Hotbloods

  “I’m going to check things out,” he said. “So for now it would make more sense if you stay here. We don’t want to draw any more attention to us than we need to.”

  I nodded, though part of me wanted to go with him. He was right, though—he’d be able to fly quickly and be relatively inconspicuous. Being in the ship was safer, though it did put me at something of a disadvantage in terms of getting around undetected.

  He took off, and I sat at the front of the ship, my eyes glued to him. For several hundred yards, he flew in a straight line, low, barely above the tree line. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  Then Navan stopped suddenly and changed direction, zooming toward the edge of the forest. I could tell by the way he moved that he had sensed something—that something was happening—and almost as quickly I got the ship in gear and raced down after him, trying to keep him in view the whole time. His zigging and zagging made it difficult, but the ship was remarkably agile; it was almost like it knew where I wanted to go before I had even turned the steering wheel.

  He was headed for a clearing in the forest, and I saw that he had the dart gun out, and he was aiming it. But at what? I couldn’t see anything—the shifters must be invisible. Navan landed, sprinting forward, taking aim with the gun. He stopped, though, and didn’t take a shot. I landed the ship at the edge of the clearing and jumped out, but not before taking two of the knives with me. I doubted I’d actually use them if the shifters stayed invisible, but it made me feel better to have them with me, just in case.

  I could hear sounds, but I couldn’t see anything. A shiver of fear coursed down my spine. The noise was terrible, like a pack of hyenas in a feeding frenzy. On top of that was agonized screaming, distinctly human. First, yelling for help, then just yelling. But where? I looked all around, and above me, I could tell Navan was doing the same.

  He lifted the gun and took a shot; the dart arced through the air and then stopped. There was a thud and the air shimmered and a shifter suddenly appeared, lying on the ground, the dart stuck in its flank. The screaming continued, though, and Navan shot another dart. Another shifter appeared on the ground, blood dripping from its mouth. The dart had lodged itself into its eye.

  Navan let the dart gun drop and pulled out one of the pistols. He took careful aim and then fired off a shot; another shifter seemed to appear out of thin air and slump to the ground. Navan fired once more, and my breath caught in my throat. A man appeared, underneath the shifter Navan had just shot. The shifter was dead, and the man was, too, his throat torn out, his torso ripped open with entrails trailing.

  Navan landed, his wings spread, trying to block my view. “You don’t want to see this,” he said. He went over to where the first shifter he shot lay. He pulled the dart out. “It’s still alive,” he said, looking down at it. “Judging by its shallow breathing, though, it’s not going to be waking up any time soon. I might have been a little too liberal with the dakhye.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s either going to die or stay asleep for longer than I had planned.” He squinted, scrutinizing the thing’s face. “I don’t think it’s dying. Yet. Come on—let’s get it back to the ship.”

  Navan picked the shapeshifter up like it was nothing more than a pile of wood and slung it over his shoulder. He tied its hands and feet together and then handed me one of the pistols.

  “I’m going to bury the bodies,” he said. “It won’t take me long. And I’m about one hundred percent certain this thing will be in dreamland for quite some time, but just in case, keep your eye on it and hold onto this pistol until I get back, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said. I took the pistol and sat down, wondering how long it would be until the thing woke up.

  The shifter showed no signs of stirring. I stared at it. If you had told me two weeks ago that I’d be sitting here, in a lycan ship in Siberia, watching over a drugged shapeshifter . . . no way in a million years would I have ever believed it. There was still a part of me now that was having a hard time believing it.

  The shifter hadn’t moved a muscle by the time Navan returned, so he said that we should head down into the village.

  “You’re probably starving. It’s been a while since you had anything to eat.”

  “I . . . I don’t have much of an appetite,” I said, an image of the dead man flashing in my mind.

  “I know it’s not easy to see,” Navan said gently. “And I’m obviously not going to force you to eat. But you do need to keep up your strength, so we should at least go down to the village.”

  I looked at the shifter. “Can we really leave it here?”

  “Yeah. We’ll close up the ship and even if it wakes up, it’s not going anywhere. It can’t change shape. But I really don’t feel like sitting in the ship staring at it all night, so I think heading down to the village would be a good idea.”

  “Okay,” I said. “If you think we should.”

  There was a surprising amount of activity down in the village, which I hadn’t been expecting. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits; several people smiled and waved hello, and a woman selling noodles from a food cart asked us if we were just visiting or had decided to make our home here.

  “Just visiting,” Navan replied with a smile. “Though this is certainly a lovely place.”

  “Believe it or not, this used to be a very popular tourist destination, for people from all over the world,” the woman said. There was a note of pride in her voice. “We have some of the very best hot springs in the world here. Only in recent years has word gotten out that . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “That what?” I asked gently.

  “That bad things have happened here. An American tourist disappeared two years ago and was never found. It wasn’t the first time such a thing happened, but it certainly got the most press. Him being American and all. We had a lot of Americans here, actually. That’s how I perfected my English. Oh, well, those times have gone. We’re thrilled that you’re here now!”

  “Thank you,” I replied. “I’ll try a bowl of the noodles,” I added, watching as the steam swirled from the big pot on the portable burner.

  “Gladly,” the woman said. She dished me up a brimming bowlful, and I paid her with money from my plastic bag. “It’s not too often we see new faces here, as I’m sure you can imagine. Will you be going to the festival?”

  “Festival? I didn’t know there was a festival.” I glanced at Navan, who was shaking his head.

  “There was some talk about not holding it this year,” the woman continued. “On account of the disappearances. People are scared, you see. But life goes on, now, doesn’t it? No matter what else is happening around you, you’ve just got to keep on living. So it was decided that we weren’t going to stop doing something that has been a tradition in this village for generations. It’s not supposed to start until dark, but people usually begin gathering early. It’s a lot of fun—you should come.”

  “We would love to,” I replied, and Navan could barely contain his eye roll.

  “Seriously?” he said, once we were out of earshot. “What have you signed us up for now? This isn’t a vacation; I don’t care how good the hot springs are. We’ve got a shifter tied up back at the ship.”

  I slurped up a noodle, and then took a sip of the broth. “Can we find a place to sit? And I know. But you said yourself the shifter was probably going to be out for a long time. And didn’t you also say you didn’t want to be in there staring at it the whole night?”

  He pressed his lips together. “Fair point. I don’t dance, though. So don’t get any ideas.”

  “Why do I feel like you’re probably a really good dancer?”

  “You must have me confused with Bashrik.”

  There was an unoccupied bench outside of the tavern, so Navan and I sat down while I finished the bowl of noodles. We walked around for a little while, and then got swept up in the crowd and went a few blocks to where the festival was being held. It was outside, on the green
at the center of town. As the sun set, it gave way to a clear, dark sky, a nearly full moon appearing on the horizon. Millions of stars pinpricked the sky. Strings of paper lanterns adorned the low-hanging tree branches, and there were several roaring fire pits. The band had set up near one of the pits—there were several fiddlers, a primitive drum set, an accordion. The music was lively and everyone was in high spirits. Even Navan seemed to relent, and I caught him smiling beneath his hood at the people dancing in front of him.

  “This music is great!” I said.

  “It’s all right.”

  I elbowed him. “Come on—let’s dance. Just one song!”

  Navan shook his head, but before he could reply, someone stepped in front of him. He was handsome, with dark eyes and a square cut jaw, probably no older than I was.

  “Did I hear someone say ‘dance’?” he said. He extended his hand. “My name is Dolan.”

  “I’m Riley,” I replied, shaking his hand.

  He didn’t release me though. “And would you care to dance, Riley?”

  Navan was standing behind Dolan; in fact, it had seemed as if Dolan hadn’t even registered that Navan was there.

  “I do like to dance,” I said, enjoying the annoyed look on Navan’s face. “And this music is great . . .” The smile on Dolan’s face got wider. From behind him, Navan’s scowl deepened. “I’d love to dance,” I said, suppressing a smirk. “This might be my only opportunity to do so tonight.”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it,” Dolan said jovially, and Navan made a face like he was about to throw up.

  Dolan was a good dancer—the song was fast, upbeat, so he clasped my left hand and put his other hand on my waist. We did a sort of side-stepping skip through the other dancers, and every so often Dolan would twirl me around, or put both his hands on my waist and lift me up. The whole time, I was aware of Navan, standing there on the periphery, his eyes following my every move.

  I was nearly out of breath when the song finally ended, and everyone clapped as the band started up again.

  “I’m going to take a little break,” I said to Dolan.

  “You’re an excellent dancer,” he said. “We must dance again.” His gaze moved past my shoulder. “That guy’s been staring the whole time,” he said. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  “No,” I said. “Just a friend.”

  “Is he . . . sick?”

  I looked at Dolan. “Sick?”

  “He looks . . . I don’t know, a little . . . off-color? And pissed. He definitely looks pissed. Is he anemic?”

  Navan’s hood was doing a decent job of casting shadows over his face for the most part, but if you really looked, his skin did look odd compared to others.

  “He’s definitely not anemic,” I replied.

  Dolan continued to eye him warily. “He looks like he wants to kill me.”

  “It’s possible,” I said. Dolan gave me a confused look and I laughed. “I’m just kidding. He’s just cranky. I’ll go talk to him.”

  Someone handed me a cup of hot cocoa as I made my way back over to Navan, and I took a sip, savoring the rich sweetness.

  “Have fun?” he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Lover boy over there looks like he’s got two left feet.”

  “Do I detect a note of . . . jealousy in your voice?”

  He snorted. “Please.”

  “I’d be more than happy to go back out there and dance with you, if you’d like. That offer still stands.”

  He looked at me, an amused expression on his face. I set my hot cocoa down and grabbed Navan’s hand, pulling him out to the makeshift dance floor. He was strong enough that he could have easily resisted me, but he didn’t, so I took it as a sign that he wasn’t totally against the idea.

  The band had started playing a slower song, though, and the couples dancing stopped cavorting and settled into each other’s arms, moving their feet slowly back and forth.

  “Was this part of your plan?” Navan said.

  For a moment, I thought he was going to walk away and leave me standing there, but then he moved his hands down and rested them lightly on my waist. I put my arms around his neck, and we swayed to the music.

  “I wasn’t expecting the music to slow down,” I said. “Really.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. I totally believe you. This isn’t so bad, though. How am I doing?”

  “You’re doing great.”

  And he was right—this wasn’t so bad at all. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, being out here with him, underneath the dark sky, the music filling the air. I wanted to tell him right then how happy I was, how just being near him filled me with a joy I had never experienced before, but part of me remained afraid of voicing my thoughts aloud. The possibility of being rejected was still enough to paralyze me from acting on the happiness I felt—I couldn’t bear the thought of opening up to him, only to find out he didn’t feel the same way. Part of me did think the feeling was mutual—the glances we’d shared, his open concern for my well-being, the way his look could make me feel like I was the only person on the planet—yet doubt still loomed over me. I knew what it was like to love someone, only to have those feelings not be reciprocated—how many times had my birth parents rejected me because alcohol was more important?

  So instead, I just smiled up at him, and enjoyed being so close.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Navan and I stayed at the festival a little while longer, but then he whispered to me that we should head back to the ship.

  “Do you think it’s awake?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I do. And I know it won’t be able to escape or anything, but I’d still like to get back there before it starts trying to get away.”

  We slipped away from the festival, the music, the laughter, the warmth from the fires fading into the distance as we walked away.

  “That was fun,” I said. “I’m glad we went.”

  “It wasn’t on the agenda, but yeah, I had a good time.”

  My arms swung back and forth slightly as we walked, and my hand brushed up against Navan’s. His fingers interlaced with mine, sending a surprise rush of pleasure up my arm. He glanced at me.

  “This okay?”

  “Yes,” I said breathlessly.

  “Good.” He nodded. “I want to keep you close. Can’t risk Donnel trying to whisk you away again.”

  I laughed. “It was Dolan.”

  “He wasn’t that good of a dancer.”

  “Hey, it’s an open invitation—whenever you feel like impressing me with your dance moves, I’m all for it.”

  He squeezed my hand. “Don’t hold your breath.”

  When we got to the ship, I was forced to let go of his hand and followed him up to one of the ship’s windows. I pressed my face against it and peered inside.

  “It’s still asleep,” I said.

  Navan stood next to me, a slight frown on his face. “No, it’s not,” he said. “It’s pretending to be asleep.”

  “How do you know? It looks asleep to me.”

  Navan continued to stare at it. “I can sense its energy. If it were sleeping, its energy would be at a much lower frequency. But what I’m picking up right now is basically off the charts, which tells me this thing is going to attempt to pull off some sort of ambush. Stay right here—I’m going to open the door.”

  I stayed by the window and watched as Navan slowly opened the compartment door. The shifter suddenly sprang, though it didn’t get far because of the ropes it was tied up in. Navan gave it a kick and sent it sprawling. I went inside.

  “Well, well, well, look who’s awake,” Navan said. “Good morning, sunshine. Damn, you things sure are ugly.”

  The shifter growled, and its eyes swiveled to me. Navan was right—it was ugly, like a giant newborn bird, with its pale, wrinkled skin. Instead of a beak and fused-over eyes, though, it had a wide, flat nose, a gaping mouth full of shark-like teeth, and huge red-veined eyes that seemed mostly made up of iris.

>   “Give me the antidote,” it said. “And I’ll change into something more aesthetically pleasing.”

  “Ha!” Navan’s laugh was like a bark. “Yeah, sure, let me get you that antidote, and while I’m at it, how about a bubble bath and a foot rub? You’re not getting anything. Nice try, though. We’ve got some questions for you.”

  The shifter stretched its mouth into what was probably supposed to be a smile, but looked more like a terrifying grimace. “I’m not answering your questions.”

  “Then you don’t get the antidote, and you’re forever doomed to be an ugly little sewer rat.”

  The shifter stared at him, and I could see it weighing the possibility of having to spend life forever in one form. “At least untie me enough so I can sit up,” it finally said.

  “Fine,” Navan replied after a moment. “But I swear, if you try anything, you’re going to wish I had killed you.”

  “Does making idle threats to your victims make you feel more powerful, bloodsucker?”

  “Shut up,” Navan said. “We’re not talking about me right now. We’re talking about you. I’m untying you on the condition that you’re going to answer my questions. If you don’t, these ropes are going to get a whole lot more uncomfortable.”

  Navan undid one of the ropes, and the shifter sat up. Its skin gathered in loose pools of flesh around its elbows and knees. It saw me looking and it grimaced.

  “Hey!” Navan snapped, kicking it. “Look at me, not her. Pay attention. Here are your first questions: How many shifters are out here in these parts? And what are you doing with the people that are disappearing—what do shifters want with humans?”

  “Oh… I’d say there are a good few hundred of us,” it replied, smiling eerily. “And coldbloods aren’t the only ones with a taste for blood, you know. Human blood is particularly satisfying.” It looked right at me, baring its sharp teeth. I wanted to look away but I didn’t.