Crimson

by Jordan Summers

  Everyone looked at Morgan, who shook his head slowly. “If there is, I don’t know about it.

  Raphael reached for the navcom so he could read the results for himself. “It’s in a bad spot; sensitive,” he said. “If we try to remove it, he could become psychotic.”

  “We can’t leave it in there,” Red said. “It’s hurting him. Hell, for all we know it’s killing him while we argue about what to do.” She began to pace. It was easier to think when she was moving.

  “Gina,” Morgan said. Red stopped midstride. “Even if we wanted to, I told you we don’t have the equipment to take it out. The only hope is to get him to an emergency care center before he dies.”

  chapter twenty-nine

  “W

  ill you be able to travel?” Red asked Michael.

  “That depends,” he said. “Where are we going?” Michael tried to sit up in the cot, but slumped back down.

  “Morgan has found the proof we’ve been looking for to nail Roark and prevent him from winning the election and taking over the republics,” she said. “But we can’t send it from here. The reception is too bad. We have to get higher. We’re thinking that the top of one of the mountains might work.”

  Michael lay very still in the bed, his expression unreadable. “What kind of proof?” he asked.

  Red looked at him, then at the others in the room. Raphael and Catherine leaned forward, eager to hear what she had to say. No one seemed to notice Michael’s lack of reaction but her. She debated whether to continue, but in her excitement, she’d already said too much. “It appears Kane recorded one of the conversations he had with Roark,” she said.

  “What did it say?” Raphael asked.

  “Who’s Kane?” Catherine asked, looking around in confusion.

  Raphael gave her a quick shake of his head, silencing any further queries. “I’ll explain later,” he said.

  Red’s gaze met Michael’s once more. “The message will help clear our names, but it’s not all good news,” she said. “At least not for the Others.”

  Raphael crowded her. “Okay, now you have me worried. What did the message say?”

  “The message was Roark ordering a hit on me. Unfortunately, the recording inadvertently reveals the existence of the Others. So if we send it out, there will be no more hiding,” Red said, letting the magnitude of her statement settle in. “For any of us.” Her gaze swept Catherine.

  “I’m not an Other,” Catherine said in a rush.

  “That may be, but you’re definitely not a pureblood.”

  Catherine flushed.

  It was Raphael’s turn to grow silent. He knew it would happen someday, but not so soon. He considered the ramifications. Was the world ready for the existence of Others? They hadn’t been before. Sure, they’d been living side by side with purebloods for over a century, but he could still remember the dark days. When most people heard that term, they thought he was talking about the war, but he wasn’t.

  The dark days came after the war ended, when their status as war heroes disintegrated and they were hunted like vermin. He could still remember the fear, the pain of discovery, and the years of torture that followed. He and the rest were lucky to escape with their lives. Lucky? He laughed to himself. The dead were the lucky ones. At least their pain had ended. He couldn’t go back to that way of life. And he wasn’t sure that enough had changed in the world to avoid repeating past mistakes.

  Raphael looked at Morgan and Red. They knew the risks. He could see it on their faces, along with the hope they tried to hide. “What do you plan to do?” he asked.

  “Morgan might be able to come up with more proof if he can reach the Eye of God, but it won’t be enough on its own. We need this recording to ensure victory,” Red said.

  “And what if that chance you speak of brings down hell onto Nuria’s head?” Raphael asked.

  Red met his eyes. “We’ve considered everything carefully. The truth is, if Roark gets away with what he’s done there won’t be a Nuria left to go home to. His goal is and has always been to get rid of the Others. He doesn’t care how he accomplishes this goal, only that he does. If you think otherwise, then you are only fooling yourself.”

  Catherine stepped forward and ran her hand down the length of Raphael’s arm. Raphael knew he was trembling. He couldn’t help it—the memories of the past were still strong. “And what of my brother?” he asked.

  Red’s expression turned grim. “We’ll get him back to the Republic of Arizona and into the emergency care center. They should be able to get that chip out before Roark realizes what’s happening.”

  “And if they don’t?” Raphael asked.

  “Brother,” Michael said, drawing his attention away from Red. “I have lived through much. I’m sure I can make the journey back to the republics and through a little surgery.”

  Raphael frowned. What choice did he have? His brother would die if they didn’t return. Nuria’s existence balanced on a razor’s edge and someone would have to bleed. He nodded his assent.

  Michael turned to Red. “I don’t suppose you can let us hear this recording.”

  She looked uneasy, then slowly shook her head. Raphael stared at his brother. Michael gave him a sad smile and something inside of him crumbled.

  “The journal is safe with Morgan for now,” Red said. “If you’re up to it, we’ll leave tonight.”

  “I’ll be ready,” Michael said.

  Although he had not heard the recording, Michael had no reason to believe what Red had said was untrue. Unfortunately for her, he couldn’t allow that recording to reach the mountaintop. Contrary to her beliefs, Michael knew Roark was the only one who could remove the chip in his brain. The only one who knew what it was capable of, if it remained buried inside him.

  Deep down Raph knew the truth, too, although he refused to see it. His concern was a valid one. Michael didn’t have to read his mind to sense the fear rolling off him. He remembered the dark days. All the Others did. Red had not been born. She never went through the terror of such things. She never had to live through a hunt. She had never been feared.

  His head throbbed, but it was no longer from the chip. Realization of what he must do weighed heavily on his shoulders. The shadow men nodded in agreement. If Michael could avoid harming them, he would, but he doubted that would be the case. They were natural fighters. Red and Morgan would do what they must to protect the recording and he’d do what he must to destroy it. It was his only chance.

  In the end they’d understand. They’d have to. Michael knew they’d do the same if they were in his situation. Red and Morgan would sacrifice themselves if they thought it would save the Others. Michael knew he was not so noble. He wanted to live. He had so much to live for now that he’d found his brother. They’d only begun to build new memories and catch up on the years they’d lost.

  Michael’s gaze automatically went to Raphael, who was firmly ensconced in Catherine’s arms. He wasn’t even aware Michael was still in the room. Witnessing the love shining in Raphael’s eyes was hard to take. Please stay out of this, brother. I wish you no harm.

  Michael listened to the sounds of the missile silo creak around him, but it was quiet in comparison to Raphael’s and Catherine’s hearts beating. The rhythm was eerily similar. He’d probably matched hers on purpose. Raphael always was a romantic, at least while he was fucking a woman. He’d tire of Catherine eventually and when he did, Michael would be there to help him move on.

  A quick flash of the future shined before him. In that second, Michael saw what life held in store. His path became clear. He hoped in the end Raphael would forgive him. . . .

  The night rolled in and the small band gathered their packs for the journey ahead. Michael looked tired and gaunt, but was otherwise in good spirits. Red still couldn’t help feeling that something was wrong. He wasn’t the same man she’d encountered on the streets of Nuria. He’d been somehow diminished.

  Jonah gave them their weapons back, along with a few extra
knives. Red tucked one into the waistband of her pants and the other beside her ankle. She watched Raphael and Morgan do the same. Michael walked past the weapons, which evoked a curious glance from Jonah.

  Red knew Michael didn’t need any weapons to kill and that’s what worried her the most. Her senses told her to be ready for anything given his physical condition, but what defense did they have against a man who could kill them with a thought? None.

  Morgan shook Jonah’s hand. “I really wish you’d reconsider coming with us,” he said.

  “I have found my Eden. You have to find yours,” Jonah said, smiling. “But I would appreciate it if you could get me the supplies I asked for when you get back,” he added. “And the credits.”

  “If we make it, you’ll have your supplies, along with the other things we promised,” Morgan said. “You have my word.”

  “You are welcome back to partake of the shower anytime,” Jonah said.

  “Thank you.”

  They stood on the platform and waited for Jonah to hit the button. The lift began to rise. Red gave Jonah one last wave, then looked up. No longer would she be able to stare at unknowns without seeing their faces and knowing what they’ve been through on this side of the boundary fence. If they lived through the next few days, she would do everything in her power to get the laws changed.

  “One thing at a time,” she murmured to herself. You have to make to the top of the mountains first.

  Morgan grabbed her hand in the dark and held it to his chest. The lift came to a stop in the round room they’d first entered only a few days before. They made their way toward the door, taking care to avoid all the piles of debris. Razor threw open the door and stepped aside for the group to exit.

  The other guards were still in the towers. They’d learned there were ten men total, though they’d never seen them all. The men took turns watching out for enemies and lived in a section of the silo Red hadn’t explored. She’d never really made it past the showers and the greenhouse. Memories of sharing the water with Morgan came back in a rush of warmth.

  “We’ll be back,” he said, whispering in her ear as if he’d read her mind.

  “We have to make it out of no-man’s-land first,” she said, staring at the imposing peaks in the distance.

  His amber gaze met hers. “We’ve made it this far.”

  “Yes, but we didn’t have quite as many obstacles,” she said.

  His expression grew somber. “Like all the rest, we’ll get over this one, too. Now come on.” He pulled her forward so they could take the lead.

  Morgan gave Raphael a look and he immediately dropped to the back to bring up the rear. Catherine followed. Michael stayed in the middle with Melea, floating between the group.

  “How long do you think it’ll take us to reach the mountains?” Red asked.

  “A few hours,” Morgan said. “We won’t start climbing them until dawn. It’s too dangerous to attempt in the dark.”

  “How do you plan to send the signal out?” Michael asked.

  Morgan glanced over his shoulder. “Your broken navcom.”

  “It’s only good for contacting Roark,” he said.

  “Not anymore.”

  Red saw a look of uncertainty cross Morgan’s features. He wasn’t sure it was going to work, but he didn’t want her or the others to worry. The thought sobered her.

  Whether it worked or not, she couldn’t wait to get back to civilization. It had its faults, but scavenging for days had left her adrift on the sand. Red couldn’t live without the order she’d been brought up with. And this place made order of any kind impossible.

  They reached the base of the foothills and snaked their way higher before finding a place to camp for the rest of the night. It wasn’t perfect, but at least no one would fall off the hill and die before dawn. And it was out of reach of the predators hunting on the desert floor.

  Red glanced up at the black mass of mountain peaks, searching for any sign of movement. They might be away from the low-desert predators, but they were in big-cat territory, so they’d have to remain sharp. With food scarce, the cat wouldn’t think anything of coming into camp and trying to kill one of them and drag them away.

  “We should be safe for the night,” Morgan said. “The Sand Devils have remained to the south since the death of their leader. Jonah had the tower guards watching out just in case they decided to move their base.”

  Red nodded. “I was looking for animals.”

  “I haven’t sensed any nearby. Raphael, you take the first watch,” Morgan said. “Catherine, you take the second. Melea and Michael get some rest. I’ll take the third watch.”

  “What about me?” Red asked.

  He brushed her hair away from her face. “You rest, too. You had a very busy day yesterday.”

  She snorted. “So did you, as I recall.”

  “Yes,” Morgan said. “But my body is used to the fatigue of combat and shifting. I don’t need a lot of sleep and I’ve learned to recover quickly from injuries.”

  He had her there. The shift had healed the wounds the Sand Devils had inflicted. Only red scratches remained. Red ran her hand over his arm where they’d bled him.

  He pressed his hand to hers. “I’m all right,” Morgan said, his voice lower, more intimate.

  “I know. I just needed to see for myself,” Red said, then pulled off her pack to bed down for the night.

  Red slept fitfully. Thoughts of the Sand Devils attacking them while they camped turned her dreams into nightmares. Twice Morgan had to shake her awake to stop her cries. He’d held her until she’d fallen back to sleep, promising to stay with her until his watch shift. After being shaken awake for the third time after a bad dream, exhaustion took over and she didn’t dream at all.

  The dawn brought more heat. Red’s eyes were crusted shut and her skin held a thin sheen of sand. She rose, scratching her head and rolling her stiff muscles. She doubted she’d ever get used to sleeping on rock. They ate a quick meal, then packed the gear.

  “I’ll be right back,” Raphael said.

  He led Catherine away from their prying eyes and softly pressed his lips to the rapid pulse beating in her dainty neck. She didn’t question him, only tilted her head to give him better access. His fangs extended and he sank them deep, relishing the sweet taste of her blood.

  His whole body hardened as he held her in the intimate embrace. Under different circumstances, he’d take her right here. To hell with anyone in earshot. But they needed to get moving. An unspoken urgency rode the group, making him nervous.

  Raphael didn’t like it, because he knew part of the sensation was fueled by Michael’s precarious health. He swiped his tongue over the wounds, closing them before pressing his lips to her skin.

  “I wish we had more time,” he murmured.

  “Me, too,” she said, her voice breathless.

  “The others are waiting.” Raphael rested his forehead against hers.

  Catherine frowned when their gazes met. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Raphael shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he lied.

  Her eyes narrowed to jade slits. “I know when you’re lying. I can see it in your face. Something is wrong.”

  “No,” Raphael denied. He didn’t want to worry her. “I’m tired. And like you, I long to be back in familiar territory.” That much was true. He’d feel a lot better once they crossed the boundary fence into the Republic of Arizona and got Michael to the emergency care center. At least then he wouldn’t be jumping at shadows.

  chapter thirty

  M

  ichael came upon them behind the boulder as Raphael leaned in to kiss Catherine.

  Raphael stopped midmotion. “Brother, you startled me,” he said.

  “Sorry for the interruption. I thought perhaps I could ask you for some nutrition,” Michael said, his gaze straying to Catherine. Her neck was still raw from Raphael’s bite. He could smell her coppery blood and it made his fangs ache.

  Raph
ael stiffened and stepped in front of her, blocking her from Michael’s view. “I’m afraid that is not possible,” he said, the warning clear in his voice. “But I would be more than happy to offer you sustenance.” He pulled up his sleeve, exposing his wrist.

  Michael’s expression betrayed none of his emotions. “I suppose I have no choice but to accept.” He stepped forward and gently took Raphael’s wrist in his hands, then raised it to his lips and drank. Catherine’s eyes widened and her skin paled, accenting her freckles. She took a step back as if he were about to leap on top of her.

  Michael considered it for a moment, then quickly dismissed the idea. He didn’t think his brother would approve. The urge to act was strong, fueled by the electrical impulses coming from the chip.

  Raphael looked at Catherine. “Return to the camp. I will be there in a moment.”

  Had his brother suspected? If Raphael did, his expression gave nothing away.

  She nodded, but kept her eyes on Michael. “I’ll be close by if you need me,” Catherine said.

  Raphael smiled. “Thanks.”

  “She watches over you like a mother hen,” Michael said, licking the blood from his lips.

  Raphael waited for her to leave, then rolled up his other sleeve, holding his forearm out to his brother.

  “Are you sure?” Michael asked.

  “Just do it,” Raphael said. “It should aid you enough to make it the boundary fence.”

  Michael released his wrist. “You must really love her if you don’t want me to feed from her,” he said casually, then encircled Raphael’s forearm before pulling it to his mouth and sinking his fangs in deep.

  “I do,” he said.

  Michael stopped feeding and raised his head. “I’m surprised you’d admit it,” he said, then went back to drinking.

  “Not half as surprised as me.” Raphael groaned as Michael drew his blood into his body. “She has a way of getting under your skin.”

  Michael didn’t let the pain from Raphael’s declaration show on his face. Somehow he’d managed to lose his brother, along with himself on this journey. The salty tang of Raphael’s blood rushed over his tongue and down his throat. His brother had always tasted good. Michael had wondered throughout the years if they tasted the same since they were brothers, but he doubted it. Raphael had always been different, even when they were kids. The women had loved him right from the start and he’d loved them back.