Page 163 of Life and Death

“Now,” Earnest said. Royal stalked out the front door without another glance in my direction, but Earnest touched my shoulder as he passed.

“Be safe.” His whisper lingered behind them as they slipped out the door. I heard the truck start thunderously, and then the sound faded away.

Jessamine and Archie waited. Then Archie lifted his phone to his ear just before it buzzed.

“Edythe says the man is on Earnest’s trail. I’ll get the car.” He vanished into the shadows the way Edythe had gone.

Jessamine and I looked at each other. She stood across the length of the entryway from me.

“You’re wrong, you know,” she said.

“Huh?”

“I can feel what you’re feeling now—and youareworth it.”

The feeling of being slowly skinned didn’t let up. “If anything happens to them, it will be for nothing,” I whispered.

She smiled kindly. “You’re wrong,” she repeated.

Archie stepped through the front door and walked straight toward me, one arm out.

“May I?” he asked.

“You’re the first one to ask permission,” I mumbled.

Archie slung me up into a fireman’s carry like Earnest had and, with Jessamine shielding us protectively, flew out the door, leaving the lights on behind us.

20. IMPATIENCE

WHENIWOKE UP, IWAS CONFUSED. IT TOOK ME LONGER THAN ITshould have to remember where I was.

The room was too bland to belong anywhere but a hotel. The bedside lamps were bolted to the tables, and the drapes were made from the same fabric as the bedspread.

I tried to remember how I’d gotten to this room, but nothing came at first.

I remembered the black car, the glass in the windows darker than that on a limousine. The engine was almost silent, though we’d raced across the black freeways at more than twice the legal limit.

And I remembered Archie on the seat next to me, rather than up front with Jessamine. I remembered realizing suddenly that he was there as my bodyguard, that the front seat was apparently not close enough. It should have made the danger seem more real, but it all felt a million miles away. The danger I was in personally wasn’t the danger I was worried about.

I made Archie keep up a strange stream-of-consciousness future watch all night long. There weren’t any details so small they didn’t interest me. He’d told me turn by turn how Edythe, Carine, and Eleanor would be moving through the forest, and though I didn’t know any of the landmarks he referenced, I’d been riveted by every word. And then he would go back and describe the same sequence differently, as some decision remapped the future. This happened over and over again, and it was impossible to follow, but I didn’t care. As long as the future never put Edythe and Joss in the same place, I’d been able to keep breathing.

Sometimes he would switch to Earnest for me. Earnest and Royal were in my truck, heading east. Which meant the red-haired man was still on their trail.

Archie’d had a more difficult time seeing Charlie. “Humans are harder than vampires,” he told me. And I’d remembered that Edythe had said something to me about that once. It had seemed like years ago, when it had been only days. I remembered being disoriented by the way I couldn’t make sense of the time.

I remembered the sun coming up over a low peak somewhere in California.The light had stung my eyes, but I’d tried not to close them. When I did, the images that flashed behind my lids like still slides were too much. I’d rather my eyes burn than see them again. Charlie’s broken expression . . . Edythe’s bared teeth . . . Royal’s furious glare . . . the red eyes of the tracker staring at me . . . the dead look in Edythe’s eyes when she’d turned away from me . . .

I kept my eyes open, and the sun moved across the sky.

I remembered my head feeling heavy and light at the same time as we raced through a shallow mountain pass and the sun, behind us now, reflected off the tiled rooftops of my hometown. I hadn’t had enough emotion left to be surprised that we’d made a three-day journey in one. I’d stared blankly at the city laid out in front of us, realizing slowly that it was supposed to mean something to me. The scrubby creosote, the palm trees, the green golf course amoebas, the turquoise splotches of swimming pools—these were supposed to be familiar. I was supposed to feel like I was home.

The shadows of the streetlights had slanted across the freeway with lines that were sharper than I remembered. So little darkness. There was no place to hide in these shadows.

“Which way to the airport?” Jessamine had asked—the first time she’d spoken since we’d gotten in the car.

“Stay on the I-ten,” I’d answered automatically. “We’ll pass right by it.”

It had taken me a few seconds more to process the implications of her question. My brain was foggy with exhaustion.