Death Knell

by Hailey Edwards

  Panicked, I searched beyond her to where Santiago cradled his hand against his chest. After patting Portia on the shoulder, I crossed to where he leaned against our SUV and held out my hand. He snarled at me, hunching over his injury. Someone had the presence of mind to bind it, but I wanted to see the wound for myself. Instinct was pushing me to be certain my people were intact.

  “Stop being a baby.” I grabbed his wrist and took care while unwrapping his injured hand. I stopped, blinked, then blasted Portia with an incredulous glare. “You put his pinky on backwards.”

  “Are you sure?” She widened her eyes and cupped her mouth with her palm. “I’m ever-so-sorry.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Santiago curled his lip over his teeth. “You did that on purpose.”

  “I’m not a doctor.” She shrugged. “How am I supposed to know what goes where?”

  “You’ve got a hand full of fingers,” he snapped. “That’s how you know.”

  “Okay, kids.” I rubbed my finger gently over the fused seam. “What do we do now?”

  “It will have to be cut off and regrown.” He shook his bloody hand at her. “That will take forever.”

  “A week tops.” She cocked a hip and crossed her arms over her chest. “You heard Luce. Stop being a baby.”

  “You do realize we’re kind of in the middle of something here.” I pegged her with a glare I would never turn on Maggie in a million years. “Why would you do this?”

  Chin jutting out, Portia said, “He told us our butt looks big in our fatigues.”

  Oh yes. Adrenaline had our hormones blasting off like fireworks. I’ve got to admit, it made me feel better knowing I wasn’t the only one skirting the edge of conflagration. A five-dollar word I learned from my kissy books, so there. “Santiago, why were you looking at their butt in the first place?”

  “They told me to kiss it,” he said innocently. “I was debating where I ought to plant one when I noticed the options were endless.”

  An inhuman snarl clawed up Portia’s throat, and her fingers hooked into talons.

  “Let it go.” I stepped between them. “He’s not worth ruining your manicure.”

  Portia stuck out her tongue at Santiago, who responded by lifting his hand and biting off his pinky. He spat it in his palm then hurled it at her. The digit bounced off her forehead, leaving a smear, and she caught it in the vicinity of her cleavage.

  “That’s as close to copping a feel as you’ll ever get.” She tucked it away in her pocket. “Nice try, though.”

  “Quiet.” The single command zipped all our lips as Miller coalesced from the darkness, his stride loose and his face serene. All he needed was a lit cigarette to complete the picture of postcoital bliss. A full belly was rare for him, from what I understood. Satiation wasn’t a bad look on him. He strolled right up to Portia and peered down at her. “Show me.”

  The color drained from her face. “Miller . . . ”

  He leaned in closer, and Santiago palmed a dagger as he hissed, “Show. Me.”

  Maggie swam up to the surface, her ascent slower than usual. A sign of her reluctance or Portia’s?

  I mirrored Santiago’s stance, falchion in hand, and watched Miller for signs this was about to go bad.

  “Hi, Miller.” Mags licked the pad of her thumb then wiped a piece of God-only-knows-what off his left eyebrow with a trembling hand. The reminder of what she used to be, of all the tiny faces she had once cleaned with equal care in her classroom caved my chest beneath the pressure of my guilt. Those smudges had been dirt, not blood, but his lost boy expression brought out the nurturer in her all the same. “I can’t be here.”

  “You make it better,” he said simply. “Your light lessens the darkness.”

  “You’re not alone.” Maggie extended her hand to him, and this time it didn’t quiver as she squeezed his shoulder. “The only way the darkness wins is if you let it convince you otherwise.”

  “Go,” he rasped. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

  Portia blinked into awareness, lowering her arm, and Miller shuttered his expression.

  I wrapped an arm around his waist and held him tight. I’m not sure I had ever side-hugged anyone, except maybe Maggie, but he looked like he needed one, and the instinctive unease I usually felt when maintaining contact failed to surface.

  That’s how Cole found me a quarter of an hour later.

  Without breaking his stride, he prowled over to me. Prying me from Miller, he wrapped me in his arms. He buried his face at my neck and just breathed. Allowing him to settle, I scratched his prickly scalp and wondered at the texture. It must be time for a haircut. He usually kept it as stubble across his head, but I felt maybe a quarter inch of growth. It made me wonder how he looked with hair and if I would get to see it long one day.

  “We’re running out of time.” Wu plucked his upper lip while he stared at a tablet screen. “Recovery took longer than expected.” He passed the device back to Santiago. “We can call it now, go back to the hotel, and dream of War’s pissed off expression when she realizes what we’ve cost her.”

  “Or—” I caught the drift of his motivational speech and filled in the blanks, “—we can take down one last target and cripple her.” I stared at the others over Cole’s shoulder and hated that this was only the beginning. “But skilled fighters can only do so much against sheer numbers.”

  “Nice.” Santiago slow-clapped for me. “Now I feel all pumped up about our odds.”

  “I should have left the speechifying to Wu.” I rested my chin on Cole’s shoulder. “Sorry, guys. What I meant to say was ‘Rah, rah! Go team!’”

  “Shake your pom-poms for me,” Santiago suggested. “Maybe that will motivate me.”

  Portia slapped the back of his head. “Pig.”

  “Oink, oink,” he deadpanned.

  “How have you put up with them for so long?” I whispered in Cole’s ear. “I would have strangled them by now.”

  “I duct tape their mouths, hands, and feet once every six months, so I can enjoy the quiet.”

  “Smart.” I laughed against his skin. “How are you holding up?”

  “I can manage.” He straightened to his full height. “We need to finish this then get Miller and me back to the bunkhouse before we crash.” His expression tightened. “We’ll be out of commission for a few days.”

  Snakes, depending on their size and the meal they consumed, could spend days or weeks digesting their prey and then go months without eating. I was guessing charun biology must speed up the process, or else there was no way Cole or Miller would be able to down a second helping. But I wasn’t going to ask.

  The same man whose breath on my throat gave me chills had devoured entire people.

  At least he chewed them first. Did that make it better or worse than what Miller must do?

  And did I really want to know? The portion of my brain still convinced I was human was screaming. It had been for a long time. Hours or days. Hard to tell at this point. I figured eventually it would get tired and shut up, but that hadn’t happened yet. Each fresh horror I witnessed gave it a fresh lungful of air, and here we go again.

  Tomorrow I would have to sit Maggie down and judge her level of okayness for myself.

  Maybe we both ought to take Kapoor up on his offer of counseling. I was coping, but it was costing me. I wasn’t as sure about Mags. With Portia acting as a buffer, she might be fine. But with Miller so invested in her, I couldn’t afford not to take precautions.

  Bad enough for one-quarter of the upcoming apocalypse to love her and want her safe. Toss in an infatuated being with world-ending capabilities, and Maggie just might be the single most important person on the planet.

  “We stick to our teams.” Wu seized control of the op when it became obvious the rest of us weren’t interested in calling more shots. “Portia, Santiago, Miller.” He snapped his fingers at them. “Cole, Luce, and me.”

  “Wait.” A cold knot formed in my gut. “What about Thom?”<
br />
  “He’s not back yet.” Wu met my eyes when he said it, like that might soften the blow. “We’ve waited as long as we dare.”

  “What about his com?” I spun on Santiago. “He was texting Cole earlier. Can we check in?”

  “His signal went dark about twenty minutes ago.” He raked his hands through his hair. “The tech is jury-rigged out of scrap. Just an idea I had on the fly. I’m surprised it lasted this long.”

  “We don’t know if the tech failed or . . . ” I shut my eyes, breathed. “We have to get him back.”

  “Fuck,” Santiago spat, summing up my thoughts exactly. “This just became a rescue mission.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  With Thom missing, Wu claimed his right as my partner. Santiago and Portia kept their duo intact. As much as it pained Miller to let Maggie out of his sight, he paired with Cole.

  The fatigue, the sarcasm, the flirtations. All of it had been wiped away as if it had never existed.

  We opted for a three-pronged attack. Our heavy-hitters would waltz through the front door and provide the distraction. While the Drosera rushed to mend the breach, the other teams would enter from the sides and start clearing stores. And searching for Thom.

  “Focus,” Wu murmured too low for his voice to carry. “You’re no good to any of us dead.”

  We crouched in a small courtyard overgrown with vines and waited for the party to get started.

  “I’m good.” And I was. No cold place required. They had taken Thom, and I was getting him back. End of story.

  The look he turned on me was grim, and I wondered at the regret pinching the corners of his eyes.

  He wanted me to access my inner charun. He wanted me to step up to the plate. Well, this was me. I had a bat in my hands—okay, a falchion—and I was ready to take a swing. This time, I wouldn’t miss.

  Inhuman screams erupted on the other side of the wall in front of us.

  “Keep your head clear. Your head, not hers.” He tapped my temple with his index finger. “Don’t let her off the chain.”

  Wu shot to his feet and angled his body perpendicular with a low window. A metal pipe filled his hands, one he must have scavenged, and he swung. Glass shattered, a loud crack of noise, and he used the pipe to knock out the jagged teeth. He hopped through without drawing blood, and I followed his example. By the time he glanced back, I was at his side. We entered the building together, and the smell almost knocked me on my ass.

  Urine and feces smeared the tiled halls, and the drag marks from scaly bellies reminded me of how gators slid down muddy inclines to splash in the swamp. The bulk of the nest must be keeping it au naturel on the home front. The ones wearing skin suits had to maintain those or lose them, but the pungent stench I learned well during my time on the streets convinced me they weren’t playing human while safe behind these walls. Every corner was a toilet, and they were overflowing.

  The room we entered might have been a clothing store in another life. Wads of dirty fabric mounded together to form nests on the floor, but we were alone. Wu had managed to give us the advantage of not dumping us out into the main hall. That must be what he and Santiago had bent their heads together over—floorplans.

  Careful of his footing on the slick tiles, Wu led the way to the security door, which had been ripped from its hinges. He peered around the corner in both directions, flared his nostrils, and gave me a nod. I flowed out behind him, keeping the falchion down at my side and one hand on my gun. Bullets might not stop charun, but the familiar weight of the weapon grounded me in my skin.

  Once out in the hall, I cast a quick glance over my shoulder. The mall dead-ended behind us. We didn’t have to watch our backs.

  Yep. Wu had definitely done his homework.

  The first clot of Drosera, all wearing skin suits, guarded a door leading into a massive space that must have once belonged to one of the anchor stores. Wu sliced through the first charun before the others tore their rapt attention from the commotion down the hall to defend themselves. Clearly, they had been counting on the dead end to protect them too. A good reminder for me that there were no guarantees while inside the nest.

  I swung the falchion and hacked through the neck of the second charun, and its head spun across the floor. Wu had moved on to his next target when a fourth rammed its shoulder into mine and sent me spinning into the wall.

  Impact knocked the breath out of me, but I recovered and drove my blade through its heart. The organ’s placement should have mirrored a human’s while they were fused, but that wasn’t enough to stop it. It hauled itself further onto the blade and closer to me, until the man it used to be could have kissed me.

  “Butterflies can’t . . . fly . . . without wings.”

  “Keep spouting crazy.” I brought my knee up, smashing his groin, and the charun howled. At least that bit of anatomy remained the same. “Get out all the last words you want, I’ll listen.”

  Surrendering my grip on the blade, I brought my gun up and blasted four rounds through his forehead.

  The charun slumped forward, his weight crushing me against the wall, grinding the falchion’s hilt into my gut.

  “That was sloppy.” Wu gripped the charun by the back of the neck, held him aloft while he retrieved the blade, then tossed him aside like he was nothing. “If you’re close enough to chat, then you’re close enough to die.”

  “Thanks for that gem.” I accepted the falchion when he passed it to me. “It’s not like I pulled up a chair and invited him to join my quilting circle. I was trying to kill him. He just wouldn’t die.”

  “You need a bigger sword.”

  “Men always think bigger is better.”

  “Women do too.”

  I choked on a laugh before I remembered where we were, what we were doing.

  The adrenaline dump flipped all kinds of interesting switches in charun. Gallows humor was nothing new to a cop, but this newly awakened side of me kept whispering there was a third option. Fight or flight was for humans. Fight or flight or fuck was for us. And we all seemed to skate the edge when our blood got pumping.

  We dispatched four more stores full of charun. Three of which held more skin suits. The fourth, that was the nasty one. Half of those lounged like gators on a riverbank. We had to team up, and we still almost lost the fight. Wu did lose a chunk of his thigh, and I got a nasty gash to my upper arm that was slow to clot.

  After that, we took a breather in the hall. Wu refused to go down, but he was weak, and I was determined. I forced him to sit. As disgusting as it was, I had to get him off his leg. I knelt beside him, unfastened his belt and yanked it from around his waist. It made a decent tourniquet, but it wasn’t a miracle cure.

  Once I had him patched up, he ripped off his shirt and tore it into ribbons he used to bind my wound. The pressure numbed me until I couldn’t feel the pain. That was nice. But it also meant I couldn’t use the arm. My dominant one. Of course.

  “We’re done. You can’t walk. I can’t swing a blade. We’re dripping like wet paint, and soon the Drosera will scent us and home in on our location. Our part in this mission is over, and there’s no hope of extraction.” Down here, the smell was so much worse. That had to be why my eyes were burning, hot tears rolling down my cheeks. Wu’s thigh would get infected if he didn’t seek immediate medical treatment, and our medic was . . . Damn it. I was supposed to be leading the charge to find Thom, not sidelined in this cesspit waiting on a status report once the dust cleared. “There’s no one to answer an SOS even if I could send one.”

  “Go,” Wu panted. “Find one of the other teams and join them.”

  “I’m not leaving you.” I let a growl enter my voice. “Partners don’t leave each other behind.”

  “Thom needs you,” he reasoned. “I don’t.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” I let him watch my slow perusal of his battered form. “How do you figure?”

  “We’ve cleared the hall up to this point.” He swept his arm out to encompass our swath of destr
uction. “I can fly out.”

  “Your wingspan is too large.” I wasn’t buying that for a minute. “You can’t just soar down the hall and out that window. You’ll get caught, and those pretty feathers will get ripped from your back.”

  The offhand comment set a distant alarm bell clanging in the back of my head, but I was too focused on Wu to tune in to its warning.

  “I’m not going through the window.” He pointed ahead to where a weak shaft of moonlight glistened on the tiles. “I’m going through the skylight.” He lifted his hand and brandished the same length of pipe he’d used to clear the window. I recognized the neon paint splashed down one side. He must have traded out one of his elegant blades for a blunt-force weapon. “Get me there, and I can handle the rest. I’ll do recon outside and take out any runners.”

  “I still don’t like this plan, but I can’t think of a better one.” That bell hadn’t quieted yet, and its implications got harder to ignore. “What that Drosera said before he died . . . He was taunting me. About Thom.” I got to my feet and helped him to his. He slung an arm across my shoulders, and I wrapped one around his waist. “We need to find him.”

  “They’ll use him as bait.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “There’s a town in the Atacama Desert in Chile called Calama that has never recorded rainfall.”

  Shaking my head, I set out toward the skylight beneath the defunct food court and hauled him along with me. “I forgot you’re a trivia wiz.”

  He grinned, but it was strained. “It’s amazing what factoids you accumulate over a lifetime.”

  “A lifetime like yours maybe.” I cut him a look. “I get a headache when I try to imagine how old you are, all you must have seen and done.”

  “You’re not much younger than I am,” he pointed out. “Punching through the terrenes takes its toll. The differences in planetary rotations ages you more than living on one your whole life.”

  Talking kept his mind off the raw meat frontage on his thigh, so I kept going. “You’re going to make my head explode.”