Obsidian Wings (Rune Alexander) Page 3

  He stared down at her, the first stirrings of anger beginning to show in his vivid blue eyes. “I’m not afraid for them.”

  She could only gape.

  Finally, insulted beyond words, she turned and strode back to her car, the obsidian blade lying in her jacket pocket with an insidious, hateful weight.

  Chapter Six

  Strad didn’t follow her out.

  She figured he’d explore the area more thoroughly. COS couldn’t have been gone long.

  She called Rice. “Cree Stark, one of the birds, is coming in to see you. I’d like you to call me when she gets there and keep her on ice until I arrive.”

  “Any special reason?”

  “I want to hear what she has to say.”

  “I’ll question her about the bird’s murder and will keep her here as long as I can. The birds aren’t exactly a patient bunch.” He hung up.

  She stopped next at her house—her new house in the Moor. She didn’t get out of the car, just sat staring through the windshield. She was sick of the inn. It was time to move into the new place.

  Ellie had managed to have a bed delivered and set up, and the previous owners had left a couple pieces of furniture.

  Everything she had left after her previous house had been torched would fit in her car. She was suddenly reluctant to move in, but couldn’t have said why.

  Somehow, it felt…lonely.

  She glanced into her mirror when a car stopped behind her. Owen got out and strolled toward her, his customary hat in place. His unhurried movements and lanky, slender body hid the energy inside him, which exploded during battles.

  The cowboy was deceptive in a lot of ways.

  He opened the passenger side door and climbed inside, shooting her a smile. “Moving in soon?”

  She forced herself to look away from him. Owen had a stealthy, subtle sexuality that crept up on a woman, got her in a stranglehold, and refused to let go.

  There was something dark and enigmatic beneath his cordiality. Something that beckoned her. Made her want to—

  “Rune?”

  She swallowed. “Yeah. I’ll move in soon. There’s a bed. That’s all I need.”

  Shit.

  He grinned.

  She cleared her throat. “Did you find something?”

  “No. You?”

  “Strad and I went to a place off Hook Road. COS had been there. They’d built a fire, had a bloody altar…” She shook her head, her voice tight with disgust. “Bastards killed someone there.”

  “Some sort of ritualistic magic.”

  “Knowing COS, they’re trying to call a bad motherfucker to help them in their attempts to rule the world.”

  “Or at least River County.”

  “It’s a magical place.” Which reminded her—she needed to talk to Gunnar the Ghoul.

  “You think they’re going to sacrifice the twins.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Well...yes.”

  He nodded. “It makes sense.”

  They both turned their heads as a car crawled down the street behind them, its driver tapping the horn once in greeting.

  Her breath caught.

  Fucking Cruikshank.

  She watched the car until it disappeared. When she finally took her stare from it she found Owen studying her, his eyes shadowed beneath the brim of his battered hat.

  “The reporter,” he said, quietly.

  She took in a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Cruikshank, right? The man who follows you everywhere.”

  Again, she nodded.

  “What does he want, Rune?”

  “I think he wants to die,” she muttered.

  He said nothing, but his eyes narrowed the tiniest bit.

  “Owen,” she said, unaware she was even going to ask, “what did the berserker say? During your talk?”

  He knew what she meant. He looked away, and when he looked back at her his eyes held something dark. “He told me your body is your own and if you want to fuck me, you’ll fuck me.”

  He fell silent, but before she could prod him, he continued. “He said he wouldn’t control himself if I hurt you. He needed to warn me ahead of time that if I talked you into my bed, he and I would fight.” He shrugged.

  She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “It could have been worse.”

  Owen smiled, but his stare was distant. “Then you weren’t listening. You want to know what he said?”

  “I said I did.”

  “He said if you fucked me, or anyone, it’d tear him apart. He said if you kissed someone else he’d hide away for a week with a few bottles of whiskey. He said if you loved someone else his soul would die. That his rage would overpower him and he’d kill the motherfucker who touched you, and he’d make it hurt.”

  He pushed his hair away from his face, then drummed his fingers on his leg with an uneasiness she'd never seen in him before. “Strad Matheson knows how to make it hurt.”

  “You’re practically a fucking poet,” she mocked. She couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she watched his mouth.

  He didn’t smile.

  She pushed a fist against her stake scar. “He didn’t say that,” she finally whispered.

  Owen’s stare was hard. “Yeah,” he said. “He did.”

  The heavy silence was blessedly broken when her cell rang. “Berserker,” she greeted, her voice cool. “Find something?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Sitting at the new house.”

  “I didn’t find anything, but Cree is on her way to meet with Rice. I’ll be at your house in two minutes.”

  “Why?”

  “You going to RISC to talk to Cree?”

  “Fuck yes.”

  “Then I’m following you in.” He hung up.

  She glanced at Owen. “Strad is on his way here.”

  He made no move to leave her car.

  “Have you heard from Elizabeth today?” she asked, when he said nothing.

  “She’s complaining to anyone who’ll listen that she needs to come home.”

  “Soon. Owen, I’m—”

  “No. No apologies. You didn’t know what Llodra would do.”

  “Still,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  She rested her hand on the steering wheel and he reached over to cover her fingers with his. He squeezed gently, and made no move to withdraw when Strad pulled in behind them.

  She slipped her hand from his and let down her window as the berserker strode to her car.

  He leaned down to peer at her through her open window, ignoring Owen.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “You don’t need to stand over me like a fucking nanny, Berserker. I can take care of myself, even with those feathered beaky bastards.” Her words were sharper than she meant them. She swallowed, trying to force away Owen’s words.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Humor me.”

  She started her car. “See you later,” she told Owen.

  “I’ll keep searching for the twins. I have a couple acquaintances lined up to answer questions. If I get finished in time, I’ll join you at RISC. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the birds.”

  “Not sure you could call it a pleasure,” she grumbled. “Let me know if your sources pan out.”

  “I will.”

  Rice called her as she was leaving her house. “I’m on my way,” she told him.

  She drove to RISC with Strad tailing her. Once they arrived, she sat in her car, watching the berserker climb out of his truck and glance her way.

  She really didn’t like the birds. She was as reluctant to see Cree again as she’d been to face Damascus, or very nearly.

  Not out of fear, but something she wasn’t exactly familiar with.

  Cree Stark made her nervous.

  Chapter Seven

  “You’ve met Rune Alexander, I believe,” Bill said to Cree, when Rune walked in. “And you know Strad Matheson.”

  Cree sprawled in a chair in Rice’s
office, a male bird at her side. The girl didn’t bother acknowledging Rune, but sent the berserker a bored smile.

  “Hey,” she said.

  Strad gave her a nod, then shook the male bird’s hand. “Fin.”

  Fin glided to Rune. “I’m Fin Lynch. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He shot a quick look at Cree.

  “Nice to meet you,” Rune said. “I haven’t become acquainted with the birds.”

  Fin was around five feet eleven and slim, with light brown hair that hung in soft waves below his chin. He used that hair to hide the right side of his face which, from the glimpse she caught, appeared to be covered with ridged scars and discolored skin.

  He was cute as hell. He flashed a quick grin, his green eyes bright and friendly. “We don’t come down from the nest often. And when we do, it’s usually a quick trip.”

  “Yeah,” Cree said. “And we’re not here now to socialize with the humans.” She pointed her chin at Rune. “Or the monsters.”

  Rune felt the slow burn of anger, but ignored Cree. “The nest?” she asked Fin.

  He nodded but took a step back, closer to Cree. Obviously he wasn’t keen on pissing her off. Maybe she’d been the one to give him his scars. “That’s what we call our land.”

  Finally, Rune looked at Cree. “Were you or your birds in the woods off Hook Road today?”

  When she remained stubbornly silent, Fin spoke. “No, I don’t think any of the birds were out of the nest, except for those who came to view Lara this morning. But they were all back home when Cree and I left earlier.”

  Rune transferred her stare to him.

  He took another step back.

  “But you weren’t with them this morning, so you can’t be sure they didn’t make a stop on their way back to the nest.”

  He shook his head. “Not really. But—”

  “Zip it, Fin,” Cree said. “We don’t have to explain ourselves to her.”

  He surprised Rune by scowling at Cree. “And I don’t need you speaking for me.”

  “Rune,” Rice said, a spark of curiosity in his face, “exactly what is this about?”

  Both birds stared at Rune silently, Cree fidgeting in her seat. She knew something, of course, but wasn’t going to tell them anything.

  “I’ll catch you up later,” Rune replied. After the birds are gone.

  He nodded, but he was finished letting her question the birds. Cree’s resentment was obvious, and Bill wasn’t going to fuck with the birds if Rune didn’t have a hell of a reason. “I just have a couple more questions for you, Ms. Stark,” he said.

  “I’m not answering shit with her here,” Cree said.

  Rice looked pointedly at Rune. “Excuse us, Rune.”

  Cree smirked at Rune before looking at the berserker. “Strad can stay.”

  Strad took Rune’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  He didn’t spare Cree so much as a glance.

  Once they were in the hall, she grinned up at him. “She’s an angry bird.”

  He sighed and squeezed her arm gently. “She’s also dangerous.”

  “Have you met my monster?”

  “One thing you should know about the birds. They don’t play fair. They don’t fight fair.” He stopped walking and swung her around to face him. “Don’t trust her, Rune. Don’t ever give her your back.”

  Fear brushed her skin like a cold breeze, and that pissed her off. “I can handle the fucking birds.”

  “Be on your guard.” He shook her. “Promise me.”

  “Okay, Berserker. Okay.”

  He blew out a breath and released her.

  She watched him for a long moment. “Tell me about the birds. About Cree Stark.”

  He began walking again, and she fell into place beside him. He didn’t answer her until they were standing by her car. “They’re antisocial. They make and follow their own rules. As long as they don’t interfere with humans, they’re mostly left alone.”

  “They have land on Spikemoss Mountain, I know. How many birds up there?”

  “Last check, fifty three.”

  “That’s a lot of fucking birds.”

  “And you wouldn’t know it. They keep to themselves. They don’t socialize with humans.”

  She gave him a sideways look. “Some of them don’t have a problem with the humans.”

  He grunted. His muscles bunched as he crossed his arms, his eyes vivid and intense. Eyes that held secrets he wasn’t going to share with her. “Are you okay?”

  She knew what he meant. Her father, Z…those losses she hadn’t yet dealt with. Wasn’t ready to deal with. “I’m okay.”

  Her phone buzzed. “Ellie. How’s Lex?”

  “She’s quiet. She hasn’t made a peep since you left.”

  “Still out of it?”

  “Yes. Maybe even more so. Bill wants me back at the office, but he’s hired two private nurses to take turns sitting with her. She won’t be alone even for a second. Is that okay?” He sounded anxious, torn, and tired.

  She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Of course it is, baby. I wish you’d go home and get some rest.”

  “I need to stay busy. You understand that.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I…I just have a bad feeling, Rune. About the twins. About Levi.”

  “We’ll find him. We’ll find both of them. I’m bringing them back, Ellie.”

  But she shuddered as the memory of Lex’s horrifying screams echoed through her mind.

  Chapter Eight

  The day of Z’s funeral came. The almost teasing warmth and bright sun was in direct contrast to the cold darkness in her heart.

  Spring was evident in the subtle scents of everything green and flowery, of the birds’ renewed singing, and the hopeful expectation that hung in the sweet air.

  It had been a long, hard winter.

  She’d spent the last two nights sleeping in her house in the Moor, and it was starting to feel more like home. She didn’t miss the inn.

  She stared into the mirror above her sink, but she didn’t see herself.

  She saw Z.

  “God, Z.”

  She wanted to ram her fists into the mirror, to shatter it the way her heart had shattered. She didn’t, though. On this day, she’d control her rage.

  The sadness was mind-numbing. Consuming.

  Feel the sadness, sweet thing. Then let it go. Let it go.

  She closed her eyes and heard his voice as clearly as if he were standing beside her, whispering into her ear. But she’d never let the sadness go. She didn’t know how to.

  Her stomach tightened into painful knots and she put a hand to it, then let a sob escape.

  She had to get through his burial and the night ahead. It would hit her hard, and she wasn’t sure she was prepared for it.

  Strad would help her.

  The knock on the door startled her. It dragged her out of the blackness into which she’d been headed, and she left the bathroom gratefully.

  She’d become less willing to burn alone in her hell.

  She opened the door, not bothering to ask who was on the other side. She didn’t much care. She was a monster, and monsters could kick ass.

  Jack stood there, his hand raised to knock again.

  He studied her, his face somber. Then, he stepped inside the room and opened his arms. “Come here, sweetheart.”

  “I’m okay.” But she started to shake.

  He pulled her resisting body into his arms, murmuring nonsense as he held her.

  “I miss him so much,” she whispered, her cheek against his chest. “I miss him so fucking much.”

  His arms tightened. “We all do.”

  “He’s never coming back. Z is never coming back.” She was disbelieving, as the words she’d spoken became reality. “He’s really gone.”

  “Yes.”

  “I shouldn’t have let him go.”

  “Rune. You know better.”

  His own voice was full of tears, and she slid her arms around him, squ
eezing tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

  His breath stirred her hair. “We die, honey. It’s life.”

  “No, Jack. I don’t die. Someday I’ll be without all of you.”

  “I know.”

  How could a person bear to outlive all those she loved? It was too much. The future was a grim place, and she didn’t want to live there.

  She wouldn’t.

  But that was the future, and right then, though she’d lost her beloved Z, she still had the others.

  She straightened and smiled up at him, smiled through the bloody tears obscuring her vision. “Thank you.”

  He returned her smile, wiping self-consciously at his damp face. “For what?” His voice was hoarse and she cringed at the pain in his eye.

  “I can deal with Z’s death, because I have you. I have all of you. And that’s something to be thankful for.” She nodded, talking more to herself than to him. “I’ll be okay.”

  She would be.

  She could live for now, secure in the knowledge that when she lost them all, and the world was too dark, she would escape it.

  And her future no longer looked so terrible.

  “I have you,” she said, her voice soft but sure.

  “Always, Rune.”

  The service was quick, and she barely remembered it. She remembered the shock, the quiet, the aloneness.

  All of RISC was in attendance, and some of the human law enforcement. She spoke to none of them.

  Afterward, she stood at his grave, her crew protectively around her, and watched as his casket was lowered into the earth.

  “Goodbye, Z,” she said, softly, and the crew echoed her farewell.

  Then Z was gone.

  But part of him would always be with her. And someday, she would join him in death. That was her gift to herself.

  She might have been born immortal, but no fucking one could make her stay that way. She was in control of her life. She was in control of her death.

  And just that suddenly, standing there at Z’s grave, she finally understood why she’d had to let Z go. “Holy…”

  “What’s wrong?” Strad asked.

  “I get it. I get it.” And somehow, she was free.