Blood Revolution (God Wars, #3)

by Suttle, Connie

  * * *

  "I'm never doing that again," I hissed as I limped toward Jayson's SUV. My lady parts felt as if they were on fire, and I wanted nothing more than to find an ice pack, slap it on the affected area and moan out my misery.

  Hank and Jayson seemed to be fine, the assholes. Well, they were used to having hair ripped out of tender parts. I wasn't. They weren't talking either, and that was probably a good thing—I wanted to kill both of them, just on general principal.

  I squirmed in the back seat during the trip home, and misted from Jayson's vehicle straight to the kitchen.

  "Ice pack?" I begged while Trina stared in alarm. Without a word, she opened the freezer and pulled one out. "Thanks," I whimpered and ran toward the hallway leading to my borrowed bedroom.

  Misting out of my clothes, I flopped onto the bed and placed the ice pack over myself as gently as I could. It still hurt and tears threatened. I wished for ibuprofen, but I didn't want to move to get it. I only wanted the misery to go away.

  "Bree?" Hank knocked on my bedroom door.

  "Go away," I snapped. "I'm in the middle of a serious ice pack session." I was. I was naked as I lay on my bed, doing my best to will the ache away. The door creaked. "Do you ever do what anybody says?" I yelled when Hank came in anyway. I was grabbing for the blanket lying across the foot of the bed, but it wasn't cooperating.

  "Baby, I have this." Hank was dangling a bottle of lotion in his hands. "This is made to treat freshly-waxed skin. It has aloe, vitamin e and other stuff that'll help."

  "I want to kill you right now." I still held the ice pack to my (now puffy) privates, and I'd given up on the blanket.

  "I figure you do." He settled on the edge of the bed and reached for the ice pack I awkwardly held against me.

  "Don't touch anything," I refused to let the ice pack go.

  "Baby, it'll go away. We'll put this on and things will be fine."

  "Easy for you to say."

  "Come on." He touched the ice pack with gentle fingers. His voice had gone soft, as if he were coaxing a feral kitten to his hand.

  "I'll do it myself." I held my hand out for the bottle of lotion.

  "No. I caused this, I'll fix it." He pulled my ice pack away. I slapped a hand over my face. When had things come to this? Did I have no shame?

  "I'm a shameless hussy," I muttered as Hank dribbled lotion over the tender parts.

  "Baby, don't ever say that again," He said softly as his fingers rubbed lotion over me in soothing strokes.

  "But I am. All you had to do was crook a finger that first time and there I was, faster than a whore whose rent was due. Wax my pussy for you? Sure thing," I moaned.

  "Shhh," Hank crooned. "My baby hurts. Let me fix it." His fingers rubbed more lotion into my skin. At least he wasn't heavy handed—I might have come off the bed if he were. "I'll find ibuprofen," he laid the ice pack over me again before rising from the bed and walking into my bathroom.

  He was back in record time with three tablets and a glass of water. Lifting me gently against him after taking a seat on the bed again, Hank watched as I swallowed the pills and drank the water. "Try to sleep, okay?" He pulled the blanket up and settled it over me. "You'll feel better after a while, I promise. I'll wake you later for dinner."

  "Not hungry." I wanted to roll over on my side, but the situation prevented it.

  "Come on, baby, close your eyes," careful fingers stroked hair back from my forehead. "Hank loves his baby. So much. Go to sleep, love. Sleep." I fell into darkness.

  Chapter 6

  I had all day Sunday to get over Saturday. Hank woke me for dinner the night before as promised, but I only nibbled at a sandwich before going back to bed. At least I wanted breakfast when I woke at six-thirty.

  The kitchen was deserted when I wandered in and made a cup of coffee for myself before searching for eggs in the fridge.

  "Breakfast?" Bill walked in, freshly showered and dressed.

  "Hey, Director Bill," I managed a smile for him.

  "I like it better when you call me honey," he moved to the coffeepot and poured a cup for himself.

  "Honey, are you hungry?" I asked.

  "I sure am. What's on the menu?"

  "I think I can throw biscuits together, and there's ham and bacon in the fridge to go with eggs," I said.

  "That sounds good. Need help?"

  "Can you make the bacon?"

  "I've been frying bacon since I was ten," he grinned.

  "Honey, you're just way too self-sufficient," I stood on tiptoe to kiss him. Bill blinked for a moment before wrapping his arms around me. That's how Opal found us—me wearing Bill as an overcoat.

  "Breakfast and entertainment," Opal poured herself a cup of coffee while Bill and I sheepishly broke apart.

  "For that, you get to make eggs," Bill informed her. "Bree's making biscuits."

  "If somebody's willing to make biscuits for me, I'll do eggs anytime," Opal agreed.

  We were gathering around the island to eat when Kathleen walked in. "Sit down, I'll fix a plate for you," Bill put a hand on my shoulder to keep me from rising.

  "I don't believe I've ever had the Director of a government agency serve me breakfast," Kathleen laughed as Bill set a plate of food in front of her.

  "It may never happen again, so enjoy it," Bill grinned.

  "There's breakfast? That I didn't have to make?" Trina wandered in with a yawn.

  "Yeah. Sit your tush down, I'll get it," I said.

  "Tell me about Somalia," Kathleen said. I watched as she lifted a strip of bacon and bit into it.

  "That," I hunched my shoulders. Well, Barry Stokes had fired me. Was I still obligated not to talk about that? Besides, Bill could talk about it just as easily as I could. I cut my eyes in his direction.

  Breanne, I can't ever say I was there. You can talk about the sandstorm—I think that's what she's curious about, Bill sent. Hank and Jayson told her and Trina about you and your peculiar talents, he added. They're okay with all of it.

  "It was awful," I said uncomfortably. "And it wasn't anything natural, either," I said. "I knew Mercy Crossings' tents would get blown away, and there were sick and injured kids inside. I did the only thing I could—I gathered everybody in the tents into my mist and got the hell out of there. I didn't realize at the time that the people I left behind in the city would die. They all died. Nobody lived over that."

  "Where did you take them?" Bill asked. He knew, he just pretended he didn't.

  "We had a ship in international waters off the coast. I took them there. I found out then that all the people died behind us, and those kids were orphans. It didn't make me feel good at all."

  "Breanne, are we discussing Somalia now?" Hank walked in and dropped a hand on my shoulder.

  "I don't owe Barry Stokes anything anymore," I muttered. "And I'm not talking about anything that concerns him or Mercy Crossings anyway. I got his volunteers out, plus eighteen kids. If he has a problem with that, then he can complain to my face."

  "So you saw the letter he wrote. Did you read it in a newspaper?" Kathleen asked.

  "No. I saw the actual letter after Terry mailed it to me six weeks ago," I sighed. "It was already open when I got it, so I think Terry's the one who leaked it to the press. I don't mind—Barry needed to be smacked around a little."

  "He needs more than that," Trina grumped. "He needs to lose his job over it."

  "That won't happen," I shook my head. "I wish I could say it doesn't bother me, but it does. He didn't even say thanks for my service, and let me tell you, he owed me that—in a bigger way than he might imagine."

  "It's behind us," Hank leaned in to kiss my cheek. "Let it go. Stokes is an asshole and not worth our worry."

  "Stokes is an asshole," Jayson agreed. He shuffled toward the island, his hair still damp from a shower. "Is there food? I'm starving." He and Hank served themselves and sat down to eat.

  "These are really good," Jayson lifted another biscuit from the pan and spread b
utter on it. I'd made a huge pan of biscuits and they were nearly gone.

  "Then I might make them for you again," I said, sipping a second cup of coffee. Usually my second cup was decaf, because caffeine left me feeling wired if I had too much.

  "I wasn't aware that you could cook this well," Jayson spread jam on his biscuit and bit into it.

  "I can cook," I hugged myself. "I just don't do a lot of it, nowadays." I'd spent too many years making three meals a day, with no breaks or days off. It was nice just to go to a restaurant if I wanted, or throw a veggie sandwich together.

  "Tell me about Joyce's twins," Jayson said.

  "They're beautiful," I muttered. "Completely innocent. They just need somebody to take care of them."

  "And you did that—made sure they were cared for." Kathleen toyed with her coffee cup.

  "Nobody else would," I said. "Look, this isn't comfortable for me."

  "Someday, you have to talk about this," Hank said.

  "Not today," I scooted my chair back. "It helps if I don't think about it. No, I don't blame myself for any of this, either, so a shrink doesn't have to worry about that part of the equation."

  "Who do you blame, sweetheart?" Bill reached for my hand.

  "Who can you blame? My father for not knowing I existed? My mother who was sent to prison for manufacturing drugs and giving me away? The orphanage? A deranged politician with too much power? Fate? Religion?" I shook my head. "I can't even cry about it. Not when somebody else is around. You know what happens if I do?" Yeah, I was about to out myself.

  "What happens, baby?" Hank said gently.

  "If you touch my tears, you see everything I can see in anybody else. Everything. Imagine reading your husband and seeing how many times he'd cheated on you. Or what your parents or kids really thought of you. Or your boss. It can drive people nuts."

  "How long does that last?" Jayson asked.

  "For a day or so. By the end of that time, most people will have lost any sanity they had. It's a curse."

  "Does this happen all the time with you?" Kathleen sounded uncomfortable.

  "I can put up a shield, now. I wasn't always able to do that. I block everybody, nowadays, unless it's absolutely necessary to read them," I said. Kathleen relaxed with a tiny sigh.

  "So you can't cry at all?" Opal turned her unblinking gaze on me.

  "Oh, I can, but it has to be when I'm alone. If you get any moisture at all, you'll wish you'd never met me. It's better to hold it back."

  "That sounds painful," Hank said flatly.

  "If that's the worst pain I'd ever had, I'd be in much better shape," I pointed out. "I think I want to be alone, now." I misted away from all of them.

  * * *

  Jayson, like his parents, had an indoor pool and spa. It just wasn't in a separate building; it was in a room at the back of his house. I slipped into my bathing suit quickly and misted straight to the spa. I felt cold and hot water might warm me up and relax aching muscles. At least the waxing dilemma seemed better and didn't burn when I took a seat in frothing water.

  "So this is where you ended up." Jayson, dressed in a T and loose trousers, sat cross-legged on the edge of the spa and blinked at me. "Everybody is looking for you. I just sent mindspeech, telling them I found you. That's quite handy, as it turns out."

  "Don't make me sorry I gave it to you," I muttered.

  "Want me to get in with you?"

  "I came here to be alone," I said.

  "Haven't you had too much of that?" Jayson asked.

  "Not today."

  "Bree, you really ought to stop scaring us," Hank walked in, followed by Bill, Opal, Trina and Kathleen.

  "How? I said I wanted to be alone. You automatically assumed I'd left the house. Didn't you?"

  "What am I supposed to think? Your track record stands against you, and I don't want to wait another two years to see you again."

  "See, you're thinking of yourself, here," I said.

  "Yeah. I'm thinking of myself. I admit that. I'm thinking of you, too, whether you believe that or not. Is it wrong to worry that you might be hurt or need somebody and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it?" Hank pulled his T-shirt over his head and unbuckled his belt.

  "Anybody not wanting to see this better leave now," he dropped his pants. Well, he'd gone commando, which was easy enough to see as he stepped into the water and sat beside me.

  "Hell, I'm getting in," Jayson announced and started stripping. Trina and Kathleen left quickly after Jayson's announcement. Opal shucked her clothes and Bill wasn't far behind. I covered my eyes with a shaking hand as all of them climbed into Jayson's overly large spa.

  "Well, what are we planning to discuss now?" Opal said brightly.

  "Are you cold, sweetheart? Is that why you came here?" Bill asked. I dropped my hand and nodded at him.

  "Fuck," Hank sighed.

  "What's your plan if you do find Oscar Forde and/or Keir Arthur tomorrow night?" Opal asked. That gave me something else to think about, rather than the violation of my privacy.

  "It depends on where I find them," I said. "You know I'll want to take them out, but it doesn't need to happen in front of others."

  "We can't shoot them?" Jayson sounded disappointed.

  "My sister once said you don't take a gun to a vampire fight," I pointed out. "You'll be dead before you can pull the trigger." The only gun that might be useful against a vampire was a Ranos pistol or rifle, and that technology didn't need to fall into human hands.

  "They move that fast?" Jayson was skeptical.

  "I thought you showed him vampires and werewolves," I turned to Hank.

  "From a safe distance, and they were walking down the street," Hank defended himself.

  "They looked human, just like you," Jayson said. Opal snickered.

  "So these don't impress you at all?" I pulled a hand from the water and let my claws slide out.

  "Don't touch them," Opal warned as Jayson reached out a hand. "You'll lose your fingers and be left wondering how it happened."

  "I've seen them slice metal," Bill agreed. "Lissa did that."

  "You can slice metal?" Jayson pulled his hand back.

  "I haven't tried metal, yet, but yeah, I could."

  "What have you cut, then?" Jayson asked.

  "I've lopped off a couple of vampire heads," I said. "Bill knows about that already," I added.

  "The one here and the one in D.C." Bill agreed amiably. "And she had a hand in taking one down in Austin, but I don't have the whole story on that one."

  "I caught him in the midsection, he flipped into the air and Radomir beheaded him on the way back down."

  "What about you?" Opal asked.

  "I was knocked flat on my back and couldn't breathe for a while," I replied.

  "Unbelievable," Hank muttered.

  "You weren't there," I said, studying his face. He looked as if he wanted to argue with my tactics. Well, they may not have been thoroughly considered, but it was the best I could do with the limited amount of time I had.

  "No, I wasn't," he said and put his arms around me. "It just scares the hell out of me. I'll have to work on that."

  "Hank, I do the best I can. While it may not be up to your special ops standards, so far I've come out of it alive."

  "Breanne," Hank gripped my jaw in a hand and forced me to look him in the eye. "Coming out of it alive is only half the equation. The other half is who'd be destroyed if you went down."

  I blinked at him and struggled to keep my fear from showing. Yes, everything could fall if I died. There would be no second chances for those left behind. Hank was speaking from a personal level, but he didn't know how true his words actually were.

  "We're going to take you to the Sub-Mariner tonight, to get you used to what you'll see tomorrow," Hank's voice—and his grip on my jaw—softened. "I've already talked with Dale Saylor and he knows the score. He says he'll help in any way he can."

  "Hank," I shivered, even sitting in hot, bubbling water.r />
  "Bree, we don't need you to freak tomorrow. We need to find John's killers." I blinked into his dark eyes while my stomach tied itself in knots and threatened to dislodge breakfast.

  "I feel sick," I pulled away from Hank's hand.

  "No, sweetheart," Bill stood and waded toward me. "Opal and I are coming with Hank and Jayson tonight, so you'll have plenty of friends and support around you."

  "Opal?" I turned to her. I needed support and a lifeline. I didn't want to see what I was likely to see—it terrified me in ways I couldn't begin to describe.

  "Bree, I swear we'll punch anybody who upsets you," Opal said. "If I understand correctly, people go to these places to have a good time. They're having a good time, okay?"

  "No," I moaned, closing my eyes and moving away from Hank. I was feeling sicker by the minute, until I was forced to fold to my bathroom. I think I lost everything I'd eaten in the last three days.

  * * *

  "Here, now," Jayson washed my face while Hank held me and Bill fretted nearby. They'd found me dry heaving into the toilet.

  "We'll take care of you," Hank murmured against my ear. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

  Say that when your past is the same as mine, I snapped mentally. Nothing to be afraid of? Most people don't know when to be afraid.

  "That's very true, they don't," Hank soothed. "We have to get you past some of this, so you'll be prepared instead of curling into a ball and shaking if you come across it in the outside world."

  "That's frightening," I mumbled.

  "Bree, things happen all the time. What if you ended up in a place where somebody needed your help, and they were being beaten? What would you do? Can you predict your actions, or could it go either way?"

  "I can't predict my actions," I admitted reluctantly and lowered my eyes. "Either I'd freak and go catatonic, as you so kindly describe it, or freak in the other direction and make the person doing the beating dead—slowly, most likely—by cutting him into one-inch strips. While he screamed."

  "Baby, quick death. Always give a quick death. It's merciful, and makes you stronger and better than the one you killed," Hank whispered.