But there was a spot on the cement f loor next to the mattress that was blackened and charred, and I had to know what it was. As I studied the remains of book pages, scattered among the ashes, my heart sank. All that time, all that work, and in the end my collection had been burned to keep two strangers warm.
The strange vampire chuckled. "They won't need words now," he mused. "Not to read, not to burn, not to nibble on.
Always nibbling, the rats. Creeping into dark places to get warm, spreading their filth. No more words for them. No more anything." He chuckled again, the empty sound making my skin crawl.
I resisted the urge to draw my weapon. He wasn't making any threatening moves, but I felt as if I was standing close to a coiled, venomous snake. "Who are you?" I asked, and his blank gaze switched to me. "What's your business in New Covington?"
"Just looking for something, little bird." Another of his eerie smiles, and this time his fangs showed, just the tips.
"And if you want my name, you'll have to give me yours. It's only polite, and we're a polite society, after all." I hesitated. For whatever reason, I did not want this creepy bloodsucker to know my name. Not that I was worried that he would report it to the Prince who, according to Kanin, did not instantly know the name of every vampire in the whole city, especially the Type-3 riffraff. The Prince was concerned only about those in his immediate circle; the common vampires were below his notice.
But I did not want this vampire to know me, because I knew, somehow, that he would remember, and that seemed like a very bad idea.
"No?" The vampire smiled at my silence, unsurprised. "Not going to tell me? I guess I can't blame you. I am a stranger and all. But you'll have to forgive me if I don't disclose my identity, then. Can't be too careful these days."
"I want you to leave," I told him, feigning a bravado I really didn't feel. "This is my sector, my hunting grounds. I want you out. Right now."
He gave me a long, eerie stare, as if sizing me up. He was perfectly still, but I could sense those tendons coiling beneath his pale skin, ready to unleash. And suddenly, I was terrified of this stranger. This thin, motionless vampire whose eyes were as dark and soulless as Kanin's. My hands shook, and I crossed my arms to hide them, knowing the stranger would see the smallest detail. I knew I stood in the presence of a killer.
Finally, he smiled. "Of course," he said, nodding as he stepped away, and my knees nearly buckled with relief. "Terribly sorry, love. Didn't mean to intrude. I'll be leaving now." He stepped aside, moving toward the door, but paused, giving me a thoughtful stare. "Little bird, your song is so different than his," he crooned, to my utter confusion. "Don't disappoint me."
I didn't say anything. I just held his gaze, hoping he would go away. The vampire gave me one last terrible smile, then turned and vanished through the door. I listened for his footsteps, walking away, but heard nothing.
The world seemed to breathe again. I waited several minutes, unmoving, wanting the creepy vampire to get as far away as he could, before I finally strode to the open crate, lying against the wall, and peered inside.
Two books. That was all that was left. Two books out of a lifetime of effort, and neither was the one that mattered.
I sank to my knees, feeling my throat close up, my stomach twisting. For a moment, I wished the two greedy scavengers were still alive so I could hurt them, make them feel the same pain. I had nothing left now, nothing to remind me of my past. My mom's book, the only thing I had to remember her by, was lost forever.
I didn't cry. Numbly, I pulled myself to my feet and turned away, stif ling my anger and despair, letting cold indifference settle over me. Loss was nothing new. Those two strangers only had done what anyone would to survive. Nothing lasted in this world; it was everyone for himself. Allie the Fringer knew that; Allison the vampire just needed the reminder.
I left the school without looking back. There was nothing there for me anymore, and I was already putting it from my mind, shoving it down into the deepest parts where I kept all the memories I didn't want to remember. You don't dwell on what you've lost, you just move on. The night was waning, and I had something else to do, one more piece of my past to check on, before Kanin discovered I was missing.
I made my way to the old warehouse with a growing sense of urgency. Slipping inside the building, I scanned the room and the boxes in the center of the rubble piles, looking for a familiar face. It seemed most of the gang had returned already, for there were about a half-dozen young people bunched together around the fire, talking and laughing. I looked closely at each of them, but Stick was not among them.
And then I saw him, huddled off to the side, his thin frame curled around himself. He was shivering, hunched over and miserable, and I felt a f lare of anger and disgust. Anger for these people who shunned him, who weren't taking care of their own, who would let him slowly die from starvation and cold right in front of them. But I also felt a sudden contempt toward Stick, who still hadn't learned to take care of himself, who was still relying on others to save him, when it was obvious that they didn't care.
Quietly, I made my way through the rubble, keeping to the shadows, until Stick was just a few yards away. He looked even thinner than usual, a near-skeleton of a boy with pinched skin and greasy hair and dull, dead eyes.
"Stick," I whispered, casting a quick glance toward the group by the fire. They all had their backs to me, or to Stick, more likely, and didn't notice us. "Stick! Over here! Look this way!"
He jerked and raised his head. For a few seconds, he looked confused, gazing around blearily, his eyes staring right through my hiding spot. But then I waved to him, and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
"Allie?"
"Shh!" I hissed, drawing back into the shadows as some of the gang members half turned their heads, frowning. I gestured for him to follow, but he just sat there, staring at me as if I was a ghost.
In a sense, I suppose I was.
"You're alive," he whispered, but his voice lacked the excitement, the relief, I was expecting. It sounded dull, almost accusing, though he wore a confused expression. "You shouldn't be alive. The rabids...I heard..." He shuddered violently, curling into himself. "You didn't come back," he said, and now there was a definite note of accusation in his voice.
"You didn't come back for me. I thought you were dead, and you left me alone."
"I didn't have a choice," I said through gritted teeth. "Believe me, I would have come here sooner if I could, but I didn't know you were alive, either. I thought the rabids got you, like Rat and Lucas."
He shook his head. "I went back home and waited for you, but you never came. I stayed there, alone, for days. Where were you? Where have you been all this time?" He sounded like a pensive toddler, and my frustration in-creased. "Near an old hospital in Sector Two," I snapped,
"but that doesn't matter now. I came here to see if you're all right, if you're taking care of yourself."
"What do you care?" Stick muttered, fiddling with his tattered sleeve. His watery gaze eyed my coat and narrowed darkly. "You never really cared what happened to me. You always wanted me gone. You and everyone else. That's why you never came back."
I swallowed a growl, barely. "I'm here now, aren't I?"
"But you're not staying, are you?" Stick looked up at me, his eyes hooded. "You're going to leave again, leave me alone with these people. They hate me. Just like Rat and Lucas did.
You hated me, too."
"Stay away from me!" Stick's frantic cry finally roused the others around the fire, and they looked toward us, muttering and rising to their feet. I felt my lips curl back, my fangs lengthen, even as I gave my old friend one last, desperate look.
"Stick, don't do this."
"Vampire!" he shrieked and lunged backward, sprawling in the dirt. "Vampire, over here! Get away from me! Help!
Someone, help!"
I growled and drew back as the group around the fire leaped to their feet, shouting and cursing. Stick half ran, half crawled back to the fire, shouting and pointing in my direction, and the rest of the camp exploded into terrified chaos.