The Becoming (Book 4): Under Siege

by Jessica Meigs

  “I’ll go tell Peter the plan and see if he agrees to monitor the wall,” Brandt said. He looked to Sadie and Jude, who stood nearby, eyeing the wall with a mixture of discomfort and steely resolve. Both wore signs of the fight; their dark hair was in disarray, and blood and grass stains marred their clothes. “You two need to head back to the main house,” he said to them. “We’re going to have a meeting. I need to know everything you know about the land outside of Woodside.”

  Chapter 18

  Dominic slumped against the wall beside his front door. His heart hammered in his chest, slamming frantically against his ribcage; he pressed a hand over his left pectoral, breathed deeply, and tried to calm himself.

  Jesus, that had been close.

  He hadn’t expected Brandt to come out to his house, and he had the suspicion that he’d been searching for Remy. At times, he’d feared that Brandt was going to walk right into his house until the whistle drew him away.

  Dominic couldn’t let anyone—not Brandt, not Derek, not anyone—see Remy and realize what they’d done. They couldn’t know that they’d used whatever had been in that vial, that they’d injected it into her veins without even knowing what it was.

  After calming himself down, Dominic went upstairs with trepidation. Remy was locked away in the master bedroom on the second floor—her idea, in case she went homicidal; she’d insisted she needed to protect him from that possibility, even though he was more than capable of taking care of himself and handling her if she did turn deadly. Everything had been silent upstairs since he’d locked her away. He wasn’t sure if the silence was good or not, and he was reluctant to check.

  Dominic stopped at the top of the stairs for a moment, listening for sound. It reminded him too much of the initial Michaluk outbreak, when he’d found himself trapped in his apartment building with a few dozen infected. He’d had to fight his way free of them; there had been multiple instances of this, of wending his way through the building on only semi-familiar staircases and fire escapes, his nerves on edge as he waited for something to attack him. He shook himself free from his contemplation and forced himself onward.

  When he reached the bedroom door, Dominic tapped on it with a knuckle, waited an appropriate ten seconds, and then opened the door a crack. “Remy?” he called, keeping his voice low and soothing. “Are you okay in there?”

  There was a rustle of movement and a cough. “Yeah, I’m still breathing.”

  Dominic stepped into the room.

  Light from a single lantern cast a pool on one side of the room. The fading sunlight crept in between the boards over the windows on the opposite end. The bed had been stripped of its comforter, which was lying in a heap on the floor by the footboard. And Remy was sprawled across the bed, lying on top of the sheets in her bra and panties. Her skin glistened with sweat, even as she shivered. Dominic approached the bed and pressed a gentle hand against her cheek. She was burning up.

  “How do you feel?” Dominic asked, grasping her wrist to feel her pulse. It fluttered under his fingertips, rapid and bounding.

  “Like I have the flu,” Remy muttered. “I ache all over. My head hurts. And I’m freezing.”

  “Probably because you’re laying in your underwear,” Dominic pointed out. He did his best to keep his eyes on her face, but it was hard. The woman was just as attractive and well proportioned as he’d imagined she’d be. He grabbed the flat sheet bunched at the foot of the bed, shook it out, and gently covered her with it. “Do you need anything?” he asked, taking a polite step back from the bed.

  “Maybe some water,” she said. She gave him a smile that sent a surge of pleasure right through him.

  He went downstairs to retrieve a bottle of water for her, his mind still stirred by her and by Brandt’s visit. He had a feeling that trouble would be coming soon, especially once Brandt and the others put two and two together and realized what he and Remy were up to. He contemplated going to Brandt and telling him himself, heading off trouble at the pass. But no. If he did that, Remy would kill him. It wasn’t his place to take the decision out of her hands.

  Dominic sighed again and headed back upstairs to rejoin her. He found her sitting up this time, her long legs hanging over the edge, the sheet he’d covered her with draped over her shoulders like an oversized cape. He passed the bottle to her, and she fumbled with the cap before twisting it off and taking a deep swallow.

  “So what’s going on outside anyway? What was Brandt doing here?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Dominic admitted. “It’s possible he was looking for you, which means it’s only a matter of time before everyone else catches on that you’re here and that we’re doing something we shouldn’t be doing.”

  Remy scowled, pressed a hand to her forehead, and closed her eyes.

  Dominic pressed the back of his hand to her cheek, testing her temperature, and then said quietly, “Maybe we should think about going to Derek about this.”

  “No!” Remy exploded, shaking her head almost wildly. “No, we can’t!”

  “Why not?” Dominic asked. He took a seat beside her on the bed. “We need the help. You’re sick. He’s a doctor. He’ll know how to help you way better than I can.”

  “We can’t,” Remy said again. Her voice was more tired than the last time she spoke, and she wobbled, looking like she was ready to slump over at any moment.

  “Remy, please,” Dominic begged. “What’s done is done. He can’t do anything about what we’ve already done. But if something goes wrong, if this thing starts to kill you, then maybe he’ll be able to stop it and save you from it. You get me?”

  Remy wrinkled her nose, looking like she was ready to object again. But instead, she asked, “Why do you even care, Dominic? Why are you agreeing to do all of this? I mean, you’re being oddly nice to me. What’s in it for you? What kind of game are you playing?”

  Dominic grimaced and stood up from the bed abruptly. His head swam. He ignored the sensation and stalked halfway across the room, clenching his fists at his sides. “I’m not playing any games,” he snarled, more angrily than he intended. “What the hell makes you think I’m doing that?”

  “You’re being too nice to me,” Remy said again. She’d sat up straighter and didn’t appear to be in imminent danger of face-planting on the floor.

  “And?” Dominic demanded. “I have to have a motive to be nice to you? To want to help you?”

  “Yes, you do,” Remy said. Her brown eyes were bright, fiery with anger, making her all the more attractive to Dominic—God, but he loved a beautiful, feisty woman that wouldn’t hesitate to go toe-to-toe with him. He was knocked right out of his thoughts—which were starting to take a turn that would get him into trouble sooner rather than later, at Remy’s next declaration.

  “You hate me!” Remy said. “Why would you want to help me?”

  Dominic’s eyes widened. “You think I hate you?” he asked.

  “Of course you hate me,” Remy said. Her words were matter of fact, but there was an underlying hint of confusion in her voice. “I shot you, remember?”

  “Remy…” Dominic dropped into the chair at the desk by the bed. He rubbed both hands over his face. “I don’t hate you, okay?” he started.

  “But I shot—”

  “You shot me under circumstances that were, frankly, warranted,” he interrupted. “We had broken into your safe house and were armed. Clearly, we intended to do you harm. You had every right to protect yourself, and that’s what you did. I personally would have been a lot more surprised if you hadn’t. So no, I’m not and never have been pissed off at you for shooting me.” He managed to give her a crooked smile. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve never been shot before. Where you shot me was more of an inconvenience than anything else.”

  “An inconvenience?” Remy repeated. She sounded disbelieving. “So why are you mad at me then?” she asked. “If not for shooting you, then for what?”

  Dominic shook his head. “Would you believe me if I
told you that I wasn’t pissed off at you at all?” he asked.

  “Nope, not a word,” she confirmed.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn’t going to go as planned, he knew. This was definitely not the way he’d planned to tell her what he was about to say. “Remy,” he said. “I’m pissed off, yes. But I’m not pissed off at you. I’m pissed off about you.”

  Remy sat back a little, as if he’d taken a swing at her and she was trying to dodge it. “I’m not sure I understand,” she murmured.

  Dominic hadn’t really expected her to. “I just…I like you, Remy. At lot,” he finally said. “Enough so that, under any other circumstances, I’d go for it.”

  “But?”

  “But you’re infected, and I’m pissed because fate has taken the option away from me before I even had it,” he confessed. “It can never happen, not unless you’re cured and you survive the cure. And that’s why I want—no, I need you to agree to let me take this to Derek. Before something terrible happens that we can’t stop.”

  Remy stared at him. He wasn’t looking at her, but he felt it. He wondered what was going through her mind at exactly that moment. He’d have put money on it that most of it was less than complimentary. After her long hesitation, she cleared her throat, and when he looked up at her, her expression seemed oddly vacant, like her mind was elsewhere.

  “I still don’t want him involved,” Remy said quietly. “But…but if I take a turn for the worst, then you’ll go get him for me?”

  “If you want me to,” Derek agreed, sitting up straighter. “I’ll do this however you want me to.” He pushed himself from his chair and went to her, leaning to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, one of the only safe places he knew where he could kiss her. His lips lingered against her soft skin for a moment before he pulled away. “Why don’t I get you some food?” he suggested. “We should do what we can to keep your strength up. You might need it.”

  Chapter 19

  Cade had been on edge ever since she’d heard the whistle and the opening salvo of gunshots. She’d grabbed her rifle and started for the stairs, every instinct screaming at her to get out of there, to join in whatever fight was brewing outside. To hell with the fact that she was pregnant; she was a warrior, through and through, and no one could seriously expect her to sit inside like a half-wilted, delicate flower. Besides, her husband was somewhere out there, and if she knew him and his penchant for getting into trouble, then he was going to need bailing out.

  Unfortunately, someone else had guessed at her reaction to the noise, and she’d been intercepted. Derek had stood in her path, arms folded over his chest, body blocking the door.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his voice level. He seemed to have taken in everything about her and her intentions in one head-to-toe sweep.

  She liked Derek; she really did. He was a great doctor and a good man, and his heart seemed to be in the right place. But damn if he didn’t have a way of getting on her nerves sometimes.

  “I’m going out to help with whatever’s going on outside,” Cade said.

  “No, you’re not,” Derek said. His facial expression didn’t change, and he didn’t budge from his spot against the door.

  “Why not?” Cade demanded. It was a stupid question, and she knew that before she’d asked. She didn’t need to hear Derek’s response, either. She knew what he would say; she was trying to buy some time to think of an alternative escape route out of the house.

  “Because you’re almost eight months pregnant, Cade,” Derek said, his tone patient. “Because, while you’re perfectly capable of shooting whatever you’d like from a distance, your body isn’t equipped to handle running, jumping, or anything resembling hand-to-hand combat right now.”

  The sound of three sets of feet descending the stairs brought her around. Isaac, Sadie, and Jude were coming downstairs, all of them loaded down with assorted weaponry. The twins had supplemented the weapons they’d brought in with them with spare knives and sidearms from the bedroom upstairs that Cade called “the armory,” complete with a bandolier of shotgun shells slung across Sadie’s chest. Isaac looked ready to fight off a pack of wolves singlehandedly. He’d donned the body armor he’d been wearing when she’d met him in Atlanta; he’d looked large and commanding in it then, and with the additional muscle he’d packed on since, he looked even more imposing now.

  “Derek, we’ve got to get by,” Isaac said, sliding past Cade and reaching for the deadbolt. Derek moved aside for him, and Cade saw red.

  “Wait a minute!” she exclaimed. “Why the hell do they get to go and not me?”

  “Because you’re pregnant!” Derek said, finally showing anger with her insistence on running into danger.

  “And?” Cade said. She jabbed a finger at Sadie and Jude. “Those two are practically kids!”

  “We are not kids!” Sadie started to protest, but Derek put a hand on her arm and shook his head.

  “Go ahead to where you’re needed,” he told her. “I’ll deal with this.” Cade glared as they stepped onto the porch, and Derek shut the door between them. Then he stood there, his palm pressed flat against the door. “Cade, listen to me, okay? You’re pregnant. And as your doctor, I feel it’s my responsibility to not only keep you safe but to tell you when you’re being an idiot. And Cade, you’re being an idiot.”

  “But that’s my husband out there!” Cade protested. She clenched her fists, ignoring how her broken nails dug into her palms. “I can’t leave him out there!”

  “Yes, you can, and you will,” Derek corrected. “Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do. He’s important, very important, to everything we’ve got going on here, and I don’t like seeing him throw himself into these situations. But you’re just as important as he is, you and your baby.”

  Cade narrowed her eyes. “How so?”

  “Because whatever genes make Brandt so special may have been passed to the baby,” Derek explained. “And I think that he might’ve passed that immunity to you through sexual contact.”

  Cade raised an eyebrow, momentarily distracted by his theory. “What, like an STD?”

  “If it’s an STD, it’s the world’s best STD to have,” Derek said. “Granted, there’s no guarantee I’m right, in which case, we have to do what we can to keep you from getting bitten.”

  “That’s fine, Doc, but I’m not going to get bitten,” Cade said. “I’ll be fine, I swear. I’m just going to step out—”

  “No, Cade.”

  “—and find a place to set up and shoot.”

  “I said no, Cade!”

  His shout—a loud sound for a man so little used to raising his voice—felt like a slap across Cade’s face. She stared at him, wide-eyed and startled, as her objections died on her lips. She’d never seen Derek so angry, had never heard him have cross words with anyone, and here he was, yelling at her.

  She didn’t know what to make of that. But in the face of his anger, she was shocked and speechless, and she remained so, rooted to the spot in the foyer, until the others began to return to the house.

  Sadie and Jude were the first to arrive back, covered in blood, dirt, and grass stains. They smelled of rot and decay. Cade wrinkled her nose, and her stomach heaved at the scent.

  “Any injuries?” Derek asked, his eyes scanning each of them in turn as he ushered them into the room. After Sadie answered in the negative for the both of them, he nodded toward the stairs. “Head upstairs and clean up, both of you. Be sure to scrub off every bit of blood you find on yourselves.”

  The twins were halfway up the stairs before Cade found her voice. “Wait,” she choked out, and the two bloodied figures stopped and turned to look at her. “Brandt,” Cade said, watching the two teenagers with anxious eyes. “Is he…?” She couldn’t get the last word out. She wasn’t even sure what the last word was: “okay” or “dead” came to mind, but neither made it past her lips.

  “He went to get someone named Peter,” Sadie finally said
, after what felt to Cade like an eternity. “He’s okay. He’s not hurt or anything.”

  Cade could have sworn she felt her soul slump over in relief. “Oh thank God,” she breathed, sagging against the foyer’s wall and dropping her head against it. The sound of the twins’ footsteps started up the stairs again, now that the news of Brandt’s okayness had been delivered. She glanced up at Derek; he’d opened the front door about six inches and stared out into the community. Then he stepped back, and Cade looked up expectantly to see Brandt stepping inside, sweaty and smeared with old blood and dirt but alive. The relief she felt was palpable. “What in the hell is going on out there?”

  “Nothing good,” Brandt said. He stepped closer to her and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, though he kept his distance since he was filthy. “Are you okay? You didn’t go out there, did you?”

  Derek gave Cade a pointed look over Brandt’s shoulder, and it took everything in her to fight back a scowl. “No, I didn’t go out there,” she said, answering Brandt’s question with only a little irritation slipping through. “Though, believe me, I really wanted to. I’m sick of being stuck in this house away from all the fun.”

  “I’m not sure I’d consider it fun, but you’ve always had a strange definition of that,” Brandt said.

  “So what’s going on out there?” Derek asked. “And for that matter, where’s my brother?”