Page 113 of The Art of Exiley

He gathers his clothes and says, “We should get moving.” He exits the bathroom, and I follow him out. “It’s almost nightfall, and I want to act while the blood is in peak effect.”

Ugh. Does he have to keep reminding me about the blood?

“How long will it last?” I ask, my throat raw.

“It will be in my system for a few days, but the most powerful effects will only last about five hours. You must be warned, though, that if I need to exert a lot of power, I will exhaust myself much more quickly than normal unless I consume more blood.”

“No.” I shake my head emphatically. “That’s not an option.”

“Either way, you need to be aware of the risks.”

“What do we do with… her?” I gesture to the bed.

“She’ll wake up and leave. She’ll be perfectly fine, I promise.”

“What about the part where you, ya know, slit her wrist and drank her blood?”

“She won’t remember any of that.”

“You still violated her.” I gather the clothing I packed for tonight.

“That’s not—”

“It is.” I grab my bag, then head back into the bathroom to change, slamming the door behind me.

I tug on black jeans and a black turtleneck. When I packed them, I’d imagined feeling like a sexy cat burglar. I’d imagined wearing the ensemble over my hot-pink bra. I’d thought there was a good chance that Rafe might actually find out what bra I was wearing.

That seems like a lifetime ago.

Now I just feel ridiculous. I look at myself in the mirror, all the black making my pale skin stand out in ghostly contrast. I tie my hair in a tight bun on the top of my head.

When I exit the bathroom, Rafe has also changed, and he definitely looks like a sexy cat burglar in his tight black jeans and black leather jacket. His hair, still coppery from the shower, is tied in a bun at the nape of his neck, and his large bag is slung over one shoulder. But his appearance no longer moves me, especially with Miss Good-Enough-to-Eat passed out behind him.

Rafe has cleared away any signs of what happened, and she lies in a bed of perfectly clean white sheets. I can almost convince myself the scene is normal.

I turn away from both of them and head to the door. “Let’s do this.”

34

“So, to clarify,” I ask Rafe as we make our way uptown, “if a person without your genetics drinks blood, it won’t affect them?” Tension aches through my jaw all the way to my clenched fingers, but Rafe walks with the same confident coolness as always.

“Not unless they first endured an invasive digestive surgery that they probably wouldn’t survive.”

It’s the time of night right before the city lights itself up to push away the dark. We find a private spot along the East River, and Rafe erects the boat in the shadows.

I feel queasy knowing I’m about to do exactly what my detractors among the Families were worried about. Handing the very information they didn’t trust me with right over to someone who could endanger them. There will be no going back after this. But it’s not like I have a choice; they have Hypatia.

“Remember the deal,” I whisper, hardly audible. This part of the river is restricted, and dealing with police is the last thing we need right now, but I can’t move on without the reassurance. “No matter what, you don’t hurt my family.”

Rafe nods. “As long as Hypatia won’t be harmed by my inaction, your mother and the celebrity will be left alone.”

“And after, you’ll do everything you can for my grandfather.”

He nods again.

We don’t say anything else. There’s nothing to say. We board the boat, and Rafe unfolds an oar to use instead of the motor so we don’t make noise. The only light comes from the reflection of the city in the river. The only sounds are my breathing and the ghostly slip of the oar through the water. I don’t want to touch Rafe, but there’s no room not to. He’s warm against my back, his thighs hugging me, anchoring me, as we fade into the blackness of the night.

When we reach the island, we dock behind an overgrown bush. I ignore the hand Rafe offers to help me out of the boat, then trip and sink into water up to my knees. When I’m finally on the shore, my shoes squelch with mud, and my legs are weighed down by the sodden denim. I scurry to catch up to Rafe, who is cutting quickly and silently through the overgrown path.

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