t help my brothers, either.
So for now, I’d focus on getting well enough to travel. Do whatever it took to unravel this mess and save Gabriel and Rafe.
And then I’d get even. Because the people behind this were going down. Starting with Philippe Moreau.
Everyone except for Reaper. Her, I was going to keep.
17
RIDLEY
I was so fucked.
I left Zaq and started down the hill to the main entrance. Pretty soon I was walking fast, and then running like I was being chased by a dozen vampires. But there were no vampires, just my own horrified heart, and that came with me.
I was falling for Zaq Kral. A dhampir.
