“But Grayson?—”
“Trust Colt.”
Worry numbs my fingers. I can’t trust anyone. I don’t even trust myself.
Lacey herds me into the car and locks the doors behind us like it will do some good. Those locks won’t keep anyone out, not a circus full of vampires, nor a violent wolf.
I’m shivering when Lacey flings something across my shoulders, tucking the jacket around me and ignoring the stains.
“Hey, it’s gonna be fine.” Her voice shakes.
Adrenaline vibrates through me, my hands curling and uncurling on their own. My teeth chatter and I clamp them shut.
“We couldn’t even get the shaman’s help,” I mutter. “All of this and for what?”
I lift my chin slowly.
I got Grayson killed to get the cure we never found.
We came all this way on a last-ditch effort and look where we ended up? In the middle of a pack of bloodthirsty vamps with a young girl wanting our memories and offering up no substantial proof she evenhasthe cure.
“No, we couldn’t get her help,” Lacey agrees.
“We wasted this trip. We’re going to die.”
Interesting, how those words start to mean so little after you use them so much. I must have said it to myself too many times because now, they land soft and meaningless, the same as snowflakes. Gone the second they touch your skin.
“We didn’t waste the trip, Mandi.”
Lacey reaches into the rear pocket of her pants and draws something rectangular out. She tosses it to me, my numb hands fumbling the catch.
A small journal lands on my lap instead.
“I stole the girl’s magic book.”
At first, the sentence means nothing. Her voice comes from too far away to make sense, my head filled with the sounds of screaming and Grayson’s growls. Then the truth clicks into place and I gasp.
“When did you steal this?”
“When she was talking about that fucking awful cat. That thing gave me the creeps.” Lacey shivers. “Anyway, I figure maybe the witches can use it to make the cure themselves. Theinformation we need should be in there. This way, we don’t have to donate any memories so she can keep her face pimple free.”
Surprise lands in the silence between us. The outside world is hushed, like someone flicked a switch, and I stare at the journal until my eyes blur.
Are the answers in here, in a book tiny enough to balance on my palm?
The window rattles with a bang and Lacey and I both jump. My mouth goes dry and I swallow, teeth chattering. A handprint leaves smudges of blood and there’s Colt, bent at the waist.
“We need to go.” He doesn’t ask for help as he drags Grayson behind him.
Blood speckles both of them and I fog the glass to get a closer look. Grayson is passed out but human, much bigger than the vampire, and pure dead weight.
Panic turns my heart to ash and I bolt out of the seat, clutching the journal tightly. “He’s dead!”
“He’s not gone yet.” Colt has both his arms hooked under Grayson’s shoulders. “I’ve got this.”
Even with his strength, Colt struggles. He balances Grayson against the side of the car before pulling open the door and throwing the unconscious man in the backseat.
Colt might have this, but I don’t. I struggle to adjust Grayson onto his back, his limbs flopping toward the floor. Finally I get his head balanced on my lap as Colt jumps into the driver’s seat.