Between Death (#6.5): Dark Dystopian Paranormal Romance

by Blodgett, Tamara Rose

  His body went numb with purpose.

  Jeb tasted their death on his tongue.

  Jasper was beaten but not done; she clutched the lip of the cheap table that was attached to the wall and kicked her legs out as the men tried to deliver more blows.

  Her feet made contact, striking one in the chest.

  The man flew backward, landing against the wall about fifteen feet away, denting it with his body then sliding slowly down to the floor.

  His blood and brains leaked behind him like a snail trail of red gore. The bits of what had given him life were now a wake of gruel outside his dying body.

  Jeb reached the advancing man just as his hand grabbed Jasper's throat.

  Jeb broke it with a striking chop at the wrist.

  Jasper's face jerked forward from the blow, and she executed a slow spin, her face an alarming purple color.

  Jeb caught her before she fell, his worried gaze on her face.

  “Behind you, Merrick,” she whispered, despite her abused voicebox.

  He swung out blindly, letting Jasper fall gently behind him. There had been ten men, and they'd incapacitated five.

  The five who remained rushed Merrick while his partner lay gasping behind him.

  “Stop!” he said, shoving his control into their minds.

  Three stopped; two would need further convincing.

  Using his hands, Jeb cracked their skulls together. He could have done more, but there were simply no humans with that level of raw strength. The law of this quadrant would come, and the force he and Jasper had used would be inexplicable.

  They'd already blown their prime directives to Hades. Jeb wouldn't deliberately make it worse if he could prevent it.

  They slumped, landing one on top of the other.

  Satisfied by their lack of movement, Jeb whirled and crouched.

  He laid his fingers against Jasper's pulse.

  She was unconscious. He tucked her against his chest and rose. It was simple; she weighed nothing.

  He looked with regret at the sea of money, then the two females, who were looking at him as if he were an alien. Nothing could be truer.

  Jeb almost smiled in the midst of the chaos.

  “It's your lucky day, ladies.” His gaze flicked to the currency strewn between the bodies, blood, and guts.

  “The cops are coming,” Doreen stated then snapped the wad of green, making him wince.

  “You—come,” he said to her.

  Her face went blank, and she moved to him on jerky feet, not unlike the zombie they had saved, but not nearly as graceful.

  She was a borderline push.

  “Stuff my pockets with the currency—now.”

  “Currency?” she asked with the blankness of intellect depravation.

  “Money,” Jeb spat.

  “Oh.”

  She leaned down, grabbing the currency. Doreen hesitated before putting it inside his front pockets as though it caused her pain. Then she stuffed his pockets to the brim.

  Sirens wailed in the distance.

  “Stop,” he said, and Doreen came to a comical halt.

  Her body was half bent in preparation to jam more money into his pockets, her wide, obedient eyes on his.

  “Forget me,” Jeb said, striding to the back exit, the one he'd pegged as the best escape route.

  “Okay,” Doreen answered.

  His unconscious partner cradled against his chest, Jeb paused in front of the female who had a version of Jasper's name.

  “I won't forget,” she said defiantly.

  “Yes, you will,” Jeb said, giving an internal shove that made his mind feel as though it were coming apart. A slow mudslide of pain settled in and began to throb.

  Her face went slack as if she’d had a stroke, and Jeb left the building with grim resolve.

  He clung to the hope that he had not done harm to the females.

  But as he looked down at Jasper, he knew that sacrifices were part of their job, and there was no comparison between the worth of a female Three and a Reflective, even though she was female.

  Beth Jasper must live.

  Jeb would see to it.

  His partner’s safety was his job, though with each passing minute, his concern started to feel as if it were motivated by something else, which he had never believed he could give a female for any reason—loyalty.

  *

  Beth groaned, her body twitching, causing her teeth to clench in agony. Her chest was on fire with pain.

  “Stop,” she whispered to whatever was causing the horrible jarring.

  “I can't,” Merrick replied.

  She opened her eyes to the dizzying blur of a green landscape rushing past.

  A surge of nausea followed, and she clawed against him to escape.

  She could feel his pace slow.

  “Put me down!” Beth said, and he did gently.

  Beth rolled over, digging her fingers into the mossy undergrowth of woods, and threw up.

  She didn’t stop until every single thing she had consumed in the eatery was evacuated from her stomach.

  It felt as though her bowels had emptied, as well.

  Beth rolled away, clutching her sides. Cool fingers pressed against her face.

  It heated with her embarrassment. She’d just thrown up like a weak female, after being carried while Merrick ran.

  She couldn't stand to see his eyes filled with the condemnation she was sure he would have for her.

  Beth took a shallow breath that made her bite her tongue in agony. Her ribs were broken.

  She had a punctured lung.

  Her assessment continued. She also had internal bleeding.

  Maybe I have bigger things to worry about than Merrick’s opinion.

  She opened her eyes and met Merrick's gaze. His eyes were pale gray inside the gloom of the deep forest.

  “Merrick,” she croaked then gasped.

  He lifted her upper back, taking her hand.

  “I am here.”

  She closed her eyes against his compassion. She didn't want his pity, either.

  “Are you well enough to jump?” His voice pierced her consciousness, and she realized with a start that she had slid into semi-consciousness.

  Beth shook her head, and her gorge rose from the movement, her head swimming.

  “No,” she whispered, hating how weak she was.

  “The sun is out, and there is a body of water beside us, though it rushes.”

  Beth could hear the sound, a great white noise of a thousand butterfly wings.

  She floated.

  “No—Jasper!” Merrick said in a harsh command. “I can pulse Calvin.”

  Beth's eyes flew open.

  Another inductee? She couldn't bear it.

  “No,” she clutched his shirt, the cloth rough under her fingers.

  “I can save you if you jump in this body of water.”

  Seconds ticked by while she reconciled the current disaster.

  “Take me to it.”

  Merrick picked Beth up, and she bit her lip. Her muffled cry of pain was not wholly contained, and Merrick flinched but kept moving.

  He hiked down an embankment, never slowing.

  When Beth's breaths grew closer and more shallow, he laid her on the small pebbles along the edge of the water.

  The Skagit River—it came to Beth like the fuzziest memory. Her mind was swallowed by cotton.

  The sun broke through the clouds and hit the river. Tiny reflections like fractured crystals sparkled across its surface.

  “Take my hand,” she told Merrick.

  Beth had no confidence it would work. The reflections came and went, winking in and out of her line of sight.

  Reflectives, who were immortal only in their own world, could die in other sectors. Beth Jasper lay dying on a pebbled shore far from her home.

  Then Merrick's large warm hand was in her own.

  The last thing she saw was a bright diamond of herself, flung for her retrieval and subsequ
ent jump.

  Her hand convulsed inside Merrick's, and they were gone.

  Muffled shouts in the distance quieted inside the vacuum of the pathway.

  Fire and ice beat down on Beth's abused body.

  Safety was all around her, for Merrick held her fast.

  Beth slept as her body traveled to whatever location she had thrown them.

  It was not Papilio.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Beth was better prepared as they landed, tossing herself away from Merrick and rolling in the air. She spread her arms wide for balance, her eyes wide open.

  Beth was running on solid ground before she knew she'd landed. She slowed to a walk then stopped, turning to look at Merrick.

  His arms came around her, and she jumped from the unexpected contact.

  “You're well.”

  Merrick gave her a good once over, making sure she was indeed in one piece.

  She nodded. Her near-death on Three had been even more terrifying than her potential death at Ryan's hand.

  They broke apart awkwardly, and Merrick turned away from her.

  Neither said anything.

  “Don't make it personal, Merrick,” Beth said.

  It was the bravest utterance she'd ever made. She didn't want to push away the first Reflective who had ever been decent to her.

  He didn't respond as she’d thought he might.

  “I'm trying.”

  Beth was stunned, forgetting her surroundings. They could have been in the pit of doom, and she would have disregarded it.

  “What are you saying?” she asked quietly. He couldn't… could Merrick have feelings for her?

  No male wanted Beth. She was a mongrel Reflective. Merrick had been in the panties of every woman who resided in Papilio.

  No, something else is at play.

  He turned, and his eyes were hard specks of pewter. His hands went to his hips, and Beth was struck by his sheer size.

  Merrick dwarfed her, but he did not diminish her.

  He rolled his shoulders into a shrug. “I care.”

  Beth nodded. “Of course, we're partners… I feel the same.”

  Merrick met her eyes, blowing out an exhale like a windstorm. “I… I don't think we can partner any longer, Jasper.”

  It was a sucker punch.

  He’d had her back, he'd saved her, and he’d healed her with the last jump. They were a good team. She was the best jumper of their kind and an expert foreign-sector linguist. Merrick was renowned for his weaponry skills.

  He could regenerate in a jump and heal those who traveled with him.

  Beth filled her lungs; ribs and internal organs whole and well.

  “No,” she said immediately.

  His eyes flicked to hers then away. “It is not that you're not a superb Reflective…”

  “Then what?”

  “I can't get past the gender issue.”

  Beth's chin jerked back.

  Merrick scanned their surroundings.

  “Let's find another place to talk about this.”

  She searched for something more suitable. They were in a small quadrant and had captured the attention of dozens of younglings.

  They'd landed in the middle of a youngling educational center.

  Marie Sortun Elementary the building read.

  The younglings’ eyes were very round as they observed the conversation between Beth and Merrick like a Ping-Pong match.

  “Agreed.”

  Merrick walked away, maintaining a distance that hadn't seemed to matter a few moments before.

  Beth frowned, pulling out her pulse and firing it up. After the slim communicator had initialized, she thought her command.

  Location required.

  Characters formed. She flicked her eyes ahead, keeping tabs on Merrick as she followed.

  Quadrant: East Hill- Kent, Washington. Greater Quadrant- America

  Back in Kent. Excellent. They could jump to… she thought a new command into her pulse communicator.

  Nearest body of water greater than one-tenth kilometer.

  A grid solidified with the outline of a small lake just northeast of their position.

  Lake Mercian, .11 kilometers, northwest 4.6 kilometers of current position.

  They came to the edge of a great overgrowth of thorny bushes, small deciduous trees and scrub brush.

  They still drew the attention of the younglings’ wandering gazes, but their ears could no longer hear what Beth and Jeb said. Beth wanted to switch to Latin but knew how dangerous that would be.

  As it was, they'd dropped out of the sky in front of a hundred youngling witnesses, who were impervious to Merrick’s mind manipulation.

  “Jasper…”

  Beth held up her pulse; she would not hear about how she was an inadequate female once more.

  “We can jump at this location.”

  She handed Merrick her pulse, and he studied the grid.

  “All right.” He handed it back to her.

  “I'll pulse Calvin, or he'll jump to this quadrant.”

  That's all I need. Their mission was already compromised six ways to Sunday. A hundred witnesses had seen their jump, she’d almost died because she couldn't handle herself against five Three males, and they had Three deaths. At least their deliberate interference to save a portion of the future population had been successful; the Zondorae brothers would be eliminated.

  It was deplorable.

  No wonder Merrick wanted to cut her loose. She'd screwed her first mission beyond hope.

  Beth clammed up. If Merrick didn't want her, then fine. There were others. She thought of Ryan, and her mind stuttered over the reality of a less-than-neutral partner. Some Reflectives would hesitate to leave her on a non-reflective sector—like One.

  And then Beth would be stranded on a world so violent that the Papilio embassy there was fortified with a non-reflective metal mined only on Sector Seven. The fey of that sector—they had an intimate knowledge of natural deposits.

  She was expendable. Rachett had assured her that Merrick was dependable.

  To Beth’s shock, he was. He'd shown himself to be even-handed and compassionate, though not with those who would bring them harm. The Threes at the cafe had deserved his wrath.

  Merrick had taken care of her twice. She would have fed him had he been wounded. Beth would have killed herself carrying him through battle. She would have jumped to heal him if she could.

  None of that was inappropriate; it was true Reflective camaraderie.

  Now Merrick was behaving as though something had broken along the way, and he couldn't fix it.

  He was too self-contained for her to think he would be interested as a male would be. No two Reflectives were ever allowed to marry.

  That was sacrilege.

  The goal of meeting one’s soulmate belong to all Reflectives. It forbid anything but dalliances.

  She was fine with that; anything else felt a little like cheating on her future spouse—that perfect half to make her whole. There were Reflectives who weren't worried about it. The prospect of finding their soul mate in another sector seemed too faraway to be real.

  Yet it was. Beth had seen it happen. That lucky Reflective’s internal timepiece finally disintegrates after their combative service for The Cause is satisfied. They are free to jump, not for battle, policing, and protection but to find their other half.

  Hard to imagine having happiness without conditions.

  Most likely, Beth's other half was from the sector her mixed genetics hailed from. However, she would not be privy to that classified information.

  Rachett knew. Who else?

  “Jasper,” Merrick called to her.

  She started.

  “We can discuss this more later.”

  Beth shook her head, changing her mind again. “I want to know before we jump why you won't work with me.”

  She looked down at her feet, expelling a tight breath.

  “Is it because I was injured too much�
� weak?” Beth said the last word quietly.

  “No.”

  Beth jerked her face up, and Merrick's was so close she could touch him.

  But she didn't.

  “Then what?” she asked, her voice low, her hands clasped behind her back.

  “The truth?” he asked, swiping hair away from his face.

  The younglings’ happy noise filled the air behind them, the humidity of the world clung to them like damp fingers, and the call of the nearby lake to jump home was almost unbearable.

  Beth wanted to leave Sector Three.

  She wanted to hear Merrick's thoughts more.

  “Is there anything other than the truth?”

  Her eyes searched his.

  “Not with me, no.”

  That's settled then. “Tell me.”

  He hesitated. “I can't accomplish our missions with a Reflective I feel I have to protect.”

  Beth retreated a step. “I escaped Ryan's assault… he would have killed me—”

  “I know.”

  “It can't be that. I had things under control with those Threes.”

  Merrick shook his head.

  “No, they caused internal damage.”

  Beth turned, pacing away. Her eyes began to scan for something to jump from—anything.

  She couldn’t stand the words Merrick used.

  Inferior. Female. Mongrel. They’re not actually the words he used, but they’re what she heard, what she’ll always hear.

  “Jasper!” he called out, his voice a strike against her, soft like velvet, low, and commanding.

  “Beth.”

  Stopping, she could feel Merrick approach.

  His body heat moved ahead of him like a wave, blanketing the path as he drew nearer.

  “What?” Her body tensed, ready for the strike.

  “Face me.”

  Beth turned, and he put his hands on her shoulders. “I am sorry. I'm not as good with words as you are.”

  The words that fell out of her mouth were hurtful but factual. “Rachett will put me with someone like Ryan.”

  Merrick squeezed her shoulders and let his hands drop.

  “I won't let him.”

  “That's what you don't get. It won't matter. I need to jump, and I have to jump with someone.” Her voice turned bitter.