Page 27

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

Kade’s butt was numb on the forest floor.

He squirmed, trying to get away from a root sticking into his spine. “Is this a test? How long can you be quiet until I stop being annoying? Because I can go all night, baby. Feels weird to call a teacher baby, but I’m sure as shit not calling you mister after all this.”

Hawthorn didn’t reply. He stared, unblinking, into the forest. He hadn’t moved since he tied Kade to the tree. Kade didn’t know how long it had been, but it had been light when Hawthorn carried him here, and now it was dark, moonlight washing the clearing white. His arms ached from being tied behind him, skin scratched from the rough bark.

Kade tried again. “How old are you?”

Hawthorn didn’t move. He watched the trees, perfectly still. Even his chest didn’t move. He looked like a statue .

“Are the glasses real?” Kade asked. A drop of sweat trickled down his neck. “Am I bait? He won’t come. He can find some other blood bag, one he doesn’t burn when he bites it.”

No reply. Kade thumped his head back against the tree. His scalp stung. He kept waiting for another sickening jolt of a vision, like the one that had hit while Aaron and his dad were prowling around. So far, nothing.

“Am I part of it?” he whispered. “The ritual? The burning, that has to be part of it, right? I’m—what, a sacrifice?”

“You’re more than that,” Hawthorn said simply. Like he hadn’t been ignoring Kade all this time.

Kade gave him a queasy smile. “Are you gonna kill me?”

“ Theo is going to kill you. When the time comes.” Hawthorn cocked his head. Listening, Kade realized. Something must be happening in the forest.

Hawthorn’s head snapped back up. He turned on his heel, those same polished boots Kade had seen him wear all through middle school and high school.

“Then again,” Hawthorn said, “plans change.”

He knelt in front of Kade, reaching up to toy with the gag perched under Kade’s chin waiting to be pulled up. His tattoos peeked out of his ever-present sleeves, black tendrils snaking toward his wrist. Gone was the kind, soft-spoken teacher Kade had grown to trust. In its place crouched an animal, watching Kade with a detached interest. Like a lion watching a trapped gazelle. Knowing it was going to eat—but not yet.

Kade tried to laugh defiantly. It came out wet and pleading, all the terror finally catching up to him. “Yeah, well, good luck, asshole. You can’t kill me without telling me what I am. I don’t—you haven’t even told me what I am, you have to tell me, please don’t kill me without telling me what I am!”

The words spilled out of him, shaky and uncontrollable. Tears welled in his eyes. Embarrassment was there, even then. But it paled in comparison to that huge, lifelong need to be part of something. He’d spent his whole life as nothing, unwanted, shit on someone’s shoe, but now he was something . He couldn’t die without knowing what.

Hawthorn watched him pant, pupils inhumanly large. Behind him, leaves crunched in the distance. Two sets of footsteps, coming fast.

Kade opened his mouth. Hawthorn slapped a palm over it, then pulled the gag up into his mouth.

“Warn them and I will make you wish I killed you,” Hawthorn whispered. He patted Kade’s cheek and reached down to fiddle with the rope.

Voices drifted through the trees, getting closer.

“…what kind of person eats celery at a basketball game?” said an out-of-breath Coach Cheech.

“She’ll eat popcorn at my house, but her mom gets really weird about what she eats in public. She’s been getting better about it, but—” Theo stopped when he burst into the clearing, Coach Cheech lagging behind. Coach Cheech wheezed, a crossbow at the ready, a heavy bag slung over his shoulder.

“Mr. Hawthorn,” Theo said. “What’s going on?”

Mr. Hawthorn looked up, still fumbling with the rope. “Oh thank god it’s you. I thought one of the bullies was coming back. One of you call the police, quick.”

Coach Cheech lowered his crossbow cautiously. “Hawthorn.”

“Cheech,” Mr. Hawthorn replied. “Call the police. This is completely unacceptable. I can’t believe someone at my school would do this.” He swore under his breath, fumbling the rope. “I can’t figure out this knot. Theo, come over here, would you?”

Coach Cheech’s arm shot out, a line across Theo’s chest. “Wait one minute.”

“It’s fine,” Theo told him.

Coach Cheech watched Hawthorn warily. “Sure, but let’s?—”

“It’s fine ,” Theo repeated, jogging over to kneel in front of Kade. He eased the gag out of his mouth, giving Kade a pointed look. He was in his basketball clothes, a twig sticking to his shorts from running through the woods. His perfectly coiffed curls were in disarray. He left the big game to chase after him, Kade realized. A lump formed in his throat, half-touched, half-terror. Warn them and I will make you wish I killed you .

Theo raised his brows, a silent question.

Kade sat perfectly still, the gag wet against his chin. He didn’t make a sound. He didn’t look beside them, where Hawthorn was still fumbling at the rope. He didn’t look anywhere but Theo.

Theo’s mouth tightened. The start of a realization. Hoping he was wrong, just like Kade had.

Hawthorn cursed again, digging fruitlessly into the rope tethered to the tree.

“I hope your friends aren’t involved in this,” he told Theo. “I know you boys can be rough sometimes, but I really expected better.”

“We’re not involved,” Theo said slowly. His eyes tracked Kade’s face. “You’re okay, right, Renfield?”

“Right,” Kade rasped. A tear juddered down his cheek. He leaned down to smear it on the shoulder of his jacket. “Prank g-got out of hand.”

“Right,” Theo echoed.

Behind them, Coach Cheech surveyed the clearing. He eyed the tree line, crossbow at the ready in front of him.

“Nighttime walk in the woods, huh?” he asked Hawthorn.

Hawthorn sighed, sitting back on his heels. “What? Why is no one getting out their phones? Reception isn’t that spotty in these woods.”

“Sure you want us to call somebody, Hawthorn?”

“Why wouldn’t I…” Hawthorn trailed off. He stood up slowly. “Fancy crossbow you have there, Coach. I thought you didn’t hunt. ”

“Depends what I’m hunting.” The crossbow gleamed in the moonlight. Coach Cheech shifted his grip, and Hawthorn’s gaze shifted with it. Following the arrow tip.

Kade shuddered, twisting his hands behind him uselessly. His wrists chafed against the rope. He gave Theo a pleading look, and Theo barely paused a second before reaching out. One firm tug and the rope around the tree snapped, a loud noise that made Kade flinch as it echoed around the clearing.

“Wow,” Hawthorn said as Theo broke the ropes around Kade’s wrists. “They grow them strong in Lock.”

“Damn right.” Coach Cheech held the crossbow up, aiming at Hawthorn’s heart.

Hawthorn held up his hands. “What the hell are you doing ?”

“Can it,” Coach Cheech barked. He nodded over at Theo. “He got a heartbeat?”

Theo closed his eyes, focusing. When he opened them, his face was twisted in disbelief.

“No,” he whispered.

Coach Cheech cocked the crossbow.

“Wait,” Hawthorn barked. He looked at Theo and Kade, panicked. “Just hear me out. If it was just you, I wouldn’t have needed all the pretense. But I needed to get you away from him first.”

Coach Cheech scoffed. “Sure, I bet you?—”

Hawthorn blurred toward him. Coach Cheech trailed off in a yell, finger jerking on the crossbow trigger. The arrow made a snicking sound as it skimmed the blur streaking toward him, barely interrupting its sprint.

Kade blinked. Hawthorn stood behind Coach Cheech, neat and unruffled except for the black gash on his shoulder where the arrow had caught him. His hands were tight around Coach Cheech’s jaw.

“No,” Coach Cheech gasped. “Wait?—”

Hawthorn wrenched his head to the side. A shocking snap echoed around the clearing. Coach Cheech swayed, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. Then he crumpled, falling back onto his bag of weapons.

Hawthorn heaved a sigh of relief. “You’re welcome,” he said, voice soft and understanding, like he was telling Kade why he’d failed another test.

Theo shoved Kade behind him, teeth bared. “Get the hell away from us.”

Hawthorn gestured at Theo’s fangs. “You can put those away. I don’t want to fight you.”

Kade made an incredulous noise, throat still thick with tears. He’d spent his whole life wanting to be in a story, wanting to be something. Now here he was, and he wanted to go home and put his head under the covers until he stopped shaking.

Hawthorn held out his hands, dark tattoos catching the moonlight. For a moment it looked like they moved, thin strands shifting over his pale skin.

“This must be so disorientating,” Hawthorn continued. “ And you must be very scared. But you weren’t safe with him. I had no other option.”

Theo snarled. “Coach wanted to help!”

“Really? A hunter wanted to help a vampire? A vampire who is destined to bring destruction that Lockian hunters have been tasked with stopping for the last two centuries?” Hawthorn sighed. “Come on, Theo. He wasn’t your kind.”

“I’m not your kind , either!”

Hawthorn said, “I’m not one of those crazy creatures trying to unleash hell on the town. I promise. You can trust me. I’m here to keep you safe.”

“Like hell,” Kade spat. He tugged the back of Theo’s basketball shirt. “Mate, he kept me tied up all day . He said you were going to kill me.”

Theo frowned. “He said what?”

Hawthorn gave Kade a disappointed look, and Kade had to fight not to shrink underneath it. Part of him still reacted to Hawthorn like he was his favorite teacher, even with Coach Cheech’s corpse cooling between them.

“I was afraid of this.” Hawthorn took off his glasses, cleaning them on his ironed shirt. “Theo—we need to get Kade somewhere safe. There might be more hunters waiting. Rest assured, I truly do want to keep him safe, despite his allegiances.”

“Allegiances,” Theo repeated. “What allegiances?”

Mr. Hawthorn looked at him pityingly. “You really didn’t suspect? ”

“Suspect…” Theo’s gaze flickered to where Kade was still clutching the back of his basketball shirt. “What do you mean? Kade’s not…he’s on my side.”

Kade stood perfectly still, trembling in every limb. A strange feeling of déjà vu washed over him. Like he knew this story already. Like he knew Mr. Hawthorn’s words before they left his mouth.

“He’s not,” Mr. Hawthorn said gently. “He never was. I’m sorry, Theo. He’s with the hunters.”