Bloodlands

by Christine Cody

  Gabriel’s vision wavered. A fever dream from the silver, he thought. This couldn’t be real. . . .

  The attacker was only half-man, standing on his two legs as he bent to thrust his antlers into Stamp’s employee again. The other half of him looked like a massive elk, with hooves, long legs, a short tail, and a tannish brown hide. . . .

  It gazed at Gabriel, grinding its teeth, its eyes a glowing yellow in what almost resembled the grimace of a man’s face. Then it used its antlers to push its victim’s body to Gabriel before it ran away. With surreal fascination, Gabriel heard that the prey’s heart had stopped beating, and though he wanted blood, he knew a dead man would poison him even more.

  The elk-thing had galloped to where another creature—part woman, part mule deer—was pummeling another member of Stamp’s crew with her front legs, rapidly stomping on his stomach. The elk man nudged her aside and gored this thug, too, tossing him away with his antlers.

  Gabriel heard the first gunshot from the crew, and he had the presence of mind to pull the grenade out of a pocket, enable it, then toss it at what seemed to be the last bunch of employees who’d huddled behind a nearby boulder to take cover.

  Rock and flesh burst into the air with the explosion.

  Collapsing, Gabriel watched as he tried to gather more strength. Meanwhile, in his fever dream, he saw a man-scorpion, multiple limbs waving as it used pincers to crush two crew members at once while lashing its tail out to sting a woman who dropped the rifle she had been aiming at him. Next to the scorpion, a Gila monster–man was chewing down on an employee who’d already had his guts clawed out.

  Gabriel’s sight wavered again just as he heard a howl, an angry roar, and he rolled to his back, finding a wolf creature flashing its teeth, then tearing into two more employees at one time with frightening speed. When it had finished, the woman-animal tossed down its prey, then panted as it hunched and surveyed the scene for more targets.

  Like the rest, this monster was bare of clothing. Its reddish fur bristled away from a slim body, its teeth sharp in a snout, its ears canine, its eyes a glowing green.

  It paused, as if startled to find Gabriel looking at it. Then, just before the silver crept over his sight altogether, he heard the creature’s vital signs—how they sounded like a livid crash of notes that infiltrated him with a song he’d always been on the brink of understanding. He felt a vague connection, a link he’d forged when he’d looked into those eyes earlier tonight, before she’d fought him about going outside—before her voice had become almost unrecognizable, before she’d fought so ferociously with Chaplin.

  Gabriel remembered what Stamp had told him.

  Everyone else who’s been hiding.

  He sank into the silver, which felt more like grief, as the last thing he saw was Mariah’s feverishly green eyes glowing in the face of a monster.

  27

  Mariah

  A couple of hours later, my body aching, I huddled into myself while waiting for Gabriel to awaken from his resting spot on the floor of the common room, where all of us had laid him out.

  In a way, I didn’t want him to open his eyes, which had looked at me with such compassion and . . . Hell, I didn’t know what it was, but I knew Gabriel would hold no tenderness for me now.

  He’d found out why we’d been so secretive and, from this point on, there’d be no more lies.

  No more for anyone.

  The hatred I expected from Gabriel didn’t mean I’d stopped feeling for him. Back at the loom tree gully, after the melee had gotten under control, I’d turned back to my good, human form. With my senses returned, I’d seen how weak he was, seen the cross wounds that marred his forehead and cheek. He’d passed out, and I’d assumed it was because of silver poisoning, so I’d opened my wrist to allow blood to drop into his mouth. Soon, I’d seen the shriveling effects of the silver on his skin fading, and I’d felt like at least one portion of the world was righted.

  But only one.

  While my blood had done its work, I’d searched for that bastard Stamp. Didn’t find him anywhere—not in the old mine, or even at his deserted spread, where I took Gabriel’s zoom bike to also see if Zel was being kept captive.

  No.

  At not being able to find her, I’d given in to my grief, running, crying out until my pain echoed under the sky. Every time I changed into a full were-creature, it was like I experienced everything from a distance. My rage was a vague thing, like someone else was screaming, howling, aching. It was probably the only thing that allowed me to think distantly afterward, too.

  But not this time. Not when I finally had to face what I’d done.

  By the time I’d gotten back home, I’d returned to my calmer human shape again. The others had the still-sleeping Gabriel safely ensconced, and I’d fed him more blood, then dressed and gone to a corner until he roused. A corner where, once again, I could beat myself up for all that I’d brought about.

  Round me, my neighbors sat in stoic vigil, not a one looking at me, but that was nothing new. I’d forged a lifetime of earning their disappointment.

  Even as I sat alone, there was one thing keeping me company. A tiny thrill—a flutter of joy I should’ve shunned. I’d been free tonight, let loose outside to do as much damage as I could. There were no boundaries I kept myself from crossing, no fear about blood.

  No fear at all.

  Still, freedom was the real problem, wasn’t it? The lack of fear, the wildness, the unrestrained craving for raw, hot blood that I’d promised I would push aside, even to the point of denying it to myself. But I was just as much a bad guy as anyone, and I couldn’t block it out or lie to anyone about it any longer.

  How could I lie when I’d seen the look on Gabriel’s face when he’d spied the animal in me, just before he’d passed out? He was the most honest and open amongst us, even as a vampire, and he hadn’t been able to hide his surprise. Repulsion. In his eyes, I’d witnessed that mirror reflection I’d feared—the image of a monster directed right back at me.

  I glanced at everyone in the room, knowing I’d have even more penance ahead.

  The group had pretty much healed from the injuries sustained during the face-off. Thanks to the explosives and the element of surprise, we’d won—if you could even call it winning. Although Stamp’s crew had been decimated, we guessed that he was still out there, thanks to the lack of a dead body for proof. If he’d retreated to the hubs along with the female crew member who’d helped him escape, it would take him a while to round up enough of a mob to come after us. And that was exactly why we’d never dared show ourselves in the first place—because we knew this was the price for being what we were. We just hadn’t been willing to pay it before Gabriel had tried to do it for us.

  By now, we had all cleaned the blood off our skin, nourished ourselves to revitalize our bodies, and dressed back into our clothes, mostly out of respect for Gabriel when he awakened. Before Stamp had come to the New Badlands, we hadn’t minded clothing so much, but afterward . . . ?

  Afterward, we had tried so hard to seem as human as we still believed we could be most days.

  Across the room, Pucci was pretending I didn’t exist. He’d been aggressive during the showdown, using the best weapons he had—antlers, speed, strength. But he hated me more than ever. The only reason he wasn’t attacking me was that were-blood was toxic for us—it was Mother Nature’s way of allowing different strengths of were-creatures to live together, I guess. It was as if she’d known that, one day, my neighbors would want to chew me apart.

  “I can’t believe we were brought to this point,” he said, rubbing his arm, where he was obviously still sore. When our kind willed a change, it was harder on the body than a change during the call of the moon. “I can’t believe we had to. If we’d just stayed in human form, Stamp would’ve never detected us.”

  “He turned out to be a Shredder,” the oldster said. “Who knows what he would’ve discovered, no matter how well we hid? But now we need to think ab
out the future—where we’ll run, how much time we’ll have to relocate.”

  He was kneeling by Gabriel’s prone side, dressed in his usual earth-toned denim. The oldster was normally the last one to give in to his were-scorpion change whenever the moon was full; that was when a were-creature couldn’t help giving in to the turning, although most weres changed every so often to let off steam. Heightened emotions could also bring on a turning, but the oldster didn’t often give in to that sort of change. He had excellent control.

  However, after Zel’s death, the change had been all too easy for him. He’d been about as able to control himself as I had lately.

  Hana was covered by her gray-brown robes again, but I could still see remnants of her mule deer form in her big, dark eyes, which were filled with discomfort from a willed change, too. Like the oldster and Pucci, she’d been true-born—a were-creature because of birth, not a bite, so she lived with all the changes pretty well.

  “Zel had to have changed form in front of Stamp,” she said to Pucci. “He knew what she was, and that is why he sent his men here while Gabriel was at the gully. We are only fortunate to have already left before they arrived for what no doubt was meant to be a surprise attack.”

  We’d seen evidence of the crew’s presence all over the place in the overturned furniture and careless boot prints. Thank-all Chaplin had hidden from them just after waking up from my neck pinch.

  Like Hana, I’d suspected that Zel had changed form in front of Stamp. Knowing what we knew about him now, it would have been only a matter of time before a Shredder identified all of us. If it hadn’t been for Zel losing control, we might’ve even fooled him for a while, seeing as were-creatures didn’t have their preter powers in human form and were hard to ID because of that. And we’d had the demon to pin the murders on.

  Now I deflated at that, too. God-all, the murders of Stamp’s men. That was another thing I’d have to confront tonight.

  But at the moment, Pucci was bristling at Hana’s comment, which he would take as “backtalk.” In my corner, I kept my gaze on him for her sake. I was barely aware of Chaplin, who’d remained far and away from me.

  He woofed, cutting the tension in the room, and since Zel wasn’t round anymore to translate, I braved a few words to my neighbors about what my estranged dog had said.

  “Chaplin says we should begin packing while we wait for Gabriel.” I looked at the ground, wanting to do everything I could to win their forgiveness. “I can stay here with him if you all want to get started.”

  “No,” Sammy said, grunting as he shifted position. He’d also be extra sore after changing back, too. “I want to be round when he wakes up, if anything just so he knows how much we appreciate what he did.” He had his brown-and-orange hemp clothing back on. Like his mutated Gila monster form, he dressed himself to blend with the earth, but there was no covering his resentment at me right now.

  “I cannot imagine a home better than this,” Hana said.

  “Anywhere that won’t get us silver-bulleted to death will be better.” Pucci crossed his arms over his big chest, furrowing his brow. “Frankly, it looks as if this territory’s time is up, anyway. Bit by bit, we all found it. Then Annie came. And then that demon, who obviously scented out Chompers’s mangled, messed-up body before the carrion feeders even got there. Bad timing for that particular monster.”

  Hana kneeled by Gabriel, checking on the progress of his healing wounds—the bruises and swells on his face, the cross burns. “Gabriel came to us, too.”

  When no one said anything, I could guess why. They were miffed that me and Chaplin had never told them our guest was a vampire or what my dog had planned for him. But there’d been plenty of reasons for that. First, Gabriel wasn’t intending to stay very long. More important, Chaplin hadn’t wanted them to toss Gabriel out before he could be of use against Stamp. He had fit right in. He’d even inspired a few, like the oldster and . . .

  Well, Zel.

  I hung my head, dwelling on how Gabriel’s presence had brought matters to where they never should’ve been. As I’d told him once, he summoned the good in me . . . but also the wicked—the bad side I controlled in a body that occasionally exploded with the force of my restraint. And Gabriel had been the only one besides a full moon phase that’d ever brought out the passion, the anger.

  The bad.

  I’d never felt half of what I did for him before, and the learning process had affected us all.

  Under Hana’s palm, Gabriel moved his head, and everyone shifted, getting to their feet. When he groaned, Hana murmured to him, just as she’d done earlier while the oldster had privately self-healed his own head wound under her calming guidance, which had only speeded his recovery.

  When Gabriel opened his eyes, it seemed as if he didn’t know where he was. But then he saw Hana kneeling over him, and the oldster, Pucci, Sammy, even Chaplin, who was a few inches back from the rest of them.

  Gabriel turned his head, as if hearing my quickened pulse, seeking it out in my far corner.

  The peace he’d instilled earlier was about gone. In fact, I think it’d mostly left me when I was doing damage to Stamp’s men, obliterating every one of my targets except for the woman who’d escaped with Stamp.

  There was a glint in Gabriel’s eyes, and for an instant, I grabbed on to the possibility that my deceit, and even my monstrous truths, didn’t matter. But then he seemed to remember how I’d no doubt looked in the raging moonlight while standing on two feet, not quite a wolf, not quite a woman, teeth sharp and gleaming, eyes glowing, skin covered with fur, fingers clawed and nailed and tipped with human blood.

  He kept watching me, and I also recognized sorrow.

  A vampire’s sorrow.

  I heard myself talking. “I never wanted you to know. I did everything I could to keep you from the reality until the time came for you to leave us behind and not think another thought about us.”

  The oldster joined in. “Mariah’s not the only one who was keeping you in the dark, Gabriel. We all believed you’d find your fill with Annie and be on your way.”

  Everyone except Chaplin, I thought.

  “But then you stayed,” I whispered.

  “When . . .” Gabriel started to ask. Yet speaking seemed to be painful for him, even with the healing. Still, he forged on. “When were you thinking of telling me?”

  Chaplin mumbled, and I spoke for him.

  “Chaplin says that he told Zel to relay to everyone that they should stay mum about what we are until you went on your way.”

  My dog continued talking, and then I added, “He says that by being in your mind, even superficially, he could tell that you didn’t suspect the truth. This gave him the leeway to introduce you to everyone, then organize his plan to keep us safe from Stamp.”

  Gabriel stared at the ceiling. “The plan to get me to fight for you. Isn’t that right, boy?”

  Chaplin nodded, then sank to the floor, burying his head in his paws and flashing those brown eyes in apology.

  “I know,” Gabriel told the canine, and I realized that Chaplin must’ve offered even more sorries mind-to-mind with the vampire. There was no need to hide a thought-link from us now.

  Then he talked to the entire room. “It’s gonna take a while for me to understand. To get over how you deceived me. But at the very least you came to help me when I needed it.”

  The oldster shrugged. “Took us long enough, but when Mariah told us you were confronting Stamp for our sake”—he shot a chiding glance to Chaplin, who’d sent Gabriel out there—“that was all that was required. Plus, there was Zel . . .”

  His breath caught, and he pressed his lips together, controlling his response before it went too far, as it’d done earlier when he’d learned of Zel’s death.

  “There was no other choice but to go out there,” Sammy said. “Having you fighting for our problems just didn’t sit right.”

  “Besides,” Hana added, “we were already revealed to the Shredder because of
Zel.”

  Gabriel seemed as if he were still coming out of his silver-addled daze. “I remember when the oldster and I were going after her, and Pucci said to ‘make sure Zel doesn’t . . .’ Then he was cut off by the door.”

  Pucci gave me a dirty look. He’d also been cut off by the sight of my revolver in his face because he’d been about to say too much in front of Gabriel.

  I didn’t regret that one bit.

  Gabriel stared at the ceiling again. “Pucci was about to tell the oldster to make sure she didn’t change in front of Stamp, wasn’t he?”

  The oldster coughed, and I knew he was hiding something like a sob.

  “If you’re still wondering if Zel somehow survived her attack,” Gabriel said, “she didn’t. I found out that Stamp used a silver bullet on her.”

  The confirmation stabbed at me. Earlier, when Gabriel had let us know that Zel had been shot through the heart, we hadn’t known it’d been with silver. A regular bullet wouldn’t have killed Zel. That was why there’d still been hope.

  “I only wish,” the oldster said, “I’d had more to offer during the fight than what my abilities allow.”

  And I wished I’d gone after her. I’d regret it for the rest of my life.

  “All oyour abilities,” Gabriel said, “seemed to work just fine on Stamp’s men. You were fast, strong. Every one of you held your own, especially with the aid of the explosives. But . . .” He shook his head, as if he still couldn’t believe he’d seen us so altered.

  Sammy said, “It’s just that we believed we could finally live as humans out here. There was no point in telling a stranger like you about us. We’d be endangering our safety, and believe me, we had enough to worry about besides that.”

  Although none of them acknowledged it, I knew Sammy was talking about me. There was still so much Gabriel didn’t know. So much I’d have to tell him.

  No more lies, though.

  Pucci had taken a seat on a crate chair. “We were all drawn out here because the land gave us what we needed and, person by person, we found each other. Until about a year ago, the oldster would watch for preter activity, then invite us in. Eventually we formed a clan.” He laughed a bit. “Poor Sammy wasn’t a birth-were, so when he came to us, he took some coaching.”