NOT FOR SALE Page 18

  My throat still parched, I reached for the water I'd left on my nightstand, then gasped.

  Next to the glass sat Bridget's bridal bouquet, the one I'd caught. I picked it up and took a deep whiff of the red and white roses, wondering how it had gotten here. I'd left it in Liam's car along with my getaway bag earlier that night. Before he died.

  He'd brought it back to me.

  I looked at the clock, calculated the hours until sunrise (three), then hurried to my desk. While my laptop started up, I changed my clothes and filled my backpack with everything I truly needed. I was used to living out of an RV for an entire summer, so I knew how to pack light. Besides, I had something else to pick up.

  Downstairs, I left a note on the kitchen counter:

  Dear Nana,

  I hope one day, you'll let me live again.

  Love, Mary Cassidy O'Riley

  * * * *

  Michael blocked the doorway of his bungalow, which was now Bridget's and Liam's home, too. He'd changed out of his tuxedo, back into his usual flannel shirt and jeans.

  "I told you, Cass, you can't see him."

  "I'm not here to see Liam. I'm here to see you."

  He glanced toward the side of the house, like he expected someone to jump out with a crossbow, then at the heavy plastic cooler in my hand. "Is this a trick?"

  I smiled up at him. "Me? Tricky?"

  My cousin nodded grimly and started to shut the door, but I put my foot across the threshold.

  "Michael, I'm kidding. Let me in and I'll explain."

  He gave a heavy sigh and called over his shoulder. "Bridget, take the kid into the den." In response to a voice I couldn't hear, he said, "So he doesn't eat his ex-girlfriend, that's why. And stay with him."

  I followed him into the kitchen. "You need to learn to say please. Didn't you read the husband book?"

  He scratched his head as he pulled a beer out of the fridge. "There's a book?"

  I set the cooler on top of the counter with a thud, then flipped back the lid.

  "What's that?" Michael stepped closer, wary as a fox sniffing bait in a trap. His eyes widened when he saw what was inside. "Shit, Cassie. Where'd you get all that blood?"

  "Where do you think?"

  "You broke into my dad's blood bank?" His fingers twitched on the beer bottle, rubbing the edge of the label. "How'd you get past the dogs?"

  "He took them with him to hunt down Gavin and his boys. The lock was easy. And he won't know it's gone until at least tomorrow."

  "Yeah, and then we'll all catch holy hell." Michael reached into the cooler and pulled out a smooth plastic bag of blood. "It's a great wedding gift, but you gotta take it back."

  "It's not a wedding gift." My eyes shifted toward the den.

  "Cass, I told you to let Liam go. You're not safe around him, and the sooner you move on, the better off we'll all be." Michael plopped the bag back in the cooler. "Bridget and I'll take care of him. He's fine."

  "Don't lie to her." Bridget entered the kitchen, her stomps rattling the glasses in the cupboard even though she was perfectly capable of stealth. "The boy's on a goddamn hunger strike."

  "A hunger strike?" My blood felt as cold as the blood in the cooler. "Why?"

  "It won't last," Michael said.

  "He says he won't drink until we let you be together." Bridget peered into the cooler. "Oh my Lord, are you out of your mind?" She backed up out of reach and put her hands behind her. "Get that out of our house. If they catch us with that much blood at one time—that'd last all three of us for a week, maybe longer."

  I closed the lid slowly, snapping it shut. "I know it would."

  She squinted at me. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying I'm getting me and Liam out of here, and I need your help."

  "What did I just tell you?" Michael slammed the bottom of his bottle on the counter, so hard it fizzed up and overflowed. "You can't be with him."

  "Calm down." Bridget pointed at him like he was a misbehaving puppy. "Let me handle this."

  He pressed his lips together, then backed off and wiped the wet bottle on his shirttail, glaring at us but staying quiet. Maybe he did read the husband book.

  She turned back to me. "It was bad enough you running off yesterday when Liam was alive. I didn't agree with it, but I went along anyway because you're my friend and I want you to be happy. But now—"

  "Now we need to leave more than ever. You just said Liam's on a hunger strike. You're his maker—you can't let him die."

  "We're both his makers." She gazed sadly at Michael. "I tried to do it all by my myself, but I guess I'm too young a vampire."

  He said nothing, just stared at the floor.

  "Michael, I didn't know," I whispered. "Thank you."

  "I knew how sad you'd be if Liam died." He smirked. "And that you'd go off and kill those boys yourself, so I figured I was saving more than one life."

  "So what did you save him for, if not to be with me?"

  He scratched the side of his head and didn't answer.

  "Cass," Bridget said. "It's not so simple running away when you're a vampire. The sun'll kill us."

  "I thought of that. If we leave by four-thirty, we can make it to a vampire-safe motel before sunrise. I already got us a room."

  She blinked at me. "A vampire-safe motel?"

  I nodded to the stapled stack of papers I'd left on the counter. "I looked it up before I left. There's 'vampire-friendly' places, which means they're either run by vamps or humans who know what you are. Then there's 'vampire-safe,' which just means they have rooms without windows, or at least a bathroom you can sleep in during the day."

  She picked up the papers and flipped through them, her eyes turning wide with wonder. "So there are other vampires out there who live around humans, like we do? Vampires who aren't like that. . . one?"

  "There must be." I stepped closer to her. "I know it's asking a lot. You have a life here, and you're scared to leave. But if you help me, I'll help you. I can get whatever you need during the day. You don't have to be scared."

  Bridget chewed her thumbnail as she slowly set down the papers, then stared at the door to the den for a long moment. Finally she looked at the clock. "So we got forty- five minutes."

  "What?" Michael shouldered his way between us. "Bridget, we're not doing this."

  "Maybe we aren't." She reached past him and took my hand. "But I am."

  Though her hand was cool, my whole body turned warm. I vowed to myself that she'd never regret this. Even if, every once in a while, it meant opening my own veins.

  Michael stepped back, almost staggering. "Bridget, you ... you want to leave me? On our wedding night?"

  "No, I don't want to!" Her voice choked with tears. "But they need my help. Cass and Liam were there for me after I was turned."

  "So was I!"

  "And I love you for it, and for a million other reasons. But Liam could die. You'll survive without me."

  "I don't know about that." He raised his arms to the walls, like the house was already empty without her. "What about the family?"

  "I'm your family, too," I reminded him. "You loved me enough to save Liam once."

  He shut his eyes hard. I held my breath, waiting for his decision. We didn't need Michael to help us escape, but God only knew what they'd do to him if they thought he didn't try hard enough to stop us. And Bridget would be miserable without him.

  Then he shook his head. "We can't take Cass away," he told Bridget. "That's kidnapping. They'll hunt us down and kill us. Just like we did to your maker."

  "No, they won't." Liam appeared in the doorway, his face and eyes paler than ever. "Not if we're already dead."

  * * * *

  They let me light the fuse.

  It was the safest bet, since one touch of flame wouldn't make me poof into nothingness. Besides, out of all of us, I had the most to lose from leaving this place. And the most to gain.

  We parked on the far side of the marsh to watch Michael's house bum. M
ichael and I sat on the hood, with Bridget and Liam on the trunk. Like it was Fourth of July and the Kiwanis Club was setting off fireworks down at the park.

  The trunk of Bridget's car held the cooler of blood, along with a pair of shotguns, three blackout curtains, and about eight grand in cash. Anything else we needed, we could buy, beg, or steal. Probably steal.

  As the flames shot into the sky and sirens began to wail, Liam came to stand next to me.

  "Remember when the bunch of us built that treehouse in Michael's backyard?" he said. "We said one day we'd live in it together."

  "Yeah. Except the floor kept falling through when Gavin pulled out the nails." I bit my lip, wishing I hadn't said that name.

  "I'll find him one day," he said, steady as the wind. "And I'll be more careful with him than he was with me." His pupils dilated suddenly, reflecting the distant flames. "Careful the blood runs slow while I'm taking him apart. Careful he stays awake till the very end."

  The chill in his voice stopped my heart. I wanted to kill Gavin myself then, for turning my sweet, tender boy into a monster.

  A monster I refused to fear.

  "How do you feel?" I asked Liam. "Besides, you know .. ."

  "Bitter? Desperate? Furious?" He drew his left hand down his right arm. "I feel perfect."

  I took Liam's hand, wondering when I would stop expecting it to tremble.

  Bridget hopped off the trunk and jingled her keys. "Let's roll before we get fried."

  We got in the car, Michael and me in back and Liam up front with Bridget in case he got hungry and I started looking tastier than the blood bags in the cooler. She set the GPS for the vampire-safe motel in Summerville.

  The road took us north a few miles and up a hill, so I could watch the black sky turn purple as dawn spread over the ocean. My heart twisted as I realized Liam was an hour away from his first missed sunrise.

  We'd find our way back to each other, not as what we used to be—two Traveller kids destined to share a life—but as what we were now, a vampire and a . . . whatever I was. We'd mourn his life, for a long time. We'd mourn the lives we'd never create, forever.

  Deep down I knew I was leaving home for myself as much as I was leaving for Liam. I needed my own life, even if I had to steal it.

  We crossed the bridge and headed inland, putting the sun and sea behind us. I turned forward then, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

  At least we were on the road, where anything's possible.

  About the Authors

  Claudia Gray is the Chicago-based author of the New York Times bestselling Evernight series, set in the present day, in which Patrice is a character—now as a 160-year- old vampire. You can learn more about her work at www claudiagray.com.

  Lili St. Crow is the author of the Strange Angels series and, as Lilith Saintcrow, the author of the Dante Valentine and Jill Kismet series. She lives in Vancouver, Washington, with her children, a houseful of cats, and assorted other strays. Visit her online at www.lilithsaintcrow.com.

  Nancy Holder is the New York Times bestselling coauthor (with Debbie Viguie) of the young adult dark fantasy series Wicked, which has been optioned by DreamWorks. She and Viguie have sold two more young adult dark fantasy series: Crusade, their vampire trilogy, debuted in September 2010; The Wolf Spring Chronicles will come out in December 2011. She has sold eighty novels, and written novels, short fiction, and episode guides for Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Smallville, and many other shows. She is the winner of four Bram Stoker awards. She lives in San Diego, with her daughter and coauthor, Belle.

  Heather Brewer was not your typical teen growing up and she's certainly not your typical adult now. When she's not writing about vampires, she's contemplating world domination. She carries a stuffed gargoyle, believes in the presence of ghosts, and is relatively certain that Gerard Way is actually a creature of the night. Heather is the author of the New York Times bestselling series The Chronicles of Vladimir Todd. She doesn't believe in happy endings . . . unless they involve blood. She lives in Missouri with her husband and two children. Visit Heather at www.heatherbrewer.com.

  Rachel Caine is the author of the internationally bestselling Morganville Vampires series, as well as the Weather Warden and Outcast Season series. She grew up in the wilds of West Texas, and swears that Morganville probably exists somewhere out there in all that unknown open country. She currently lives in Fort Worth, Texas, with her husband, noted artist R. Cat Conrad, and their two iguanas, Popeye and Darwin.

  Award-winning author Jeri Smith-Ready lives in Maryland with her husband, two cats, and the world's goofiest greyhound. Her novels include the Shade ghost series for teens and the WVMP Radio adult vampire series, the cast of which Cass and Liam will soon join. When not writing, Jeri can usually be found—well, thinking about writing, or on Twitter. Like her characters, she loves music, movies, and staying up very, very late. Visit her at www.jerismithready.com.

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