Bloodshot - Cherie Priest [102]
I could sense it. The kid hated me, but he was clinging to me—or just the sound of me, someplace far away.
As if he’d heard my thoughts he asked, “Raylene, where are you? Can’t you come help?”
“I’m a long way away,” I told him. Old habit wouldn’t let me say more, and it wouldn’t help him anyway.
“How far?”
“Thousands of miles. I wish I were joking.”
“Can you send anybody?” Ooh, I knew that pitch—that tone that lifts up the words at the corners and makes them into a nightmare scream in a bottle. He was frantic, and balancing on the edge of doing something very stupid.
And I had no idea what to do. “No,” I gulped. “There’s nobody.”
This wasn’t strictly true. There was Ian, and there was Cal—somewhere within ten miles or so. But a blind vampire and a hipster ghoul would be no good at all; truth be told, they’d only make the situation worse. Also, they’d get themselves caught, or so I was willing to bet.
So it might not’ve been strictly true, but it was functionally true.
There was no cavalry coming.
“Listen to me,” I said, keeping my voice down but trying to keep it firm. I opened one eye and saw Adrian, silent in the doorway and not moving, but watching me. I didn’t care. I couldn’t care, there wasn’t time. I just thanked God he knew when to stay silent. “Listen to me, and I’ll tell you what to do.”
“Okay.” I hated the relief I heard in that word. The relief wasn’t warranted. I didn’t even know what I was going to say next; I only knew that he needed to believe I had something to say next.
“First, tell me where you are.”
“I’m on …” More swishings of cheek and fabric into the phone. “I’m on the third floor, up in the ceiling. They’re not up here now, but they were a few minutes ago, and I think they’ll be back. They’ve been sweeping the place over and over again. Like they’re looking for something.”
They could’ve been looking for anything, but much like Domino assumed they’d already taken his sister, I assumed they were there hunting for me. It was small comfort, knowing they wouldn’t find me. No matter what else they found, or who else they found, or what crates they opened, or what locked doors they kicked down … they wouldn’t find me.
Small comfort indeed. And as sharp and cold as an icicle. Never mind meaningless to the boy on the phone.
“They’re coming back!” he wheezed. He fumbled with the phone again.
“Domino!” I said, almost speaking loud enough to bring my voice out of the whisper that neither of us had yet dropped.
“What?” The word was thin, compressed, and shoved out from between his teeth.
“Stay with me. Which end of the third floor are you at?”
“They’re popping open the vents! They’re going to find me in here!” Not quite shrill, but you could see it from there.
“Your vent?”
“Not yet!”
“Okay. Okay. Which part of the ceiling are you in?”
He panted for a moment, then said, “I’m near the main staircase.”
“And they didn’t start there?”
“No. They came up the back way. I don’t know why. Raylene, they’re moving stuff around. They’ve got crowbars. They’re taking this place apart. They’re going to find me!”
“They’re not going to find you. You’re going to nut up and wiggle out of this, you hear me?”
“Where would I go?” he asked, and it almost hurt me, even though I didn’t like him. The pain and the terror were almost too much to hear. “I can’t leave Pepper!”
“These guys who came in, they must have cars, vans, something like that?”
“I … I don’t know.”
“You need to look. You need to get outside and make sure they don’t have your sister stashed inside one of those cars yet, or one of those vans. If she’s there, then we can talk about rescuing her.”
“What if she’s not?”
“If she’s not,” I relied upon past experience when I said, “I say let her stay wherever she’s at. I heard you say they’re taking the place apart, but even