Wormwood Echoes Page 8

  When they got to a certain point, they couldn’t shift.

  “I can’t bring my demon…”

  Too bad most of the Others weren’t yet to that point—they shifted and fought the way no human could fight.

  Except for Shiv Crew.

  Rune lost herself in the battle, in the fight to help her people stay alive. In killing the Others.

  It was a losing battle.

  There were simply too many of them. She realized nearly every Other in the county had fled to Wormwood. They’d thought to find a haven there, perhaps, and the graveyard, huge as it was, easily contained them all.

  Wormwood was their territory, and they were determined to defend themselves against law enforcement, humans, and Rune.

  Lex screamed suddenly, and Rune glanced away from a bloody vampire to find the girl on her knees, a shaggy werewolf at her back.

  She was throwing up, too sick to continue fighting.

  Before Rune could help her, Raze was there, driving a blade through the were’s neck and plucking Lex from the ground.

  He looked at Rune and waited for her sharp nod before he trotted away, carrying Lex to safety.

  Leaving the rest of the crew to fight without him.

  He’d be back when he could get back.

  From the corner of her eye she saw a werewolf attack a shifter who’d pissed him off—and then it was a matter of seconds before the Others were fighting each other.

  Unintentionally helping the crew.

  She fought like a killing machine—cold and capable and so very deadly—as the worries about everything else dimmed to a faded whisper on the edge of her mind.

  She killed her own, the vampires she’d been sent to purge, and the Others who clung to their lives with a senseless desperation.

  But right then she wasn’t Other, she wasn’t vampire, and she wasn’t human.

  She was simply the monster.

  And she was nearly unstoppable.

  Her crew though, they were not.

  Levi danced backward, blade in one hand and gun in the other, and tripped over a half-shifted Other who’d crawled through the cold, bloody mud, leaving body parts behind as he moved.

  When Levi stumbled and fell, he was done. It was a hesitation he couldn’t afford, and every Other close enough to see and unoccupied enough to take him closed in.

  When Levi fell, Denim, as though tied to his twin by an invisible rope, fell with him. He was back up in a millisecond, hacking and slicing through the Others who were trying to kill his brother.

  But there were simply too fucking many of the sons of bitches.

  Rune ran to help, her speed rivaled only by her strength, and ran her claws through every enemy body between her and the twins.

  Jack bellowed, and she recognized his injured tone—pain and indignation in equal parts—and for the first time that night it really hit her that they might lose. That she might lose her crew.

  She screamed.

  And a voice answered, a voice so filled with rage there was no other word for it but death. Death answered her.

  Gooseflesh covered her skin, and she trembled even as she ran, as the roar came again, closer, closer…

  Owen fought free of the Others surrounding him and sprinted to her side, helping her cut through the tangled mass of Others who had the twins cornered.

  “What the fuck,” he yelled, his voice strained and panting, “was that?”

  “That was rage,” she answered. “And it’s coming to help.”

  At last.

  She saw him then, in the moonlight, surrounded by shadows misty with droplets of blood, coming for her.

  To her.

  Others fell beneath his rage and his spear—those who didn’t fall ran—and she had a moment to realize they were more afraid of him, perhaps, than they were of her.

  Berserker.

  She felt the sting of Other claws slicing through her shoulder, her neck, her stomach, because she’d been distracted by her berserker.

  But it didn’t matter.

  She’d survive.

  “Berserker,” she screamed. “Berserker!”

  He was shirtless, weaponless but for his spear, his big body crisscrossed with wounds and bruises and blood, and she knew they were from more than the Others he was fighting then.

  Something had happened to Strad Matheson.

  And finally, he reached her.

  There was no time to talk, but he looked at her.

  Once, before he battered away the Others who dared attack what was his—his woman, his crew—

  In his eyes was the truth.

  They were his.

  And he would never have left them.

  Not if he’d had the choice.

  It took her breath, that look.

  Just a second, a moment, a slow motion lifetime of truth.

  “I’ll never leave you, Rune.”

  And he wouldn’t.

  She turned away, fighting with an intensity tempered by the words running through her mind…

  He hadn’t left.

  He’d been taken.

  Chapter Eighteen

  And near dawn, the vampires fled. The Others who still lived followed.

  The crew stood over the dead and dying, staring at each other, unable, for a few minutes, to speak.

  They let blood drip from their blades as they acknowledged their wounds and allowed a tiredness that went beyond exhaustion to overtake them.

  The fight was over.

  And they lived on.

  Good job, sweet thing.

  She smiled.

  “Berserker,” she murmured, and they all turned to look at the black-haired giant who stood with them.

  “You thought I left you,” he said.

  She said nothing and found it difficult to look into his eyes.

  He strode to her then, snatched her off the ground and into his arms. He held her with so much force a human would have been crushed.

  But he was crushed. He was crushed, and she deserved to take a little of the pain.

  “Don’t ever give up on me,” he said. “Not even when I make you think you should.”

  “You were gone,” she replied, her voice tight, her throat hurting.

  He closed his eyes for a long, tortured second. “I know. I told you I’d never leave you.” His voice was deep and dark and it pierced her mind with the pain it held. “But I did.”

  The dam burst then, and the emotions she’d held in check fought free, exploding from her damaged heart.

  “Strad,” she whispered, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She buried her face against his warm, familiar flesh. He was alive, he was there, and he hadn’t left.

  “What happened?” Jack asked, unwilling to give them more than a couple of minutes. “How the fuck did you get taken?” His voice was still suspicious, still unsure.

  Strad ignored him and his anger. “Where’s Lex?” Lex, the only one who’d believed in the berserker’s loyalty.

  Rune squeezed his neck. “Put me down.” And once her feet touched the ground, she turned to Raze. “Where did you take her?” she asked.

  “To the cars.”

  “How badly was she injured?” Strad asked, his eyes narrowing.

  “She wasn’t injured,” Rune said. But she couldn’t say the words.

  “She’s sick,” Denim said. “She’s…” Then he widened his eyes and looked at Levi. “Levi. She’s sick.”

  Levi shook his head in silent denial.

  Raze growled and waved his bloody hands impatiently. “She’s special. Nothing is happening to her.”

  There was no doubt in his mind. If there had been, he’d have crumbled.

  The rest of them weren’t so confident.

  Owen walked away, his hand to his ribs. None of them called him back.

  But he looked at her once, just once before he left, and his glance was bright with resolve.

  She lingered on his retreating figure, but only for a moment. “Everyone to the
Annex to get patched up. We need to get Lex checked out as well.” She took the berserker’s hand. “And while we’re there, you can tell us what the fuck happened to you.”

  He nodded, so covered with blood she couldn’t tell how injured he was. Just like the rest of them.

  She knew her hungry stare was eating his face, devouring it, and she didn’t really care who saw her need. “I am so fucking glad you’re…”

  Alive, here, back.

  Mine.

  He grinned and squeezed her hand.

  They walked from the graveyard more gingerly than when they’d walked in, a line of tired, injured warriors.

  But the despair was less.

  At least for her.

  Fuck me.

  “I got a text,” Strad said, later.

  They’d had their wounds stitched and tended and had been debriefed—all of them but Owen. She hadn’t seen him since he’d left them at Wormwood.

  They’d had their showers, had downed countless pots of coffee and sandwiches, and were waiting for word from Annex doctors about Lex’s illness.

  Maybe it was something else. Maybe it wasn’t the rotting sickness.

  Maybe.

  Eugene had ensconced her into the Annex clinic, promising them that his people were hard at work on an antidote.

  He seemed optimistic.

  Rune didn’t believe his assurances for a second, but understood he needed to keep the crew somewhat hopeful.

  Especially the twins.

  The conference room in which they sat was warm and dim, and Rune had been dozing in her chair when the berserker’s voice roused her.

  “Who texted you?” Levi asked. He stood against the wall with Denim. Whether they meant to or not, the twins closed ranks when one of them or Lex was in serious trouble.

  “I have—had—a connection named Suzanne. She told me she’d found a link to…”

  “Go on,” Rune said, her voice steady. “To what?”

  “To the baby,” he said. “To the black-haired baby I promised to find for you.”

  She put her fist to her stomach. “The baby? You got a lead on the baby?”

  His long hair, still damp from his shower, slid over his shoulders when he shook his head. “It was a lie. There were no leads. And Suzanne is dead.” He met her stare, his own emotionless and dark. “It was a trap.”

  She frowned, but said nothing, just waited for him to continue.

  “How the fuck,” Jack asked, again, “did you get taken?”

  “I was careless,” Strad answered, calmly.

  Rune knew exactly how he’d walked into a trap. His mind had been on her. On fulfilling a promise to her. On imagining her joy when he brought her a fat, healthy, black-haired newborn. So he’d been careless.

  She stood, not looking away from him, and walked to where he sat. Without hesitating, she leaned over, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

  She closed her eyes and let her kiss say everything she wanted to say but couldn’t.

  The conference room faded away. There was nothing but the berserker opening his mouth against hers, nothing but his tongue, nothing but his warm, sweet breath.

  He buried his fingers in her hair and held her to him, and had she wanted to pull away, he wouldn’t have allowed it.

  And finally, when he let her go, the room was empty.

  Except for Owen.

  She’d been so wrapped up in Strad she hadn’t heard him come into the room. Hadn’t even heard the others leaving.

  He leaned back in his chair, watching them, his eyes…

  God, what is that in his eyes?

  Despair?

  She couldn’t tell. Couldn’t read him.

  The berserker pushed her gently away and stood. He padded to Owen, who tilted his head back to look up at the other man.

  “Fuck you,” Owen said.

  Strad smiled, but it wasn’t even close to being a real smile. “Now,” he said, “She’s mine. You’ll leave her alone.” He lowered his voice. “This time I’ll kill you. You won’t get another warning.”

  His voice was almost casual.

  Owen took his time standing, but when he was on his feet he got into the berserker’s space. “Your warnings don’t matter to me. She does.”

  Both men touched their blades, their bodies humming with energy. They stared at each other, silent.

  Rune walked away, her steps not quiet, but neither man called her back.

  So she left them to their shit and went to see Lex.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Who would want to take Strad Matheson,” Bill asked. “And why didn’t they kill him?”

  She shook her head and stared through the glass window at Lex, glad of Bill’s company. “No idea. He doesn’t know, either.”

  Lex moved restlessly, then sat up and turned her face toward the window, as though she knew Rune and Bill were there, watching her.

  Doubtlessly she did.

  “They just held him,” Bill said. “Didn’t ask him any questions, didn’t try to sell him to us, didn’t explain why they wanted him.”

  “They beat the fuck out of him,” Rune said. “They did that.”

  Whoever they were.

  “I imagine,” Bill said, his voice slightly dry, “that he wasn’t exactly a quiet, obedient prisoner.”

  She smiled. “Nope.”

  Then she sobered. His wrists had been cut nearly to the bone from his attempts to free himself. The bastards who’d held him had beaten him with clubs to calm him down.

  It hadn’t worked.

  In the end, he’d been freed—by Gunnar and Dawn.

  Two of his guards had stayed with him after the other two had left.

  “Gunnar didn’t have a chance to kill either guard,” the berserker had said. “The female with him took care of them in seconds and without hesitation. And she had a good time doing it.”

  She’d talk to Gunnar as soon as she had a chance. He would know something about the berserker’s abductors. She hoped.

  “I told you I knew a little something about love,” Bill said.

  She lifted an eyebrow. “While you’re in a gabby mood, Bill, why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you?” She waited until he looked at her. “Who is fucking with you? You know I’d take care of it.”

  He stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. “I can handle my own problems. But thank you. If there’s a time when I need you to step in, I’ll be sure to notify you.”

  She held up her hands. “Fine. I just want you to know I’m here.”

  “I always know that.”

  They watched Lex for five minutes before either of them spoke again.

  “She isn’t going to get better, is she?”

  He was silent for a moment. “No.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Bill. We can’t lose her. There has to be something we can do.”

  “Eugene is working on it.”

  “She can’t call her demon. I tried feeding her. Didn’t help.”

  “Even your blood and bite can’t fix this. Eugene told me…”

  “What?” Were they keeping shit from her? Yeah. And she wasn’t surprised.

  “He said he’s never seen anything like this.”

  She blew out a hard breath. “Because it’s not from here.”

  He nodded.

  “I have to go there,” she said. “I have to find the cure. Bring it back—”

  “Save the world,” he said. “You have to save the world.”

  “I have to save Lex,” she murmured. “The world be damned.”

  One of hers was the only thing strong enough to send her to Damascus. A world full of rotting Others wouldn’t have motivated her to go.

  She didn’t care if that was selfish.

  Because every time she thought about going to the other world, something stirred inside her.

  Gave her a bad, bad feeling.

  Going there was not a good idea. But she would go.

  “Will y
ou tell Lex you’re going?” Bill asked.

  “Yeah. But I’m sure she already knows.”

  And if the rotting sickness didn’t kill Lex first, the withdrawals would. So Rune had to hurry. She couldn’t get trapped there.

  Couldn’t.

  “The crew?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know how I’ll get there. Or when. Or if the crew can cross over with me. I just…” She punched her thigh. “I don’t fucking know.”

  And she was alone.

  “If you can take them, you should take them.” He looked at her then, and as she had a long time ago, she got a sudden sense that she knew nothing about him. Not really.

  “Too risky.”

  “They belong to you.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I can’t save the world all by myself.” She tried a grin, but was pretty sure she failed.

  “You probably could,” he said, mildly, “but you shouldn’t have to.”

  Suddenly uncomfortable, she changed the subject. “How’s Fie?”

  Only that wasn’t really changing the subject. Both of them knew Fie wanted to go with her. Maybe needed to go with her.

  The mystery that was Fie…

  “George is dead,” Bill said, suddenly.

  “Fuck no,” she said. “Why wasn’t I told?”

  “You were busy.”

  “What happened?”

  “He just stopped breathing.” He hesitated. “The same night Fie broke free of her net.”

  She looked at him.

  “Coincidence,” he said.

  “Elizabeth—”

  “Didn’t want you to know,” he interrupted.

  “Why the fuck not?”

  He said nothing.

  “The world’s an asshole,” she said. And Elizabeth didn’t want her blaming Fie.

  “Yes” he agreed. “And it’s spewing shit all over us.”

  She was flying blind. Much more blind than Lex.

  She knew nothing at all.

  Nothing.

  And maybe, no one.

  Chapter Twenty

  She parked outside her house, trying to pretend her heart wasn’t racing at the thought of lying once again in the berserker’s arms.

  Nothing was right with the world, not really—but there was that one little thing that gave her some peace.

  Lying with the berserker.

  Thoughts of fucking Owen didn’t disappear just because Strad Matheson existed. They were still there, still strong, and still made her shiver with anticipation.