Where We Stand

by Angela White

  Kendle wasn’t sure why she’d been able to outlast the others in their group once they started flipping into madness, but she still had a part of her sanity that had sent her to an auto store for a filter to use a silencer. She’d gotten them alone, one by one, and given them peace. She hadn’t felt anything while pulling the triggers. No joy, no guilt, no soul breaking in two. Just rage at the people who’d sentenced them all to this.

  Her nails dug into the skin of her palms and Kendle flung the kit to the dirt, standing up. She needed a real release if she was going to follow Marc’s rules.

  When she vanished into the shadows around their camp, Marc followed her. From the cracks of the hayroom, he’d witnessed what women like her needed when the stress was too much. He wasn’t sure he could do it, but he was about to find out.

  “If you get too close, I’ll attack,” Kendle warned coldly. “I can’t help it right now.”

  Marc grabbed her arm and swung her around, not surprised by the crimson orbs and snarling lips. “Hit me.”

  Kendle paused, struggling to regain control of herself, and Marc followed through.

  Slap!

  Kendle glanced up from the ground for a bare instant. Then she lunged.

  It was a vicious fight where Marc did his best to keep from being bitten, and not hurt her. Those wild punches would be good if they landed where she aimed, and the kicks were strong despite missing their mark.

  He gave her a hard shove to the ground, making sure it hurt a little so that she would listen. “Stop now.”

  Kendle wiped the blood from her lip with a growl. “More! Please!”

  “Not like this,” Marc denied. “Let me train you. Let us help you.”

  Kendle trembled, close to snapping. “Not sure I can, Brady.”

  Marc leaned down into her personal space, ready to stop her lunge if it was needed. “There are a thousand soldiers where we’re going. Too many for you to ever kill the way you are now. We can make sure you get to see all the blood you want.”

  Kendle began filling with a hunger that Marc knew to lean away from. He stood up, extending his hand. “Ten days. That’s all.”

  Kendle closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. “You’ll have to give me releases.”

  She didn’t say, since you won’t sleep with me, but Marc heard it.

  “I’m sorry it can’t be the kind you want, but I will provide something for you to take your anger out on each time we camp. Will that work?”

  Kendle shuddered. “Yes.”

  Marc watched her draw in the rage until there was only a hint of red around her pretty violet. “Very good. Let’s do another workout and then you’ll be able to sleep.”

  Kendle let him lead her into the firelight and this time when he began to train her, there was no shortage of help. Witnessing how rough Marc had been–her lips was split and shoulder bruising an ugly purple–gave proof to his words about nothing interfering. They didn’t understand that she’d just gotten her first Eagle evaluation. Marc knew a convert when he saw one now, thanks to Adrian.

  I really hate that man, he thought bitterly.

  5

  “May we enter your camp?”

  The call came as Marc flipped Kendle over his shoulder.

  She hit the ground with a thud and got to her feet, glaring.

  Marc made sure she was under control before he turned to meet the newest arrivals. She appeared to be doing better, but he suspected it was great act. Inside Kendle, madness was boiling steadily and Marc hadn’t found a way to save her. He wasn’t sure there was one. He was only grateful that she was controlling herself.

  “Welcome,” Natoli called to the riders coming in. “Welcome, our Delaware and Iroquois brothers, to the camp of the Ghost.”

  With bruises and scrapes, no shirt, but guns on each hips, Kendle thought Marc appeared the part as he went to shake with each of the men. These were more of theirs, though Kendle wasn’t sure exactly what that meant yet. All she cared for was justice. Marc had given her a target and in the morning, they would reach it. He hadn’t told his men yet, but Kendle was sure Marc panned to do some damage right away. The majority of his plan would take place along 40, but after this short time with him, Kendle doubted Marc would just spot them in Denver and then quietly flee. In fact, if he did, she was leaving and going in on her own. She would rather die down there tomorrow alone, than to wait two more weeks for what the Indians were calling the greatest battle of their time. She wanted to fight now.

  “Slip off while he’s distracted,” that inner voice suggested. “Go kill them.”

  Kendle closed her lids, trying to fight the suicide order. The time with Marc had given her a tiny ray of hope. He knew how to handle her, was teaching her to control it. There might be a tiny chance of surviving the fight and even recovering if she could get it together. The disease that was currently ravaging her mind had given her more strength and Kendle wasn’t aware of how hard she was gripping her knife until it began to bend.

  She quickly shoved it against the ground to straighten it, hoping no one had noticed. They already knew–they’d felt her hits during the training sessions–but they didn’t know it was more than that.

  She was avoiding water, even insisting that Marc delay their one bridge crossing. She had asked for a pill. Impatient and not needing the lack of respect from the men if he detoured, Marc had gently clipped her on the jaw and carried her in his arms. Kendle was grateful.

  Marc’s confident voice went over the camp in even waves, and Kendle shoved herself down onto the ground to wait until he was ready to resume the lesson. While she sat there, she dug in the dirt with her fingers and tried to go over the things he’d taught her, but it was hard to concentrate with that voice whispering how sweet the blood would flow.

  The others who’d been with them for the trip through tribal lands understood that Kendle was like Marc, and that they were different from the Indians and other men they’d known since the war. The new people never had that bond and all of them had gotten used to Marc’s slight withdraw upon new men. He wanted to give them time to adjust before showing his true nature. It was a good idea, but destined to fail, as fate doesn’t like having her every move planned out. Sometimes, she likes to throw in a wildcard.

  Marc felt the wind drop, the chill of battle fall into place, and sent out his grid, searching for their guards. Five still dots instead of men moving closer told Marc their new people were a distraction to allow their sentries to be taken out.

  “Weapons! Now!”

  The area flooded with confusion as his Eagles and Kendle flew to his side. The Indians did the same and Marc found himself in the crushing center of a mass of bodies. The feel of a gun in his side wasn’t unexpected, but infuriating.

  “Coward!” he hissed as the man pulled the trigger.

  Kendle’s knife went across the Chickasaw traitor’s throat an instant later and both men slumped to the dirt as the group pushed away this time.

  Marc slowly stood up, and Kendle’s eyes flashed crimson at the sight of the blood on him. When the orbs began shooting from her hands, Marc closed his in relief.

  Paul and Jax joined her, adding their energy to increase her power, and Marc felt the wound heal around the bullet like it belonged there.

  Kendle sank to the ground, tears flowing down her red cheeks as she stared at her hands. “What am I?”

  Marc gave her the truth. “A weapon and a savior. You’ve come for blood and absolution, as have we all.”

  From that instant on, Kendle didn’t think her control would be an issue. Knowing her purpose, the reason life had so cruelly abused her, was a balm. She would hold onto it and be whatever they needed.

  Marc got to his feet, expecting to have to comfort or confront their new men. He found all seven of them observing in awed amusement.

  “Do not stop on our account,” their leader stated thickly. “Your demons will be very useful to us all.”

  The Delaware Indian carried scars on his
chest that Marc knew only came from a painful ritual that few would even dare.

  “You know of others like us.”

  The tall Indian’s eyes lit with a tinge of crimson and Marc laughed in delight.

  “Welcome, my brother. Welcome to the Shadow Riders.”

  6

  “I’m leaving after the final battle.”

  Marc had expected it. “I understand.”

  Losing Leslie had hurt Jax, changed him. The only fire he had left now was the kind a man used for killing. He needed to go out on his own and find out if there was anything else left on this planet that might satisfy him in her place. Marc thought the odds were slim.

  “You’ll keep in touch?”

  Jax shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Again, Marc understood. “You should take Paul along. He feels your pain, too.”

  Marc left Jax with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Marc didn’t want to lose either man, but they were almost useless to Safe Haven in their depression. Maybe together they could help each other continue to some sort of recovery instead of the expected downward spiral that grief brought.

  7

  “We’re you always a Marine?”

  Marc frowned at the question as Kendle joined him, not sure how to answer.

  “Yes.”

  “Signed up as a teenager?”

  “Let’s say that,” he grunted, glaring toward the East. “Why?”

  “Just conversation.”

  They’d been hiding, waiting for the next group of soldiers to come through, for what felt like hours to Kendle. Being inside the ground was a horrible strain on her.

  “What were you? Before?”

  “A fallen star.”

  “You’re Sabrina Roberts. I’ve seen that show, seen you.”

  He viewed her suspiciously as the other men muttered and murmured, clearly listening. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because I’m not that person anymore. I’ve changed.”

  “For the better?”

  “It’s too soon to tell,” Kendle answered miserably. “What about you? Better now or before the War?”

  “Now,” he answered without a hesitation. “I was noting before.”

  Kendle’s tone was thoughtful. “I thought my life was perfect. Now I can spot the flaws, the cracks I had to fill, and I keep wondering why I even bothered to survive at all. The ocean could have taken me. Would have been better for the future.”

  Marc as surprised to find he not only understood, he didn’t like her anxiety.

  “You were good. You taught people things with that show.”

  “I got off on the thrill. I could have done so much more.”

  “That’s true of us all, Kendle. The best you can do is make up for it. You know that?”

  Kendle settled down onto her bedroll. “Yes, I do. I’m where I’m supposed to be. I feel that strongly.”

  “So do I,” Marc whispered, moving to their spy-hole. “So do I.”

  A quick look confirmed it would be a while yet and Marc took up his post near her, mind constantly spinning on one thing… the fastest way to do damage and get home to his heart.

  “Where was your group from?”

  Kendle sighed, thinking of the warm, tropical breezes she’d left behind. “Luke and I flew here from the south. The others were a traveling store that stopped to take our plane They tried to help Luke, but none of us had any idea what to do. When he got better, we were all relieved. He was too weak for us to be on our own, though, and the store clerks liked our stories of the island. They camped with us to let Luke regain his strength and then we stayed with them as they came west.”

  “And Luke wasn’t recovered,” Marc guessed.

  “No. The disease is hard to predict. I’m assuming it mutated, because what we dealt with on the island was merciless. Luke should have been driven insane in that couple weeks. This stuff made him angry, but he was controlling it, learning to handle the rages. I thought he would beat it.”

  Kendle shuddered in revulsion. “One of the clerks cut her hand while cooking and Luke saw it. He…”

  “Snapped,” Marc filled in. He’d only seen a couple of the victims of the newest gut-wrenching disease, but it had been enough to make him wary.

  “Yes. He infected two of them. I… I shot him that night, when he begged me to.”

  “And the others?”

  Kendle trembled, but Marc saw her strength, too. This was a hard, cold bitch when crossed.

  “They couldn’t control themselves as the disease sank in. They infected each other.” Kendle responded angrily in defense. “I went behind them, cleaned up their messes, and then I killed them.”

  “Why haven’t you snapped? You’ve been carrying it longer than him, right?”

  Kendle’ body went into a freeze that Marc recognized and loathed. “You were hurt first.”

  “Yes,” Kendle whispered. “But I’m stronger than Ethan. He can’t win.”

  Marc also realized she was still wrestling those demons and his concern grew. She would be dangerous to have around, a possible threat to their future. Maybe. “How did your man become infected?”

  “We fought the pirates and their ghosts,” Kendle moaned lowly, hating to face those memories. “I didn’t know he’d been bit until we were in the air.”

  “And you’re sure you aren’t contagious?”

  “Yes.”

  The tone and his sharp mind put it together. “You have snapped.”

  Kendle was instantly filled with remorse. “Long before we came here. Luke was trying to help. He moved too fast and I…”

  “Couldn’t stop yourself.”

  “I’ll still stay away from your men as much as I can,” Kendle responded unhappily.

  “Too bad you can’t infect the enemy,” Marc mused, letting her know what type of plans he was making around her.

  Kendle didn’t care. She’d already wished for the same thing, but common sense had kept her from trying to make any type of a plan like that. If she let this disease loose, how would she pull it back?

  Marc had more questions, but was stopped from it by the sound of hooves pounding on the pavement.

  The horses around them closed in, creating a wall of protection, and Marc scanned the new riders.

  “From… Montana,” he figured out, using his grid to map their trail. It was another extremely useful skill he’d recently discovered. “They’re okay. Let them join.”

  Marc’s choice wasn’t questioned, even though he now had natural enemies together in close proximity. He would lead them to victory against the soldiers. It was the only grievance they had time for.

  8

  “There are a dozen riders coming. They have shod horses.”

  Marc woke in a grouchy flash of alertness and stopped his horse. He was exhausted.

  They’d been traveling straight through and the city of Denver was close. They’d had people join them steadily, white, black, indian, and Marc had tended their wounds in gratitude for swelling the ranks. There were now hundreds of men in this group.

  “Have to do something about that soon,” he muttered, viewing the large dust cloud that said these men were riding hard to catch up.

  The sight of the sombreros and pistols jerked Marc into the past and he drew his right Colt as he swung down from the horse.

  Marc waved the others back, going out to meet these himself. What did the Mexicans want?

  The group of riders slowed and stopped at enough distance to ease Marc’s riders, but not him. He remembered too much from the rest stop, from Zack’s memories.

  Two of the Mexicans slid from their horses and ambled out to meet him, grinning hugely.

  “It is you!”

  “We have news, senior Ghost.”

  Marc waited with his gun pointed down. “So talk.”

  The first man began to babble, but Marc watched the second man as he continued to evaluate those around them.

  “We wish to join your fight, senior! W
e can add many guns.”

  “Why?”

  Marc’s cold tone was telling his men that the Mexicans weren’t welcome and the demon spoke up quietly. “We need them.”

  “You want something,” Marc stated. “What?”

  Sebastian’s face lost all welcome. “It is true.”

  Marc didn’t pretend any ignorance. He needed the stories to grow. “What do you want?”

  Sebastian gestured rudely. “We have become peaceful in the south. The land is recovering, there is game again to hunt. We will not allow the United States to interfere with this.”

  Marc was convinced of the honesty. He just wasn’t sure he could stand to be around them every day without slitting the man’s throat. “You’ll stay back. Your kind has done a lot of damage to me personally. Trust will have to be earned.”

  Sebastian scowled. “Do not hold all Mexicans responsible for the actions of a few. Cesar was never one of us.”

  Marc blinked. “You knew him.”

  Sebastian grinned sadly. “My brother was never smart in his hatred of the Americans. It has always been their government we should have fought against–together.”

  Instinct said these men would add a great value to his army and Marc couldn’t deny that.

  “You’ll stay back until we trust you,” he repeated.

  “Aye, senior, but we will be there when it matters. You will see.”

  Marc wasn’t convinced, but didn’t argue the point. “Welcome to my riders.”

  The group was on the road a few minutes later and Marc let his mind return to the doze he’d been in before they arrived. He had to refill somehow soon, even if it meant getting someone alone for a while and stealing it without their notice. He had no idea how to… feed from people, but he was about to learn. Having the Mexicans with them would stretch his nerves to the breaking point if he didn’t have a reserve to use. He didn’t trust them at all and the fact that it was Cesar’s brother now staring hard enough to burn holes into his head, made it worse.

  The men with him also felt his unease, and kept the new riders as far from Marc and his woman as they could. Until he officially cleared them, the Mexicans would find body-blocks and hostile attitudes.

  9