by Laken Cane
But still.
She felt empty. Something was different, less.
Something…
“I feel almost human,” she said, suddenly. “I feel like I did before I recognized my monster. Before I let him out. Before the claws and fangs. Back when I was letting Jeremy tie me to a bed and beat the shit out of me.”
The berserker growled.
She looked at him. “What does this mean? My monster was always there. I just refused to acknowledge him.”
“Maybe now he is the one hiding,” Strad said.
She knew he was managing her, humoring her. Knew, but didn’t care. Because he was right.
“How do I look now?”
“Like you’ll heal. How bad is the pain?”
She’d always healed after Ellie brought her blood. But she’d never been as damaged as she was right then, not even when she’d carried the berserker’s child through the burning church. Not when a COS member had hit her with the evil vaccinator. Not even when Jeremy Cross had sliced her up and left her to die.
“I feel less numb,” she told him. “There’s pain but it’s as though my nerve endings have been burnt away.”
“A gift,” he said. “We’ll take it.”
She held out a hand for him to take. “I’m ready now. Let’s go to Hawthorne and end this thing.”
He caressed her hand with his thumb. “Okay.”
“I need clothes.”
He dragged the sheet off the gurney and wrapped it around her. “We’ll get you some clothes.”
“And some coffee.”
He laughed. “Yeah.”
He stepped out and helped her down. When her feet touched the cold pavement her legs gave out.
“Shit,” she said. She was too weak to fight fucking COS. “It’s going to take a little while.”
“You’ve been through some shit,” Owen said. “You take all the time you need.”
Her crew gathered around her, keeping back the crowd, the cops, the media.
She spotted the reporter, Sam Cruikshank. She ignored them all.
“Where do we take her?” Jack asked. “The clinic?”
“She wants to go to Hawthorne,” Strad said.
“Like this? Not possible.” Raze crossed his big arms and stared down at her.
“I just need a minute. I fed. I may have to feed again. Ellie can…” She had to pause to get her breath. “Ellie can get me more blood.”
No one answered.
She stared them all down. “I’m going to fucking Hawthorne. You don’t want to try to stop me.”
“Well okay then,” Jack said. “Okay.”
“Call Ellis.”
“I already did,” Strad answered. “He said he’d have a bag at RISC in less than half an hour.”
They arrived at RISC in twenty-five minutes—she asked Strad to stop for a coffee. She couldn’t drink it, the one sip she tried burned all the way down. Still, the scent of it was enough. It brought her comfort.
And she needed all the comfort she could get.
Raze would meet up with them later. He’d stayed in the Moor to talk to the cops. It wouldn’t take long.
She walked into RISC unaided, but it was an effort. “One more bag of blood,” she kept murmuring. “One more bag.”
It would heal her. It had to. She wasn’t sending her crew to Hawthorne without her. Unless she had to. Unless she absolutely had to.
Ellie waited in one of the employee overnight rooms—sort of an “on call” room. She suspected Elizabeth had spent a lot of her nights in those very rooms. She rarely went home. Maybe there was nothing to go home to.
Ellis stood stiff and expressionless, the bag clutched to his chest.
Strad urged her into the room, his arm protectively at her back.
Ellis’s expression didn’t change when he saw her, but his eyes did.
She glanced at him and then had to look away.
“Someday,” she told him, trying to keep her voice light, “I’ll stop tormenting you.”
“No,” he said. “You won’t.”
Then, his face bright with shame, he ran to her and threw his arms around her, still holding tightly to the bag.
“Easy,” Strad said. “She’s—”
“I can see what she is, Berserker,” Ellis snapped. “Now move aside and let me take care of her. I’ve been doing that a lot longer than you have.”
Strad lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.
Rune grinned. Ellie sounded more like his old self than he had in a long, long time. “I’ll be okay.”
“You always are. Do you want to drink this, or…?”
She shook her head, stopping when the movement made her dizzy. “No. I don’t think I could keep it down.”
He moved brusquely, ordering Strad to hold the bag while he pushed the needle into her arm.
“You’re becoming less and less human,” he said suddenly.
He clamped a hand over his mouth and stared down at her, his eyes wide with horror. “What’s wrong with me?” he whispered between his fingers. “You know I adore you. Why am I so angry?”
“You’ve reached your limit. Give me the blood. I’ll go get your love back.”
He nodded wordlessly and blinked tears from his eyes.
He was a mess. They all were.
As she lay there, piping blood into her system, Ellis’s brutal words echoed through her mind like ominous bells of doom.
“Less and less human…”
The thought was terrible.
But he was not wrong.
Chapter Forty-Nine
While the blood was flowing, Ellis slipped away to the inn to fetch her some clothes.
“And any weapons you see lying around,” she’d told him.
Owen came into the room. He looked her over, nodded approvingly, and then dropped a shitload of blades, guns, and holsters on the table. “Figured you’d need these.”
She smiled. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. As soon as Ellis is back with my clothes, we’ll head to Hawthorne.”
He winked. “We’re ready when you are.”
She watched him as he left the room, her gaze lingering. When she looked up, she found Strad leaning silently against the wall, watching her, his face unreadable.
Neither of them said a word.
She put her arm over her eyes, finally, and lay in silence until Ellie came back with her clothes.
“How do you feel?” he asked, kissing her cheek.
“Great. Almost myself again.” She didn’t feel normal, but she felt…capable. Her body was slowly waking up, and the first tingles of real pain had begun to ripple across her skin.
Ellis tossed a smile at the berserker, perhaps to make up for snapping at him earlier, and left her to dress. She stood, a little wobbly but nothing major. She held the sheet around her with one hand and studied her other arm.
Her skin was bluish in places, with dim red lines where it’d knitted back together, but there were no gaping holes showing the bones beneath.
She was a fucking cyborg.
Less and less human.
Blowing out a tired, but not quite as painful breath, she started to drop the sheet.
The berserker still leaned against the wall, and his stare was as hot and heavy as a physical touch.
She shivered as gooseflesh dotted her sensitive skin. She clutched at the sheet, suddenly hesitant to expose herself to Strad’s probing gaze.
“What time is it?” she asked, silently cursing herself. She’d never been overly modest, and Strad Matheson had been inside her. It made no sense to be shy now.
But there it was.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Noon.”
“Only noon. It seems like weeks since this morning.”
He said nothing.
The longer she waited to drop the sheet, the harder it became.
Dammit. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Finally, she glared at the man across from her and let go of
the sheet. She put her hands on her hips, glaring harder when one corner of his mouth rose in a slight smile.
“Well,” she bellowed. “Got your fill yet?”
“Never.” His voice was as soft as cotton.
Owen chose that moment to step inside the room. “Elizabeth said—”
He froze, watching her as she stood angry and naked, her stare on the berserker.
“Shit,” she whispered.
“Holy fuck,” Owen murmured.
“Out.” Strad’s voice was mild. The look in his eyes was not.
It was then she realized why she’d turned suddenly shy before the berserker. It was because he saw her. All of her. Her secrets and…
She dropped her arms to her side and unable to stop, looked at Owen.
…her desires.
“You look…” he swallowed, hard. “You look well.”
She pursed her lips to keep from grinning, but wasn’t sure she succeeded. “Get out.”
After a last, lingering look, he went.
She hurried into her clothes, looking everywhere but at the berserker. She said nothing, and breathed a sigh of relief when neither did he.
Once upon a time she’d had a rule about not fucking the men she worked with. That might have been a smart rule to keep.
She slid the last shiv into its sheath and finally, glanced at Strad. “I’m ready.”
He was smiling. A tiny smile, but a smile.
It took her breath, that smile. “What?”
He walked to her and took her by the shoulders. “Don’t worry so much.”
She started to reply but he leaned over and pressed his lips against hers.
His lips were soft. And very, very warm.
She opened her mouth to him and he slid his tongue between her lips, brushing hers with a slow, hot touch that made her forget, once again, to breathe.
But he pulled away. He stared down at her, his eyes full of promise and heat. So much fucking heat. “Tonight.”
She nodded.
Tonight.
But first…
She took a deep breath, trying to sharpen a brain that had gone dull and heavy with thoughts of sex. “Let’s go get the twins and Lex.”
Ellis waited by the exit doors with Jack, Owen, and Raze. He squeezed Raze’s arm when she and Strad walked toward them.
Raze didn’t smile—Raze rarely smiled—but there was a softness in his eyes when he looked down at Ellis.
She pulled Ellis into a quick hug, surprising him. “We’ll be back soon, baby.”
He nodded, smiling as he swiped at his eyes. “I need him, Rune.”
“We’ll make sure you get him.”
“Yes. You will. You will.”
Maybe he was trying to convince himself, but it didn’t matter. They would bring the rest of their crew back.
In her mind, there was no doubt. There was no room for doubt.
The berserker and Owen were staring at each other, a long, hard stare that finally ended in some sort of silent communication the others were not privy to.
Rune pushed through the exit doors, her mind on the battle to come. Once outside, she tried again, and again failed, to send out her claws.
But she had her blades.
Her silver was all she needed to cut out COS like the malignant growths they were.
She fished her cell out of her car. One of the men had driven it from the Moor earlier.
“I’ll ride with you,” she told Raze. “I don’t want to drive.”
The drive to Hawthorne seemed to take hours. With each mile, thoughts of what might be happening to the twins and Lex bombarded her mind.
She couldn’t shut them out, not anymore.
She punched in Jack’s number, drumming her fingers on her thigh as she waited for him to answer. “What’s the word?”
Jack had a contact in the forest. After Rune had told them she believed COS was in Hawthorne, Jack had made a quick call. She was right.
“My guy checked an hour ago. They hadn’t left the house.”
“What the fuck are they doing in there, Jack? Why are they hanging around?” Not that she wasn’t grateful. It’d have been tougher to track them if they’d left the county.
“They think you’re dead and we’re occupied with zombies. They’ve found a lot of willing humans here. Why would they want to leave?”
“Fucking Bach Horner,” she said. “He wants to own our city.”
“He thinks he already does,” Jack said, and hung up.
No matter what they did in Hawthorne that day, COS was never disappearing. Not for long. They were fucking cockroaches.
That was one reason they wanted to get rid of her. She was going to be around to fight them. Forever.
To Karin Love, Rune was her most dangerous enemy—because long after Karin was dead, Rune would still be there.
And most likely, that just pissed the bitch off.
A distant sound of sirens drew closer and louder, shrieking like banshees in the quiet afternoon and jerking her from her thoughts.
“Rune,” Raze said. “Call Rice.”
She twisted around to look out the back window. Three police cars streaked toward them. “I’m only surprised they didn’t try to stop us sooner.”
Raze pulled the truck over. Behind them Strad did the same. Jack and Owen had ridden with the berserker, and as she peered through the back glass, she willed them to be calm.
But when the cops poured from their cars, guns drawn, she had a feeling no one was going to remain calm for long.
Chapter Fifty
“Out of the vehicle,” one of them called. “Hands where we can see them.”
Rune got out of the car, phone to her ear as she waited for Rice to answer. When it went to voicemail, she quickly punched in Ellis’s number.
“Ellie, we’re surrounded by fucking River County cops. I can’t get Rice on his cell.”
“They took him in, Rune,” Ellie said. “I heard he’s been forced out as police director.”
“He’ll be okay if they don’t arrest him. He still has RISC.”
“I thought you were finally dead, Alexander,” one of the cops said, gun out and ready. “Put the phone away.”
Like a gun would stop her if she decided to kick some ass.
“Gotta go, baby. I’ll call you when I can.” She put her phone back in her pocket. “What’s going on?”
“Where are you headed?”
The cop speaking was a thirty-something redhead who’d cheered her and the crew on when they’d wiped out the zombies. Samantha. Rune couldn’t remember her last name.
Rune crossed her arms. “I’m pretty sure you already know the answer to that, officer.”
“We’ve been ordered to turn you around. Mr. Horner filed a restraining order against every member of your crew. Including you, of course.” Samantha nodded toward one of the other cops, who rushed forward to hand Rune an envelope.
Rune tapped it on her thigh, not bothering to look at it. “Horner has three of my crew. We’re going in to get them.”
Samantha shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“I wasn’t asking permission.”
“Rune,” Strad said, stepping closer.
“Back off, big guy,” Samantha ordered, turning her gun from Rune to the berserker.
He put his hands up, trying to look unthreatening. He didn’t succeed. “Go with us, if you want. But don’t try to stop us.”
Samantha pointed her chin at the two cops standing slightly behind Strad. “Cuff him.”
“Don’t do that,” Rune warned.
Strad didn’t have his lethal silver spear—he couldn’t wear it while driving. But it didn’t matter. Before anyone could blink, he had silver shivs in both hands. “You’ll want to get the fuck out of here,” he said, “before you get hurt.”
“Shoot him,” Samantha yelled, at the exact moment she turned her gun back to Rune and pulled the trigger.
There were eight cops, and all eigh
t were armed.
But against the crew, they had no chance. They had to know that.
She’d seen the spark of rabid fanaticism deep in the cops’ eyes, and knew exactly what the crew was facing.
These cops belonged to Karin Love. They belonged to the Church of Slayers. To the bastards hiding in the house in Hawthorne, torturing Lex and the twins.
And not one of them was thinking logically. They simply wanted to bag the crew for their church.
Rune was sure fucking Horner was secure in his belief that the city would protect him.
She’d lost her claws, her fangs, and now, she realized, her speed. She was just another crew member fighting the bad guys.
But that was enough.
They’d been expecting the cops to shoot them, so they were prepared.
“Don’t kill them,” Rune yelled. She knocked the gun out of Samantha’s hand then punched her in the temple—a blow extra hard because her fist was weighted with the heavy silver of a shiv.
Samantha went down like a rock.
Her men already had the other cops under control. Guns were on the ground, and the policemen stood silent and blank faced with their hands in the air.
Before the blast, Rune would have mowed most of the cops down before they’d so much as moved. She had a quick flash of fear. She wasn’t going to be worth shit when it came to fighting COS.
“Cuff them all,” Rune said, silently cursing the quiver in her voice. “Take their keys and guns and lock the sons of bitches in the backseats of their cars. That’ll buy us some time.” She leaned over Samantha, who was still on the ground, groggily caressing her head. “Now, we’re going in to get our crew.”
Samantha spit at her. “Fucking monster. Your fucking traitor friends are already dead.” She smiled a cold, cold smile. “Or wishing they were.”
It took them ten minutes to clean up the area and secure the cops. Rune called Ellie back. “Any news on Rice?”
“No. What happened there?”
“A little run-in with some COS supporters. We handled it.”
“Rune, I have a bad feeling. Please hurry.”
“I will.”
And once more, they were on the road to Hawthorne. If nothing more happened to delay them, they’d be near the house within the next fifteen minutes.