Bleeding Hearts Page 3

  Maybe I hadn’t been to the mountains in a few years, but I didn’t believe for one minute that Violet Hill was so overrun with crime that I’d be in danger. As if there were a lot of hippie gangs roaming the streets, wearing hemp clothing and pushing organic fruit smoothies on unsuspecting bystanders. Please. I was from the city. I’d once taken the subway alone past midnight. Not smart, granted, but I think I can handle a hick mountain town.

  But no need to rub anyone’s face in it. I’d just slip out my window, go for a walk, and come back before my aunt and uncle returned. I was even on the ground floor, so I wouldn’t have to shimmy down some tree. I tossed my book on the bed and put on my jacket and the black knee-high moccasins I’d found in the closet. They weren’t as badass as my combat boots, obviously, but I loved them. And they were quiet, so I wouldn’t give myself away clomping.

  I pulled my window open, the cool October air ruffling the curtains. My room looked out over the backyard with the brick patio, the huge vegetable garden, and the twinkly fairy lights strung through the apple trees. Fields stretched out to the edge of the woods. I wouldn’t go into the dark forest; I couldn’t remember if there were bears or mountain lions around here. I was far more scared of that possibility than random violence in town.

  I dropped my leg over the side and bent down, squeezing myself over the window frame. A nail caught my jeans as I dropped down into the grass, tearing them. At least they were already ripped at the knee. The stars were dizzying overhead. At home we were lucky to see the Big Dipper. But here stars were everywhere, seeming to fall into the forest or come out of the mountains. Inside my room, Van Helsing whined. I poked my head back in.

  “Go out the doggy door in the back, dummy,” I told him. I snapped my fingers and pointed to the open bedroom door behind him. He licked my finger and then hurtled down the hall like an elephant. I turned around, grinning.

  And then suddenly I was falling back against the house, a hand closed over my mouth, a tall, lean body pressing me into the wall. My heart thudded with that slow, sick rhythm of fear, like a wet drum being played. Clearly, I’d been wrong.

  It really wasn’t safe out after dark.

  “Don’t scream,” a male voice said, almost sheepishly. “Please?”

  Now I was confused. He seemed my age, with dark hair and what my novels would call an “amiable manner.”

  Even if he did have me trapped between his body and the bricks.

  I tried to kick him, just out of principle. I wished I were wearing my steel-toed boots. He evaded me easily.

  “I’m Connor Drake,” he said, as if that meant anything. “I’m Nicholas’s brother,” he elaborated when I didn’t look particularly comforted. I vaguely remembered playing with a herd of brothers when I was little. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “Really.”

  “Then let go!” I screeched against his palm. It sounded more like “Thennmffllg!”

  “Oh, sorry!” He dropped his hand. “Don’t yell, okay?”

  “Not okay,” I shot back. “Are you nuts?”

  Van Helsing charged around the corner, kicking up clumps of dirt and grass. I smirked at Connor. I hoped the dog bit him right in the ass. Instead, he sat on Connor’s foot and drooled.

  I sighed, disgusted. “Honestly.”

  Connor pet his head. “He knows me.”

  “Well, I don’t,” I grumbled. “Do you always accost girls?”

  “It’s not safe around here at night.”

  I looked at him pointedly. “I’m getting that.”

  “Sorry.” He shrugged. Now that I had time to look at him, I saw the family resemblance. He had dark hair like Nicholas, and the same lean beauty. His eyes were blue, even in the faint glow of the twinkly lights. He was wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, and some sort of leather cuff on his wrist. He was really hot. Deranged, but hot. And not my type. I usually went for the bad boy. And this guy, despite lurking in the bushes, was clearly nice.

  “I’m going inside now,” I announced, daring him to contradict me.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Okay.”

  I half turned to eye the window. Logistics were going to be a problem. If I crawled back inside, not only would it be extremely undignified, but I’d end up sticking my butt right out at him. And he so didn’t deserve a look at my ass. I edged out of reach, moving as slowly as ivy creeping up a garden wall. “I’ll go around front.”

  Van Helsing trotted at my side, furry traitor that he was. Connor trailed behind us, affable and yet somehow menacing at the same time. It wasn’t that I was scared of him, not really. I remembered him now. He’d been gangly, all elbows, his nose always buried in a comic book. But I’d been lectured about curfews and prowlers and danger since I’d arrived, so the fine hairs at my nape stirred, like a cat’s hackles rising for no discernible reason.

  I cleared my throat. I was being ridiculous. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “I need to talk to my brother.”

  “Oh.”

  How did one make small talk that didn’t involve insults or threats with someone who’d just leaped out of the bushes and grabbed you? He was lucky I hadn’t pepper sprayed him. I’d been here only a couple of weeks and I’d already lost my edge. Not cool.

  I worried about that until we reached the porch. The cedar planks were gray with age and sagged alarmingly in the middle. And near the rails. It was pretty much going to collapse any minute now. I climbed the stairs gingerly. Connor put a hand on my elbow to steady me.

  It was stupid of me to think about Mr. Darcy.

  I pulled free and hurried to the front door. And nearly concussed myself. The sudden stop sent a small shiver of pain through my arm and made me stumble. It was locked.

  I knocked loudly, grumpily. I could practically hear Connor grinning behind me. I kept my back to him even though my neck prickled.

  Chapter 3

  Lucy

  I flung the door open, Nicholas crowding behind me.

  “Did you even check the peephole?” he grumbled.

  “Yes, already.” I shook him off. “What, you think vam—uh, very bad guys—knock now?” I blinked at Christabel, confused. “What are you doing out there?” Van Helsing muscled past me. He didn’t look alarmed, so I wasn’t either. Gandhi came to snuffle at Connor before wandering off as well, bored. “And what are you doing here?” My heartbeat fluttered uncomfortably. “Is Solange okay?”

  Connor nodded quickly. “She’s fine.”

  “Good. ’Cause only I get to kill her.”

  Nicholas’s hand was a comfort on my lower back. “She just needs some time to herself.”

  “Please. That would work on anyone but me. I was grandfathered in.” I scowled. “Plus, that’s what people say when they break up with someone.”

  Christabel came inside, practically plastering herself against the wall, as if Connor were contagious.

  If she only knew.

  I waited until she’d gone back to her room. I folded my arms, pivoting to block the exit. “So what’s going on?”

  “Nicholas and I need to get home.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Fine. Just as soon as you tell me what the new undead drama is.”

  Connor shifted, looking uncomfortable. “It’s supposed to be secret.”

  I’d always been part of the family. I was one of their secrets, for crying out loud. But ever since my parents had gotten back from their trip, I’d been getting weird vibes. I wasn’t staying at the farmhouse anymore, so I couldn’t eavesdrop. I was getting left out of things. Even Solange was avoiding me. I swallowed hard, terrified I might cry in front of them.

  Nicholas kept his hand on my back. He was the only one who wasn’t acting weird, which, I supposed, was kind of weird in itself. He was the only reason I was keeping my shit together. I was used to being part of the Drakes. I didn’t know how to be this other Lucy. She was miserable.

  But when I was with Nicholas, I could forget about all of that, or at least not o
bsess over it. He made the hurt feelings fade a little. He might be arrogant and bossy, but he didn’t hide the important stuff from me.

  “We shouldn’t be seen here,” Connor added. He was right. The front door was open. Anyone could see us and overhear our conversation.

  I backed up a step, forcing Nicholas back as well since he was still behind me. “Then come inside.”

  “Oh, man,” he muttered. “Lucy, don’t do this to me.”

  “Don’t you do this to me!” I retorted hotly.

  “Mom said we weren’t supposed to drag you into this stuff anymore.”

  I scowled. “That’s not fair.”

  “Neither’s being eaten by a Hel-Blar,” Nicholas pointed out. To Connor he added, “Just come in. Lucy will find out somehow anyway. At least this way she can’t take us by surprise.”

  Connor shut the door behind him. “Fine, but if Mom finds out, I’m blaming you.”

  Some of the pressure eased off my chest.

  Connor sniffed the air and took a step back, swallowing. “Could you be a little less fragrantly relieved?”

  My eyebrows lowered at Connor. “Are you trying to say I smell bad? Nice moves with the girls there, genius.”

  Connor rolled his eyes. “As if I’d hit on you.”

  “Hey! I’m cute.” I poked Nicholas. “Tell him I’m cute.”

  “She’s cute,” Nicholas repeated mildly. “But you can’t have her.”

  Connor rolled his eyes even harder. “Give me a break.” His nostrils flared. He stared at Nicholas. “How do you do it? This house is tiny.”

  He shrugged but I saw the muscles standing out on his neck. I knew what that meant. “He wears nose plugs sometimes,” I explained. Nicholas nudged me. “What? Why is that a secret?”

  Connor peered down the hall. “Did you tell your cousin?”

  “Of course not.”

  “She shouldn’t be going out alone at night right now. We don’t have the Hel-Blar infestation cleared up yet.”

  “I know. We’ve already told her not to go out, but she’s not stupid. She hardly believed Violet Hill is overrun with gangs.”

  “Was she sneaking out to meet some guy?”

  I snorted. “She’s saving herself for Mr. Darcy.”

  “So what’s going on that you came all the way over here instead of calling?” Nicholas asked. He had that intense expression I loved so much, all brooding and serious.

  “Give me your phone first.” Connor held out his hand. Nicholas passed it over. Connor glanced at me. “Yours too.”

  I blinked, then fished mine out of my knapsack on the floor behind us. “Why?”

  “I’m not convinced Mom hasn’t had our phones bugged,” he said, scrolling through the options and hitting a bunch of buttons. I had no idea what he was doing. “I’ll leave the GPS tag, but I want to make sure no one’s eavesdropping.” He gave us back our phones, after pulling them apart to look at their insides.

  “So?” I pressed. “What now?”

  “The last blood supply delivery to the house was poisoned.”

  We both stared at him. The Drakes had been dodging assassination attempts since just before Solange’s sixteenth birthday. And after Helena killed Lady Natasha and became queen, a whole new kind of assassin descended, vying for the throne.

  He nodded grimly at our expressions. “Solange nearly drank some.”

  “What? Is she okay?” I demanded. I didn’t wait for an answer, just hit speed dial on my phone.

  “She’s fine,” Connor told me. “Really.”

  The phone rang and rang in my ear. I switched it off, disgusted. “She’s not answering.”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Then she should answer.”

  “She’s okay. Mom and Dad went off to make sure all of the tainted supply is dealt with, and Uncle Geoffrey is testing the bottle Solange nearly drank. Luckily it wasn’t the first of the night, or she might not have been slow enough for Mom to smell something off.” Newborn vampires weren’t exactly known for their delicate appetites or refined manners when first waking up. “But now Mom and Dad want to post more guards, assuming that’s even physically possible. And I don’t know about you, but I need more guards like I need a suntan.” He looked disgusted, the way he did over shoddy computer programming or sci-fi movies not getting proper critical acclaim. “Han Solo wouldn’t need guards. Neither would Malcolm Reynolds. Or Picard.”

  I had to grin. “You do realize you’re not the captain of an intergalactic spaceship?”

  “Just like you realize you’re not really a superhero?”

  I cracked my knuckles. “Hunter’s showing me new tricks.”

  “That’s all we need,” he groaned. “Anyway, Dad wants us all back at the house,” he added to Nicholas.

  “What about—” Nicholas went still so suddenly that I cut myself off midquestion. “What?” I whispered.

  But he relaxed, nodding to the driveway through the window, just before headlights speared between the trees. “Car.”

  I glanced out just as my parents’ car rumbled down the dirt lane. “Crap.”

  “We’ll sneak out back,” Nicholas said. Lately my dad went a funny color when he came home at night to find Nicholas on the couch with me. Nicholas kissed me, quick and hot as a shooting star. Connor just headed down the hall.

  “This isn’t over!” I called after them.

  Like hell they were going to leave me out of this.

  I stomped into my room, muttering under my breath. I decided to change into my comfiest pajamas; they helped me think. I opened the drawer and reached for the plaid flannel pants. Shrink-wrapped condoms fell onto the rag rug. “Unbelievable.” I marched back down the hall. “Mom!” I heard them in the kitchen, boiling water for chamomile tea. Ever since his ulcer, Mom made Dad have a cup every single night. He couldn’t seem to convince her that a bottle of organic beer was just as healing.

  “Stop hiding condoms in my stuff. It’s like some twisted Easter egg hunt in there.”

  Mom was at the kitchen table, a china cup in her hand. Her long hair hung in two braids, lightly sprinkled with gray. She wore a silver bindi and a tight T-shirt with a lotus embroidered on the front from the local Tibetan store. “I just want you to be safe, honey,” she replied calmly.

  “I’ve counted eighteen of these so far,” I shot back. “How much freaking sex do you think I’m having?” Especially with a curfew of roughly seven o’clock at night, which was about the time Nicholas woke up. It’s not like we can hang out at school.

  Dad blanched, setting his cup down so fast his tea sloshed over his hand, scalding him. I don’t even think he noticed. “Who’s having sex?”

  “No one, Dad.” I stole an oatmeal molasses cookie from the plate in front of him while he was too busy hyperventilating to notice.

  “You’re sixteen,” he said, half-accusing, half-terrified.

  “I know, Dad.”

  “That’s too young for sex!”

  “I’m not having sex!” This was getting embarrassing, even for our family, who talked about everything. Besides, Nicholas and I had been together for only a month or so. He was trying to not drink from my jugular, not trying to get into my pants. He was more squeamish about drinking my blood than I was. When Dad just blinked at me, his skin the approximate color of a frog’s belly, I shot Mom a reproachful glare. “See what you did?”

  “You’re sixteen,” Mom said serenely, as if this weren’t mortifying. “I just want us to be realistic.”

  Dad scrubbed his face. He had a long strand of crystal mala beads around his neck. “I’m going to need to get a gun, aren’t I?”

  “You don’t believe in guns,” I reminded him. “Remember? That big political march last year? Gurus, not Guns?” They’d om’ed for a record twenty-three hours straight on the lawn outside city hall. I lasted an hour before I got bored. Plus, I really like miniature crossbows and UV guns, so I felt a little hypocritical. I met Solange for ice cream instead.


  “That was before I had a sixteen-year-old daughter,” Dad said, his hand pressing on his ribcage, a clear indication that his ulcer was bothering him. I kissed the top of his head. His ponytail was longer than Mom’s.

  “Drink your tea, Dad.” Then I pointed sternly at my mother. “I mean it, Mom. No more condoms.”

  “I want you to see my gynecologist.”

  “Mom!” I turned on my heel. “Conversation over!” I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me in case she considered following me for a mother-daughter chat. I loved my mom but I did not want to talk about sex.

  Frankly, I had bigger problems.

  Sex paled in comparison to the myriad ways Solange and all her irritating brothers could get themselves killed without me. I deserved to be part of their clandestine plans. I’d earned it. And I was sure they’d need a human touch at some point. And if they asked Hunter to help instead of me, I’d stake every last one of them myself.

  Mom says jealousy is unattractive.

  So’s a broken nose.

  I’m just saying.

  I dropped onto the bed, sighing. Emo best friend, crazy mother, and feral vampires in the woods.

  Just another Thursday night in Violet Hill.

  Chapter 4

  Christabel

  “You are not bringing a book to a bonfire party at the beach,” Lucy said from the doorway to my room. She was wearing a long skirt with a tank top and a jean jacket decorated with a huge pink silk rose brooch.

  “Nope,” I agreed. I was wearing my usual torn jeans and combat boots. “I’m bringing two.”

  “How are you even going to read in the dark?”

  I waggled my battery-operated booklight at her before dropping it into my favorite black knapsack. I’d written bits of poetry all over it in silver marker. “The only reason I’m even going is because you won’t stop bugging me about it.”