The Bloody City Read Online Free PDF Page B

assholes. Not a surprise.”
    “I’m glad everyone is happy I’m safe!” Sam called out.
    Despite his griping, inside the house, Muse, Sam’s ironic little bodyguard, gripped him by the arms, relief evident on her face. She wore a white terrycloth robe. She had to tilt her head back to look at him. June considered her a sister in shortness.
    “I’m glad you’re back,” Muse said. “I hate when you get out of my hearing range.” Muse was a powerful telepath. So powerful, it was killing her.
    The living room where they stood was spacious, sconces on the walls filling the space with a soft yellow glow. A wall of TV and stereo equipment dominated one side of the room.
    “So what’s the news?” Jason asked. They had all waited what seemed like ages for the results of tonight.
    Sam pushed a hand through his hair. “Occam accepted our offer. I’m sure we’ll be hearing from him soon.”
    “Good,” Micha said, but his voice was grim.
    Micha had become the epitome of their seclusion. His hair had grown out shaggy, and dark roots dominated his faded blond highlights. They shared a communal pile of genderless shirts and jeans. Everything Micha wore hung from his frame and his bones stuck out at odd angles. His cheeks were hollow.
    “I guess my fate is sealed,” he said. “I wanted to make a difference. Now I will.”
    June clenched her jaw, forcing herself not to say anything. Sam and Aaron were using him as a pawn, and they couldn’t do anything but use him. Micha had lost his power to choose long before they’d turned him into a bargaining chip. He’d lost it when Eric Greerson injected him with the serum. He’d lost it before that, when his wife prepared him for it.
    The serum worked, to an extent. Micha had experienced every paranormal ability one could name, aside from aural captivation, though they all came and went, and he could never control them. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be infected with the vampire virus.
    “God must be getting some kind of sick pleasure out of kicking us around,” June said.
    “I don’t believe in God anymore.” Micha walked out of the room, toward the kitchen.
    June went upstairs, to the bedroom she shared with Jason. A TV sat on the dresser, rarely turned on, because June was forced to watch the news too much downstairs.
    She took off her jeans—the crotch still damp—and changed into a pair of pajama pants. She sat down on her bed, facing the window. They were usually awake at night and asleep during the day, ironically like vampires. When dawn arrived, they pulled curtains against the world, against its taunting memory and the blossom of approaching summer. They were prisoners of their own fate, and the outside world was too painful a reminder of what they’d lost. Would her life ever be normal again, or would she spend the rest of her days a fugitive, in seclusion, hiding from the sun, cursing God?
    Jason entered the bedroom and crawled into his bed across the room. “Good night,” he said softly.
    His voice remained raspy from the torture he’d endured at the Institute. He couldn’t speak loudly, or it would crack. It sounded ragged and guttural when he woke up, crying out from nightmares.
    “I’m glad you’re safe,” he whispered. “I was worried all night.”
    Safe. Was she?
    She waited until Jason’s breath grew soft and even, and quietly left the room. She went downstairs. Her insides still burned, an energy that wasn’t wholly her own churning low in her gut.
    She envisioned Sam on top of her, felt the pressure of his thigh between her legs. She saw the consternation on his face as he ascended the porch steps, when Micha hugged her.
    The kitchen light was on. Micha stood at the sink counter, sipping from a coffee cup. His blue eyes—they hadn’t dulled, at least—were questioning as June walked over to him.
    Maybe it was guilt, or need, or some leftover thing from Zack that made her grip Micha’s T-shirt, made her yank him forward and against