One (Rules Undying Book 6)

by R. E. Carr

  “Damn it, Jonathan! You knocked his fang loose, and I need to give him a couple of stitches.”

  “He is sorry for that,” Lorcan, now obviously in control of Jonathan’s body, replied.

  “And you are switching faster and faster. Aren’t you just going to, you know—?”

  “Merge?” Lorcan countered. “Believe me, if it were that simple, we would be done by now. Now, tell me why the hell you would confront Arthur directly—”

  “Because he killed Georgia, damn it!” Steve burst out. Gail scowled impatiently as she shoved Steve back in his seat. He looked over her shoulder and snarled, “I left him alive, so you can have your daddy-issues showdown, didn’t I? He deserves to suffer for everything he did.”

  “Yes, he deserves punishment, but now we have no idea how he is going to react or what he might do, since you took it upon yourself to undo the blocks you put in his mind in the first place! It’s taken me weeks to even—”

  “Both of you shut up, so I can stitch his lip,” Gail interjected. As she was tying off the last knot, there was a banging at the door. Gail narrowed her eyes at Steve. “I’m guessing we’re going to hear it from her now too, aren’t we?”

  “I’m not sorry,” Steve said flatly. He rubbed the corner of his mouth a few times and winced.

  “I need to either spit on that or get some alcohol—”

  “Don’t bother,” he grumbled, before storming off to the kitchen. Gail shook her head as he came back with a bottle of bourbon and Lorcan returned from the entry with a woman in a hooded raincoat. She needn’t have hidden her features; her potent miasma gave her away from across the living room.

  “Oh Steven, what have you done?” Mina asked as she pulled back her hood. “Have you any idea—?”

  “Are you gonna punch me too, Mina?” Steve asked. “Somehow I doubt it will hit as hard as the Tailed Wonder.”

  Mina walked across the carpet, deftly stepping over the remains of the coffee table in her four-inch heels. She then wrapped her arms around Steve and yanked him into a savage hug. “Oh, my dear boy, you may have saved us all with your courage and quick thinking.”

  “What?” Gail and Steve replied in unison. Lorcan remained aloof, his arms folded across his chest. Mina pulled back then kissed both of Steve’s cheeks, careful not to taste any of the bloody residue around his mouth.

  “Leave it to you, Meenakshi, to confuse an already baffling situation,” Lorcan said, before he too retired to the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later with two yellowish-green drinks topped with little speckles of red. Gail made do with yanking the bottle from Steve’s grip and taking a swig before they all settled awkwardly amongst the wreckage of the furniture. Mina smiled as she saw Gail and Steve lounging together on the loveseat. “So . . .?” Lady Harker started to ask with a twinkle in her eye.

  “No,” they both replied instantly. Gail added, “With everything else going on, why must you always try to hook us up?”

  Mina hopped over a broken leg to take both their hands. “Because in the end, I’m a romantic at heart . . . isn’t that right, my love?” she called over her shoulder to Lorcan. He rolled his eyes and brought her a drink.

  Mina dragged over an ottoman that had somehow escaped the destruction. Once she had miraculously found a way to lounge gracefully on discount furniture while wearing a mackintosh, she took a long sip of whatever concoction Lorcan had prepared. “They always remind me of Javier,” she said softly, then sighed and cocked her head at Gail. “Somehow, though, I feel like he’s still with us. Do you ever feel that way, petal?”

  The lights in the kitchen flickered. “From time to time,” Gail replied, distracted. Mina winked at her. “Why aren’t you furious, Mina?”

  “Anger is a waste of passion, always. Until now, my brother has been consumed by anger and revenge. However, you, Steve, have reopened his heart to pain and loss. That gives me hope for the first time in a long time. Arthur awoke to a radically different world and into a host that fought him. His only outlet has been hatred.”

  “Now he gets grief and self-loathing. What an improvement,” Steve said bitterly. He snatched the bottle back from Gail and gulped down a terrifying amount of bourbon in a single swallow.

  “You wear it well, darling.” Mina gave Steve a knowing look. “And don’t you always assume that Arthur and his host will do it better than you? So, I’m certain it will be fine.”

  Steve sank against the cushions, his stare hollow and his shoulders slumped. “I enjoyed making him suffer. I’m sure you approve, Lady Harker.”

  Mina let out a deep breath. “I approve of change and of him finally getting a chance to face the true weight of his actions. I worry about you, though, Steve. If you continue to repress your pain and dive into that bottle—”

  “Just stop,” he said. To his surprise, Mina clamped her mouth shut.

  Lorcan glowered. “Bro, if you whammy my ex-wife—”

  Mina burst out laughing. “Darling, a person can listen to Steven without him using his powers.”

  “Really?”

  Even Steve nodded in agreement with Lorcan. “It doesn’t happen very often, and I do sometimes use it by mistake, so—”

  “Give yourself a little credit, Steve. Also, you have tried to influence me before. I could sense it, and it’s not particularly powerful—no offence. I mean, I’m sure with time and with practice you’ll get better.”

  Gail stifled a giggle. She turned red as everyone stared at her. “Sorry, it’s just that—”

  “The world has gone insane? I think a little laughter is not only appropriate, but ought to be encouraged. Now, I need to have my session with Lorcan. If you two can give us a little time?”

  Gail and Steve exchanged looks. “How long do you need?” Steve asked, while Gail headed to the back room to put on a sweater and jeans rather than keeping her hooker-worthy minidress on. She stared guiltily at the single mattress on the floor.

  “Damn it, if she saw that, she’d never let it go,” Gail whispered. “Even if nothing happened.”

  Gail went to the sink and stared at the empty reflection. She washed her face by touch then pulled out some lip gloss and carefully painted it onto her lips. Bleached-blonde hair still fell in front of her face.

  “You gonna take all night, Pumpkin?” Gail heard but saw nothing in the glass. “You just need to be kinda boring and unrecognizable, you know—normal.”

  Gail rolled her eyes, grinning to herself that he couldn’t see her reaction. Her grin faded as she turned to see Steve in a Yankees hat and a hoodie. “We have to blend in, remember?”

  “Yeah, I’m the ubiquitous asshole from New York, slumming it up here in Boston.”

  “You should at least change your face a little.” Gail led him through the living room. They caught a quick glance of Mina leading Lorcan towards the other bedroom. Gail waited until they were outside in the filthy alleyway that lead to their basement apartment before she asked, “What the hell is going on anymore?”

  “Come on, Pumpkin,” he said, leading her towards the street. A car with tinted windows had magically found a parking spot in front of their brownstone. As they approached, the back door popped open. Beulah leaned around and waved Gail and Steve over.

  “Hey, Gail,” she said, reaching to give Gail an awkward hug. “I was supposed to tell you thanks, from Edwin. Thanks to you, he’s still alive.”

  “Thanks to me, Steve couldn’t stop the mess in the first place,” Gail replied, looking askance.

  “No offence, but there was a pack of you-know-whats with bombs and guns. You’re probably overestimating the importance of punching one guy. Edwin also said that Steve usually deserves a decking. He got you a thank-you present.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I don’t know either. Lady Harker, though, thought it was perfect for you.” Beulah heaved a long, cylindrical object out of the back seat. She went “Oof” as she lifted it out. Gail’s eyes lit up as she recognized the shape
.

  “Baxter!” Gail snatched the giftwrapped hammer with one arm and twirled it like a baton with her fingers.

  “Damn, girl. Have you been working out?”

  “Something like that,” she replied. Steve grabbed it from her and pouted as his arm dropped a little with the weight. Beulah giggled.

  “You’d better let her handle it. It’s a little big for you. So—is it date night or what?”

  “Or what,” Gail answered flatly. “Please tell Edwin that this is a perfect gift, and I’m glad he’s OK.”

  “What the heck are we gonna do with a giftwrapped sledgehammer in Boston?” Steve the party pooper asked.

  “Whatever we want, Honey Bunny. See you soon, Beulah.”

  With that, Gail, Steve, and the new Baxter the Sledgehammer set out on a long walk through the side streets and along Huntington Avenue. More passersby sneered at the Y on Steve’s cap than the large hammer that Gail kept at her side. “Are you doing your thing?” he hissed.

  “Which thing?”

  “The invisible thing?”

  “Steve, you can totally see me. Now, are we actually going to talk about all the insanity, or are you just going to keep making idiotic quips until I hit you and finish what Jonathan started?”

  Steve stopped and pointed to a majestic building across the street. “We went to an Arthurian Art exhibition opening there. Oh, of course she was all happy to see . . . him . . . to see Ren. He was still Ren then.”

  “It was her body, wasn’t it?” Gail leaned against him, entranced by the night breeze whipping through the flags in front of the Museum of Fine Arts. “I’m sorry . . . and I’m even more sorry that I tried to give you false hope. With everything that’s happened, I feel like I’m losing my basic human empathy. I—”

  “She had that damn bunny tattoo. Morgan keeps going there and staring at her, and I left him with crazy Arthur. Lack of empathy is just a vampire trait. I was so focused on that moment—of her being dead and Arthur admitting . . . Damn it, I lost sight of everything.”

  “In the past two weeks, we’ve watched Paige bitch slap your mom, her pack learn to control themselves and blow us up with parmesan cheese, and then we turned ourselves in to try and find out how many humans know about vampires and werewolves—”

  “Learned that a bunch of pissed off bondsmen worked together to make super werewolves and that Jonathan left my little Pipsqueak to soul-search and deal with Arthur.”

  “And I came along for the ride because, in the end, you needed me and my stem-cell-mojo so that you could fuck with Arthur. All this time we’ve spent together, trying to figure out our abilities, getting reconnaissance—was it just a setup? Mina keeps showing up. What am I supposed to think?”

  “Mina and Lorcan are complicated. I’m an asshole who’s willing to use anyone. Nashville is a war zone. Georgia is really dead, and the world has gone to hell.”

  “Well, when you put it that way, let’s go get a drink. It’s not like it can get much worse tonight.”

  “Did you really just say those words, Pumpkin?”

  31

  “I think you know this already, but the brain does not die immediately after the heart stops. It fights back and holds on as if it is waiting for a spark. If by some miracle a spark should happen, then the mind roars back to life. Does that make any sense, mi amiga?”

  “It does now,” Georgia said as her eyes snapped open. “Holy shit, what are you doing here, Captain Fabulous?”

  “Sorpresa!” Javier said, making jazz hands in front of her face. “Just tell me, are you having as much fun being dead as I am?”

  Georgia leaned forwards, grabbing her chest. The scars had healed over, leaving her with itchy stitches. She stared in horror at the lines running around each wrist, but she was still able to move her hands despite the fact that they looked like they had been sewn back on. She heard a little “ahem” and quickly made a wrap out of her sheet, lifting it up briefly again to marvel at the lack of tubes in her torso.

  “You’re dead, too?” Georgia asked incredulously.

  “As dead as you, Señora DeMarco. Or should I say . . . lost?”

  “Lost . . . where is he? Where is the Sock Monster?” Georgia asked. Her stomach growled, and her throat stung with every word she spoke.

  Javier cocked his head. “Oh, you mean the strange creature who tucks el pito in a stocking? Yeah, he wandered off to go harass mi princesa again. It has been quite the crazy night. You can only imagine my surprise when I heard that old Imhotep was working on a new experiment, and when I sneak in here to disrupt it, why, I find you! You are supposed to be very, very dead, not merely functionally dead as I am. Did mi amor ererno do this to you, or did that bastardo Imhotep mess with you?”

  “Imhotep, the Egyptian architect?” She groaned and facepalmed. “Merlin?”

  “I was reading his notes. From what I can tell, he keeps trying to kill you, but it just won’t take. He is doing the same thing in the room next door. His solution to no one noticing you, however, is truly horrible. It’s atroz even by his standards.” Javier limped over to the counter and pulled out a mirror. Georgia gasped as she saw him check his reflection and fix his floppy mop of hair before bringing it over to her side. He angled it, so she could see the pattern of scars and striations radiating from her healed-over gunshot wound. A strange lump pulsed under her skin. As she touched it, she flickered out of view. The mirror clattered to the ground, cracking the glass.

  “What . . . what the hell is that?”

  Javier shrugged then rubbed his scruffy chin. “Now, I have never claimed to be a physician, but I think it may be a vampiro tumor—”

  “Vampire cancer!”

  “It is a part of a vampire that your body does not like but has dug into your bones and your scar tissue in the old wound.” He paused to grab the tablet in the room and read, “‘A miasma-secreting secondary gland from subject B. Lung, grafted into a lymph node and engineered to secrete obfuscation toxin perpetually or until Lazarus-2 subject’s permanent death.’”

  “B. Lung? Bam-Bam is inside me?”

  “From the rumors I’ve heard, it is certainly a fantasy of his—”

  Georgia found the will to swing her feet around and promptly toppled off the side of her bed. Javier caught her, somehow managing to balance both of them with a wobbly prosthetic and using the tablet to press against the counter. Georgia’s knees buckled, and the world started to spin. Javier held her disturbingly close so much that she could feel the whooshing in his chest roaring in her ears.

  Reality shifted around her, and as she pulled away, she saw red hair and so much blood. The whooshing remained, but it was fading and weak. Howling filled the air.

  “You can’t do this!” Georgia’s lips spat out the words, but the voice was again the strangely French-accented voice of Lorcan. She rolled off the bleeding body of Arthur Pendragon and into the mud, blood oozing from her side. The hulking shadow of a jet-black werewolf loomed over them, yanking a spear out of a footman’s body as it approached.

  Georgia desperately clawed at the dirt, throwing her body protectively over the helpless king. The werewolf snarled with an Irish-accented voice, “Move, you fool! I am doing this for you as much as for me.”

  “If you kill him, they will hunt you down until the end of time, Mordred. Stop fulfilling your mother’s dream and find one of your own.”

  “Are you still with me, mi amiga?”

  “Whoa.” Georgia shook her head. Javier’s arms were wrapped around her. She reflexively raised a brow.

  “Relax. I simply don’t want you on the floor,” Javier explained. He wrinkled his nose. “Most creatures in this world will instinctively avoid you, mi amiga. Combined with the fact that you are supposed to be dead, I fear that you and I are more alike than you would ever wish. Lo siento.”

  “I’m starving and want to drink about ten gallons of water—and get some clothes.”

  Javier pointed to the visitor chair. “Someone left you
a sock.”

  Javier peeled off his outer flannel shirt, so Georgia could slip it on. He whistled as she dropped the sheet and tied it into a skirt over her scarred, bony hips. “The Lung pendejo was a lucky man.”

  “Being in a coma is great for love handles,” she mumbled, taking baby steps towards the chair. “What am I doing? Merlin is going to kick my ass—”

  “He has to find you, mi amiga. Stay by my side, and he will find that very difficult.”

  “We have to get back to the pack and to Steve . . . oh god, how long have I been stuck here?”

  Javier let out a pathetic little laugh. “Let’s escape from Imhotep first. I don’t know how long you’ve been here, but you left Nashville months ago.”

  “And no one came after me because—”

  “Because to them, you are muerto, just as I am.”

  “Copycat,” Georgia mumbled. She picked at one of the stitches on her arm. Javier stopped her hand. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I have to find out what happened to me, and I’ve got to get back. I have to tell Steve—”

  She grabbed her chest. Her shoulder pulsed and throbbed. Javier held her tightly and whispered in her ear. “Do not move.”

  The door opened to reveal Merlin in a blood-spattered shirt and rumpled jacket. He stopped cold and stared at the broken mirror on the floor. Georgia held her breath. She could just see Merlin’s delightful confusion over Javier’s shoulder.

  “Georgia? Are you there?” he asked, stretching his arm out as if he were groping a ghost. “You are still weak, and I can help you if you just let me.”

  She glared at him. He looked in her direction, but true to Javier’s promise, Merlin couldn’t seem to see her. The vampire gritted his teeth.

  “Listen to me, you difficult woman. Your husband has just caused me a great deal of trouble. I’m tempted to toss both of you into the depths of the ocean, if it wouldn’t be an annoying violation of my people’s laws. Then again, I have no idea if even that would kill you. You need my help.”