“Sky,” said John. “Her name is — was — Sky.”
“—saw something in you, Lord only knows what,” said Carlisle. “I think you’re a degenerate. But we need you. Do you hear me?” She jerked her head towards the open window. “She gave you a chance. For us. For all of us.”
“She was everything that mattered,” said John.
“Really?” Carlisle swayed, and this time she accepted Rex’s hands on her arm. The man was like stone, all muscle and hard edges under that craggy exterior. “What about Val?”
“Like I said. Val can look after himself.” John looked around. “Say. Wasn’t he with you?”
“Now you’re cooking,” said Carlisle. “Good question, Miles. What about Danny?”
“Werewolf,” said John. “She’s got it.”
“She’s alone,” said Carlisle. “What about Adalia?”
“Kid’s clear,” said John. “No problem here.”
“She needs an uncle,” said Carlisle. If only you’d had one, Carlisle, if only someone else had been there… “She needs us.”
“She needs you,” said John. His eyes were clearing though, something coming back into them. The pain was there, and so was the anger, but something else. Purpose.
“We need you,” said Carlisle. Then, in a smaller voice, “I can’t … I’m too little.” She licked her lips, feeling dizzy. “I can’t do this alone. Please.”
She watched John, his eyes, that moment where he knew. She could see it, see the straightening of his shoulders. His hand reached out to her face, and she shied away, breaking from Rex’s grip. John looked at her for a moment before letting his hand fall. “What happened to you, Melissa?”
“Call me Carlisle.”
He nodded at that, then straightened himself up, wiped his eyes. Cleared his throat, straightened his shirt, and brushed his hair straight — or straight as it could be. “Carlisle, huh?”
“Just Carlisle,” she said, feeling the Eagle at her back. Always at her back.
“Well, Melissa,” said John, “I guess I have a hard story. My girlfriend just jumped out a window, and I’ll be honest, I’m having trouble wrapping my head around that. But having a sob story and being John Miles isn’t enough.”
“It’s got to be,” said Rex. “Son, it’s got to be.”
“No,” said John. “You misunderstand.” He cracked his knuckles, took a look at Carlisle’s posture — guarded, she’d skittered like a beaten dog when he’d reached a hand towards her. “We’ve got a problem here.” His eyes tracked hers, holding her locked in place tighter than Rex’s grip. “The problem is too many people that I give a damn about are getting a bad serve. Bad, you understand, doesn’t even begin to tell the story. Not the one that matters.”
“So—” started Rex.
“Old man,” said John, “I’m on a roll. Back up.”
“Sure,” said Rex, the faintest hint of something that could — just maybe — have been a smile on his lips.
“Being John Miles isn’t enough,” said John Miles. “I’m not just John Miles.” He flexed, that impressive frame that Carlisle couldn’t help admire — despite it being attached to Miles — looking like it wanted to get back in the fight. “I’m John fucking Miles,” he said.
Carlisle almost laughed. That’s it, she thought. That’s what we need. John fucking Miles — I’ve called him that myself more than once. She turned, ready to walk to the roof, ready to get her friends, and her strength finally—
I have seen dragons circle against the fingers of the sun, warring in the space between the moon and earth. Their fire burned the air, and their scales fell like rain. All were weaker than you.
—gave out. She tripped on nothing much at all and fell, and fell, falling for a thousand years until she hit the carpet far, far below.
• • •
“Of course I don’t know,” said a familiar voice. “I have no idea. I lift weights for a job. I make people less fat, or stronger, or just make them feel better that they’re fucking trying. I don’t know shit about blood loss.”
“Son,” said a different, but still familiar, voice. “Son, just keep climbing.”
“Didn’t you,” said the first voice — Miles? Is that John fucking Miles? Still talking? —with a bit of tension around the edges, “work as a fire fighter?”
“Sure did.”
“They do first aid?” Definitely tension in John’s voice. Like he was working hard, puffing a little, except John never puffed, so he was working hard and trying not to show it. That sounded about right. Sensations started to come back to her, the sway of motion, the feeling of something being stuck in her gut. She was — Goddammit — upside down or something.
“They do first aid,” said the second voice. That gravelly sound was Rex, had to be, if only her head wasn’t so light and hurt all at the same time.
“Then you need to get on board with the first aid facts,” said John. “Don’t ask me if she’s lost too much blood, or if she’ll survive. What I know is we couldn’t leave her there, because zombies, right?”
“We’re taking her upstairs to certain death,” said Rex. His voice kept moving, like he was walking behind, or in front, or around her. Or, like they were climbing a stairwell and kept turning the damn corners.
Those assholes, thought Carlisle, are taking me up to meet Doc fucking Doom in his killer castle, and I’m unconscious.
“It’s not certain,” said John. “It’s—”
“I’m pretty sure I’m going to die,” said Rex. Carlisle wished she had the strength to open her eyes.
“You’re old, of course you’re going to die,” said John. “It’s Melissa I’m not so sure about.” That was it, that was the last straw. If there was one human on the face of the Earth who knew exactly how to say what she didn’t want said, it was that clown John Miles.
“Call me Carlisle,” she croaked. “Please God, Miles, God, just call me Carlisle.”
The sensation of something stuck in her gut gave a little jog, and she almost retched. “You’re awake,” said John.
“You’re saying things out loud,” said Carlisle, voice slurring, “at the same time as they go through your head. You don’t always need to say the obvious.” She was draped over someone’s shoulder, she was sure of it now, and based on where the voices were coming from, she was being carried by John and Rex was bringing up the rear. If only she had the strength to open her eyes.
She felt herself being hauled upright, feet on the ground, and she almost passed out again. She cracked open an eye, took in that Miles Megawatt Smile — a little dimmer, a little darker, just a little fucking broken after today — and couldn’t help but smile herself. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said. Then, again, “Hey. Look, sorry. I had to … I know you don’t like me … I know you didn’t want to be touched, but I couldn’t leave you there.”
“I was going to leave you there,” said Rex. She shifted her one eye to look at the old man. He was smiling too. “I figured, you’d only slow us down.”
Carlisle licked her lips. “Either of you got some water?”
“Here,” said John, holding up a bottle of Evian. She tried to reach for it, but her arms were just too weak. He held it for her and she drank. It tasted sweet and clean and perfect.
She managed to wipe her lips with the back of an arm, then saw a bandage — more like a ripped piece of curtain backing, if she was any judge — wrapped around her arm. She did a quick status check, a few bandages hastily applied, all of them showing more red than she liked. It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. It’s not like you’re alone in the dark. Not anymore. “Status.”
“It’s like this,” said Rex. “We’re pretty much fucked.”
“More detail,” said Carlisle. “I need something to work with.”
“Sure, okay,” said Rex. “We’re about two floors from the top. Got no clue where the werewolf—”
“Danny,” said John.
“—is,” said Rex. “Or Va
l. Haven’t seen that guy since he crashed our helicopter.”
“It was shot down,” said John. “I was there.”
“Was it on fire when it touched down?” Rex gave John a hard stare.
“More or less,” said John.
“Crashed,” said Rex. He turned to Carlisle. “Anyway. You’re pretty busted up, but I’ve tried to tourniquet the bits of you that looked the worst. The bits I could reach. That you could tourniquet. Okay, look, you’re still leaking in a lot of places. You could use a little bit of rest, maybe a couple pints of O negative, it’ll see you right. Fighting the legions of the damned doesn’t count as bed rest. Not sure you’ll be doing much fighting for the rest of the day, or maybe the week, or … hell, let’s just say your professional fights this year are all called off. I’m old, but angry, so I can probably get in someone’s way. John’s the best of us, maybe superficial burns and a couple of cat scratches, but I figure he’s borderline incompetent so I’m not sure what we should do.”
“Cat scratches?” John blinked at him. “I was fighting a piece of living flame with an axe.”
“You’ll be fine,” said Rex.
“You’ll be fine,” said Carlisle. John looked at her. “You’re always going to be fine.” There was no malice in her words — she just knew it was true.
“Yeah,” John said, his voice turning bitter as burnt coffee. “I’ll be fine. It’s everyone else who … dies.”
“No, I … Miles, I didn’t mean it like that,” said Carlisle.
“It’s okay,” said John. “I…”
“No,” said Carlisle. “It’s not okay.”
“It’s not?” He blinked.
“No,” she said. “Help me the fuck up.”
“No way,” said Rex. “Not a chance.”
“Was I talking to you?” Carlisle gave him a look she’d cultivated through years on the job, one she reserved for low ranking officers who said something stupid. Rex took a step back, swallowed. Carlisle turned back to John. “I was talking to Miles, because he knows we have to make it right.”
“We … have to,” said John. He put his hands on his knees, then got up. He looked like he was considering something. “I don’t know if we can.”
“I do,” said Carlisle. “So be a champ, and help me up.”
She took his hand, warm and strong and full of life, and let herself be pulled to her feet. She tried to ignore the look of worry on Rex’s face, tried to ignore the flash of dizziness that hit her. She turned to look at the wall she’d been leaning against, and then turned away. She definitely, definitely didn’t want to see the red streak of her blood against the wall. Quite a lot there, Carlisle. Not a lot more where that came from.
“Tourniquet, huh,” she said to Rex.
“Hard to tourniquet your back,” he said. “You were the one who went through a blender. Don’t look at me.”
“Let’s get this done,” she said. She flexed her arms, worked a kink out through her shoulder, and then patted the Eagle at her back. “Couple more floors, right?”
“Couple more floors,” said Rex. He looked at his feet. “I really think you should stay here.”
“I think you should help me climb,” said Carlisle. She let her voice soften. “Do you know what it’s like to have a family?”
“Yeah, I think so,” said Rex. He looked at John, then at her. “I really think I do.”
“I didn’t,” said Carlisle. “Not really. Not until a few years back. I met this guy, you know, suspect on a case. I mean, sure, everyone says that cops are a family. But it’s not real. It’s … except for Elliot. Doesn’t matter. This guy, Everard, he … had a family. One that he made. Can you believe it?”
Rex nodded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve met him.”
“The family that I got when I was born, well,” said Carlisle. Her words ran dry for a moment, because she couldn’t—
You can’t tell. You can’t ever tell. It’s our secret.
—put into words, not the right way, what she wanted to say. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is I’ve got one now. It’s full of wonderful people, and,” and she spared a glance at John, “the odd black sheep, but you know, every family’s got one, right? And this family, it’s worth everything.”
“Worth dying for?” said Rex. “Because that’s what’s going to happen. The blood loss alone—”
“It’s worth everything,” said Carlisle, thinking of a young girl sitting in an apartment waiting for them to make the world safe for her again. A young girl who’d allowed a much-tarnished ex-cop to be her friend. “Do you hear?”
Rex looked at his feet, then at John. John’s face was stone, but he nodded at Rex.
The old man blew out a breath. “Okay then. Guess I’ll help you up the stairs.”
• • •
It wasn’t far, no more than two flights, like they’d said. But when they got there, Carlisle was sweating like she’d run a marathon. Not that she knew what that was like, the only reason people ran marathons at all was so they could brag about it, but she could imagine. The door to the penthouse lobby stood in front of them, quiet, dark, cold. She felt the air caress her, sending shivers down her spine.
“Miles,” she said.
“I’m here.”
“I know,” she said, smiling into the gloom. You’ll always be where you’re most needed. “You’re up.”
“Some motherfucker,” said John Miles, hefting the axe, “is going to pay.” He grabbed the axe’s haft, then slammed the door open with his shoulder. It rocked open, John leading the way into—
Well.
The demarcation between ‘foyer’ and ‘penthouse suite’ was gone. Walls were missing, rubble strewn everywhere. A cage of silver sat in the rough middle of the area, surrounded on all sides by an army — no other word for it — of zombies. In the cage stood Danny, looking small and frail under the terrible heat of the silver around her. At the far end of the room, near a hole that must once have been doors or windows or some other shit were two men. They were standing near the open air of Chicago, and at her quick glance looked no more concerned about the temperature than the wreckage around them.
She knew one of those men.
Danny’s eyes found hers across the muddle of ruins and people, widened in shock. “Run, Melissa. Run.”
“Yes,” said the man at the far end that she didn’t know. “You really should run. You’re not needed, and you’re not wanted.”
Carlisle did a quick count. Army might have been too strong a term. Ten dudes, maybe fifteen. No problem. “You’d be Talin Moray.” Her voice sounded weak to her own ears, and she cleared her throat.
“Ms. Kendrick said you wouldn’t run. Couldn’t be reasoned with, she put it.” Talin tugged at the lapels of a suit jacket worth more than she used to make in a week. It was grubby with dirt and blood and dust. “I was hoping she was right.”
“Asshole,” she said, looking at Ajay. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to make it perfect,” said Ajay. “I came—”
“He helped Talin finish the cage,” said Danny.
“That true?” said Carlisle, the feeling in her gut turning to acid. “I thought you were on our team.”
“I am,” said Ajay. “It needs to be perfect before it can be broken. Before it can be fixed. All the pieces. They needed to be in the right places. Do you see?”
Carlisle sighed, tired, tired, tired. Damn, but she was tired. Tired of Ajay’s cryptic word puzzles, tired of people not doing what they should, tired of people lying. She was tired of feeling attracted to this man who—
You’ll never be good for another. You’ll always be mine, Daddy’s little girl.
Goddammit, but she was tired of feeling lost, even after all these years. “Ajay?”
“Yes, Detective.”
You put a cage on my best friend, she wanted to say. I want to know why you’re standing shoulder to shoulder with the man who can end the world, she wanted to say. I want to
know why you don’t want me, she wanted to say. You’ve damned us all, she wanted to say. She licked her lips instead. “Do you remember when I made you a promise? I promised to God.”
“You said if I hurt your family, you would kill me.” His face started to frown, doubt creeping in at the sides. “But—”
“That’s right.” Carlisle looked at Danny, weak in a cage. Thought of Adalia, hiding in an apartment. Of Everard. Their new friend Rex. Just James, another kid out of place and out of time. Even, now she could admit it in her dark and blackened heart, of John. Of all the pain they’d carried for so long. Her hands were trembling. “Time to pay up.” Something had been clouding her thoughts, holding her back, checking her decisions, and she wasn’t sure what she should do. What she should say. Carlisle felt her words dry up, her limbs stiffen, her need to act fall away. But the Eagle was in her hand, its strong voice shouting across the distance between her and Ajay. The Eagle held her up, as it always had. It acted when she wasn’t strong enough, as it always had. It spoke three times, hurling all her anger across the space. The first round took Ajay in the head, the high caliber round turning his face into red mist. The second two took him in the chest, and Ajay’s lifeless body fell to the ground. As it fell, something inside her released, let go its grip on her heart, and she staggered for a moment. Free. Carlisle was gasping for breath, sucking in lungfuls of air like she’d sprinted up those damn stairs.
“Bet you didn’t expect that,” said John to Talin, spinning his axe.
Talin’s face looked astonished. “You did … do you know … why?”
“We weren’t,” said Carlisle, “on the same page.” She looked at the Eagle, held out in front of her, her hand steady now despite her blood loss. She felt the strength of the weapon, her talisman against the evil in this world. “Your turn.” She pulled the trigger, the Eagle roaring and screaming again, kept pulling the trigger until the magazine was empty.
Not a single round hit home. Talin moved like water, danced aside like the bullets were underarm tosses he could just move away from. She’d seen someone else — something — do that before. It struck her that this was going to be a hard fight. One she wasn’t going to walk away from. And she thought about Adalia, that girl who was counting on her, and shrugged. That’s the way it’s got to be? No problem.
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