by eden Hudson
Movement in my peripheral forced me to look away from the fire. A foot soldier kicked Dad to his knees in front of Kathan.
Kathan was going to execute Dad, but Dad just looked relieved. Like he was going to Mom, so there wasn’t anything to worry about anymore. Not even us kids.
I could feel the black noise in my throat, swimming up my spine into my brain. I wanted to scream for Dad not to leave, to fight, to do something so he could stay and help me—somehow he had always helped Mom—but what if I started screaming and I couldn’t stop?
“Shh,” Sissy whispered, even though Tough wasn’t making any noise. She had him tight against her side and she kept rubbing his arm. “Shh.”
Then Mikal appeared beside Kathan and the lines did, too. Differently colored halos surrounding NPs and strings stretching between them or arching up and out of sight. Kathan glowed like a black light, but Mikal’s power was the most spread-out—a bloody web connecting red spheres. She reached into the sphere at her hip and pulled out the flaming sword.
I tried to tell Ryder about the lines, but he grabbed the back of my neck and banged his forehead against mine.
“Get your shit together, Colt.” His whisper was so sharp that it shocked the black noise into silence. “You’re scaring Tough worse and if they see that you’re—” Ryder choked on whatever he was going to say. Squeezed my neck with both hands like he wanted to strangle me. Then he let go and he tried to smile. “Come on, Sunshine. I’ll make it up to you, I swear, just keep your shit together until this is over.”
Then it was night. I was starting a fire while Sissy and Tough set up camp. When they finished, Tough dropped onto his pallet as if he was dead. Just one more decapitated corpse.
Sissy quit moving. The breath whistled through her broken nose. She was going to cry.
“Um—” She pointed over her shoulder. “Perimeter.”
I nodded, but she was already going.
I rolled up my pants leg and pulled the makeshift bandage away from my knee—the hole was finally clotting. I covered it back up.
For the longest time the only thing I could do was stare into the fire, trying to remember the words to one of Mom’s songs. Something something, I need this done, I need some help, I need a gun, Something, I want to fight, I want to die, Find some light—
When Ryder came back to camp, he was whistling. Never mind the dirt and blood and ashes on his clothes from dragging Dad’s body out from under the pile of what used to be our army and digging a grave all by himself. He held up the bottle—Southern Comfort.
“Who came through for you, Sunshine?” Ryder said. “This motherfucker right here.”
Then he tossed it to me.
The SoCo smacked the back of my fingers and rolled under the coffee table. I was in the cabin again.
Ryder snorted.
“Nice catch,” he said.
“Where’d you get it?”
Ryder stared at me with his mouth open for a second. Then he straightened up and rubbed his hands together.
“Hot damn hallelujah,” he said. “Let’s do this.”
“That first night,” I said. “Where’d the booze come from?”
“A little birdy gave it to me when I went back for Dad’s body,” Ryder said. “Mikal heard you before I could get you to shut your trap. She told me it would help.” He looked like he wanted to apologize, but he just shrugged. “It was still sealed, but I figured even if she had poisoned it somehow…well, hell, at least it would kill us.”
Something in my chest tried to expand, tried to tell me that Mikal had given Ryder the SoCo because she’d been worried about me, because she had loved me even back then and she didn’t want me to suffer, but that wasn’t right. I could feel that it wasn’t.
“What’d that castoff say?” I had been coming out of the tattoo parlor when I walked right into a castoff taking swigs from a gas can. “He said something like, ‘Broken minds can see the lines.’ He looked right at me and said it like he knew I could see them.”
Ryder nodded. “Now, back to the booze. Mom didn’t drink. Start there.”
Mom hadn’t drank since before she left her band. Something to do with a close call. An overdose? Or maybe alcohol poisoning…
“Wrong way, Sunshine,” Ryder said. “Try again.”
Mom didn’t drink, but I did—every single night starting with that very first one by the fire—because at around two shots in, the black noise backed off and the glowing lines got dim. At fall-down drunk they disappeared altogether.
“Mom heard the black noise, too,” I said. “She could see the lines, but she didn’t drink, so she couldn’t shut it off. That’s why Mikal killed her—because she could see the lines.”
Why were the lines so damn important?
“Colt!” Someone rattled the cabin door, then backed up and put their weight into it.
I got to the kitchen just as Grace tripped into the table. A pair of black boxers stuck out of the left leg of her jean shorts.
“They’re taking Tough to the Dark Mansion—I’m sorry about this morning, Colt—I’m so sorry—but he killed Jax—and I tried to drive up here, but the truck died in the creek bed and—”
I grabbed Grace’s shoulders and made her stand up straight so she could catch her breath.
“Slow down,” I said. “Someone killed Jax?”
“Tough.” She took a long, ragged breath and let it out. “The Witches’ Council is taking him to Kathan. They want to stake him—stake Tough. Please help.”
“Stake him? Tough’s a vamp?”
Grace looked confused.
“Yeah,” she said. “He wanted to get you away from Mikal, so he—”
“Shit!” I kicked one of the chairs and it clotheslined itself on the table. Tough was a vamp, damned to Hell for eternity because of me.
“Leave it to that dumbass to pick the only wrong way to do it,” Ryder said.
“Colt.” Grace grabbed my hand and made me look into her eyes. “I need you to stay with me right now. They want Kathan to stake Tough because he killed Jax. He needs your help.”
I blew out a long breath and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Let me get a shirt.”
Grace waited while I grabbed my Lucky shirt, put on my shoes, and grabbed the .45. The magazine was on the floor—full, so I hadn’t shot anybody while I was blacked out. I tapped the mag twice on the grip, then slid it in.
Ryder laughed.
“I forgot you did that OCD shit,” he said.
“Me, too.” I shoved the .45 into the waistband of my jeans.
Grace followed me out of the cabin and headed for the creek. I jogged down to the shed.
“Where’re you going?” she yelled. “Colt!”
Ammo. Backup magazines. Semtex. Timers. Det-caps. What else?
Grace was standing behind me.
I nodded at the arsenal.
“Do you know how to use anything?” I asked her.
“No.” Then she stopped. “Well—” She held up her fists. “—I can do self-defense stuff.”
Not if she thought that was how you made a fist.
“It’s okay,” I said. “New plan. Go get the truck. Put it in first and ease it up the bank. Don’t gun it and don’t shift, even if you start sliding. When you get up here, back it up to the shed.”
Grace took off running.
I was forgetting something. I could feel it. My “Resist or Serve” tattoo burned like someone had dragged dry ice across my chest. I tried rubbing it, but it still stung like hell.
“It’s going to be bad, Sunshine.” Ryder was sitting on the Semtex crate. “I can’t help you once you’re inside the Dark Mansion. If you go back to that bitch, you ain’t ever going to be right in the head again.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Because I’m the picture of mental health right now.”
Tough
“This had better be damned important.” I could hear big, bad Mayor Kathan clear as day through the coffin. “In half an hour I’m going to ha
ve a parlor full of dignitaries waiting for me to welcome them to the Armistice Tenth Anniversary Celebration and—”
“We weren’t just going to leave him to take off when it got dark.” Bailey really had some big brass balls—I’ll give her that—but if she was a guy I bet Kathan would’ve ripped them off for interrupting him. “He killed Ajax Carpenter this morning and we’re petitioning for extermination.”
“Does this look like a city council meeting to you?” Kathan said. “Petition denied. Get out.”
“You can’t just deny it because you’ve—”
“The hell I can’t. The second Carpenter crossed the line between person and NP, he became responsible for his own defense,” Kathan said. “Mikal, show the Council how to use a fucking exit door.”
The sound of footsteps on thick carpet. A door shutting. One human heart and one old, old heart in the room with my coffin.
“Go ahead,” Kathan told someone. “Just no staking.”
The latch scraped and the lid opened. The can lights in the ceiling stabbed me in the eyes. Back at the house my pupils had adjusted to the dim light, but with the garlic paralyzing me, they couldn’t contract.
Stupid fucking being a vamp.
In my peripheral, I saw Kathan walking away, farther into this ugly-ass living room. Heard him sit down. Getting comfortable for the show, I guess. Then Desty’s face with Tempie’s nose ring leaned over me. She looked like she wanted to spit poison in my paralyzed-open eyes. Over the smell of girl and Kathan’s various bodily fluids, Tempie smelled sweet and sticky, like caramel.
“I cannot believe you cheated on my sister. And with that little blonde slut?” She shook her head, disgusted.
Great, so everybody knew about Scout. You really can’t keep a lid on shit in this town.
Tempie was looking into my eyes, so I tried that thing I’d done to Desty the other day.
Take the garlic out of my mouth. I showed her how, told her she wanted to, and tried to push it on her, but all that did was piss her off more.
“Do you have any idea what I am, you durr-Chevy-man-whore? I am the Destroyer. I can end you.” Tempie got this smile on her face like a little brat who knows she can get away with anything. “Kathan’s going to let me when Mikal gets done with you.”
I wished I could’ve made a smart remark to that, but even without the garlic, there was still that whole thing with Jason Gudehaus.
And Jax. Not having a voice anymore was that whole thing with Jason and Jax now. Why couldn’t Jax have been a little faster on the draw with his magic? He traded my voice for it, he should’ve known how to use it better.
Tempie grabbed my throat and dug her fingernails in. It felt like she was jamming knives into my windpipe.
“Desty’s the best thing that will ever happen to a walking postmortem-STD incubator like you,” she said. “And you traded her away for the first piece of ass that walked down the street.”
Tempie let go of my throat and hit me right above my broken rib. The whole left side of my rib cage caved in. She threw a pretty damn good punch for a human, let alone a girl.
“What’s your problem, anyway?” Tempie hit me again.
That hissing was definitely a lung collapsing. At least I didn’t need it anymore. For a second, I wondered why I didn’t black out from the pain. Then I remembered that vampires don’t lose consciousness, they’re either undead or dead, no in-between. One more perk of being a stupid fucking vamp.
I tried to keep thinking that so seeing Tempie cry wouldn’t kill me. Even with the nose ring and the hair and the bitchiness, she looked so much like Desty when she cried.
Then Tempie grabbed her spike-heeled hooker shoe and swung it at my chest.
“Temperance,” Kathan said.
She stopped short, opened her hand and let the shoe drop. Really slowly, she stood up.
“Fine,” Tempie said. “I can wait. What we’ve got in store for you is better than a fast trip to Hell, anyway.”
“That’s my girl,” Kathan said, coming into my line of sight. He grabbed Tempie and kissed her, pushing her with his body until the back of her knees were against the coffin.
I didn’t have a problem with making out and some heavy petting in public—that would be pretty hypocritical considering Mitzi and I had gotten arrested at the last Armistice Celebration for banging on the Ferris wheel—but they were really getting into it.
Kathan bent her over the coffin and slid his hand down her super-short skirt and between her legs. She moaned and pushed against him.
“Getting a good look?” he asked me. “This is the first thing I’m going to do to Modesty when she comes running to me, begging to be my familiar. Second? Hell, you’ve got an imagination. Now imagine it with twins.”
I went crazy inside. There wasn’t even a type of music for that kind of pissed-off psycho screaming. Just fucking insane.
Kathan laughed like he could hear it.
Across the room, the door opened and more wings rustled. The hot, black smell that was still all over Colt hit me.
“Rian just reported seeing Modesty walking up the road toward the mansion,” Mikal said.
“Have him pick her up,” Kathan said.
The door closed and cut off Mikal’s scent.
Kathan smirked down at me.
“Looks like I’m going to get to do that with Modesty sooner than I thought,” he said. He yanked the garlic bag out of my mouth. “All right. Let’s get the pissing contest out of the way.”
My legs were asleep, so I grabbed the sides of the coffin and tried to ramp myself out at him. But I was too focused on the rigor mortis to be ready for the healing. Feeling maggots eating away at my insides and shoving my bones back into place—I couldn’t take it. My knees gave out. I cracked my head on the corner of the coffin and barely felt it over the healing.
“High noon and not a cloud in the sky, Tough,” Kathan said. “Trapped like the very last dumbass Whitney. Not that you haven’t been useful. Colt never would’ve killed you, not even with Mikal working on him for another month. Now the whole world is going to be mine. I suppose I ought to thank you.”
I pulled my hand off my stomach long enough to flip Kathan a “You’re welcome” with my middle finger. The last rib inched itself out of my organs and snapped into place with a firecracker bang. The place where I hit my head started to work itself out, but I didn’t wait. I kicked in the vamp speed and went after Tempie.
It was a bluff, but Kathan reacted before I got close enough to have to stop. He grabbed me by the neck and threw me into the stained-glass window over his couch. I guess I should’ve considered it lucky that the damn thing didn’t break and send me up in flames, but I was having trouble seeing it that way with the back of my skull smashed flat.
The healing started again before I hit the floor. I heard Tempie laughing as I tried to tear the back of my head off, but until the brains unsquished themselves, it sounded like her giggling was coming from underwater.
Kathan was prowling around me, ready for more.
“Do you want to hear the real irony, Tough?” he asked.
No. I didn’t want to hear any more bragging or explanations or this-is-all-going-according-to-plan bullshit. All I wanted was to beat the hell out of someone besides my best friend or my brother for a change.
I pushed up, sprinted. Lowered my shoulder, aiming for Kathan’s stomach. He took the hit and rolled with it. Came up on top.
Damn body heat. Kathan’s internal temp had to be over one-fifty and feeling it against me was making me hard.
“Flattering,” he said, “But you’re not my type.”
I’m a top anyhow, I thought.
Me laughing surprised Kathan. He hesitated. I tried Colt’s trick, wrapping my legs around Kathan’s chest, but my boot got caught up on his wing. I kicked the base where it connected to his shoulder blade. That pitched him off balance. Before he could catch himself, I punched him in the throat. Ryder would’ve been proud.
&nbs
p; Kathan coughed and stumbled back. I was going after him when something took me out. Tempie had hit me in the face with a huge-ass crucifix. I felt that burning cold freeze me down to my soul.
When I could see again, Kathan was pulling me up one-handed by my shoulder. He hit me hard enough to break my jaw. My fangs tore open my lip.
“The irony is,” Kathan said, bouncing my head off the side of the coffin, “There was a time I actually wondered whether I’d be able to defeat His chosen soldiers.” He grabbed my head on the rebound and smashed it into the coffin again. “But that was back before I knew they were a bunch of fucking rednecks.”
Things were getting a little blurry from all the head-smashing. I know I ripped the lid off the coffin and swung it at Kathan, but he moved so fast that vamp speed looked like slow motion in comparison. He must’ve wrenched the lid out of my hands. I heard it snap over his knee, then he grabbed my left arm, yanked it out of the socket, and chopped my broken rib with a piece of the coffin lid. I tried to twist away from another hit, but I wasn’t moving right. He was going for three when the door opened.
That foamy citrus beer smell filled the room. Kathan stopped before the coffin lid smacked me again. I dropped, probably looking like the world’s biggest pussy rolling around holding my side.
“Modesty,” Kathan said.
“Tough!” I heard Desty running, then she was leaning over me, looking down. She really was like an angel—the good kind that has your back, not the kind that’s always kicking your ass. “Are you all right?”
I nodded, but had to stop while my jaw and newest broken ribs snapped back together. Then my arm twisted and popped back into place. Desty had to shake seeing that off, so it must’ve looked as bad as it felt.
Then she helped me up and I kissed her. She tried to pull away, but I shot Kathan another one-fingered salute over her shoulder and squeezed her butt with my other hand.