Balthazar.

Chapter Eight

BALTHAZAR—MY DATE FOR THE AUTUMN BALL, the guy who had driven me to see Lucas countless times, my friend and very nearly my lover—lay unconscious, a captive of Black Cross. Chains bound his feet and wrists. Even his vampire’s strength wouldn’t allow him to escape, not wounded and exhausted as he was. I doubted Black Cross would give him any chance to recuperate. He was at their mercy.

Sometimes, over the past month, I’d thought of myself as a prisoner, but only now did I see how much worse it could get.

“Where—” My voice cracked. “Where are you taking him?”

“Milos says they’ve got some spaces in town they can use for backup. We’ll haul him off to one of them.” A crescent-shaped cut near the center of Dana’s forehead testified to the fact that she’d just fought for her life. “The group’s going to have to splinter up for a while—no other place for us all to stay together. The bloodsuckers didn’t kill that many of us, but they made damn sure we’d be spread thin for a while.”

“I’ll come along,” I said. I didn’t know what else to do. I desperately wanted to consult Lucas, but I couldn’t interrupt him and Kate now. At least if I made sure that we ended up in the same space that Balthazar would be kept, we’d have a chance to take action later.

Dana nodded. “Suit yourself. Normally I’d want stronger backup for vampire transport. No offense, Bianca, you know you’re still a newbie—”

“No arguments here.”

“—but pretty boy here looks like he’s asleep for a while.”

How could she simultaneously see how beautiful Balthazar was and not see that he was a person instead of a monster?

Maybe on some level Dana sensed how I felt, because she muttered, “I always hate this part.”

As I climbed into the shotgun seat of the van—old, cracked vinyl mended with duct tape—I’d never felt so dirty. It wasn’t the sweat and dust smeared thick on my skin; it was the fact that I was helping haul one of my best friends to what might be his death.

The new hideout was down by the river, on the other side of Manhattan. A loading dock was located nearby, and tugboats and barges stopped there to unload seemingly endless blue and green crates. I’d always thought of riverbanks as peaceful places, but this was all concrete and cables. The sounds of horn blasts and metal cranks drowned out the softer sounds of water.

I watched, Dana silent by my side, as Milos and a couple of the other hunters hauled an unconscious Balthazar into what looked like an abandoned harbor station. For a second I had the powerful urge to run far away and trust Lucas to find me. But that was the coward in me trying to take over. I’d let my fear control me long enough. I’d waited passively for things to change for too long. For Balthazar’s sake, and my own, it was time to be strong.

So I walked inside the building to see what we were dealing with. Dana didn’t follow. She remained behind, drumming her hands against the hood of the van, staring determinedly out at the water.

The building—a harbor station—seemed to be one room, fairly small, with a raised area closer to the water and a deeper hollow in the back that had obviously been used for storage. The walls and floors were concrete—the floor so old and heavily used that it was ragged and worn to a dull brown.

As Balthazar sagged to the floor, Milos worked with the chains around his wrists, and then his arms flopped free. For one second, I felt hopeful. After all, if they were going to kill him, wouldn’t they have done it already?

They could’ve killed Balthazar during the battle, and I’d never have known.

The terror of that thought washed over me, but it was instantly replaced by dread. Milos wasn’t making Balthazar more comfortable; he was latching handcuffs around one of his wrists. While I watched, aghast, he latched the other cuff around the metal railing that surrounded the storage area. He then did the same with the other arm, so that Balthazar was bound with his hands above his head. His head lolled forward, but his body twitched slightly.

“He’s waking up,” said one of the hunters.

Milos walked toward a nearby bucket, one that seemed to have been placed beneath a leak in the roof. Water rippled inside.

“How about we help him with that?” Then he tossed the water, hard, onto Balthazar.

The water hit him and the concrete with a loud, wet slap that made me jump. Balthazar jerked his head upright, gasping and disoriented. At his first glimpse of the hunters in front of him, he pulled backward—before realizing that he was bound. Trapped. His face shifted from surprise to anger.

“Don’t like it when the odds change, do you?” Milos jeered.

Balthazar’s voice was slurred as he said, “Go to hell.”

“I believe that’s your team’s stomping grounds,” Milos said, “not mine.”

Balthazar was still dazed from his injuries. Vampires healed faster than humans, but it took a while to recover from something serious. Balthazar struggled to hold his head upright, and though his dark eyes were unfocused he was clearly trying to get an idea of where he was, what chances he might have to escape.

His eyes sought the door, and he saw me.

The force of his gaze hit me hard. Gripping the doorframe so I wouldn’t fall, I hoped desperately that he would understand. I’m not helping them, I’ll try to get you out of this, you have to hang on, Balthazar, please—

Balthazar’s eyes drifted from me to Milos and the other hunters who surrounded him. Then he ducked his head, as if he didn’t even want to meet my eyes.