Bad Blood

by Ren Hamilton

  Patrick’s body jerked and he cried out in pain. In his mind he had a clear image of Joey’s head being slammed against a tree. Shep glanced over at him, then looked back at Margol. “Go find Joey. Immediately.”

  Margol nodded. “Yes, Shepherd.” He darted up the stairs.

  “Untie me Shep! Damn it! I need to go check on Joey.”

  “Margol is checking on him.” Shep smiled at Patrick. “Sorry, Obrien. I promised Juris I’d keep you all tied up down here. Payback for keeping him prisoner. Be thankful that’s all I promised him. You should have heard what he wanted me to do with you.” Shep headed for the stairs. “I’ll be back,” he said to the group. “Try not to miss me too much.”

  Yes, go, Patrick thought. Go check out the house next door and walk into Agent Walsh’s trap. As soon as the door at the top of the stairs slammed shut, Patrick screamed, arching his back.

  “Patrick!” Robin gasped. “Tell me how to help!”

  “It must be the blood bond,” Father Carbone said. “Something must really be happening to Joey.”

  “Are you serious?” Copie said. “I thought he was faking that shit to get Shep to untie him.”

  “Not…faking,” Patrick squeaked out, then he threw himself onto the floor and strained against the ropes until his face flushed with blood. The ropes popped and he was free.

  “Holy shit!” Copie said.

  Patrick threw the ropes off and stood. “I have to go to Joey. I don’t fucking want to, but I have no choice. And I need to get him to the guest house, like Walsh told us to do.”

  “Untie us first!” Copie yelled.

  Still pumped with whatever odd power was pulsing through him, Patrick tore at their ropes until they were all free. “That gunshot was a signal that Agent Litner is here. It’s likely about to get messy out there. You all might be safer staying here.”

  “Fuck that,” Father Carbone said, shaking off his ropes. The rest of them stared. “What? You actually expect us to stay in this house with the insane murdering angels? I’ll take the messy outside crap, thank you very fucking much.”

  Patrick smiled in spite of the pain in his face, and in his head. “Okay, Father Carbone. It’s your choice.”

  “You’re fucking right. Now show us the way out of this loony bin.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Shep decided to enter the big brown house through the front this time. There were too many places to hide back in that overgrown garden, and he wasn’t about to let himself be ambushed by Captain Trigger-happy.

  He looked up at the second-floor windows, brightly lit from inside. A figure walked past the window, and it was so unexpected that Shep actually jumped. He took a step back and waited. Then he saw him again, the kook with the long gray hair. He walked past the second window, in plain sight. Then he stopped and looked down. He seemed to be looking directly at Shep, then he turned and disappeared from view.

  Waiting for me. The thought came to Shep as clear as if he’d read it on a page. Training with Klee the past few days had amplified Shep’s own abilities, as he’d had to lead by example in order to get his brother to trust his own power in his new, physical form. Now Shep was like a raw nerve, his mental perception at peak. He urged his mind to enter the house and find the veteran, who skulked about upstairs, seeming to…

  Waiting for me.

  The thought came again and Shep winced. Something was not right here. He had the distinct sense that he was being lured in. But for what reason? Waiting for me. Waiting to trap me. The thought began to gain more substance as Shep concentrated on the windows above. He calmed himself and focused. He needed to see the man again. He needed to look into his eyes, even if it was from a distance. His heart pounded with the threat of danger, a natural warning urging him to flee. But he did not flee. He watched the windows.

  Finally, the man with the long gray hair passed the window again. He turned his head for a moment and looked down. For that brief moment, Shep locked onto his energy, then the man moved out of sight again. At this distance, he was only able to receive a jumbling of impressions, but he did pick up one crucial piece of the puzzle. He gasped, taking a step back.

  FBI.

  Waiting for me.

  The FBI is waiting for me.

  “Shit!” Shep said aloud.

  Of course. It made perfect sense now. This was no half-wit redneck. This guy was a federal agent. He’d probably been spying on them since they’d moved to Forest Bluffs.

  “Shit!” Shep said again, angered by his own stupidity. He should have known. He should have figured it out sooner. Then a grin spread across his face. They were expecting him to enter the house. They were trying to lure him away from the crop. Well, he would just have to give them a little surprise of his own.

  He scurried back through the woods to the storage bunker, examining the explosive devices stacked along the shelves. After filling a sack with the appropriate items, he returned to the big brown house. First, he looked to see if the stranger was still inside, and soon saw his silhouette, purposely walking in front of the upstairs windows. Shep doused the exterior with gasoline. He stayed close to the house, flattened up against it so the agent lurking above would not see him.

  When he’d saturated the perimeter, he opened a rear window and tossed the gas container in. It landed on its side just in front of the stairs and the remaining gas spilled onto the floor. It also triggered some sort of booby trap—a heavy netted cage shaped like a bell fell from the ceiling onto the floor with a resounding clunk. Shep grinned at what was to be his prison. Then he tossed the explosive device through the rear window. Scrambling around to the front, he tossed the second device in through the front door, then made for the woods.

  He was whistling when he pressed the detonator and heard the first explosion.

  “Ashes to ashes.” He looked back over his shoulder and saw the flames shoot up the back of the house with a loud whoof. He pressed the second detonator. “And dust to dust.” The front of the house exploded. “Fuck with me, will you? Think you’re so smart. Look at you now.”

  Satisfied, he turned toward home.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Joey was tied to a tree. He had ropes around his chest, waist, and ankles. His arms were free but the tree trunk was so thick he couldn’t reach back to where the ropes were knotted. His lip hurt, the taste of blood tainting his mouth. He’d fought so hard one of the followers had to punch him in the face, knocking him unconscious. He remembered as the darkness fell, the young man gripping his shoulders and pleading for forgiveness.

  His entire following seemed to have gone stark raving mad. He looked over at the bonfire that blazed in the center of the field. Music tinkled. A few shadowy bodies danced around the fire, while the rest made some sort of preparations. Two of the women were busy uncorking wine bottles. Joey squinted as he tried to make sense of things, his head still woozy from the blow.

  Had he heard an explosion in the distance? And as he was waking from unconsciousness, he swore he spotted Margol standing in the woods along the tree line, watching him. Joey had called out to him, but his voice was weak. When he looked again, Margol was gone.

  Was Margol not going to help him? What the hell was happening? Maybe he should have been nicer to Shep’s freakish brothers. He knew they didn’t like him. Margol probably wanted him gone. Joey imagined the creepy redhead convincing Shep to wipe the slate clean and start fresh with a new messiah. The thought brought a deep ache inside, the first hint of real emotional pain he’d felt in years, an unfamiliar and unpleasant sensation. But it quickly dissipated. What a foolish thought to have. Shep would never leave Joey. Never. Of this he was certain.

  Then Kelinda was there suddenly, standing before him. Her pink hair shone from the firelight, giving it an orange halo, and her beautiful blue eyes twinkled with hostility.

  “Kelinda what’s going on? Why are you doing this to me?”

  She reached up and ran a finger along his lip. The finger came away with bl
ood and she put it in her mouth, sucking contentedly before popping it out. “We’re having a little party tonight. You’re the guest of honor.”

  “That’s nice of you, but I’m very busy. Maybe you could just cut me down and we could make it another night.”

  “There’s a power in you,” she said, ignoring his plea. “You’ve given a portion of it to me, but of course, you already know that. I heard you and Shep talking about it one night. About how you could always kill me if I got out of hand. Do you remember? Well, Joey, I think I may have gotten out of hand.”

  Joey swallowed hard, his tongue like sandpaper. “Kelinda, wait. I never meant—”

  “You gave me so much of your wonderful essence that I decided to share it. Why be selfish, right? Now the followers share in my essence. But it’s not enough. My source is not pure and I can only give them so much. They want more.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She smiled. “You’re going to sacrifice yourself like a good little messiah. We will drink of your blood and be healed.”

  “The fuck you will! Get me down from here!” Joey struggled against the ropes.

  “Don’t bother fighting, Joey. It’s your destiny.”

  Joey realized the strange jingling music had stopped. He looked up to see the followers forming a line in front of him. They each held an open bottle of wine. Kelinda pulled a glittering silver knife out from under her nightdress. She held it up to the sky as if in ceremony, then brought it down and sliced Joey’s palm. He screamed, but his voice seemed to get lost in the trees.

  Lifting his hand, she showed the wound to the followers. Sounds of awe ran through the crowd. “This is his body!” she called out. “Which will be given up for you!”

  The crowd cheered. All of those eyes were focused on Joey, their usual looks of adoration replaced with a maniacal hunger. Kelinda licked the blood off his palm. The followers quieted, waiting anxiously behind her with the wine bottles. “You know what’s ironic, Joey?” she whispered. “I never wanted to share you before. I guess I’ve grown more secure in our relationship.”

  “You’re a crazy bitch.”

  “Yes, Joey. I am crazy. And who made me that way?”

  He couldn’t argue. It was he who had done this to her. There was no denying it. “Shep ordered me to seduce you. He was worried you’d talk. About the apparition. He wanted you close. You didn’t deserve it. But it wasn’t my idea, and I’m sorry, Kelinda. I am.”

  “Not half as sorry as you’re gonna be,” she whispered. Turning to the crowd, she raised her arms over her head. “Bring forth the wine!”

  “Great party. Mind if I crash?”

  Kelinda spun furiously around to see Patrick standing there. Robin stood behind him with a frightened looking young man and a priest. “Patrick, get the fuck out of here! You don’t belong here.”

  Joey experienced a quick flood of relief, his senses calming as the blood bond he had with Patrick tingled in acknowledgment. It should have given him absolute certainty that he was saved, considering Patrick was his Shield. But his old friend hadn’t been handling the betrayal well, so he wasn’t completely sure. “Obrien! Hey! Buddy! Listen, I’ve been meaning to tell you how sorry I am about that whole lying to you for ten years thing. No hard feelings, right?”

  “Don’t worry, Joey. I’m still bound to your lying ass. Are you all right?”

  “I’ve been better.”

  Kelinda moved toward Patrick, waving the knife. “Don’t challenge me, Patrick. I have not yet shown you my full strength.”

  Patrick took a step toward her. “And I have not yet shown you mine.”

  Kelinda lunged at him. He ducked to the side and she stumbled, dropping the knife. Patrick stepped on the knife and she hit him in the chest with startling force. He was thrown backward. She dove for him and he caught her by the arm, hurling her over his head. She hit the ground with a thud, but was on her feet again and facing him within seconds.

  Patrick began to charge her when six of the followers were on him. He fought them furiously. He tossed one aside and punched another in the face. Kelinda looked nervous for a moment, but then more followers came. They kept coming. Even with Patrick’s heightened strength, he couldn’t hold all of them off.

  As Joey watched his Shield taken down by the crowd, he wondered if he was going to die tonight. He tried to make himself care, but with the changes Shep had made to his body, it was impossible. There was no fear, only annoyance. There was no sadness to be summoned. Only regret that he couldn’t see Shep one last time, and thank him for putting his soul to sleep. In this moment, he realized the gravity of what Shep had done to him.

  And that it was the most glorious gift.

  ****

  With Kelinda distracted watching the struggle, Robin hurried over to the tree where Joey was. He blinked slowly, licking his dry lips. “Robin. Get me down.”

  “I will. First drink this.” She held the tiny vial up to his mouth.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s blood. The blood of your true family. The blood of those who love you for yourself, not for spells or trickery or because of some phony miracle, Joey.”

  Joey sneered at the vial. “You want me to drink blood?”

  Always the actor, she thought. “Give me a break, dearest cousin. It’s not like it’s something you’ve never done before. I know about you and Shep.”

  He stared at her a moment, then dropped the phony disgust. “What will it do?”

  “It will free you.”

  “Free me from what?”

  “Take a look around, Joey!”

  A pained expression pinched his brows. “There’s no going back for me.”

  “There is if you drink this. At least it’s a start. It’ll free you of the bonds so you can make your own choices again.”

  Something flickered in his eyes, his expression thoughtful. “I’ll have full control back? No bonds?”

  “That’s the idea. Do you want that?”

  He glanced over at Kelinda, who was shouting orders at the followers who struggled to restrain Patrick. “Will it break the bond Kelinda feels for me? Will she be free?”

  Robin’s brows rose. “Is that guilt I’m hearing? I thought you had no conscience.”

  “Not guilt,” he said. “But I’d really like it if she’d stop trying to drink me to death.”

  “Fair point.” Robin lifted the vial to his lips. “Ready?”

  “Are you sure it’ll work?”

  “No,” she said honestly. “There’s a good chance it will do nothing.”

  He looked wary, but finally he nodded and opened his mouth. Robin poured the blood in, making sure it went down his throat. She spoke the simple, somewhat hokey words Aunt Betsy had given her. “Dissolve this bind and make you whole, by heart and blood I call your soul.”

  Joey finished swallowing. He smiled at Robin, and she returned it. “Feel okay?”

  “No different, but I feel fine.”

  “Shit,” she said. “Guess it was worth a try.”

  “Listen Robin, thanks for caring enough to—” Joey gasped. His eyes rolled back and he began to convulse.

  “Oh shit! Joey!” Robin cried. “What’s wrong?”

  Joey thrashed, all the muscles in his body simultaneously contracting. A strand of drool ran down his chin and Robin was afraid he was dying. “Joey! Oh God, what have I done,” she cried. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. Please don’t die. Please. I love you so much. I’m sorry!”

  Slowly, Joey stopped twitching. His head hung limply. He appeared to be sleeping. Robin leaned in and touched him. He was breathing. It was shallow, but he was alive, and breathing. “Thank God,” Robin whispered, stroking his cheek. “You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? I’m gonna get you down from here now, and we’ll get you checked out at a hospital.”

  Two of the followers grabbed her and pulled her back. Kelinda stood before her. “Keep your hands off him, Robin!”

  “Kelinda, please. Joey’s
sick, and you need help too. Just forget all this and help me cut him down. We’ll get you both to a hospital.”

  “No! You back off, Robin. Joey is ours. We’re going to absorb him.”

  Robin up at Joey. His head still hung limply but she could see the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes blinked occasionally. Kelinda took a step toward him.

  “Touch him and I’ll kill you,” Robin said.

  Kelinda laughed. “It doesn’t look like any of you are in a position to stop me,” she said. Robin followed Kelinda’s gaze, where no less than twelve men had Patrick pinned to the ground. Copie and the priest had also been restrained. Kelinda walked over to Joey and lifted his bloody hand. “Bring the wine!” she ordered. The followers retrieved their bottles and lined up again.

  Kelinda took the bottle from the first in line. She held it under Joey’s bleeding hand and squeezed droplets in. As she turned to give the bottle back to the follower, she stopped suddenly. Sniffing the bottle, she looked quickly up at Joey. Grabbing his hand, she sniffed his palm, then her head jerked back as though she’d smelled something foul. Running a finger across the wound on his palm, she touched the blood to her tongue. Confusion twisted her expression, then she licked the entire palm.

  Pausing, she turned and spit the blood out onto the ground. The followers simultaneously gasped. “What is wrong?” one of them called out.

  Kelinda spun around, her faced contorted with rage, and pointed a blood-stained finger at Robin. “What did you do?”

  Robin froze. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Sniffing the bottle again, Kelinda threw it against a neighboring tree. It shattered and red wine spilled down the bark. “His power is gone! I can’t taste it anymore!” She took a step toward Robin. “It was you,” she hissed. “You took it out of him, didn’t you? You took it out of him, you bitch. I’ll kill you!”

  She ran at Robin in a blind rage. Confused, the two men holding Robin’s arms let go, allowing her to drop just as Kelinda reached her. Rolling onto her back, she kicked Kelinda hard in the stomach with both feet.