Page 74 of Red Rooster

“You aren’t supposed to kill kids.”

“I didn’t.” Nikita met his gaze, eyes dangerous and pale. “I killed a monster.”

Trina cleared her throat. “Guys?”

They took a long moment to turn toward her, staring one another down.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while you were gone, and the address confirms it: Sasha’s in Virginia.”

Nikita nodded. “I’ll–”

“We’ll,” she insisted, “need to all be working together on the same page. No heroes, no running off half-cocked. We need to go to Virginia, and we need to find the facility. Maybe you guys can track Sasha by scent, but maybe not. We need some intel, and lucky for us, we’ve got a man on the inside.”

Everyone stared at her.

“Val.”

Nikita said, “No.”

“Yes. He’s there. He’s our only source of information, and unlike these Institute people, he’s never actually tried to hurt any of us. In fact, he’s been a help. So. We need to call him up and have a conversation.”

Lanny snorted, face screwed up like he’d bitten into a lemon. Disgusted with all of them. “Yeah? How you gonna do that?”

“Philippe conjured him with a séance once.”

“You a witch now?”

“No.” She smiled a little. “My grandmother is.”

No one had been expecting that.

“How about a trip to Buffalo?”

~*~

Lanny was angry with her. He probably thought she was monstrous for not caring about the boy Nikita had strangled. But those were problems for her to worry about later. Now she had to pack.

It had only been two days, but she thought there was a dusty stillness about her apartment, like it was already preparing for her to leave it for longer. For who knew how long. She’d already called the precinct and told them there was a family emergency – not a lie – and that she’d didn’t know when she’d be back in town. She wasn’t sure if she’d have a job when she got back; she wasn’t sure if she cared at this point.

She dragged her suitcase out of the closet and started stuffing clothes in it, some for summer, some for fall, plenty of essentials.

Nikita stood with his shoulder propped in the bedroom doorway, hands in his jacket pockets. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, quietly, and she paused.

Trina set down the shirt she was holding and turned to face him.

Away from the others, he looked younger. Less certain. No, scratch that: he looked terrified. He’d chewed at his lip until his fang drew blood, and the quickly-closing scab looked angry and painful. He’d been running his hands through his hair, and it fell limp and greasy on his forehead.

She stepped closer, wanting to comfort him, not sure how. “You two have been together a really long time.” She tried to duck her head and catch his eye, but he wouldn’t look at her. “I know you love him–” He flinched away from the word, and she put her hand on his arm; he flinched from that, too, but not as violently. He took a shivery breath. “No, it’s okay. I know. He’s the only person you’ve got in the world.”

His eyes lifted, frightened and ashamed through the screen of his lashes. “I should have had him with me. I shouldn’t have–” His breathing hitched. “I shouldn’t have left him. If something happens to him…” He swallowed, throat clicking.

“It won’t.”

His mouth twisted.

“He’s really tough. You know that. Youshowedme that. Have a little faith, and I promise we’ll get him back.”

“You don’t have to,” he repeated. “Your job–”