CHAPTER TEN

MICHAEL

Getting the attention of the draug wasn’t a problem. From the moment I ran into the water treatment plant I knew they’d felt me, seen me, sensed my approach; they could detect me the way I could feel a heartbeat across the room. Predator senses. They were tuned to vampires, and I was young, vulnerable, blasting full volume Come eat me. I’m easy.

So far, my brilliant plan was working. Shane would have been pleased; in fact, he would have been right in there with me, I knew that. Hang in there, bro, I silently begged him. We’d had our good times and bad times, but when I thought of Shane what I mostly remembered was holding on to him the night Alyssa died. Holding him back from running into the burning house to die along with her. Then holding him back from attacking Monica Morrell, who’d been standing there flicking a lighter.

That crazy suicidal streak of his had always scared me, because I knew it was still inside him. But this time … this time I was hoping he’d be holding on with both hands. He had things to live for now. People who loved him.

Yeah, and one of them is you, and you left him here.

Shane wasn’t the only one who could wallow in guilt. I was soaking in it, because I’d left him. I’d done it because at the time I’d thought Myrnin was right—that Shane couldn’t have survived more than a few minutes. Myrnin had taken advantage of our shock and confusion. Mine especially. I had the keys. I could have said, Hell no—screw you. I’m going back for my friend. Instead, I’d mostly thought of getting the girls away from there, cutting our losses. And that had been Myrnin’s focus. Claire wasn’t ever willing to admit it, but we all knew that Myrnin put her safety ahead of anyone else’s. Even his own.

Just as I had put Eve’s first, in the heat of the moment. Shane wouldn’t even blame me for that, the jackass. He’d have done exactly the same thing. And he’d be right here, right now, moving with the shadows, luring the enemy away from those we needed to protect and taking the worst of it on ourselves.

I sometimes thought he’d had a little too much influence on me. I never used to be suicidal.

I spotted a still pool of dirty water ahead, near the corner of the building, and slowed; there was no way to be sure if it was safe or infected with the draug, but I couldn’t take the chance. Avoiding its slippery edges took me under a drain spout, which I missed until the liquid gushed out and landed on me with a wet slap.

The draug formed out of it, clinging to my back, clawing at me. They weren’t strong, but everywhere they touched skin it felt like acid burning off layers. The clothes stopped it for only a few seconds. If the draug couldn’t soak through it, they flowed around and under, seeking prey.