Kristopher said softly, “I was thinking earlier about what would have happened if Romeo and Juliet had woken up.”
“Me too,” Sarah admitted. Maybe she had picked the thought up from him. “I don’t need a boyfriend, Kristopher.” She started off strong, but her voice faded as she added, “But I could really use some family tonight.”
This time, when Kristopher pulled her into his arms, there were no anxious doubts about responsibility and romance and failures. Kristopher knew what it meant to be family and how it felt to lose family.
I’m not losing anyone else, they both thought.
“We’ll get through this,” Sarah said. “I don’t know how yet, but we will.”
CHAPTER 23
SATURDAY, 8:01 P.M.
ADIA KNEW IT was impossible to get to New York City before the show began. Dominique had access to a private jet, but trying to scramble it, get a flight plan approved and fly into New York would take even longer than driving.
After days of anxiety riding her so tightly she thought she might explode, Adia felt strangely calm. Even with the sporadic traffic she hit, she was pretty sure she made it to New York City in record time.
Like most hunters, she tended to avoid Broadway and the general theater area of Manhattan. It was too bright, too shiny, with too many people and rarely a worthwhile hit. Being there made her nervous.
She knew what she had to do—the only thing she could do if she wanted her line to survive. They were flawed; she had accepted that. But she could salvage what was left of her line, if only she could find the nerve to fulfill her vow and end this hunt.
Michael had called shortly before she reached the city, to give her the address of a Mexican restaurant not far from the theater. He had found them. Michael used a little money and a little magic to reserve the restaurant’s back room for their meeting. When Adia arrived, he was eating chips and freshly made guacamole.
Zachary arrived behind Adia by less than ten minutes. He was avoiding looking at her, which was fine, since she still wasn’t sure what he would see in her face. Once Jay joined them, even Michael noticed that something was up. Adia saw Jay meet the Arun’s gaze and shake his head. She had never been so grateful for the telepath’s interference. Now was not the time.
Adia began. “Michael, fill everyone in so we can decide what to do next.”
“I was scoping spots where I thought I might hear news about Nikolas, and was lucky enough to see Sarah herself,” Michael explained. “For the record, she fed, but didn’t kill. Does anyone in this room really think that she would?”
Jay was the first to say no. Zachary sighed and leaned back against the counter.
Michael said, “Jay and I agree that Sarah came to the house the other day to turn herself in.” He looked over at Jay, who nodded without adding anything. “We’re also agreed that the most surprising part of all this is that Sarah is still alive. She hasn’t come to us again, and she hasn’t fallen on the knife. When I saw her at the club, she barely spoke. Nikolas did all the talking. I don’t want her dead, you all know I don’t, but I know Sarah. I want some kind of assurance that if she’s living this life, it’s by her own choice.”
“What’s your plan?” Zachary asked.
“By now, I figure they’ll know we’re here, but Kendra’s line is arrogant enough, and takes their theater seriously enough, that they won’t—”
“Wait,” Zachary interrupted. “They know we’re here, why?”
“I cleared it with Kendra,” Michael replied, utterly blasé. “She has given us a green light. If Sarah or the twins present us with an opportunity, we have carte blanche to take them down. Sarah knows the way we work. If she wants to make it through the night, we won’t have a clear shot. If she is being held against her will, though, we’ll have a chance.”
As plans went, it wasn’t much, but Adia enjoyed improvisation. She was a little uncomfortable with the bit about having the approval of a two-thousand-year-old vampire, however. Granted, Michael was an Arun, but seriously—how many of her crew were in bed with the vamps, figuratively speaking?
“Could you clarify the part about your having permission from Kendra?” she asked. Michael had vaguely referred to that part on the phone, but she wanted to be very clear on the details before jumping into a fight.
“She doesn’t want a war,” Michael said. The words were an eerie echo of what Jerome had said earlier. “No one does. So we have one night to end it, however it goes, and a promise of no future retaliation from Kendra or her associates. She is somewhat unsure how Kaleo will react should the twins die, but she owns the theater we’re going to hit, so she mostly gets to decide what can be done to people and vampires inside it.”
“I believe Adia was looking for an explanation of the fact that you seem to be able to predict movements and contact vampires in a surprisingly friendly manner,” Zachary said.
A bit hypocritical, aren’t we? Adia thought cynically. Zachary was the one who had vampiric friends showing up and pulling him out of fights, after all. On the other hand, it was one thing for Zachary to have some kind of low-level patron who liked to play with him. It was quite another for Michael to be making deals with the head of the line.
“I know New York,” Michael replied, not bothering to get defensive. “If you want to hunt here, you have to know the territory. Be grateful.”
Jay said, “Okay, let’s not start bickering. If Sarah wants to turn herself in, she’ll get a message to us tonight, and we’ll … do what needs to be done, what she asks of us. But what if she doesn’t?”
“Then we’ll deal with that tomorrow night,” Zachary said.
Jay shook his head. “We need some kind of decision tonight. Dominique won’t drop her claim just because we decide Sarah has a right to live. We need to know if we’re planning to try to fight the law. We’re representing three lines here. Is there some kind of plan to—”
“I’ve got it covered,” Adia interrupted. “I’ll make sure Dominique accepts however things come out tonight.”
“Care to tell us this plan?” Zachary asked, but this time Adia didn’t want to share. He probably wouldn’t approve, and given what she had learned recently, he certainly wouldn’t have the guts to do what needed to be done even if he agreed.
Jay gave her a long, even look. She didn’t know what he could hear in her mind. After a moment, he said, “If you’re sure.”
“Whatever,” Michael said. “As long as the Vida line gets rid of the hooks it’s using to play with the rest of us, I’m fine with it.”
“By sunrise,” Adia assured him, “the Rights won’t be a factor. But for now …” She let out a long breath as she focused herself. Where should the pieces go? “Jay, you wait with Michael on the street outside the theater. That’ll put you close enough that you can try to pick up a sense of how Sarah’s feeling. See if she seems scared or hopeful or angry or … whatever you and your line do with your mojo.”
Jay nodded, so apparently the instruction was sufficient for him.
“Zachary, you wait here until we know Sarah is coming out of the theater. We don’t want them to see you too early.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going to scope inside the theater,” Adia said. “Sarah will sense me there. Maybe she will come right to me.”
“And the twins?” Michael asked. “It seems pretty certain they won’t let Sarah go without a fight. Do you really want to be alone on the front line?”
“Have we confirmed whether or not we took one out in the fight?” Zachary asked. “Michael, you say you saw Nikolas. But has anyone heard anything about Kristopher?”
“Nikolas is considered pretty unstable,” Michael said. “If I had successfully killed his brother, there’s no way he would have looked me in the eye and played nice when I saw him.”
“So it’s safe to assume we’ll be dealing with both of them,” Jay said.
“My source implied pretty much the same thing,” Adia answered. “T
hat’s why the three of you are going to be close. I want to try to see Sarah alone, but if I get into a fight, I will call for backup. Jay, you’ll be able to sense if I’m fighting angry vampires, right? I doubt I’ll have time to grab my cell phone at that point.”
He nodded.
“Good. Then that’s that.”
She didn’t have any more. Her plan was concise and specific. If anything, she was relying on Michael’s assurance that Kendra had given her blessing to this, and on the ability of certain individuals to talk fast.
“ ‘The play’s the thing,’ ” Zachary murmured.
“What?” Adia asked.
Zachary looked embarrassed as he explained, “It’s from Hamlet. You know, Shakespeare?”
Adia knew of the play, but she hadn’t read that one in class. “I don’t read a lot of Shakespeare.”
Zachary seemed like he had to gather his nerve to reply, but nevertheless he did so. “Neither did I,” he said. “But I have a friend who likes it. We’ve seen a couple shows together.”
Adia didn’t know what to say to that, or why Zachary said it almost like it was a confession.
“Well, good for you,” Jay replied after a long hesitation. “Someday, Zachary, I think it would be interesting to meet your friend.”
“Okay, everyone,” Adia said slowly, thinking over the very few details they had. She absently patted the knife sheathed on her wrist. “Operation Seat of Our Pants is a go.”
They all moved toward their places. As Adia had predicted, it was a few minutes before intermission. Broadway shows were always too long for Adia’s taste. She never understood how people could tolerate just sitting, watching people walk and sing on a stage.
Was Sarah enjoying it?
Adia flipped through one of the souvenir programs, concealing her anxiety and even her presence from those around her. She had her aura masked so the vampires would not sense it, but Sarah had more than a vampire’s abilities; Adia was sure she would have enough of a witch’s magic left to be able to sense such familiar power near to her.
If Sarah really was still Sarah, and not just a monster, then if she knew that Adia was alone, she would come alone to talk.
Please don’t disappoint me, Little Sis, Adia thought desperately. Please.
CHAPTER 24
SATURDAY, 8:05 P.M.
THE CROWD WITHIN the theater was made up of individuals of all ages, in all types of casual or formal wear. Sarah saw more than a few double takes from other men and women as the vampires presented their tickets and were escorted to their seats, and she was acutely aware of the image she, Kristopher, Nikolas and Kendra made as they cut through the crowd.
Sarah had never lacked confidence. She knew she was attractive, in a trendy blond kind of way. But no fine clothes or fancy hairstyle would ever make her match Kendra, who radiated poise and power and beauty from her golden hair—truly gold, like beaten metal—styled in loose curls, to the tips of her five-hundred-dollar shoes, or Nikolas and Kristopher, identical seraphim who bore no resemblance whatsoever to the poor country farmhands Nikolas had recently described them as.
Sarah knew she looked good enough on Kristopher’s arm to merit envy. The four of them together, however, turned heads in awe. Kendra, Nikolas and Kristopher were obviously used to the attention, but to Sarah it was a new and somewhat unsettling response. She had spent most of her life blending in and knowing that too much attention would get her killed.
Of course, too much attention here that night might still be the end. Had the hunters figured out where they were? Nikolas hadn’t told Michael what they were seeing, but Sarah tried not to underestimate her once kin.
She ended up sitting with Kristopher on her left, Nikolas on her right and Kendra on the opposite side of Nikolas—too close for comfort, still, but at least Kendra didn’t lean over to whisper things conspiratorially in Sarah’s ear like she did to Nikolas. It was almost hard to remember, with the head of their line looking radiant and excited for the show, that she had given tacit approval of Sarah’s death if it did occur that night.
It was too surreal to contemplate, so Sarah tried not to. As they settled in, she wondered instead why box seats were considered good seats. Could anyone without a vampire’s vision tell what was happening onstage from so far away? She flipped through the glossy color booklet Kendra had handed her, looking doubtfully at the strange costumes while the rest of the audience trickled in.
She waited too long to ask where and when the story took place. The lights dropped, and the music began. At first it seemed uncomfortably loud and jumbled. She struggled to make out what people were saying as they sang over each other. She made out enough of the opening song—“No One Mourns the Wicked”—to wonder what kind of “theme” the show had that Kendra thought she should appreciate. After all, Kendra had given a group of hunters permission to kill her tonight. Was this supposed to be a warning?
As the show continued, she felt like she alternated between frowning and suppressing a chuckle—but come the finale of the first act, she found herself sitting forward in her seat.
If her heart still needed to beat, she knew it would have been pounding at that moment.
She felt hands on her back and realized that Kristopher and Nikolas had both reached out to her. When she leaned back, Kristopher took her hand, and Nikolas left a comforting hand on her shoulder. The touch grounded her and reminded her where she was. She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch the characters in front of her anymore, but she could not block out the music.
Friendship, sisterhood, rebellion, betrayal. Was there a lesson she was supposed to learn here, or was she just supposed to feel like she had been kicked in the gut?
The first act ended, and Sarah stood, pulling away from Nikolas and Kristopher. She didn’t even want to look at Kendra.
“I have to get out of here for a bit,” she announced.
“Do you want—”
“I need some space,” she said, interrupting Kristopher.
“If you don’t want to watch the second act, we can go somewhere else,” Nikolas said.
Sarah shook her head. “I want to watch the end. I just need to be alone for a minute.”
“Be careful,” Kristopher warned, and she nodded.
She needed to compose herself, away from the comforting and critical gaze of Kendra’s lineage. She hadn’t decided yet whether she liked the show. All she knew was that it was too much for her right then.
Before she could take herself away from the theater, seeking silence and solitude, she sensed a familiar aura. It was mostly hidden, but Sarah never could have missed it. She knew that power too well.
Adia was alone. She had found her way to an unused dressing room, doubtless using the combination of power and guile she was so good at to bypass security as easily as Sarah did by appearing in the room without walking through the halls at all. Adia had obviously been waiting for Sarah.
There were tears in Adia’s eyes, though she still had enough Vida control to keep them from spilling down her face. Seeing them, Sarah felt her own throat tighten. She didn’t know what Adia wanted or expected. All she knew was that seeing her sister made her heart simultaneously jump in elation and constrict with fear.
“Hey, Little Sis,” Adia said with a sad smile. “I was hoping you would come say hi.”
“Hi,” Sarah said, uncertain how to proceed from there.
“Michael called us,” Adia said. “I made sure I was the one in the theater, since I knew you wouldn’t be stupid enough to walk outside. I just …” She drew a deep, shaking breath, and then suddenly the words were pouring out. “I wanted to see you. Needed to see you. Things suck without you, Sarah. I’ve been stuck in the safe house with a freaking Marinitch telepath. I just found out Zachary has been letting vamps snack on him in his free time. Dominique’s practically disappeared. I don’t think she can stand to even look at the rest of us. I want it to be over. I can get the others on my side, and force Dominique to drop her call f
or the Rights. I just …”
Her voice trailed off. Sarah stared at her, watching Adia as if her own reflection had suddenly lost control and started to weep. And Zachary! He couldn’t possibly—but then again, that was what enough people had probably said about Sarah. She couldn’t possibly be involved with a vampire.
Sarah wasn’t sure which one of them made the first move, but suddenly they were both walking, and then Sarah found herself wrapped in the tightest hug her sister had given her since the day their father died. Moments of physical affection had become rarer and briefer since then, more perfunctory if they occurred at all.
This was the kind of hug she had given Sarah that day, to try to get her to stop railing and screaming and destroying everything at hand.
“I love you, Sarah,” Adia said. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Before Sarah could question why, Adia shifted just enough, and Sarah felt the knife. It slid into her back under her shoulder blade and between her ribs with the perfection only a professional hunter could achieve, not even nicking the bones to hamper its progress.
“I’m sorry,” Adia said one more time. “But I gave my word. And even if the rest of the world goes to hell, a Vida’s word to her kin needs to be …”
The words were choked off.
“Bye, Sarah.”
CHAPTER 25
SATURDAY, 9:02 P.M.
ADIA LET SARAH fall. She took a step backward, and another, and halfway through the next one, she felt herself grabbed and thrown with careful violence, so that her breath was slammed out of her lungs as she struck the wall. She was able to tuck her head just enough to keep her skull from smacking the floral wallpaper, but knew she would have bruises later.
She tried to push herself to her knees to protect herself even as she struggled to pull air into compressed lungs. Her head was spinning, and for a minute she thought she was seeing double, but then she realized it was the two brothers, and if someone didn’t talk fast, Adia was going to die.