Devil's Blood

by Amity Cross

  “Don't think you can try that shit with me,” I murmured, my voice thin with restrained anger. “You started something the moment you decided you wanted to train me. You can't use your strength against me anymore. I won't let you.”

  “You wanted me to feel, Mercy, and this is what I feel.” His jaw flexed as he held himself in check. “I'm…happy. This…”

  “I need a direction,” I murmured. Selfish bitch, making this about me.

  “And I want simple. I don't need to know my past to know what I want. Whoever I was...it's not who I am anymore.”

  “And what about your memories?”

  “Inconsequential.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I've made my decision.”

  “So, that’s it?” I shook my head. “Stalemate?”

  X raised his head from the ground and pressed his lips against mine. Before I knew what was happening, he flipped me over, my back hitting the earth. He straddled me, his gaze hard and unfaltering. He'd truly set his heart on not knowing, not wanting his own revenge... I couldn't understand it.

  “It's not open for discussion.” He stood, leaving me lying there stunned. Asshole.

  “This isn’t over,” I shouted at his back as he walked away.

  It would never be over.

  Four

  X

  I was lying to her.

  Lying to the one person who stuck around despite my instability, my violence and despite the horrific crimes I’d committed.

  The cottage was quiet when I finally returned. The day had faded into twilight, the first stars of the evening beginning to shine overhead. I’d walked the moor, climbing over the craggy surface while trying to calm the turmoil that followed me at every turn. She was right.

  I wasn’t sure what I hated more, the fact that Mercy was right about everything or that I was struggling. In a shitstorm of uncertainty there was one thing I was confident about—I didn’t give two fucks about who I was before. That man died the day I became Xavier Blood, and no amount of memories or dreams would bring him back. The dreams I’d been having were all about the people I’d killed and had been compelled to forget. I hadn’t once dreamed about before.

  That part of me was lost forever.

  I opened the front door of my safe haven and stepped into darkness. If it weren’t for the light streaming out of the bedroom, I would’ve torn the place apart searching for her. It unsettled me, not knowing where she was.

  Lingering, I took in the living room and the little signs that told me that Mercy Reid lived here. Her leather jacket on the hook inside the door, her boots drying by the fireplace, the remains of our bullet making class on the coffee table, her dirty coffee cup on the mantle. Mercy Reid lived here.

  Crossing the room, I took my boots off and left them next to hers in front of the fire before throwing a fresh log onto the coals. Mercy Reid and Xavier Blood lived here.

  Shuffling into the bedroom, I found it empty, the scent of soap filtering through from the open bathroom door. The light was on, the air warm with the afterglow of her shower, and Mercy was standing in the middle of it all.

  I watched as she toweled her hair and noticed that she was wearing one of my black T-shirts. She knew I liked it when she wore my things, and I wondered if she’d done it on purpose. Her figure was fuller these days, the fear that she’d been carrying around with her since the day she’d found her family lying in blood had disappeared a while ago now. Revenge suited her.

  Finally, she felt my presence and her gaze lifted, meeting mine in the mirror.

  “Come here,” she murmured, not surprised to find me hovering in the shadows.

  I stepped into the bathroom as she picked up the scissors from the vanity, the same pair that I'd used to cut her long, black locks with the night before we left for France.

  I raised my hand and shoved it through my hair. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  She smiled. “It’s just hair. It will grow back.”

  Sitting on the edge of the bath, I threw one leg inside the tub, straddling it, and Mercy sat behind me to start at the back. She slid the comb through my hair and began cutting, the sound of each strand being sliced was loud in the silence. I watched her movements in the mirror, her form mostly hidden by mine. Her gaze was concentrated on the task at hand, methodical and precise. If she didn’t know what she was doing, her exterior showed otherwise. Perhaps I’d taught her too well.

  She glanced over my shoulder and smiled as our gazes crossed. “You were looking a little too scruffy,” she murmured before returning to my hair.

  I grunted in reply and looked down at the hair that was falling into my lap and onto the floor around us. After a moment, she stood, moving to cut the sides.

  “Where did you go?” she asked.

  “For a walk.”

  I felt her gaze shift to the mirror, but I was still staring at my lap. “On the moor?”

  “Yes.”

  Mercy nudged my shoulder, indicating that she wanted me to turn around so she could start on the other side, so I altered my position on the edge of the bath, straddling the opposite way.

  “Did it help?” she asked.

  “Somewhat.”

  She went through the top, combing, cutting, then went over her work, checking before she stood before me and ran her hands through, seeing how it looked.

  “Still handsome,” she declared.

  I raised my eyebrows. “It’s just hair.”

  “So I hear,” she retorted. I vaguely remembered telling her the same thing when our stylist roles were reversed.

  Mercy sighed, brushing the hair from my shoulders. “You can talk to me, you know. You’ve done more than teach me practical skills.”

  “My position hasn’t changed.”

  “And neither has mine.”

  Of all the stubborn women in the world, Mercy Reid had to fall into my lap and be the one…

  My pocket began to ring and vibrate as the burner phone I’d been holding onto ever since we returned from Paris came to life.

  Mercy scowled at me, and it didn’t take a genius to understand that she was pissed I’d kept its existence from her. What was that thing she told me last week? We’re not in the fucking Karate Kid, X. You’re not Mister Miyagi. I will not fucking wax on, wax off.

  The fact that the phone was ringing at all was a sad realization that the outside world hadn’t forgotten about us, no matter how much I wanted it to.

  “Do I even want to ask?”

  I stood, brushing the last of the hair from my shoulders. “No.”

  She sighed dramatically, waved me off and began scooping up the hair on the floor.

  The phone continued to ring as I crossed the living room and opened the front door. It wouldn’t stop until it’d rung out and no doubt it would begin again immediately after.

  My feet were cold against the stoop, but I used the slight pain of my numbing toes to ground me as I answered the call.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Hello to you too,” Vaughn drawled.

  “What do you want?”

  “How’s life in the honeymoon suite, X? Tired of hiding? Want to come out and play?” I could hear the amusement in his voice. As usual, The Hangman was fishing for a reaction.

  “This better be fucking good.”

  “Any plans for tomorrow, Romeo?”

  “Tomorrow?” The asshole must want a meeting, which meant he was looking for something. A job, information, perhaps he was looking to hire.

  “I have something I want to give you,” Vaughn replied. “Tomorrow evening should do it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “If you—”

  “Settle down, X. Can’t I do something nice for a friend for once in my life?”

  “Not when they’re friends with ulterior motives,” I shot back.

  “You and Mercy did me a favor, X. I’ll never forget it. This is my way of repaying you. An eye for an eye.”

  I glanced up at the sky and it was
heavy with darkened clouds. Perhaps it would snow in the next few days. I wouldn’t see the stars for a while, and I hoped it wasn’t an omen. “Depends on what the gift is.”

  “It’s worthwhile,” Vaughn said, the smirk in his voice all to evident. He was pleased with himself. “Tomorrow, X. Nine p.m. Don’t be late.”

  There was a soft click as the line disconnected and I felt like hurling the phone across the yard. Knowing Vaughn, his gift could be anything and since Mercy and I had helped him eliminate the man who’d murdered his love, it had to be something good. Something very good, which made it unpredictable.

  It had to be something to do with Royal Blood. Since revenge was the flavor of the month, there was nothing else he would presume I wanted. Little did he know, I wanted no part of it.

  Mercy was in bed when I came back inside. She was underneath the covers, her back against the headboard, looking thoroughly pissed.

  “Nothing has changed,” I said, pulling off my shirt and tossing it on the floor.

  “What did he want?” The only person who would contact us was Vaughn, so I didn’t raise an eyebrow when she guessed correctly.

  “A meeting. Tomorrow. Nothing more.” Keeping it from her would only serve to deepen her rage and Mercy’s fire burned hot already.

  “He wants something from you,” she replied, shaking her head. “There’s no other reason he’d call. We’ve done enough. I’ve done enough.”

  “I agree.” I stood before her at the foot of the bed, my gaze lowering before returning to hers.

  “We don’t need Vaughn.”

  “No, we don’t.” Reaching out, I pulled the blanket away, exposing her bare legs, and climbed onto the mattress.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

  Wrapping my hands around her ankles, I tugged sharply and she gasped as she moved toward me, her back falling against the mattress.

  Pressing my lips against the inside of her thigh, I replied, “What does it look like?”

  “It looks like you’re trying to silence me with a good lick.”

  I curled my fingers around her underwear and tugged. “You like it when I lick.”

  “X…” She stopped mid-sentence as I stroked a finger along her seam, my thumb pressing against her clit.

  “Mercy,” I began, her scent beginning to drive me over the edge. “I worked alone. I never knew anything else. I never wanted to share it with another…until you. That should say everything you need to hear.”

  “But—”

  “Everything I do, I do for you. For your safety. For your protection.”

  “Your dreams?”

  “You were right.” I slipped a finger inside her warmth. “It’s about coping. I don’t want to know about before. All I want is to keep you safe.”

  Her protests died as I pulled her underwear down over her feet, sealed my mouth over her clit and sucked.

  I was trying to silence her, but she had nothing to worry about. I knew she fretted over my dreams, over the things I saw, over the person I once was, but it would be okay. Like she said, I’d learn how to cope.

  I thrust two fingers into her and dragged my teeth along her clit.

  Tomorrow I’d tell Vaughn to go fuck himself and to leave us alone. I was done. I was out. It was what I wanted the day I’d gone back to Royal Blood and Weiss from my extended holiday. I wanted to leave Royal Blood and never look back.

  I was just fulfilling my dream, like I had Mercy’s.

  I was out.

  Despite her protests, I left Mercy at the cottage the following night. This was my loose end to tie up and I didn’t want her to be any part of it.

  As I drove into Exeter, the air heavy with descending mist and the road slippery with ice, I let my mind play over the possible outcomes of my meeting with Vaughn. I knew he thought this would be repayment for eliminating Sykes, but in my book he’d already settled that debt with the assistance he’d given us in France. He didn’t owe us anything. Our end games had been one and the same.

  He wanted to meet at a disused distillery on the outskirts of the city, and as I drove through the streets, I realized it was the perfect place for The Hangman to conduct his operations from. It was quiet and isolated. Movements would rarely be seen, foot traffic was nonexistent and it was a long way away from any human habitation that would hear the screams of his unlucky visitors.

  As I pulled the car up into a space across the street, the door to the distillery opened and a tall heavyset man emerged. I’d seen him before on several occasions, the most recent being in The Black Horse pub the night that Vaughn pledged his assistance to Mercy and I.

  Shutting off the engine, I slid from the car, slamming the door closed. He must be my welcoming party.

  I crossed the street, put my hand in the pocket of my coat, and curled my fingers around the handle of my knife. At this range, I had more chance of hitting him between the eyes than he did if he tried to pull a gun and shoot me.

  As I approached, I raised an eyebrow.

  “He’s waiting for you inside,” the man said. “I’m Hawkes.”

  I nodded. I knew who he was now. Vaughn’s right hand man.

  He opened the door for me and I entered, the gutted interior of the distillery just as cold as outside. There were tools and building materials scattered everywhere, renovations in the beginning stages.

  “Ah, X,” Vaughn declared, emerging from behind a clear plastic sheet that was hanging across one end of the room. “Right on time as usual. Where’s Mercy?”

  I scowled. “She has no part in this.”

  He laughed and stood before Hawkes and me. “As you wish.”

  “Let’s get to the point, Vaughn,” I retorted. “Where’s this gift?”

  “You know,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him, “you get right to the point. No fuss, no fucking fanfare. That’s what I like about you. You’re efficient.”

  “I don’t like wasting my time.”

  “So I won’t waste it.” He pointed to a set of stairs. “Down and through the door. And you’re welcome.”

  I narrowed my eyes. If he was already foreseeing my pleasure, then this had to be fucking good.

  I stomped down the stairs and shoved open the door. The scent of stale hops assaulted my senses as my eyes took a second to adjust to the murky light. There was a switch beside me and I flipped it on, the overhead bulb coming alive with a dull boom.

  As the room was illuminated in a harsh white hue, my gaze settled on a face I thought I’d never see again. A face that was as familiar to me as my own…

  Welcome to Royal Blood. Enjoy your fuckin’ stay.

  I blinked hard, a myriad of emotions threatening to smash into me. He was tied to a chair, his head dipped low, and as he realized he was no longer alone, he looked up at his captors. I stared at Weiss as he stared back at me, his face marred with dark bruising and dried blood. He seemed surprised to see me, but then again, I was surprised to see him.

  “Told you it was good,” Vaughn said, stepping into the room beside me.

  “What gave you the fucking idea I give two shits about Weiss?” I snarled, turning on him.

  “He was your handler for how long, X?”

  “Eight years,” came the strained reply from Weiss.

  I glanced at him, not knowing what I should do. Kill the fucker, let him go, or leave him here to rot.

  “There you have it,” Vaughn retorted. “Eight years of using you to do Royal Blood’s dirty work.”

  “I don’t fucking want him,” I snapped.

  “He was going to put you down,” Vaughn went on. “Put a bullet in your head like an animal.”

  “How—” I shook my head. I knew how, the evidence of The Hangman's torture was all over Weiss’ ugly fucking face.

  “He’s yours to do with what you will,” Vaughn said, nodding at his hostage. “Anything you want.”

  I stared at the man who was my best friend and handler, the man who I knew had lied to me sinc
e day one. He was none of those things. All of it had been a game, an order… I’d been used to kill. They’d created a monster to do their bidding and once the monster started to grow his own mind, they were done with him… Mercy…

  I turned, running my hands over my face. I began to shiver, a cold sweat breaking out all over my body and my heartbeat began to accelerate.

  I could kill him right here, right now. My gaze darted to Vaughn’s waistband where the butt of his gun was sticking out. I could reach over, grab it and imbed a bullet into Weiss’ head. An eye for an eye. Give him the same courtesy he was going to extend to me… I didn’t give a fuck who I was before, what Royal Blood did to me and it was the only reason I’d left him alive in the first place. So I could find out.

  There was now no reason Weiss should remain alive.

  He knew I was with The Hangman. He knew I was close to this place. If he was let go, he could come after Mercy.

  I blinked hard. I didn’t want anything to do with it.

  Before I could snap, I strode from the room, climbing the stairs two at a time. I had to go back to the cottage. I had to find Mercy.

  “X?” Vaughn called out behind me.

  I came to a halt in the middle of the storeroom above, gasping for air. “I don’t want this.”

  Vaughn frowned, gesturing for Hawkes to see to Weiss and Hawkes disappeared below. I almost raised a fist to smack the stupid look right off The Hangman's face. Mercy knowing I was falling off the wagon was one thing, but having him know it? Suicide.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said. “You’re fine with not knowing anything about your past?”

  “And what the fuck do you know?”

  “I know enough to see that you’re different. You were a cold bastard, X, and that woman has warmed you the fuck up. My guess is that you don’t remember your life before Royal Blood. My guess is that they had you conditioned to be this and now it’s all falling apart.”

  I turned sharply, fisting my hands into Vaughn’s shirt. “You know shit.”

  Vaughn smiled. “Thanks for the confirmation.”

  I shoved him hard and began pacing like a hungry lion.

  “What I don’t understand is why you don’t give a fuck about the man who lied to you for eight years.”