Loved (House of Night Other World #1)(74)

There were glowing eyes everywhere.

Stark grabbed me, trying to pull me behind him. I turned as the horde raced past us.

“Kevin!” I shouted.

The lead vampyre stumbled. He whirled around to face me.

“Zoey!” His voice was rough—like he had a pack-a-day smoking habit—but it was his voice.

“Don’t run! It’s okay! Come with me back to the House of Night! I won’t let anything happen to you!”

I saw him waver. I saw a flash of desire in his eyes so keen that I swear they stopped glowing for a moment.

And then, with a feral cry, he spun back around and raced after the other vampyres.

“Go!” I screamed at Stark. “Don’t let them kill him!”

Stark sprinted after Kevin, with Marx and Brownston right behind him. I tried to make my legs work. They wouldn’t.

Then Shaunee grabbed my hand and pulled. Hard. “Come on!”

I unfroze and ran, retracing our path to the lobby. I got there to find Marx and Brownston standing in the middle of the street, staring impotently around them. Stark had run halfway down the block, but he’d stopped. The blowing snow made him barely visible, but I could see him turning in a slow circle, breathing hard.

Nothing. Kevin was nowhere, and neither were any of the other red vamps that had been with him.

“Where is he? Where’d he go?”

Marx shook his head. “Gone. Disappeared into the snow. Gotta call the Atlas.” He keyed his radio. “Atlas, report!”

“All done here. Got ’em,” came the reply.

“Did they surrender?” Marx asked.

“No, sir. They attacked. We defended. There are no survivors.”

My gut felt hollow and my legs gave way. I was suddenly sitting on the cold marble floor.

“What’s our casualty count?”

“Zero.”

“Roger. Get the bus here to collect the fledglings. A group of adults escaped. Last seen headed east on Fifth Street. They’re on foot.”

“Roger! Be right there.”

Marx rounded on me. “What the hell was that about? You could’ve gotten yourself killed and us worse.”

I looked up at him. “That was my little brother. That was Kevin. That red vampyre in the lead. Kevin. My little brother. I—I couldn’t let you kill him.” And then I started to sob.





23


Damien


Sobbing and two sharp barks woke Damien. At first he didn’t remember where he was, and then he saw Duchess. She was on Jack’s bed. Jack’s bed? Jack’s bed! And reality chased away all vestiges of sleep.

Damien sat up straight—fully awake.

He’d fallen asleep in the chair beside Other Jack’s bed. Last Seen Leaving was open on his lap. He hardly remembered it, but he knew he hadn’t lasted long after sunrise when Jack had suddenly closed his eyes and gone completely still. As in dead still.

Duchess barked again and Damien was up and moving toward the bed before his thoughts had time to catch up with his feet.

Other Jack was crying.

No, that was wrong.

Jack was sobbing. He had his arms around Duchess’ neck and his face was buried into the soft fur of her shoulder, and he was sobbing so hard that his whole body shook.

Damien felt a rush of concern and confusion.

Could I have slept the entire day in that chair? I must have.

“Jack?” He approached the bed cautiously as Duchess whined and gave him a doggy look that clearly conveyed worry. “What’s wrong?”

Other Jack raised his head. Tears streamed down his face. “L—look at the time.”

Completely confused, Damien glanced at his watch. He blinked. And blinked again.

“That can’t be right.”

“Wh—what does it say?” Jack hiccupped between sobs.

“It says that it’s 8:25 a.m. On the morning of the twenty-fourth of December. But that can’t be right. That means sunrise was less than an hour ago, and you definitely shouldn’t be awake.”

“Not shouldn’t,” Jack sniffled. “Couldn’t.”

Damien went to the desk and grabbed the box of Kleenex, offering it to Jack. Jack blew his nose and wiped his eyes. Then he stared at the Kleenex.

“Jack? I don’t understand what’s going on.”

Jack raised his face to look at Damien, and his eyes were shining, but not with red hunger and mindless anger. Jack’s eyes were shining with joy.

“My tears. They’re not bloody. Not at all.” He held up the tissue, but Damien didn’t need to see it for proof. Clear tears tracked their way down Jack’s cheeks.

“Your tears.” Damien’s knees gave way and he sat heavily on the edge of Jack’s bed. “They’re clear. How do you feel?” he asked urgently.

Jack’s smile was innocent and sweet and full of happiness. “I feel like myself.”

“Like yourself?”

Jack nodded. “Yep! Exactly like myself. Before I rejected the Change. Before terrible, awful hunger woke me and I was a red fledgling, drafted to enter the Red Army. Damien, I feel like myself.”

“Come here,” Damien said.

Eagerly, Jack lunged across the bed and into Damien’s open arms. Their lips met and there was nothing tentative or hesitant about their kiss. It was deep and long and hot.