by E. S. Moore
We managed to wrangle him out of the tight space. Jonathan held him up as I closed the trunk. He started to drag him away when I noticed the knife still sticking out of my brother’s back.
“Wait,” I said. I marched to where Jonathan stood supporting Thomas and yanked out the knife. Fresh blood oozed from the wound and I grimaced at the sight. I was hungry, yet the sight my brother’s blood only made me want to puke.
I lifted one of Thomas’s arms and threw it over my shoulder. Jonathan adjusted his grip and did the same. Thomas’s feet dragged uselessly behind us.
“I see you found some clothes,” I said. I wasn’t sure why I was talking. My mind was racing, my heart thumping in my chest. I just wanted to get Thomas somewhere safe so I could start working on him.
Jonathan laughed, though it was without humor. He was wearing a set of Lei’s sweatpants and shirt. I had to admit, it looked better on him than it had on me.
The silence stretched on the farther we walked. For some reason, the sound of Thomas’s feet dragging behind us was nearly enough to drive me completely batshit. I ground my teeth, just wishing the sound would stop. It was like dragging a corpse.
“It’ll be all right,” Jonathan said. “We’ll figure this out.”
As much as I wanted some sort of noise to mask the sound of his dragging feet, somehow talking didn’t seem appropriate anymore. I wasn’t so sure I could talk without breaking down and bawling.
And that only made me angrier. What did Jonathan care how I felt? We worked together because it was the best way to solve the problem of the murders. I wanted nothing to do with him after this. I just wanted to live my life, with Thomas and Ethan, and forget about this whole mess.
We reached the Den without a further word. Jonathan seemed to note my mood and let me brood in silence. He opened the doors, keeping as much of Thomas’s weight on himself as he could, and we worked Thomas in through the doorway sideways.
Pablo was waiting for us as we entered. He glowered at me but didn’t say anything as he took the burden from my shoulders. I was in too much pain to fight, so I let him. He took all of Thomas’s weight as Jonathan let go.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” he said. “I need to change. Take him down to a cell.” He took the stairs by twos.
My heart clenched at the thought of Thomas in a cell, but I let it go. No sense getting pissed about something I had no control over. There was nowhere else safe we could put him. Not unless I was willing to jam a silver knife in him and leave it, that is. And if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to talk with him. There really was no other way.
Pablo led the way into the office. He carried Thomas all the way over to the desk, pressed the button that opened the secret door, and then headed down the stairs. I followed him, feeling like a weakling all the way. I wanted to help so bad, but I knew there was little I could do. I would only make it harder to get down the stairs if I tried to help.
He took Thomas to a middle cell. Pablo was quick to dump him on the cold concrete and back out of the cage. He slammed the door closed, locked it, and wiped his hands on his robe. He was sweating.
I stepped aside as he hurried out of the basement. I could feel both Davin’s and the woman’s eyes on me, though neither spoke. I ignored them and stared at Thomas where he lay.
He was twitching ever so slightly. I wasn’t sure if it was just normal trembling from the silver or if he was actually trying to move. His eyes blazed as he watched me. I felt horrible. I knew what it was like to have silver tainting your blood, trying in vain to move, knowing you can’t defend yourself. It was a nearly unbearable experience, one I never wanted to repeat.
A few minutes later, Jonathan came down, dressed in his own clothes. He had exchanged Lei’s sweats for a pair of black slacks and a white button-down shirt. His glamour was back in place, making his head whole again.
“We’ll have to wait,” he said, stopping beside me. “Since he had the knife in him the entire ride, it will take longer than normal for him to break free of the silver’s hold.”
I bit my tongue to keep from saying something nasty. How hard would it have been to take the knife out of him before dumping him in the trunk?
“Why do you think it happened now?” Jonathan asked.
“What?”
“Why did he start acting this way all of a sudden?”
“You mean acting like a savage form of Thomas?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know. I wish I did.”
Jonathan scratched at the side of his head. I noticed a few scrapes he had obtained during the battle. His shirt was long-sleeved, so I couldn’t tell if he had been hurt badly or not. I hadn’t thought to check before.
“The others acted like werewolves doing their master’s bidding,” Jonathan said. “They seemed organized, willing to fight together. I didn’t believe it until I actually saw it in person.”
“But why?” I kept coming to that. I really wanted to believe Thomas was getting better, but it was hard. Looking at him like that, paralyzed, eyes full of hate, it was hard to believe he was anything more than a monster.
Then again, weren’t we all?
“Instinct,” Jonathan said. “It has to be the reason. They are falling back on what their bodies had been trained to do.”
“And what if it’s more?” I shook my head. “What if he’s in there, knowing I did this to him?”
Jonathan moved closer but didn’t touch me. “He is long gone,” he said. “As much as both of us would like him to still be in there, it just isn’t feasible. His mind was lost the day he was tainted.”
I had to contain my rage. I knew what Jonathan was saying was probably right. Deep down, I knew the chances of Thomas turning into the brother I once knew were slim.
But I didn’t care. I had to believe we could fix this. Somehow, someway, we would bring him back.
We stood in silence, just watching Thomas. Davin coughed a few times and I vaguely wondered if they had given him his blood yet. He deserved that at least.
Thomas’s arm twitched and I quickly knelt by his cage. He couldn’t really move yet, but it was close.
“Thomas,” I said as gently as I could. “It’s me, Kat.”
A low growl came from his chest, but that was the only sign that he heard me.
“Thomas.” I kept saying his name, hoping it would trigger something. “Listen to me carefully. Can you do that?”
A foot jerked, the growl came again. My lip trembled as I tried to get out the next words. I hated seeing him like this. It tore me up inside like nothing else.
“We’re going to help you,” I said. “We’re going to do whatever it takes to make sure you come out of this. You can have your life back, Thomas. I will make sure of that.”
“He’s a beast,” the woman said from her cell. “Kill him now and do us all a favor.”
I did my best to ignore her. What did she know?
“Thomas,” I said. “Do you recognize me? Do you know where you are?”
Thomas’s upper lip lifted, exposing his fangs. Saliva, mixed with blood, dripped from them. His clawed hands bunched into fists, but he couldn’t otherwise move.
The woman laughed then. She pressed herself to the bars, facing us. “The Hand has a way of showing us what is to be tolerated. This abomination is His way of showing us that you all are nothing more than animals.”
I couldn’t stand the sound of her voice. It pierced straight into my head, brought out the raging beast I tried so hard to keep under control.
I leaped to my feet and charged her cell, blood spurting from my gums as my fangs dropped. I snarled at her as I snaked a hand through the bars and grabbed her by the throat.
“Kat, no.” Jonathan started toward me. I turned to face him, baring my teeth. His eyes widened and he froze. Smart man.
I turned back to the woman, pressing my face as close to hers as I could manage. I could almost smell her blood. “That is my brother,” I said. “Open your mouth aga
in and I will rip out your tongue.”
The woman smiled, her face turning a deep shade of red. I squeezed harder and her smile faltered. For a second, she looked scared for her life, but she quickly steeled herself, her face going blank.
I eased my grip and her color returned to a less alarming shade of red. She took deep, gasping breaths, though she tried to hide it. I started to turn away, but she grabbed me by the arm.
“Animals,” she said through gasps. “You are damned.” She smiled at me. “Your brother is no better than a dog now. Do you let him ride you like one?”
I snapped. I grabbed her arm and yanked her so hard against the bars, she screamed. She kept her grin in place, even as I latched my teeth into her wrist.
“Kat ...” Jonathan pleaded, but I was oblivious to him. He was smart enough not to touch me. If he had so much as brushed a finger on my back, I would have torn him apart.
I sucked at her wrist, taking in the blood that would both replenish and heal me. It was all I could think of, was all that mattered.
The woman laughed, a maniacal sound. “Proof,” she said. “A demon lives in you. Dance with him for as long as you can. Your time will come.”
I screamed, ripping my fangs from her wrist. She opened her mouth to say something else, but I couldn’t stand to hear another word from her lips. I grabbed her by the throat, relishing in the feel of her pulse pounding against my hand.
Everything fell silent for a heartbeat. Our eyes locked and I knew right then I would kill her if she said another word.
“His gra—”
I squeezed.
My fingers burst through her skin. Her eyes widened, but that grin never left. I let go of her arm and yanked with all my might at her throat. Gristle and gore tore away. Blood splattered on the front of my clothes, over the cell bars, over the floor.
She fell to the ground, gurgling. I tossed the chunk of flesh through the bars at her. It landed on her chest, a bloody pulp of a mess. She opened her mouth and more blood poured out.
Then her eyes dimmed and she fell still.
I looked down at my hands, at the blood covering them, and instead of hunger, I felt disgusted. There was skin under my fingernails, blood all the way up my wrists, nearly to my elbows.
I turned and fled the basement. Jonathan didn’t try to stop me. I brushed past him and nearly tripped on the stairs as I ran up them, trying my best to put what I had done behind me.
26
Jonathan found me in the sitting room, blood still on my hands. I was sitting on the floor, back pressed against the bar. I had run but hadn’t gone far. Where was I to go? I couldn’t leave Thomas there alone.
“Are you okay?” he asked, entering the room. He closed the door and walked over to stand next to me.
“No.” I stared at the blood. It was already drying.
He stood there looking down at me. I refused to meet his gaze. What would I see there? Accusation? Pity? I didn’t want his pity. I didn’t want anything from him or anyone else right then.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, offering me a hand.
I stared at it without moving. His hands looked clean, though I could see small cuts that were already healing. He hadn’t been hurt too badly during the fight, which was good. I don’t think I could stand looking at someone else bleeding because of me.
“She was right,” I said. I clasped my hands together. They felt sticky. “I’m nothing more than a monster.”
“No, you’re not.”
I laughed. “Really? I just ripped a woman’s throat out because she pissed me off. What kind of normal person does that?”
Jonathan lowered his hand. “Some things you can’t control,” he said. “You can’t help what you are. But that doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“Doesn’t it?” I looked at him bitterly. “I kill people. Most deserve it, but there are those who don’t. I make mistakes. I cause pain wherever I go.”
I expected him to try to soothe me, to try to tell me some bullshit about how everyone makes mistakes. I wasn’t stupid. I knew everyone made mistakes, but my mistakes caused people to lose their lives more often than not.
Jonathan reached out again, this time more insistent. “You’re getting blood on my floor.”
I blinked at him and then laughed. I couldn’t help it. The absurdity of the statement was just too much.
He smiled as I reached out and took his hand. I let go as soon as I was on my feet. He led me across the room, through the hidden door, into the bedroom, and into the adjoining bathroom. He was already washing his hands by the time I stepped through the door.
I looked around while he scrubbed, trying to keep my mind off what I had done. The bathroom was pretty subdued compared with the bedroom. The walls were light blue, and the tub and sink looked like they could have come out of any other house or hotel. I had expected something else, something more glamorous.
Jonathan finished scrubbing his hands. He wiped them dry on a towel hanging from a hook beside the mirror over the sink. He left the water on for me.
“Thanks,” I said, stepping in beside him. For some reason, the modest bathroom made me feel better. Maybe it was because it felt normal compared with everything else I was living. Maybe I was just getting over it. I’d killed before. What made this time any different?
“No problem,” he said, stepping back to give me room.
I picked up the bar of soap and began scrubbing at my hands. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and had to hide a grimace. I had blood on my face, caked in my hair. I was a mess.
“Here,” Jonathan said as I kept scrubbing. “I want to check your stitches.” He reached for my coat.
I tensed but let him take off the shortened coat. Now that he had mentioned it, my entire body started hurting again. With every movement of my arm, I could feel my shoulder holster rubbing against the bandage on my back.
I caught Jonathan’s wince in the mirror. “That bad?” I asked. Now that the coat was off, I could scrub farther up my arms. Some blood had run up the sleeves, nearly all the way to my armpits.
“Come into the bedroom as soon as you are done,” he said. “I’m going to clean that out.”
I frowned at him, but he had already turned away. How bad could it really be?
I finished washing my hands and dried them on the same towel Jonathan had used. There was a faint scent of lilac on the towel and I wondered who did his laundry. I just didn’t see him or Nathan using detergent that smelled so flowery.
Once my hands were dry, I returned to the mirror. I didn’t check my back. I didn’t want to see. Instead, I lifted my chin to check the stitches there. The wound was already healed closed, though it was still pretty red and angry looking. Another day or so and all I would have is a scar. It wouldn’t be the first.
I took a deep breath, wincing as it tugged at my back. I didn’t want to leave the room. I felt safe here, protected. Once I left the bathroom, I would be exposed again. It frightened me to no end.
I turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom. I knew I was just stalling. I had so much I needed to take care of, I couldn’t stand around feeling sorry for myself. We had Thomas now. If I could just figure out how to cure him, all of this would be worth it.
I froze just inside the doorway, staring at Jonathan. He had his white shirt unbuttoned. As I watched, he slipped it from his shoulders and tossed it on the bed.
His back was covered in scars, but somehow, it added something to him, made him seem stronger, more real. His muscles rippled beneath his skin and I blushed. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. His arms were firm, powerful. I could almost imagine them holding me down ...
“What are you doing?” I asked. I sounded pained, like I was on the verge of crying. I had to swallow hard to keep from choking.
He looked from me to the shirt, and I think he actually blushed. “I don’t want to get blood on it,” he said. “I’ve ruined enough clothing for one night.”
&nbs
p; I licked my lips and then realized how that must have looked. I turned away in an attempt to hide my face. I felt like an idiot.
“Sit on the bed,” he said. “I’ll get some supplies from the bathroom.” He walked around me, going wider than he really needed to. I watched him disappear through the door. I couldn’t help looking. He looked so damn good.
I looked away as soon as he was gone. I didn’t need to be thinking about him like that, especially now. There was too much to do, too much shit I had to deal with without adding to it. I’d never even looked at someone that way before. Why was it happening now?
I slipped off my shoulder holster as I made my way to the bed, doing my best to focus on what was important. It didn’t come away easily, sticking to the shirt. I couldn’t quite feel it, but I was pretty sure I had bled through the bandage.
I sat on the bed and looked down at myself. The front of my shirt, as well as my jeans, was soaked in blood. It looked as though I had taken a bath in it. I hadn’t even realized how much the woman had bled on me until then.
Jonathan returned from the bathroom a few moments later. I averted my eyes as he entered, not wanting a repeat of before. He had an armload of supplies, bandages and tubes of ointment, in his hands. I peeked up and noticed he still hadn’t put on a shirt. His chest was bare, hairless, which struck me as odd on a werewolf. I would have thought he would be covered with it.
He sat down behind me, dumping his load onto the bed beside him. “I can’t work on this with your shirt on,” he said.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. “No way. You can deal with it like this.”
“Your shirt is soaked back here.” Jonathan looked worried. “I have a shirt you can wear home. It will be big on you, but it won’t stick to you once I get this cleaned up.”
I shook my head. “You aren’t getting me out of my clothes.”
He gave me a frank look. “I can’t get to the gouges unless you take it off. I’m not trying to get you naked here.” He said the last with such seriousness, it made me blush. What was I worried about? He was just trying to be helpful.
