Kanin gave him a level stare. “No,” the Master vampire said, as if that was the end of it. “We go to Eden together, or not at all. Unless someone truly wants to leave for good, we face Sarren as a unit. There is too much at stake to take chances.” Jackal shrugged and stuck his head beneath the hood again as Kanin went on. “We can make up for a few hours if we have a working vehicle. What do you need to repair it?”
“Besides a bloody miracle?” There was a grunt, and Jackal swore. “Parts. Tools. And a new engine would be fucking fantastic. But since we’re sort of screwed on any of those, peace and quiet, without a certain obnoxious sibling bitching at me every two minutes.”
“Funny, I think that exact same thing every day.”
“There were a few vehicles a couple miles back,” Zeke said, startling me. His voice hadn’t changed; it still was empty as ever, as if none of this interested him. “They looked abandoned. Want me to go see if any of them start? Since this is going to take a while.”
“The puppy speaks,” Jackal mocked, peering up from the hood. “And he actually said something useful. Yeah, why don’t you do that, bloodbag? And while you’re at it, see if any of them have fuel. Fixing this thing won’t matter for shit if we don’t have gas.”
“I’ll go, too,” I said, quickly pushing myself off the van.
Jackal snickered and muttered, “Big surprise,” as he ducked back under the hood, but I ignored him. No way was I letting Zeke out of my sight now. I didn’t think he would head off down the road alone to meet the rising sun, but I honestly wasn’t sure. This cold, emotionally detached Zeke worried me more than if he’d acted angry and bitter.
I wanted to talk to him without Jackal’s snide comments or Kanin’s silent but unmistakable presence. If I could just get him alone, talking freely, maybe I could break through the icy shell he’d built around himself. Or at least get him to tell me what was going on.
“Allison.” Kanin’s voice reached me over the van. I glanced at my sire, saw sympathy and understanding in his dark eyes. “Be careful,” he warned. “You will likely not meet with rabids or humans, but still, remain on your guard. Return immediately if there is trouble.”
“We will,” I promised, and glanced at the vampire beside me. “Ready, Zeke?”
Zeke returned my gaze and nodded, but his eyes remained distant. Reaching into the van, he emerged with a faded red container and turned down the long stretch of highway behind us. “Let’s go.”
We followed the road for several minutes in silence. Zeke walked next to me, gaze fixed on the distant horizon. Around us, nothing moved. The highway stretched on, empty and still, the only sounds the crunch of our boots on the snowy pavement. I was trying to think of a way to talk to Zeke, to breach the silence, when his voice echoed quietly into the stillness.
“Go ahead and ask.”
Startled, I glanced at him, seeing his empty face, the cold, remote eyes, and swallowed painfully. “Zeke…” I hesitated, not really knowing how to put it, what to ask. I can’t reach you. You’ve pulled so far back, I don’t even recognize you anymore. Is this a choice, or is this what you are now? Is there anything left of the old Zeke? The one I…fell in love with?
“This isn’t like you,” I finally said, wishing I knew how to express my true thoughts. He didn’t reply, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with me, and my concern spiked. “Talk to me, Zeke,” I urged. “I know you have to have questions, about everything. I can help. I’m not as good a teacher as Kanin, but I’ll do my best.”
“I don’t want to know,” Zeke said. At my confused frown, he finally looked at me, a flicker of pain finally cracking his icy mask. “I don’t need to understand vampire politics, or rituals, or if they have special holidays,” he said. “I only have to understand one thing—I’m a demon. I may not have wanted it, but it’s what I am now.” His jaw tightened, brow furrowing as if he was in pain. “This rage, and bloodlust, and Hunger…I can feel it inside me. And if I let it go, for one second, I’ll lose everything.”
“You can control it—”
“I’m trying, Allison.” He bared his fangs, then his face smoothed out, returning to that blank front of indifference. “I’m trying. If I don’t think about…what I lost, if nothing matters, I don’t feel it as strongly. If I give in to anger or hate or regret, it’s that much closer to coming out.”
“So, your answer is to feel nothing at all.”
“Yes.” Zeke’s voice was hollow again, his eyes distant. “Better to feel nothing, to be numb, than to lose control. It’s the only way I know to deal with it.”
And…what about us? I wanted to ask. Where do we stand, Zeke?
I knew it wasn’t the right time to ask. Being Turned against his will, the twisted mind games Sarren had played with him, the horror of everything he’d done while under the compulsion; he had so much to work out, to come to terms with, before he was anywhere near normal. He wasn’t ready to face anything between us.
And to be honest, I wasn’t either. I was afraid to ask, to hear what the answer could be. Afraid that my worst, secret fear would be confirmed: that Ezekiel Crosse truly had died on that table with Sarren, and the vampire walking beside me was a completely different person. One who couldn’t love me anymore.
I didn’t say anything else, lost to my own dark thoughts, and Zeke retreated behind his icy, blank wall. We continued the rest of the journey in silence.
“That took longer than I expected,” Jackal remarked when Zeke and I returned. Poking his head from under the hood, he smirked at us. “Did you two get lost, or did you decide to jump each other’s bones in the ditch?”
I wasn’t familiar with that terminology, though I could guess what Jackal was hinting at, and figured it was best to play ignorant. “Shut up, and here,” I said, setting the red plastic container on the ground beside him. “None of the cars would start, but there’s about a half gallon of fuel in there. Did you get the van working?”
In answer, Jackal rose, pointed an imaginary shotgun beneath the hood, and “fired” point-blank at the engine. I grimaced. “I take it we’re walking, then.”
“Unless you can pull a working alternator from your tight little ass.” Jackal wiped his hands on his jeans and slammed the hood so hard the van bounced. “Otherwise, I think it’s safe to say we are S.O.L.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Kanin broke in before Jackal could explain, “that we need to hurry. Without a working vehicle, Eden is still several days on foot.” The Master vampire gazed down the road, to where the pavement met the night sky, and his eyes narrowed. As if he could sense what lay beyond that point, what waited for us at the end of the road. “Let’s go,” he murmured, starting forward. “I fear we are nearly out of time.”
So we walked.
For three nights, we walked. Through snowy woods and deserted towns, Kanin leading, Zeke and I trailing behind, Jackal prowling his own path between us. With the exception of a certain loud-mouthed raider king, we didn’t speak much. Kanin walked on, silent and steady, and Zeke continued to hide deep within himself, rarely talking, never showing any hint of emotion. He didn’t act angry or bitter or lost—that I could have dealt with. He never complained, or expressed any kind of sorrow or regret for being a monster. He was just… lifeless. Empty. Like nothing mattered to him anymore, not even his own life. Eventually, I started asking him questions about Eden, about Caleb and Bethany and the others who had made it, just to get him talking. To see if he remembered.
He did. And that was even worse. He remembered everything, everyone, but would answer my questions with the same numb detachment that he showed everything else. It made me sick with worry and despair. Zeke was with us, but he had either retreated so deep within himself that I couldn’t reach him, or Sarren had destroyed the human, and this cold, dispassionate vampire was all that was left.
One night, I climbed out of the hard, frozen earth beside the road to see Kanin leaning against the median with his arms
and legs crossed, waiting for the rest of us. As far as I could see, Jackal wasn’t around, and Zeke, being the youngest of us, hadn’t woken yet. Shaking dirt from my clothes and hair, I stepped onto the pavement and walked over to where my sire waited, silent and motionless against the dark.
He acknowledged me with a faint nod, but otherwise didn’t move. I leaned against the railing with him, crossing my arms as well, and together we stared into the shadows, each lost to our own thoughts. Briefly, I wondered what was on Kanin’s mind; he’d been so quiet the past couple nights, not cold and shut down like Zeke, just…preoccupied. I doubted the Master vampire worried about the things I did, but then again, I rarely knew what my sire was thinking.
“Where’s Jackal?” I finally asked, not because I really wanted to know—or couldn’t find out for myself using the blood tie—but for something to say. My voice echoed weirdly in the stillness, almost out of place. The branches above us rustled, as if offended by human speech where there should be only ruins and wilderness.
Kanin stirred, nodding down the highway. “He went on ahead,” the Master vampire replied softly. “Said he spotted a couple cars in the road and wanted to see if he could hotwire any of them. I doubt he has much hope, but I also sense he is getting rather bored with the lot of us.”
I snorted. You mean, he’s not having any fun taunting Zeke, I thought, frowning. Jackal’s comments had been nonstop ever since we’d left Old Chicago, barbed, challenging remarks aimed at our newest vampire, but Zeke either ignored them or replied in the same flat, expressionless manner as he had everything else. Last night, Jackal had sneered that Zeke was about as fun as a dead cat and stalked off, shaking his head. I couldn’t tell if he was disgusted by Zeke’s passiveness or the fact that his comments had no effect on him.
Nothing did anymore, it seemed.
“How much farther to Eden?” I asked, looking up at Kanin. The Master vampire sighed.
“I’m not entirely sure. A couple days, I should think. I have never been there, so I could not tell you for certain.” Kanin flicked a glance at me, dark eyes searching. “You and Ezekiel are the ones who have been to its gates,” he reminded me. “Does any of this look familiar?”
“I…don’t know.” I gazed around helplessly, at the highway, at the choking woods on either side, and shrugged. “Maybe? We were in a car the entire way from Old Chicago, so everything pretty much looks the same.”
Kanin didn’t admonish me for not remembering. He only raised his head and went back to staring at the horizon. The stillness fell once more, darkness and falling snow seeming to engulf everything, swallowing all sound. An owl hooted somewhere in the trees, and then the world was silent again.
“I’m worried about him, Kanin,” I admitted, almost a whisper. Kanin didn’t reply, and didn’t ask who I was talking about; there was no need. “What will happen when he gets to Eden? They’re going to know that he’s not the same.”
“Yes,” Kanin agreed quietly. “I imagine they will.”
“Can’t you help him?” I gazed at my sire, imploring. “Teach him how to be a vampire? Like you did with me? I’m not getting through to him.” Hurt and a little anger flickered, though I tried to push it down. Didn’t Zeke realize he wasn’t alone, that I’d been through all this, too? “Will you talk to him?” I asked Kanin. “He’ll listen to you.”
“No, he won’t.” I blinked, and Kanin’s gaze shifted to me, stern and sympathetic. “He’s not ready to listen, Allison. He won’t hear me, or you, or anyone. I was able to teach you because you had already chosen to Turn. Ezekiel was not afforded that choice. And until he comes to terms with what he is, no one will be able to help him.” He raised his head, staring at the spot of disturbed earth and clay where I had slept. Where Zeke was still buried, a few feet away. “You can reach for him,” Kanin murmured, “but it’s up to Ezekiel to look up and see it. He has to take the first steps out of the darkness himself.”
I clenched my fists against the railing, fighting despair. “What am I supposed to do, then?”
“Just be there, Allison.” Kanin didn’t look at me, though his voice was understanding. “When it’s time, if Ezekiel does manage to accept what he is, he will not look to me or Jackal or anyone else for help. He will come to you.”
We fell silent again. Jackal didn’t return, and Zeke slept on in his shallow grave. I crossed my arms, waiting for him to wake up, hoping against hope that he would be himself again. He’d given us all the information he could about Eden: where it was located, how the town was set up, where Sarren would likely go when he arrived. All delivered in the same flat, emotionless voice he’d used since Old Chicago. I wondered if Zeke was steeling himself for what he might find when we got to the city. If he was preparing himself for the loss of everything he had loved. We’d been so focused on catching up with Sarren, intercepting him before he reached the island. But Sarren was probably already there, and if Sarren was in Eden…
“Kanin?” I ventured.
“Yes?”
I licked my lips. “Everyone in Eden…is probably dead, aren’t they?”
My sire turned, looking down at me. His voice was calm. “What makes you think that?”
“Because…we couldn’t catch up with Sarren? Because he’s probably already there, doing whatever awful thing he’s been planning?” I kicked at a rock in frustration. “We failed, didn’t we? We did exactly what he wanted us to do in Old Chicago, and now there’s no chance of catching up. Sarren knew I would go after Zeke. He knew exactly what he was doing when he left him there. I played right into his hand, and now he’s in Eden laughing at us all.”
Kanin still didn’t answer, and I sighed. “I want to think they’re all right,” I said, feeling a lump in my throat as I thought of Caleb, Bethany, our old group. Probably all dead, because of me. “I want to believe that everyone in Eden is okay, but…I’m just fooling myself, aren’t I?”
“No.” Kanin’s soft voice surprised me. The vampire raised his head, gazing off into the darkness, the hint of a smile on his face. “If there is one thing I have discovered over the centuries of watching humans,” he murmured, “it is their stubborn and indomitable will to keep living. As a species, it is almost impossible to kill them completely. They survived Red Lung. They survived the rabid plague. True, many of them now live in vampire cities, enslaved and ignorant of the times Before, but there are still small settlements that exist outside the Princes’ territories. Humans living free.
“Sarren is one vampire,” Kanin went on, as I stared at him in amazement. “No matter how deadly, how terrible his plans, even he cannot wipe an entire city from the face of the earth in a few days. Humans are ever resilient, and their will to live surpasses everything else. Do not lose hope, Allison.” He bowed his head, his next words so soft I barely caught them. “Your hope is the reason we have a chance to stop this.”
A shifting of earth halted our conversation, the sound of dirt being pushed back as a body rose from the frozen ground. Zeke, kneeling in his shallow grave, shook clay from his hair, brushed off his jacket, and rose, his face as blank and detached as ever.
“Sorry I kept you.” His glassy blue eyes stared right through me, his voice low and indifferent. “Are we ready to leave?”
I resisted the urge to leap up and shake him, just to see some sort of emotion cross that empty face. Anger, surprise, disgust, anything was better than the apathy he showed now. “Almost,” I told him instead. “We’re just waiting on Jackal.”
“Aw, isn’t that sweet.” And Jackal sauntered into view, smirk firmly in place. “But don’t wait around on my account. It’s not like I can’t wait for yet another riveting night of listening to you people whine at each other. Oh, woe is me, I’m a vampire. I’m a horrible monster who eats babies and murders bunnies, boo hoo hoo.” He snorted and glared at Zeke. “I know that’s what you’re thinking, puppy. This robotic song and dance isn’t fooling anyone, and it’s starting to get really annoying.” He bared his fangs, a br
ief, threatening grin. “So, why don’t you stop playing the fucking whipped dog and start acting like a vampire? Or are you afraid you might actually like it?”
No response from Zeke. It was like Jackal hadn’t said anything at all. The raider king shook his head in disgust, and I glared at him. “I don’t suppose you found anything useful,” I challenged, “like a working car.”
Jackal rolled his eyes. “If I had, I would be driving to Eden right now,” he said. “Being around the lot of you is like slowly pushing nails into my brain.”
“Stick around,” I told him. “Maybe I’ll find a way to make it literal, as well.”
Abruptly, Kanin shoved himself off the railing, brushed past us, and began walking down the highway without a word. Left behind, Jackal, Zeke and I blinked at each other a moment, before Jackal gave a mocking snicker.
“I think the old man is getting a little tired of us,” he remarked as we hurried to catch up. His eyes gleamed as he smirked back at me. “Maybe you shouldn’t be such a wretched shrew, sister.”
“Me?” I bared my fangs, and would’ve kicked him if he was closer. “You’re the one he wants to kill. Come to think of it, you’re the one everyone wants to kill.”
“Hey, old man,” Jackal called in a mocking voice, “you forgot to say ‘if you kids don’t stop I’m going to turn this car right around and then no one will go to Eden.’”
Kanin didn’t deign to answer, and together we continued our journey, four vampires on a long, lonely highway heading east.
Hoping our time had not run out.