Was that a siren?

But that wasn’t right. The Auphe had burned the trailer to the ground, and the fire department didn’t come. Too far in the woods. No one saw the smoke or flames at night. No one saw Sophia burn like a torch, or her blackened corpse. No one saw because no one cared. It was only Cal and me. Always. Only the two of us all our lives, and he couldn’t be gone.

“Oh, God, Nik. Shit. Oh shit.”

There was a hand under my shoulders and one under my neck turning me carefully from my side to my back. A face swam into my vision. Black hair nearly white with snow, a straight slash of dark brows, gray eyes, pale skin, sharp chin. He looked like . . . someone. A cold hand wiped at my face and came away dripping red. Snow? When had the snow turned red?

“Jesus.” The pale skin went even paler. “Hold still, Cyrano, okay? Don’t move. Let me get them.” There were hands brushing over me, at my ankles, my waist, tugging at cloth. A knife appeared and slid between my chest and a snug band. Something long and stiff was eased from under my back. Suddenly against the white there was gray, a hideously hungry gray.

A hole in the world.

That had just meant something minutes ago, but now the meaning was lost.

The hole was swallowing things now. Guns, knives, leather and metal. And when they were gone the hole swallowed itself. I wished I could’ve swallowed myself too. Out of nowhere, the pain came. My head, it throbbed until I could barely see. But pain was only pain. It could be conquered. It could . . .

Where was Cal?

The sirens were wailing louder. I heard the murmur of distant voices. “It’s a car wreck.” “They’ll never see it.” “Wave them down.” “Where’s the driver?”

“Nik, it’s done, okay? The weapons are gone.” This voice was closer. The black and gray smearing into the white like a melting candle. Cloth wiped my face and then pressed against my temple. It was soft and warm and smelled oddly good . . . like coconut and chicken.

“Thai,” I murmured.

“Yeah, sorry.” A laugh, shaky and determined all at once. “At least it’s clean. I borrowed it from you this morning.” The voice raised, along with others. “Over here!” Then softer. “The ambulance is here now. We’re going to the hospital, okay? The hospital. We were in a wreck, all right? If they ask, we had an accident.”

To the hospital. No. Cal.

“No.” I closed my eyes and the darkness was as peaceful as the snow. “Can’t. Waiting for my brother. They took him.” And I wasn’t leaving until he came back. I wouldn’t leave, I wouldn’t move, I wouldn’t sleep . . . although I was tired.

So tired.

There was a pause, and I felt a grip on my wrist squeezing hard. “Don’t worry. He’s here. He’s back. I promise. You’ll see him at the hospital. I swear. You’ll wake up and he’ll be right there.”

I wanted to believe him. He looked so much like Cal, only older than fourteen, and I wanted to believe. Then I forgot what I wanted to believe. I was waiting for someone, but I forgot who.

Sleep, I just wanted to sleep.

Other voices came. Loud and then fading until I could hear only one. The same one. “I’m right here, Nik. These guys are on our side. Do me a favor and don’t punch any of them out, all right?” Joke, but not a joke. Very much not a joke. Don’t hurt. Don’t kill.

Then the voice disappeared. The hand on my wrist went with it . . . as did the world.

And I disappeared with them.

11

Alcohol, stale piss, and bad cafeteria food.

Infection, sickness, and blood. Everywhere the sulfur sweetness of dying organs, the rot of gangrene, the stench of death. In all my life I’d never smelled so much death. It was on every surface in every room in this god-awful place of the living dead.

I sat in the hard plastic chair beside Nik’s bed, my elbows on my knees and fingers locked over the back of my neck. I wanted to rock. Swear to God, I did. But that’s all I needed. To have some angel of mercy think I’d lost it and drag me upstairs to the crazy ward.

Speaking of . . . there she was now. Nurse Panties in a Wad. She frowned at me from the door to Niko’s room. Gray hair in tight waves, coolly efficient blue eyes, and starched scrubs. The same type of scrub top I’d bummed from one of the ER nurses. I’d used my shirt as a bandage for Niko’s head wound. Soaked with blood, it had gone from light gray to dark red. Every inch of it. He’d bled and bled and bled.

I focused on the nurse. She was the lesser of two evils. “What?” I demanded.

“I told you, young man, visiting hours are over. You need to leave.”

I don’t know why they wear the stethoscopes looped around their necks. It just made for one convenient strangling temptation. “I’m staying. I’m family.”

“He looks like a big boy. Perfectly capable of spending the night on his own. He should come around soon. I’ll tell him you’ll be back in the morning,” she said, folding her arms.

I picked up the remote from the bedside table as if I hadn’t heard a word she’d said and switched on the TV.

“Sir . . .”

Young man to sir. Wow. A promotion.

“I’m staying,” I repeated through my clenched teeth. “I’m family.”

With that she gave up. When she was gone, I kept flicking through channels, not seeing a damn one of them. There was a rustle of sheets and I dropped the remote in my lap as I swiveled in the chair. Hazy eyes blinked and Nik said hoarsely, “Making friends . . . wherever you go.”

I smiled, one so sharp and relieved that it actually hurt, and wrapped my hand around his arm. “Hey, Cyrano, you really awake this time?”

His hand moved to touch a row of twenty-five stitches along a hairline stained orange with Betadine. “I wasn’t before?”

I let go of him to press the button on the rail that lifted the head of the bed up. “You kept telling me to put down my gun and finish my homework. You forgot I graduated Niko’s home-school academy with honors two years ago.” There was still dried blood in his hair although they’d gotten all the glass out down in the ER. The tie he used to pull the top of it back was long gone, and the stained blond strands fell inches past his jaw, messy in a way I don’t think I’d ever seen it. Not even as kids.

“Honors?” His hand dropped back to the sheet and blanket covering him to midchest. “You spilled pizza sauce on the final.”

“Yeah, you’re awake this time.” My smile faltered. It had been hours of silence, then two more of him drifting in and out. I’d cooled my heels in the ER waiting room forever. Security made it clear the only thing I’d get by trying to push my way back there was arrested. Finally, after tests and scans and stitching, I’d been able to go back to see him. He was still out cold. Concussion, they said. Moderate. He’ll wake up soon. Here. Fill out these forms. There was enough Rom in me that I promptly lied on every line of them and handed over one of Niko’s fake IDs. We’d stopped our running days, but some things would never change.

I’d waited until the registration lady bustled off to make copies before I threw up in the garbage can beside Nik’s gurney. Rom, Sophia had said, didn’t go to doctors or hospitals, although with good old Mom I thought it was more cheapness than a cultural thing. This was the first hospital I’d been in, and the smell of it was unbearable. I’d thrown up twice more after Niko had been moved to his own room. Fortunately, he had a bathroom there. Made for more convenient puking. Lucky me. Since then, I was dealing with it and this strange, cold, painfully bright place. Seeing Nik awake and finally with it should’ve made it easier.

It didn’t. A bright red string, scarlet as his blood, had run through me, stitching me up, keeping me together . . . so I could watch out for him. Guard him. Wait for him. Now the waiting was over and the string was unraveling and I was unraveling with it. “Want some water?” I didn’t wait for an answer, pouring lukewarm water into a plastic cup from a plastic pitcher with a hand that felt just as plastic, and handed it over.