Blacklisted

  The hottest boy at school thought I was cute.

  You are an idiot. "How are you going to get home?" I asked when I found my voice, the dilemma just then occurring to me. "You can't keep Shanel's car."

  "I know. Didn't plan to, since your friend could have already reported it as stolen and I'm eager to get rid of it."

  Shanel was with Silver. She'd probably forgotten all about the car. Still. Better safe than sorry. I did not need the police looking for me, and I did not need one more supposed crime hanging over my head. "Let's call her and double check."

  Without a word, Erik reached in his pocket and withdrew a small, black cell unit. He handed it to me. I dialed Shanel's number, but she never answered. I tried again. Still nothing. I didn't leave a message on her voicemail because I didn't want her parents overhearing.

  I handed the phone back to Erik. I'd call her again in the morning, tell her that I had the car, and then meet her somewhere and give it back. Although, how I'd explain that to my parents, I didn't know.

  "You never answered my question," I said to Erik. "How are you going to get home?"

  "I'll walk," was his unconcerned response.

  "Uh, that's going to be quite a hike."

  "I know, but the exercise will do me some good."

  He didn't need any more exercise. He was already stacked with muscle, his tanned skin stretched tight over hard steel. "You told me you were twenty years old," I said, peering at him through the thick shield of my lashes.

  "Yeah. So?"

  With the pain gone, my brain kicked into gear. "How'd you manage to get back into school? I'm pretty sure I know why, I just can't figure out how."

  He shrugged, the action stiff. The line of his jaw ticked. In anger? In irritation? Both? "The more you know about me, Camille, the more danger you'll be placed in. Stop asking questions."

  Danger. Just the word sent my nervous system into a frenzy. Heated blood rushed through my veins and caused all of my pulse points to flutter erratically. "Is that guy with the half-mask going to come after me?"

  Erik paused long enough to make me squirm. Then he said, "No. I'll make sure he doesn't."

  He sounded confident.

  My eyes widened in horror. "Are you going to murder him?" That was the only way to give me a hundred-percent guarantee.

  "No, I'm not going to murder him. Just shut up and trust me, all right."

  That pacified me somewhat, but could I place my trust in someone who ignored the law and sold drugs? Someone who willingly peddled death to humans? Foolishly, I wanted to. Maybe because I was having a hard time reconciling the truth of what Erik was with the fantasy I'd built in my mind.

  If he hadn't doctored me so well tonight, I could have written him off completely. Maybe.

  "You can't seriously expect me to trust you, Erik." I only wished I meant the words wholeheartedly. "How do you know that man isn't going to come after me?"

  "Camille." He sighed.

  "Erik. I need to know."

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you always this curious?"

  "When it involves my life, yes."

  "As you probably guessed, I'm working for him. He needs me and he knows it, so he won't want to piss me off."

  I gazed down at my boots. Droplets of blood had dried on the tips. "And hurting me will piss you off?"

  A pause, another sigh. "Yeah."

  For some reason, that soothed me as I'd needed and I lapsed into silence. And, God help me, I liked, really liked, that Erik was willing to fight for me. For your life, dummy. Not your affections. He probably doesn't want your death on his conscience--or his record.

  We passed the towering gate that surrounded my neighborhood. The houses that next came into view were medium-size, average really, but well-maintained. Made of polished silver rocks with tin rooftops, they were nearly identical. I'd lived here my entire life, and the familiarity was both comforting and terrifying.

  "Uh, Camille," Erik said suddenly.

  The hard catch in his voice was like a punch in the stomach, jarring, painful. Oh no. "What?"

  "We're being followed."

  "What!"

  "Look behind us."

  I twisted in my seat and peered out the back window. There were two black sedans lined up inches from our bumper, not even trying to remain hidden. Their windows were so dark I couldn't see inside. "Who is it?"

  "Who do you think?

  A.I.R.? I swallowed the hard lump that formed in my throat. "Lose them," I said, the instinct to remain removed from the situation speaking for me. Please lose them. I didn't want to be caught with Erik.

  If he'd been telling the truth earlier, that would only incriminate me further. Plus, I didn't want A.I.R. escorting me home. I'd never be able to lie my way out of that.

  "Why aren't you losing them?" I demanded when Erik didn't reprogram the car's destination.

  "Here, let me just snap my fingers. I'll produce the cast of Alien Nights, too."

  I ground my teeth together.

  "They've been on our trail since we left my house," he added.

  "Did they see me get into the car with you?"

  "Maybe. Probably."

  "Oh God." Stomach cramp. Not only had they seen me at the club with Erik, they'd seen me at his house. And I'd been willing. Think, Robins. Think.

  Okay. Maybe trying to lose them wasn't the best plan of action. That would only make me appear guiltier. Maybe I should just get out, walk up to them, and explain what had happened. Maybe they'd let me go without needing to speak to my parents. Maybe my worries were for nothing.

  According to Erik, A.I.R. fought to protect innocent humans. I was innocent. But also according to Erik, A.I.R. would beat me up first and ask questions later. Well, what's it going to be?

  "I--I'm going to talk to them."

  "I can't let you do that," Erik said. "No telling what you'll admit to doing."

  "But--but--"

  He commanded the car to stop. Tires squealed, and I strained against my seat belt.

  "Erik! What--"

  "Shit," he growled.

  A black sedan had come out of nowhere, blocking our forward path. We couldn't advance and we couldn't reverse. They had us pinned in.

  "Just let me out," I said. "They'll be reasonable about this. They just have to be."

  "They won't listen to a damn thing you say." Motions clipped, Erik punched a series of buttons on the console keyboard. The lights dimmed, and a gear shift I think it was called, rose from the space between us. Panels opened in a wide circle and a steering wheel appeared. Pedals even lifted from the floorboard.

  I'd seen this happen on TV, but never in real life. Fear gripped me. "What are you doing?" I managed to get out.

  "Overriding the computer system and driving manually."

  "You can do that?" Duh. He just had.

  "Just hold on to your seat. It's gonna get bumpy." Without another word, he jammed the gear backward and the car speed into reverse. Crrrunch.

  I yelped. Metal ground against metal as we crashed into one of the sedans, then Erik moved the gear forward, turning the wheel, turning, turning.

  We hit another car.

  He slammed his foot into one of the petals. My entire body flew toward the windshield as we sped away from our tails and onto a side road. Thankfully my seat belt pulled me back.

  The other cars, of course, followed us. Their tires screeched, burning rubber and wafting smoke in every direction.

  Fear raced through me, stronger than ever before. Stronger, even, than when I'd been surrounded by aliens, Lancers pointed at my chest. Not only was I in danger now, but innocent people were, as well. Anyone taking a nighttime stroll...I clutched my stomach to ward off another cramp.

  "Erik. You have to stop this."

  "Can't."

  "Please."

  "What I do is too important. I can't be locked up."

  "What do you do?" I asked, nearing hysteria. "Helping humans kill themselves isn't important."


  His lips drew together in a thin line.

  "What if we're wrong and those drivers aren't with A.I.R.?" I asked sharply. I squeezed my eyes shut when we ran over a recycling bin and jumped a curb. My God, who art in heaven.

  "They're A.I.R."

  Tires squealed as our car jacked a swift left turn. Hallowed be thy name. Or was it "hollowed"? "How. Do. You. Know. That? For sure?"

  "Call it a hunch," he said dryly.

  Breathe, Camille. Just breathe. In. Out. Slowly. Slowly. Okay, I could handle this. I wasn't in the midst of a car chase. I was at the beach, a cool breeze billowing around me. Sun rays were soaking into my skin and saltwater was brushing against my toes.

  Tires squealed again, ruining the fantasy. We executed a swift right turn and I was flung into the door.

  Any more, and I'd throw up.

  "There's got to be a better way, Erik."

  "I'm open to suggestions."

  If only I had one. He hit a bump and my nausea intensified. Motion sickness--maybe. Another injection of pure fear--probably.

  "Close your eyes," he commanded.

  "They are closed!"

  In the next instant, I was lifted out of my seat. My head skimmed the roof. And I knew what had happened: we'd gone airborne. Erik whooped excitedly. I commanded my window to open, leaned over, and emptied out the contents of my stomach, jerking with the force of the action. My ribs ached and my back tightened even after I'd slumped back in my seat.

  My cheeks heated with embarrassment. Oh. My. God. I'd just thrown up in front of Erik Troy. At least I hadn't done it on the floorboards, so we didn't have to smell it. Still. Could I be any more disgusting? No time to ponder that now. The car landed, and it landed hard. Boing. Thud. My throat constricted, cutting off my airway. A wave of dizziness swept through me.

  Left, right, left, we turned. "You okay?" Erik asked.

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  "There's a water bottle in the bag at your feet. Might help you calm down."

  A bag? I looked down and sure enough, there was a black vinyl bag. I bent and dug through it, finding a change of clothing, an oddly shaped pair of sunglasses, and yes, a bottle of water. Straightening, I chugged the contents, swishing my mouth out with every gulp.

  "I think you're wrong about them," I said, forcing the words out. "What can it hurt to let me talk to them? It can't make our situation any worse." I hoped.

  He snarled low in his throat.

  I took that as a no. Dear Lord. Innocent schoolgirl one day, shot at, chased criminal the next. Don't think like that. You're not a criminal. Yes, things look bad, but after you explain the situation everything will be fine. "Please, Erik."

  "Have you listened to nothing I've said? They'll shot first and ask questions later."

  Light-headed, I buried my face between my knees. We hit a curb and bounced again. "Maybe I prefer to be shot at than smashed around."

  "It's going to be okay, Camille."

  I caught traces of uncertainty and guilt in his voice. "I know," I offered, trying to comfort him. Silly girl.

  "I think we're going to have to ditch the car. Think you've got the strength to run?"

  "Sure," I replied, knowing I wouldn't have to prove it. When he stopped, I was going to turn myself in.

  "Good, 'cause running is the best chance we've got."

  A humorless laugh escaped me. "I've never made less than a B in school, I hardly ever break the rules, and I avoid conflict like it's toxic waste. I made one mistake, just one, and this is what I get. I'll never try to impress a boy again."

  "It's gonna be okay," he repeated more gently this time.

  "Forget A.I.R. Shanel might never forgive me for losing her car."

  "You won't have lost it. You'll simply have to let it be impounded."

  Like that was any better. Maybe I'd have to tell my parents the truth after all. If I lied and got caught later, that would only increase my list of ever-growing sins. "That will draw Shanel into this mess. Which will eventually lead to meeee--" The word sputtered in my throat as we ground to an abrupt halt.

  I sat up. Immediately I saw that a large brick wall blocked our frontward path. All three black sedans surrounded us in seconds, left, right, and behind.

  Once again, we were pinned in.

  "I guess you were right," Erik muttered. He didn't sound upset. "I should have found a better way."

  Only darkness and brick greeted us. And disaster. Yes, disaster. The cars flashed high beams of light directly on us, illuminating everything they touched.

  I faced Erik. He might have sounded unconcerned, but his expression was tight, furious, and his brown eyes were sparkling. I could see the glint of pyre-guns pointing at us, and suddenly wasn't so sure I wanted to turn myself in. "What should we do?"

  His hands tightened on the wheel. "Like before, I'm open to suggestions."

  "Just--" What?

  "Do you have a weapon?" he asked me.

  Oh God. Weapon equaled blood and blood equaled pain. "No. And I don't want one. A gunfight is not the way to end this."

  Erik scrubbed a hand down his face. "You're right. If I was alone, I'd fight. With you here..."

  With me here, he ran the risk of what? Hurting me? Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  "Get out of the car," a female voice suddenly echoed around us. "Both of you. Hands up and out."

  Erik didn't move. Neither did I. My heart galloped in my chest, trying to beat its way through my ribs inch by inch. "Erik," I said. I didn't know what else to say. I was so scared.

  "Don't look at me," he said.

  "Why?" I faced forward, but from the corner of my eye I watched as he moved his arms behind his back and withdrew a pyre-gun from the waist of his pants. Every ounce of moisture in my mouth dried, leaving only the taste of cotton and bile.

  "I thought you didn't want to fight," I asked, the panicked words nearly inaudible.

  "I don't want to die, either."

  Die. I swallowed. If things ended badly, I could die a virgin; I would die a loser who'd supposedly dabbled in Onadyn. "Erik," I said. "This is crazy. This is wrong on so many levels."

  He stared down at the weapon, as if he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do with it. Yellow beams of fire were projected from pyre-guns, scorching everything in their path. Human, nonhuman. Didn't matter. Another little tidbit I'd picked up from my dad and television.

  "Erik," I repeated, his name a hoarse entreaty.

  "Hell," he grumped.

  "Get out of the car!" the female voice said again. "Now! I'm sick of waiting."

  I gulped. "I'm going to get out now."

  "I'm going to create a distraction," Erik said. "You're going to run."

  I gaped at him. I could see the long length of his lashes casting shadows over his cheek. Bleak shadows, frightening shadows.

  "Understand?"

  "No. I told you. Running now is stupid. Just give yourself up."

  A muscle ticked under his left eye. "Everything will turn out okay if you'll run and stay hidden until I can somehow clear your name."

  "But--"

  "No buts. You're innocent, and I dragged you into it. You shouldn't have to deal with this." He paused, then finally studied me. He growled low in his throat. "Promise me, Camille. Promise me you'll run and not look back."

  "That just makes me look all the more guilty."

  Our pursuers lost any hint of patience and flashed their lights. "Get out of the fucking car. I'm close to blowing it to pieces. Feel me?"

  "They'll hurt you, Camille," Erik said, still not moving from the vehicle. The dark brown of his eyes pierced me deeply. "They'll beat you and they'll torture you for answers you don't have. Don't try and be a hero tonight."

  Ha. I'd never tried to be a hero in my life. But more than making me look guilty, leaving him meant letting him endure questions about me, I suddenly realized. He might be beaten. He might be tortured.

  "I'll stay," I said, determined. "Maybe we can convince them
that you--"

  "You won't explain because you're not staying." Erik reached behind him a second time, angling his arm up and somehow anchoring the gun at the back of his neck, making sure the high back of the seat hid his actions from the agents. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I always am."

  He was lying, and we both knew it.

  He didn't give me a chance to respond, though. "It's been nice knowing you, Camille. Now get ready to run," he mumbled, and then he opened the car door.

  6

  I can do this, I mentally chanted. I can do this. I'm smart--sometimes, I added. I'll make them listen to me. I just wished my nervous system would calm down. Blood raced through me, hotter than fire, burning, burning. A loud ringing echoed inside my ears.

  Erik emerged from the car, hands at his sides. He pasted a cocky, come-and-get-me grin on his face. I stayed where I was, scared, trying to force the right words into my brain and yeah, praying this was a bad dream and I'd awaken any second.

  "Hands up," the voice said, and he slowly obeyed. "Camille Robins, get out on your side of the car."

  Hearing my name, I gasped in surprise. They had already figured out who I was. There would have been no reprieve for me, no matter how far I'd run or where I'd hidden.

  Voice shaky, I commanded the car door to open. The moment I stood outside, I had to blink against the brightness of the halogens. My eyes even teared. "We're innocent," I said. My legs were so weak I could barely hold myself up and had to latch onto the car.

  "Hands up," the voice shouted.

  I let go and almost fell again. I had to lean my shoulder against the car for support.

  "She's injured," Erik said loudly, then whispered to me, "Almost time to run."

  "I'm staying," I whispered back.

  "We'll see."

  "I want to explain about tonight," I called, trying to give details that helped both of us. I truly didn't want him hurt, either. "I'd never really spoken to Erik until tonight, so we couldn't have planned anything together. We--"

  Erik cursed, and I realized our captors were racing toward us. Erik whipped the pyre-gun from its perch on his neck and started firing. Yellow-orange beams cut through the golden lights, through darkness, illuminating the shapes of three women. Each of them dove for cover and immediately shot back, their fire slamming into our car. Some were aimed directly at me.

  I screamed and ducked. "I'm unarmed!"

  Another blast hit just behind where I'd been standing.

  Erik returned a steady stream of fire and worked his way behind the open driver-side door, using it as a shield.