by Alana Melos
“Reece!” Gerard shouted. “It’s done! We’re leaving!”
Looking over, I saw him wielding a flamethrower. He kept a steady stream on the wolf, backing up and around the edges of the room carefully. When the tree wolf snapped its massive jaws at him, it hit a metal shield which appeared out of nowhere. The flames cut off as Gerard could either attack or defend, but not both.
I floated up and flew to Rory, pulling at the vines in him. “I’m not leaving without you, Mauler,” I said, yanking at the branches which impaled him. He winced with pain, but didn’t try to talk me out of it.
“Now, Reece!” Regulus shouted. “It’s too strong!” Heat washed over my back as he tried the flamethrower again. I heard the sounds of battle behind me, the whoosh of air as the tree wolf swiped at him, and the awful clang and screech of metal as its claws scraped over his mini fortress. I winced at the sound. It hurt my ears worse than nails over a chalkboard.
“I’m not leaving him,” I growled under my breath. Flashes of the battle in Axis popped into my head, of how we leaned on each other, saved each other’s lives. I wasn’t going to leave him now. You never left a friend behind.
The branches fought back against my hands, growing thorns and piercing my mental body. The wound welled with blood as I pulled and tore at them, ripping them out of Rory with sheer determination. A wordless shout from Gerard made me turn. Just as I did, the tree wolf struck me, its claws piercing my chest. Pain exploded in my body, my mind, crushing me as my chest had been crushed.
I gaped, looking down at myself as the tree wolf removed the claws. Phantom blood welled and dropped in rivers. It’s not real, I told myself. It’s not real.
The searing pain overwhelmed me, racing through my body, but concentrating in my head. I screamed, but it wasn’t of pain. Oh no. This was rage. No one would defeat me. If there was anything I knew, it was that I wouldn’t break. I wouldn’t give up. I would not be defeated.
The rage burst from my body in a wave of energy, shredding everything in its path. The tree wolf backed up, pushed from the burst. Turning to Rory again, I wrapped my hands around the thickest branch and yanked, leaving bits of his flesh in the tree. I didn’t care. I was a creature of instinct now, reaching out to my friend, to my battle brother. The tree he hung from morphed, growing and stretching. If it couldn’t keep me from tearing him free, then it would trap me there as well. Light snuffed out, leaving Rory and I in darkness as I tore at the vines holding him.
“Fight with me,” I urged, growling the words. I sent my rage to him, inciting him, wanting him to shift and change and grow strong and powerful. I willed him to change, to become the wolf and tear himself free. Thorns grew inside the shell, piercing us both. “Fight!”
I felt him change, felt the flesh part under my fingers and the wet fur erupt from underneath. He grew, and I fed that, fed his rage at the tree, at captivity, at the world. I threw my arms around him and gave him everything that I had, my pain and my caring and my rage and my hatred. Everything.
That took the last of my rage induced strength. I clung to him as my safe port, trusting him to carry us free. One of his arms went around my middle. His claws scraped my flesh delicately, not wanting to hurt me, but needing to hold me tight. Waves of primitive emotions came from him, battering my torn consciousness: run, fight, live. We shared that goal.
With his other hand, he tore at the wooden shell enclosing us, ripping at it, heedless of the steel thorns. When light broke the surface, I could have wept. Things grew dark and hazy for me. I didn’t even have the energy in me to feel shame for failing again. All I felt was sweltering relief and gratitude, for knowing that as he busted out, he wasn’t going to leave me there in that nightmare. He tore and ripped. The wall surrounding us came down.
“Out,” I whispered. He heard me. He knew what I wanted. Our minds still connected, he shared his strength with me, willing me to stand, to get up, to fight, sisterr in blood. Fight.
His mental words carried the same growl his werewolf body did, and I smiled at it. His strength filling me enough so that I could stand, I pointed to the way out, which Gerard safeguarded. The tree wolf attacked him still, but turned when Mauler and I emerged from the hollow shell. It roared, but it was too late. Thoughts turned into action, and we fled, turning into wisps of smoke to retreat from the plant’s psyche and to return Rory to his rightful place in control of his own mind.
Chapter Eight
I snapped out of my daze, my head alight with metaphorical fire. The left side of my face screamed agony and I raised a hand to touch my cheek there, just below my eye. “Ugh,” I whispered, then cut myself off. That one syllable sent screaming tendrils of pain through my face. This was worse than the ripping pain from the previous night. That had been battery acid splashed on my face. This was lava running through my veins.
In an instant, Gerard loomed in front of me. His fingers dug into my biceps as he hauled me out of the chair to stand before him. My vision doubled at the movement. I blinked, trying to clear my head. “What did you do?” he snarled. “I told you we should have left!”
“I saved him,” I said, and I heard the pleasure in my voice as the agony throbbing through my skull began to ebb.
Gerard’s face twisted with anger and fear. I knew what lurked deep beneath his mask of innocence and manipulation. His hate and rage rivalled my own. In many ways, it surpassed mine as he’d had more time to accumulate little hurts and insults, to nurture his anger so it burned hot under constant stoking. It simmered under the surface of his mind, always under control. He couldn’t live without control.
Now, his mask lay torn asunder and his real self was writ large across his face, control shattered. The hands holding me trembled. His ice blue eyes searched my face, and I saw his fear, naked and vulnerable… which was not a word I had ever associated with him. Before I could formulate what to say, he let go of one of my arms and hit me across the face. Stars exploded behind my eyes. I think I blacked out for a second. Another hit, on the other side, jarred me anew.
I saw the fist come whistling down for a third time, but another hand caught it. Adira materialized, her face a mask of icy anger as she held his hand at bay. “You will explain yourself, now,” she said, the statement a cold command.
He turned to her. As he did, his mask slipped back into place. Oh, sure, he still looked angry, but that edge of fear and the hint of insanity had left, hidden as if it had never been. “Let go of me,” he said, his voice trembling with repressed rage. She did and surprise flitted across her fair features. “Now sit down and be quiet. Little girls should be seen and not heard,” he said, his voice turning to honey to add insult to injury.
She sat down where she stood without hesitation, her eyes wide. Perhaps she’d never experienced that sort of control before, or hadn’t paid attention to the rumors surrounding Gerard since he’d helped her pack on more than one occasion. Now she knew better.
With the reprieve given to me by his distraction, I pushed him away. He let go, retreating a step, but his eyes burned when he looked at me. “What did you do, Reece?” He shook his head, his fists clenched.
“I saved him,” I said, agony pounding in my head in time to my heartbeat.
“Maybe,” Gerard conceded, “but you crippled yourself doing it. I told you we should have gone. I told you to take my lead.” He jabbed a finger in my chest, “And you didn’t.”
I scoffed. Even that little gesture made the waves of agony in my head turbulent. “Talk softer,” I whispered. “My head hurts.”
His hand twitched. “You crippled yourself!” he hissed, his voice low and deadly. “What in the fuck were you thinking about? Sharing minds, sharing power, with a freak like that?!” He swiveled and pointed at the unconscious Rory. The drugs hadn’t worn off yet, so we wouldn’t see if he was in charge for sure until he woke, but I knew he was. At least, I was pretty sure.
“I’m not crippled,” I said, sitting back again on the chair. “I’m just… my head j
ust hurts.”
Adira shifted where she sat, looking as though she wanted to say something. Her lips remained firmly shut. I reached out for her…
...and woke to Gerard shaking me. My eyes snapped open, pain playing havoc with my sight and hearing. I swore I heard my blood rushing through my veins. The tide of it was endless.
“I’m awake, I’m awake!” I said, pushing him back to get him out of my face.
“I told you, Reece,” he said, letting go of me again and stepping back. He tilted his head up and uttered a crazy laugh, the kind which sounded like it could turn to a sob in a heartbeat. I stared at him, pain forgotten for the moment in utter confusion at his reactions. “I told you. You crippled yourself. And you… you….” He laughed again as he shook his head, “What’s that you say? Life’s a joke, and the joke’s on me.”
“What in the fuck are you talking about?” I asked, but he turned to exit the motel room. “Gerard, what are you--no, don’t you leave!”
He swiveled on a heel and jabbed a finger towards me. “Don’t you tell me what to do,” he said, but he stayed where he was. “Don’t you tell me ever again what to do. I don’t want anything to do with you. Leave me the hell alone.”
“What… why?”
“Your telepathy,” he said. “You’re done. It’s done.” He closed his eyes as he shook his head, laughing without mirth.
“What?” I said, then blinked as it clicked into place. I had reached for Adira, and then nothing. With great caution, I attempted the smallest bit of telepathic work I could think of: a simple emotional scan. White hot pain lanced through my head, and I gave it up the second I started. The only good thing about that was the regular horrific agony in my head was pale in comparison to the torment caused by the try.
“That’s impossible,” I whispered, glancing to the vampire. Adira shrugged and made a motion to her wrist. She raised a brow. I got what she suggested: maybe vampire blood would heal it. Maybe not. It’d be something to discuss a little later.
“It’s not impossible, Reece,” Gerard said, running a hand through his short blond and gray hair. “You could have been lobotomized. You could have woken up and had wolfboy in your body. You don’t… you can’t take psychic surgery lightly. There’s a reason there aren’t that many psychics around. It’s dangerous. They either kill themselves or other people kill them for fear of what we can do.”
My head wouldn’t stop shaking. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Why didn’t…” he started, then laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He bent his head for a second, then straightened and let go of his face to wave absently with the same hand. “Oh, oh yes. Why didn’t I stop her, she asks, when she ignored all my warnings and just charged ahead.” He kept laughing, openly mocking me.
“Get out,” I snarled, taking the pain the raised voice caused. “Just fuck off.”
“Gladly,” he said, turning and walking away without a second’s hesitation. He slammed the flimsy motel door behind him so hard the frame cracked.
The instant he was out of sight, Adira breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Do you want me to kill him?” she asked as she stood, brushing herself off.
“Let him go,” I said. “He helped. He… he… oh, fuck.” I bent my head and pressed my palms to my temple. Everything hurt. Thoughts slipped through my mental fingers like running sand.
“Here,” Adira said. I raised my hands slightly to see her bite her wrist. “A little. It will take the worst of it away.”
I didn’t particularly want to be mindfucked by the vampire blood, but the pain was too intense to bear for much longer. As the ruby liquid welled and dripped from the wound she’d made, I lowered my hands and brought her wrist to my mouth. It wasn’t as intimate as the last time I’d fed from her, but as the crimson liquid splashed into my mouth and down my throat, the throbbing began to cease. After drinking for a minute and letting myself rest, the pain faded to a manageable level, then continued to shrink as time went on, leaving nothing but blessed stillness behind.
“Thank you,” I said, looking at her dark eyes. When I reached for her again, tentatively, pain flared, but nothing like before. Instead, I experienced a different sort of pain as I sensed nothing from her. She might have been a doll or a piece of wood for all I knew. I stopped reaching and the pain subsided. What did I do to myself? I shook my head. “I don’t… I think he’s right.”
“There’s a way to fix it,” she said, patting my hand as she tried to soothe me. She turned and nodded to Rory, who slumbered on blissfully unaware of the drama around him. “You fixed him.”
“Maybe I made him a psychic werewolf,” I said, my voice glum.
“If you did, then there would be a way to give it back to you,” she said, confident. I cracked a smile at that and turned my hand so that our hands were joined. I squeezed before I let it go.
“Thank you,” I said.
“No, thank you,” she replied. “Because of you, I have my wolf back. I have my partner back.” Her lips twitched and she blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold back tears.
“Adira…” I said, looking at her look at him. “What about Nosferatu? You know he’s not your Nosferatu, right?” Jealousy writhed in me at the thought of the two of them together, but, thanks to her blood, concern for her rose to the top of my mind like curdled cream.
“I know,” she said. “He’s different. But still my Master. His blood… his blood is the same, but his motivations are so very different.” She paused, her face scrunching up as she thought things over. “In Axis, he chose each of us. He made us his children. There was no question of loyalty. He even embraced the wolves, making them part of us. It was us against the world.” She paused, “I think he knew the Reich would betray us eventually. It was never about service to the Reich, but about the bonds of battle, brothers and sisters in blood.”
Rory had used that term many times before and I’d adopted it as I rather liked the idea. “The Reich did betray him,” I pointed out. It hadn’t been overt, but it had been happening. Vamps and wolves there had gone “missing in action” when the Reich had really been doing experiments on them, trying to transfer their power into something human and thus, more controllable.
“And we rebelled,” she said, sighing, her face drooping in sadness. “I think he must be dead now. I think my brothers and sisters there must also be dead.”
“They haven’t invaded here, and they’d been planning to,” I said. “Something had to hold them up. It has to be Nazferatu and the rest of your pack. What else could it be?” I shrugged and massaged my temple, trying not to think about the loss of my power. “They sent like one guy after the Siren. That was it.” Of course, he’d been a crazy Frankenstein zombie robot making necromancer who packed a mean punch, but still, he’d only been one guy.
Adira shook her head, the fingers on her good hand roaming absently over the scars on her maimed left. “I hope,” she said, “but I do not think so.” She clapped her hands together in a brisk motion, “That’s the past and we need to think of the now and the future. Rory’s alive, and so are you. We’ll find a way to restore you. There has to be some way.”
I shrugged while I struggled not to drown under waves of hopelessness. Hopelessness… sadness… grief… that sense of loss. I was maimed like she was. She could get a graft, maybe, or cybernetic fingers to replace the ones she’d lost. What could I do? There wasn’t anything that I knew, and Gerard was pissed at me. He was supposed to be my mentor, my teacher, but I’d ignored what he’d been trying to teach me. I closed my eyes to try to stuff all of these feelings under my blanket of not-feeling-much, but they refused to stay put. I couldn’t even really manipulate my own head anymore. What if I didn’t have any psychic defenses? What if I was as open to other telepaths as normies had been to me? I shuddered at the thought and decided it was far better to take Adira’s optimism than this miasma of defeat. Maybe there was a way. This was Imperial City, after all, a place where minor miracles happened day aft
er day.
I gazed at Rory’s sleeping form. “Give me a call when he wakes up,” I told her. “I want to see if he’s OK.” If I gave up that much to save him, I wanted to see what my power had bought. It had better be worth it. “I’m going to go and get sorted out.”
Adira clapped me on my shoulder. “It will be well,” she said. “Rest. I’ll call.” When I nodded and brushed the hair out of my face, she added, “Thank you, Caprice. I owe you almost as much as I do my Master.”
“Careful around him,” I said, wanting her to be safe and happy. I didn’t really want to leave, but I knew it was the vampire blood making me yearn to wrap my arms around her and never let go. I didn’t need the distraction right now.
“I will be… we will be,” she amended.
With the last assurance, I grabbed my coat and sword then left the seedy motel. When I took off, I blinked at myself. I hadn’t even tried my telekinesis in the small room, freaking out about my ‘pathy. As I took off out of instinct, a great rush of relief went through me. I wasn’t completely crippled after all. The two powers must work out of different sections of the brain, especially since it seemed as strong as ever. Taking that as a good sign, I flew deeper into the city and landed near an entrance to the Underground.
Maybe there was a way to get my telepathy back. It might just take a deal with a demon.
Chapter Nine
“But he knows me,” I said, trying to keep the whine out of my voice and failing. “He knows me, and I’m sure he’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
The bored looking sucky-bus flipped her jet black hair over her shoulder and smacked her gum at me. She stood dressed as most sucky-busses did: something short, revealing, and black. The black paired well with her blood red skin. “I told you,” she said, rolling her eyes at me. “You’re banned for life.”