Bad Bloods: November Rain Page 5

  My footsteps sounded louder on the wet pavement than the dissipating thunder. The chaos was clearing out with the clouds, and the air barely held any recognition of the previous day. It was quiet, but my mind was loud.

  Shadow Alley was empty, but I remembered how I met Violet on the street. She was six then, and the Northern Flock already had five members. At the time, we didn’t need more mouths to feed, but I fought Calhoun. She was the same age I was when I was kicked onto the streets. I saw myself in her. Seven years had passed since Vi’s membership, but not much had changed. Only our numbers. There were twelve of us now, and they were waiting for me.

  I walked for thirty minutes, barely breathing, slowly moving. The only noises I dared to make were ones I couldn’t control. Raindrops clung to my hair until they succumbed to gravity and splashed against the puddled ground. No matter how carefully I stepped, the wet gravel shifted beneath my feet, but the distant thunder masked the echoes. The stormy night was my best aid.

  Shadow Alley was black aside from the warning lights, which only brightened the parts connected to side streets. At the openings, I paused, pressing myself against the corners of the buildings. The echoes worked both ways. If an officer were near, the tunneled alleyways would expose him as much as they exposed me, but the storm would help him cover his tracks too.

  I had to listen to the pattern of the rain, to the howling wind, and separate those sounds from everything else—the pitter-patter of paws, too loud to be a cat, too small to be a large dog. The chirr of a swinging window caught my attention before the voices did. Someone was watching television. Then, I heard the hum of an engine.

  A car.

  Only two types of people owned cars in Vendona: the rich and the government.

  I held my breath as I pressed my back against the brick wall, sheltering myself from the connecting street. A beam of light washed over the wooden fence in front of me. Patrol. The tires rolled over the pavement and passed within seconds. As nerve-wracking as the encounter was, I knew the police wouldn’t get out of their cars to check Shadow Alley.

  Over a decade ago, the street was another rocky road, but I couldn’t remember the original name anymore. Not after the fence was put in place. Even though the government wanted us to forget what happened to the Western Flock, no one could. Shadow Alley changed. All of Vendona had.

  I shook my head as I continued to walk with the moving storm. Fifteen more minutes passed, and the pavement slowly meshed into mud. Once I trudged over the hill, a series of homes appeared. The northern part of town was the most populous, but only a few lights remained on. My home. Michele only kept the light on when she was worried, but I wish she wouldn’t do either. I was their leader. I would never leave them, not even in the time of death.

  Gravity guided me down the slick slope as water seeped into my jeans. When I reached the asphalt, I jogged to the house that had sheltered us for a decade. It was under Calhoun’s name, but it managed to fit us all. Uncomfortably.

  The front door opened before I even had a chance to knock. A boy with gangly limbs blocked the entrance. “Great of you to show up.” His lips stretched too far. Every part of him did. It was what made him blooded. He thought it was brilliant. I thought he was an idiot.

  I ducked beneath his arm and strode into the house. “Shut the door,” I ordered.

  Floyd obeyed, but he spoke like he hadn’t. “I was going to anyway.” Despite being twenty years old and the oldest in the flock, he was a child in my eyes. Ever since the pre-election results poured in, he acted like he should’ve been the leader. I almost regretted taking him in two years ago. “Where have you been?”

  I shook off Cal’s jacket and draped it over the nearest chair. “Out.”

  “With a girl?” The soft voice floated through the room as she came out of the kitchen. The glowing room behind her lit her up even more. Michele already knew about Serena.

  “Vi told you.”

  “I did not,” the hidden preteen shouted from Floyd’s shadow, but I focused on Michele. Even though Michele was a year younger than I was, she kept the youngest children in order. Without her, I couldn’t take care of everyone. She taught the kids to cook and clean, but most of all, she cared for all twelve of us equally.

  Her snow-white hair was blinding as she moved into the lamplight. “Vi didn’t tell me.” Her gray eyes flashed yellow. “I saw.” Her premonitions were impossible to avoid.

  Floyd grunted. “Shows how much you care about our safety.”

  “Enough,” Michele snapped, but even her anger was delicate. With limp hands, she gestured to the basement door, and it clicked as it shut. The younger kids were eavesdropping. Michele sighed at Floyd. “Go make yourself useful.”

  His shoulders shook, but he listened—again—and disappeared down the basement stairs without another word. I waited a minute before I looked at Michele. When we made eye contact, her nimble hand whisked to the table by the front window. “We need to talk.”