Immortal Rage

by Jax Garren

  “Going to the witch’s place who made this. She wanted to see the altar and, uh, feel the magic.”

  “Why didn’t you send me with her?” After another shot from him and two more from Alex, they both put their guns down.

  “Sixteen,” Alex said smugly.

  Cash shot him the bird. “I can still kick your ass with a sword.”

  Alex just nodded, unperturbed. “Of course, my general.” His mouth curled up. “But we’re not competing with swords right now.”

  Javier ignored them. “Miguel knows the area.”

  “Uh, baby?” Danielle said.

  “What?” Javier tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Don’t call me ‘baby.’ I’m a grown man.”

  She nodded, “You’ll always be my baby. But, Javi”—she pointed—“the lines.”

  Cash’s eyes widened as he zeroed in on Javier’s neck, and not in a vampire sort of way. “We need to get you secured.”

  “Shit.” Rhi was going to be too late.

  “I’ll be back,” Cash called at Alex and grabbed Javier’s arm in a death grip to tow him back down the stairs. “Rhi’s a genius. She’ll figure it out.”

  “You’re so confident, you’re marching me into a locked room.”

  After just a moment of hesitation, Cash continued his march down, not answering that. They got to a row of rooms. New locks were being installed on the outside by a team of jaguars, who all turned to look at them. “Nice speech, doc…” one of them said. Then wrinkled up his nose at Cash. “What the fuck?”

  Cash tossed a rifle his way and nodded toward the stairs. “They need sharpshooters up top. I got this hallway.” The jaguars looked from one to the other, unsure. Cash took a threatening step forward. “Now.” The jaguars obeyed.

  Jaguars gone, Cash opened the first door, checked over the room quickly, and shoved Javier inside. “You’ve got your phone? Keep communicating with me.”

  “I don’t want to go like this,” Javier whispered, despair clogging his throat as he stared past CoVIn’s golden boy into the hallway that could be the last thing he ever saw. His mother had followed them down.

  “Baby,” she said. “Oh, baby. I can stay with you.”

  “Take care of her,” Javier ordered, unsure why he thought that was a promise Cash Geirson would make or keep.

  “Hey. Hey, look at me!” Cash insisted. Javier caught his gaze. For once, the vampire looked old—not wrinkled or graying, but his eyes. The weight of more than a thousand years stared back at Javier with more pain than he’d thought the flighty man capable of. “I’m locking you in here because you’re going to become a monster. But you don’t have to stay one. Some monsters come back. You, of all the people I’ve met in a fucking long life, are the first one I’d place bets on to come back. I’ll be right outside.”

  The door slammed in Javier’s face. He took a step backward, wanting to cling to Cash’s words, but unsure why he should.

  Triage. He had to… He typed a message out to Sofia, instructing her to handle it. She was smart and strong—she could sort people. What else could he do in whatever time he had left?

  Javier sat on the bed, trying not think about what it was used for every day, and focused on the fact that the general of CoVIn’s army was guarding his door. He couldn’t hurt anyone with Cash between him and his family. And he had a feeling Cash wasn’t going to let anyone hurt him.

  Dopamine, epinephrine, oxytocin, serotonin…

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dez’rae’s little walk-in closet was the creepiest fucking thing Emma had ever seen. Broken dolls, melted candles, innumerable bottles of rum, and statues of foreign gods mixed with Catholic icons in a jumble. A picture of the Virgin Mary, but black, with two scars on her cheek, dominated the altar. And then there was the jar of brains—small brains, like maybe it was that rabid dog’s. That jar of brains just took all.

  And somehow Javier, the most science-minded man she knew, didn’t look at this and get wigged-out. He thought it was cool or fun or something. The way he’d danced at the voodoo ceremony, looking so free and happy, had been a total shock. How could someone so uptight also be so easygoing?

  She’d say he was blowing off steam, like a lot of her old clients, but it was more than that. It was like he didn’t have any clue what was normal, so he looked at anything and everything and assumed that must be it.

  Just like he looked at her and thought she was normal, despite her past.

  Using cornmeal, Dez drew a heart on the floor with crosshatched marks and a dagger through it. Much as all this freaked Emma out, she realized she was going into business with this woman. So maybe she should get a little used to it. Find a way to put it in her bubble of normal.

  “What’re you doing?” she asked, tentatively. The image looked similar to those things they had drawn on the ground at the ritual before sacrificing those chickens. Emma tried not to think about that too hard.

  “Drawing a veve.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  Carefully, Dezi finished the design, and Emma had to admit it was pretty. “It’s a symbol for a loa—this one’s Ezili Dantor. She protects women who call on her. Or seeks vengeance for those who’ve been hurt.” Dezi sprawled back on the ground, elbows on her knees. “Her own people cut her tongue out so she couldn’t tell their secrets. She’s passionate and hardworking and hard to contain.”

  “Cut out her tongue? But that didn’t silence her, huh?”

  A brief smile flashed across Dezi’s face. “Nope.”

  “And she helped you take revenge on those guys who hurt your friends.”

  Dezi nodded, then looked at the floor. “I didn’t mean to end the world. Sometimes I just get so angry, it’s hard to care about consequences.”

  Doing her best to avoid candle wax and cornmeal and all the other shit, Emma plopped down next to her future partner. “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be here.”

  “Vodou isn’t all zombies and snakes and shit. I saw you get wigged-out at the ceremony.”

  Emma blushed. “Yeah, I know, vampires shouldn’t be afraid of snakes.”

  “Aw, miss—Emma—I think they’re freaky too. You’re not going to see me carrying one around, that’s for sure. But I think a lot of people, they look at us, and all they see is chaos. But they don’t see the beauty. In Haiti, where my mom’s from, the religion came from slavery—from people trying to hold on to something of our motherland while making something new to hold on to here. It may look wild, but the world is wild. With Vodou, I can take that pain and suffering and crazy that surrounds me and turn it into something powerful and good.” She looked up at that freaky-ass jar of brains. “Or something powerful and bad. But the point is, in a world where it seems like I’ve got nothing but shame and defeat, Vodou is power.”

  Emma looked up at the assortment and tried to see it through different eyes. It still looked like chaos to her. But in the end, it didn’t really matter what she thought. It was what Dezi needed. And that was important. “Well, if you wanna do some magic for our business, I guess that’d be a real good thing. We could use all the power we can get.”

  For the briefest moment, a genuine smile crossed Dezi’s face. “I was planning on it. Good to know I can tell you.”

  Footsteps approached them from farther inside the house, and Emma tensed. “Did you lock the door?”

  “Course I locked the door. Not sure if that’s going to stop a zombie, though.” She sucked in a quick breath.

  Emma hopped up and drew her gun.

  “Hello?” someone called. Rhiannon. “I magically unlocked your door because we’re in a hurry. It’s locked again.”

  Emma sighed in relief, then called, “Back here.” A moment later, Rhiannon walked in with Miguel of the jaguars.

  “Whoa!” Rhiannon announced, eyes wide like she was impressed. “This is amazing!”

  It was hard to tell on Dezi’s skin, but Emma could swear it got even darker with a blush. “I g
ot Ezili’s veve drawn. I can show you what I did. I don’t know how to undo it.” Her eyes flicked down as her voice took an edge. “Didn’t figure I’d want to.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I didn’t think it was going to work, but it worked better than I’d ever imagined.”

  Rhiannon extended a hand down to Emma, which Emma took so they could switch places. “Usually breaking a curse is a lot easier than making one to begin with. We can do this.”

  Miguel motioned for Emma to follow him, and they headed out to the bedroom to let the witches do their thing. “They’re running out of food at the whorehouse,” Miguel said quietly. “I’m going to scrounge what I can to restock.”

  Emma looked back at the women in the closet, then back to him. “Actually, why don’t you stay and guard. I’ll get food, then get back to my fledgling—I think I need to talk to him. Plus, I know how to feed a lot of people with a little bit, and I can organize a kitchen. Those girls are our best hope, and I can guard them, but…” She sighed. “Well, in this case I think we’ll let the men do the fighting and the women do the cooking.”

  Miguel’s somber expression curled just a bit. “You one of those feminists? Is this killing you?”

  From the closet, Rhi yelled, “All sane people are feminists.”

  “I am so shocked you think that way,” Miguel yelled back without one trace of shock in his voice.

  The tension between the two of them filled the space, thick as bread dough. “Y’all gonna kill each other if I leave?”

  Miguel glanced back into the room. “Probably not. Best I can offer.”

  Emma poked her head back in the closet. “Don’t kill your guard, cool?”

  “I promise nothing,” Rhi responded.

  Dezi rolled her eyes. “I know Miguel. He’s cool. We’ll be fine.”

  Emma grabbed Miguel’s sleeve, walking him back toward the door as her stomach knotted in worry. “How’s Javier?”

  The gangster shrugged. “Giving fancy speeches and creating bureaucratic intake processes.” Sarcastic as he sounded, his expression almost looked admiring. “Between him and Cash Geirson’s pompous ass, I had to get out of there.”

  “So, he’s not…” she fished, not wanting to spread the knowledge that he’d been infected.

  “Not what?” Miguel asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

  No, he didn’t know. “Caving under the pressure or being driven insane by his crazy mama?”

  Miguel laughed. “Give the man a little credit—aren’t sires supposed to be supportive and shit?”

  Ignoring that, she jogged back to Rhiannon. “Hey, did your brother give you that vaccine?”

  “Yeah,” she muttered, enthralled by some gewgaw on the altar. Then she spun around, and her voice came through sharp and clear. “Yeah. Think biting me will make you immune?”

  Emma shrugged. “Worth a try, ain’t it? And maybe then if Javier…” She flicked her gaze to Miguel—sniffing candles in Dezi’s living room—to make sure he wasn’t following their conversation.

  Dezi narrowed her eyes, then shot up to standing. “No, Emma, I know what you’re thinking, and you can’t let the doctor bite you—it’s too risky.”

  Rhi had stood more slowly and pushed her clothes around to expose her hip. At Dezi’s outburst, though, her tone turned breathless. “You think it could—”

  “No, you’ll get the disease if you do that,” Dezi said firmly. “You can’t.”

  Rhiannon looked as torn as Emma felt. Yeah, Emma had thought about making Javier bite her. It was entirely possible the whole reason the vaccine hadn’t done anything was that he’d taken it like a human.

  Dezi reached for her. “Emma, I know you want to help him. But we don’t know if that vaccine is going to do jack. We do know if you let him bite you, you’ll get it.”

  “She’s right.” Rhiannon’s face screwed up as she stared at the ground, and her voice came out near a whisper as she said, “But I want you to try anyway.”

  “No!” Dezi declared. “I’m not helping you with this if you get my partner—”

  “You started this shit!” Rhi snapped back at her. “You have to help!”

  The look Dezi shot her contained the rage of a lifetime’s injuries and injustices. “I don’t need to help with shit!”

  Rhiannon made an animal sound in her throat, and her hands went up like she’d freaking curse the other woman in the closet.

  Terrified over what would happen next, Emma inserted herself between them, closed her eyes, and stuck her hands in the air. “Stop it!” she snapped. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

  The women stared at her with the heavy breaths of fighters before a match. Then they both started protesting at once.

  “Shut up!” Emma yelled again. “Is this my body? Is it my blood? My future?” She looked from one to the other, and they both looked away. “Okay then. My choice. Same to you, Rhi, you can let me bite you or not—your body, your blood, your choice—but either way, I won’t give you a disease that’s going to turn you into some brainless beast. Now, can you tell me with one hundred percent certainty, that if I make your brother—because you know I’d have to make him—drink from me that it’ll cure him?”

  Rhiannon slowly shook her head, glaring at the floor.

  “Do you know if it’ll do a goddamn thing, slow it down to give you more time, or whatnot?”

  Another slow headshake as Rhi’s jaw clenched.

  Emma flipped her desperate glare to Dezi. “And you, can you tell me for one hundred percent certain that it won’t help?”

  “I don’t think—” she started.

  “I don’t want to know what you think. I want to know what you know.”

  Dezi shook her head, jaw tense as a boulder. “No. I don’t know. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

  Emma took a slow breath, feeling an emotional need for air even if her body would never need it again. “All right, then. I need you, Dez, I need you to work on this cure like I’ve got the disease, like if we want to make that thing we planned in the truck real, we gotta clean up the messes we’ve made first.”

  “Oh, miss…”

  “And you, Rhi,” she said, turning back to her fledgling’s sister. “I need you to work like your brother’s gonna turn into one of them things any minute now and I can’t help him, you hear me? We ain’t got time for either of you to do less.”

  Rhiannon’s face crumbled in sorrow and fear, but she turned around and lifted the hem of her shirt. “Immunoglobulin went in here. I’m not sure how fast it spreads, so you probably want to bite near the injection.”

  Emma nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Before you do that,” Dezi interrupted, “can I have a lock of your hair? I have a charm…”

  Emma glanced at Rhi, whose magic was still crazy, but at least Emma understood it somewhat. The girl nodded. “Actually, a couple locks wouldn’t be terrible. In case we have to experiment. And give us some time to work something up before you… do anything. If you do anything. We’ll contact you.”

  Emma nodded and spied a knife on the altar. “This sharp?” When Dezi nodded, she grabbed her hair into a ponytail and lifted the knife to it.

  “Whoa! Your hair—” Dezi announced, shocked.

  “Will grow back tomorrow. Vampire.”

  “Unless you…” Dezi trailed off.

  Emma sliced. Her new bob brushed her cheeks as it fell into place, and she handed the whole blonde mess over. “Unless I become a zombie? Don’t think I’ll be too worried about a bad haircut then.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Giant pots of tomatoes, rice, veggies, and spices—some with chicken, one without meat but with blood Emma had found in Scarlet’s freezer—sat atop the giant stove’s burners. She’d arrived with food and been sent straight to the kitchen. The cupboards were now stocked with dried beans, rice, and flour. Emma didn’t know how long they’d have to hold out, but fresh food went out first; dried was stored for the long haul. She’d managed to bri
ng back enough for a week, though she doubted they’d be that long.

  Based on the number of zombies she’d seen, their ammo would run out first. At least no one would starve.

  A small army of kitchen help surrounded her—kneading bread, sorting beans, stirring roux, chopping potatoes for dinner. It was weird to be in charge of, well, anything. But not long after she’d arrived, people had filtered in asking to help. It was peaceful, really, so many folks in the heart of the home, working toward a common goal of something so basic—feeding people. Well-fed people were less likely to lose hope.

  Right now hope seemed to be all they had.

  Finally, though, things seemed to be running smooth enough she could check on Javi—if he’d even speak to her at this point.

  “Emma?” A shy voice brought her out of her reverie and her attention toward the kitchen entrance, where Javier’s mother perched in the doorway, watching the goings-on with interest.

  Emma turned chopping over to one of the Scarlet escorts and headed for the woman, wondering what she wanted. She’d seemed nice enough. But so had Emma’s brother. Emma folded her arms and tried to strike a strong but not intimidating pose. She probably failed. “Can I help you?”

  “Oh,” the woman started on a sigh. “That blond man you came to Rhi’s birthday party with, he told me to shut up or he’d behead me, which normally I would assume was a joke. Except he has this large ax…”

  Emma nodded. “Cassius won’t behead you. Probably. Honestly, you can’t always tell with him. He ain’t a psycho murderer or nothing, but he do get tetchy when he don’t have enough to do. He still on the roof?”

  Danielle blinked at her in surprise. “No, he’s guarding Javier.”

  Emma lifted her brow. “Why does Javi need guarding? The refugees running amuck or something?”

  Danielle shook her head. “No. He’s in—”

  Javier’s voice erupted from the other side of the kitchen to a flurry of excitement. A nervous explosion in Emma’s belly sent her reeling around to face him.

  He wasn’t there. Instead, a group of idle kitchen helpers had gathered around a cell phone, from which Javier’s voice emanated. And the things he was saying—it took her breath away.