Drift & Dagger by Kendall Kulper

Author:Kendall Kulper
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Juvenile Fiction / Action & Adventure / General, Juvenile Fiction / Fantasy & Magic, Juvenile Fiction / Historical / United States / 19th Century
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2015-09-07T16:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

THE MORNING AFTER MY RUN-IN WITH THE Ersland brothers, I wake up with my head a pulse of pain, my vision blurry and shot through with red, but the thing that confuses me most is this bleary sense that I did something wrong. I lie in bed a minute, staring up at the ceiling, before it all comes back to me in waves of guilt: Tagore’s empty office, my fight with the Ersland brothers, the lightning bolts of anger that shot through me as I talked with Boone.

I could have killed him last night. Boone, the only person I can trust anymore, and he looked at me like I was a stranger.

Wincing, I sit up and glance over at Boone’s bed—unmade, as always, and empty. Panic rises from my stomach, and the first thing I think is He’s finally left me behind, but then I blink, take note of the pale sunshine tiptoeing through the window. It’s morning, yes, but still early, barely dawn and hours before we have to leave for the train station.

So where is he? Where did he go, and why? To get away from me?

I rub the stubble on my chin and grimace when I find a sore spot on my jaw.

“What did I do?” I whisper, and I look down at my hands until they tremble, and then tuck them quickly back under the sheet. I feel as if I’m losing my mind. I feel as if I’m losing me, and with my heart pounding and my head confused, I think, It’s happening.

Quickly, I slide out of bed to get dressed, reaching first for the clothes I wore yesterday before I catch sight of red-brown bloodstains and, frowning, throw the shirt and pants aside. When I find a clean set of clothing, I dress and am on my way out the door, pausing just long enough to check my face in the small, square mirror hanging by the door.

I look a right mess, bruises blooming across my cheek and jaw, my left eye nearly swollen shut and framed by comma-shaped scratches. There’s a basin of water on the floor from Boone’s morning shave, and I try to mop up the dried blood as best I can, but it doesn’t do much. For once, I look exactly the way I feel.

My hands shake, my chest trembles, my feet itch to move, and so I go—out the door and into the street without any thought of what I’m doing except the assurance that I can’t stay in that room, waiting for Boone and worrying about what he thinks of me.

And as I walk, one refrain sifts through my mind, as constant and never-ending as waves: There is something wrong with me, there is something wrong with me, there is something wrong with me.…

I know. I’ve always known. I’ve got something in my blood. Something I can’t control. And even though I’ve expected it for years now, I hoped it would be ages before it actually happened, before the monster took me over.

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