I groaned, much less dramatically than Ruck, but definitely as aggravated. I rested my arms on the back of a chair as I watched my friend blow my game skyward.
“Are you going to tell him?” Ruck asked, giving me a last chance.
“I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder,” I said.
Ruck ignored the tone and turned to Ryker. “Marra made her promise not to worm anymore.”
18
“Everyone out but Bugs,” Ryker said.
I turned my head to the side, letting out a slow sigh. While I was still trying to figure out why they should stay, they were all scrambling out the door.
“Real nice,” I said to Ruck as he walked past me. Big snitch. What was he thinking? He didn’t bother telling me as he walked out with the rest of them. One by one, they left until it was only Ryker and I.
“You really agreed to not worm?”
He was still clinging to the hope that Ruck was making it up. I could tell by the way his eyes went deeper and the fact that it was an actual question. The rhetorical ones had a different tone altogether.
There was a slight chance he wouldn’t be a stubborn ass about this. The odds were slim, but I was going to be optimistic for one time in my life.
“Marra was afraid I might get bad information that would hurt someone else.” I was extrapolating a lot from what she’d gestured, but I was sure I was correct. I knew her. She was only worried about others.
Ryker turned and paced the room for a second, before stopping by the door. He still had his arms crossed. He glanced at me, shook his head, and looked outside.
This was why I wasn’t optimistic. Shit never worked out. Of course he couldn’t understand. He used people. I didn’t. “I owe her. She was one of my—she is one of my people.”
His jaw shifted. “You owe her nothing. If it weren’t for you, she’d be dead with her sister from starvation.”
“I asked the worm if we should cross the river. Sinsy died. It wasn’t an absurd request.” That I had to defend it was even worse. Did he really think I wanted to not worm? My fingers twitched to dig for a worm almost hourly.
“She might’ve died anyway. She could’ve died when we got back, or if she’d never come here, but no one forced her to do anything. They were all her decisions. You need to forget Marra. Something’s snapped inside her. I’ve seen it enough to know.”
“She hasn’t snapped. She lost her sister. She’s in mourning like anybody would be, and she’ll get better.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Why are you letting her stay, then? Well? If that’s what you really think?” Ryker thought out every angle to the minutiae. Then every consequence beyond that. I respected it, even if I didn’t have the patience for it myself. If he truly believed what he said, he could’ve booted Marra out of here.
He shrugged.
Sure, my life was supposed to be an open book, and yet I couldn’t get a straight answer to a simple question.
He turned and walked toward me. “If you want to survive, you use whatever you have. You used to know that.”
The inference to when I used to raid chuggers was painfully obvious and also a much different scenario. “We would’ve starved.”
“What about the lives at stake right now? Don’t they matter?”
I paced toward the door. So much for being reasonable. We weren’t going to come to terms on this one, and the more I talked to him, the worse I felt and the more I feared he was right. “I promised.”
“A promise to someone who doesn’t deserve it, turns her back on you, and wants you to walk away from one of your gifts.”
“Marra didn’t turn her back on me,” I shot back, but the words still hit me like a one-two punch.
I walked out the door, not wanting a reply. All I needed now were a few minutes away from him.
Everyone was meandering outside of Ryker’s, probably having heard a good chunk of the conversation, not that I cared. They could’ve stayed inside with us if they’d wanted.
Knife stepped in front of me before I got more than a few steps. “I need you to know I meant everything I said in there. They only had orders to make offers to any Wyrd Blood they found, and I don’t mess around with the Boom.”
“Don’t worry, you’re still in the running,” I told him, words laced with acid. I would’ve said anything to get away from him at that moment.
I walked around him, and Ruck straightened off the building he’d been leaning against.
“We need to talk,” he said as he caught up to me.
I was done talking to everyone at the moment. It wouldn’t be easy to lose Ruck, so I dug in instead. “Let’s talk about how you gave me up in there.”
He didn’t shoot back at me the way I expected. The long exhale of breath didn’t bode well. “There’s some things you need to know.”
His steps slowed and mine did as well, even as I knew this wasn’t going to be a talk I wanted to hear. He nodded toward his room, which was closest to us, and started in that direction.
He didn’t speak as we walked, marinating his words. Ruck was a shoot-from-the-hip type. Nothing stewed with him.
He opened the door and gestured to a table and chairs he’d set up in the corner. “Maybe we should sit.”
I was going to need to sit? I settled in, knowing this day was about to get even worse. “Is this about what just happened with Ryker and me not wanting to worm? Do you disagree too? Is that why you gave me up?
“Ryker can’t understand the bond we all have. I didn’t make a random promise to a stranger. This is Marra. She hasn’t turned her back on us. She’s grieving. She’ll communicate when she’s ready. Everyone needs to cut her some slack.” And if I had to remind them of that every day of the week, I would.
He slumped into the chair across from me and his fingers drummed a morose tune, full of nerves. “That’s the thing: you don’t really know everything either.”
“What are you talking about?”
His eyebrows lifted as he stared at the table. “Marra didn’t really turn her back on us. Just you.”
My brain froze. That was the only way to describe it. When it kicked into gear a few seconds later, Ruck still hadn’t explained.
“Why would you say that?”
Ruck rolled his lips inward, biting them as his head bowed. He took a couple of huffing breaths. “Because it’s true. She’ll communicate with me. Or, at least, she would. I’m the one not talking to her.”
If Ryker had kicked me in the gut, this was like taking a boulder and smashing me upside the head. I couldn’t compute what Ruck was saying. “What?”
He nodded, meeting my eyes and then keeping them there.
He rubbed his palms on his pants. “You’re actually the only one she won’t communicate with.”
“Burn and Sneak? Ryker? None of them talk to her.”
He nodded. “By their choice. You’re the only one she won’t communicate with.” He bit his lip as his chest rose.
By the time he was done preparing himself to let go of the words he feared would hurt me, his silence had already slayed me to the bone. I straightened my spine and prepared for what I knew he’d say.
He drummed his fingers once more before he said, “She blames you, and only you, for Sinsy.”
I stayed quiet, stoic even on the surface as I felt brittle, on the verge of cracking, inside. I’d told myself over and over that she didn’t really blame me. She needed time. It made sense. Right? Except it was all bullshit.
I kept my shell together even as my insides were shattering.
Ruck leaned forward. “I told Marra it was everyone’s choice to go with the worm’s decision, but she didn’t care. I told her how many times you’d tried to get us to leave, but she didn’t want to hear that either. She’d decided you were to blame and wouldn’t hear anything else.”
At least I knew why he’d given me up to Ryker. He’d agreed with him that Marra didn’t deserve my loyalty.
“Are you
sure she’s blaming me?” Marra didn’t talk. Miscommunications were easy when only one party was speaking. He could’ve seen her look a certain way and assumed she blamed me. Maybe she wasn’t talking to me because I was like another sister to her, and the only close female, so she was pulling back?
“Please believe me when I say I’m sure.”
I raked a hand through my hair. “Okay.” Whatever proof he had, I wasn’t sure I needed to hear it. “Why aren’t her and Burn speaking?”
Burn and I were friendly, but nowhere near close enough for him to turn his back on Marra for me. I’d gotten the impression more than once he’d favored her, and the stares I’d seen him give her recently had only confirmed it.
“Ryker noticed that Marra wasn’t talking to you. He stopped acknowledging her after that, and I think Burn did the same out of loyalty to Ryker, and I think you. There might’ve been guilt as well, since him and Sneak feel partly to blame for Sinsy’s death. They didn’t agree with you taking the brunt.”
I rested my elbows on my knees and dropped my head in my hands, buying myself a couple of seconds to keep the burning I was feeling in my eyes from materializing into proof on my cheeks.
“Should I have not told you?” he asked.
“There was a time that we were all like family. I’d kill and rob for you guys. When Tiger left, that wasn’t the biggest deal. He was more like a distant cousin no one liked much.”
Ruck laughed, and so did I for a second.
“Fetch hurt a little more, but I respected his decision,” I said. “But then Sinsy died and Marra won’t speak to me and you won’t speak to her. I just didn’t see this coming. I thought we were all tighter than that. I thought we’d die for each other.”
“It’s still you and me, you know that.” Ruck gave me a light punch in the arm. If we hugged, it would be too much. Neither of us wanted to make this worse than it was.
He leaned back in his chair. “You never see change coming. It just plucks you up and drops you somewhere else. Sometimes the ride is fast and invigorating. Sometimes so slow and painful all you want to do is get off by any means necessary. If you hang on, sooner or later, the ride brings you somewhere else. You just have to ride the sucker out.”
I stood, shaking off the sting and refusing to drag this out any longer. She blamed me. I blamed me. Was there a big difference?
“I gotta get going,” I said.
He stood too. “I need to relieve Ben. Ryker pulled me off duty too, and he probably needs the break.”
We walked out of his place, and I hit him in the arm this time. “Thanks for still talking to me. My numbers are getting a little iffy.”
“I kind of have to, or who would you have left?”
We both laughed, even if it was forced, before heading our own way. Ruck and I had been together the longest, since we were both kids, not even teens yet, surviving however we had to. He was my rock and would always be.
19
I walked the largest and busiest road of the Valley, taking the temperature of the place. More dead. That would scare even the firmest of snowflakes if they had a lick of sense.
Apparently some of their snow must be melting off. For a nice evening, there should’ve been more people about, but most were tucked inside. The few that were out moved briskly and left a buffer between them and anyone who passed.
I kept walking and didn’t stop until I got to the place where the latest had died. The entire area was cordoned off. There was a sign hanging from bright red ribbons with a word on it that even I knew. Out.
I slipped closer and waited until no one was looking before I slipped under the tape. I’d taken note of which units held the dead when I’d come here earlier today, and headed inside before anyone caught sight of me.
The place looked normal enough. Neat bed tucked into the corner, a table with some writing elements lined up, and some hooks on the wall where the person’s clothing hung. There was no blood to be found and no body to look at. I went to the next units, all unlocked, and found similar scenes. I didn’t touch anything as my fingers twitched and I imagined the feel of a worm in my hand. I left with as many questions as I’d arrived with.
I walked for a while until I found myself in front of Marra’s door. I wasn’t optimistic, but then, I never really was. A glass half-empty could be rationed. A glass half-full would be gulped, and then you’d be really thirsty the next day. And as I’d mentioned before, optimism hadn’t worked out so well in the past.
But maybe I could talk to her and she’d agree. I’d explain how it was important. She’d want to do everything she could to help the situation. She was mourning. Not psychotic.
I dropped my head and closed my eyes, running the words through my mind a few more times before I got up the nerve to knock. The door swung open too quickly for her not to have seen me standing there. Her eyes were hard, and my pulse ratcheted up. She was my friend. This shouldn’t be so hard.
“Have you heard about the people dying?”
She gave me a stingy single nod. I’d known her for years. We’d grown up together. I’d considered her my crew, my family. Now she stared at me as if I were a stain on her clothes.
This was not going well, but I was here now. I had to try.
“I need you to release me from my promise—”
The door slammed in my face, hitting my toes. The shock hit a lot harder.
She hadn’t heard me out. If she’d heard me out, she’d understand. I needed to try harder.
I leaned close to the door with my palm flat on it. “Marra, I know why you don’t want me to worm, but we need to use every tool available that might help shed light on things.”
She didn’t respond, and I pressed an ear to the wood and heard her moving around inside.
“Marra, this isn’t about us.”
She still didn’t come to the door. I caught a flash of movement by her window and rushed over there. She was standing in front of it, in front of me, but not acknowledging that. A cloth dropped over the window, blocking me.
I wanted to throw a stone through it, but I didn’t. I walked away and headed back to my place, fingers playing with the edge of my shirt instead of a worm.
There was a strange little man with a mostly bald head, except for green tufts of hair sticking out above his ears, lingering in the shadows of my building. He looked fearful someone would see him. It didn’t seem to matter to him that people were noticing him and yet no one appeared to care he was there. He looked about as dangerous as the clipboard in his hand.
He stepped forward as I approached my door.
“Bugs?” His glasses slid down a long nose, stopping on the bulbous end.
I nodded.
“I’m so happy to meet you!”
“Who are you?” It wasn’t the nicest reaction, but polite society was about to go to hell anyway if people kept dying. I was definitely not the person who would keep it afloat. I was too tired to care, and my day had gone too badly.
“I’m Bertie, the burier.”
“You’re the burier? You collect the dead?”
He smiled, showing off a mouthful of very white, pointy teeth. “You’ve never met a miner before?”
“No.”
“We’re an obscure lot of folk; stay to ourselves mostly.”
I nodded.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here.”
“A little.” My hand was on my door, and all I wanted to do was crash on my bed.
“I need to get your information, like your tree and such.”
“My tree?”
The sky that had been threatening to rain all day decided to open up and dump it all at once. I opened my door and waved a hand for Bertie the burier to follow me. I didn’t want company, but I wanted to be soaked less.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything to drink or eat,” I said, not really sorry at all. I walked to my table, struck a match, and lit the lamp. Then I collapsed on my bed as if I were alone.
> “That’s quite all right. I just need to get this paperwork filled out. Considering what’s been going on, I thought it pertinent to update all the records and make sure the new inhabitants were listed.” He looked at his clipboard, pencil in hand. “Do you have a surname?”
“No. It’s just Bugs.” I hadn’t uttered my last name in a long time.
He hummed, his pencil hovering. “Well, we don’t have any other Bugs, so I guess that’s not a huge problem. If we get any more, I might have to number you.”
I threw my arm over my eyes. “Number away.”
He heard him scribble a mark on his paper. “And what shall your tree be?”
“What tree are you talking about?”
“When people die here, they’re laid to rest in the Grove of Souls, with a tree marking their grave. I need to know what tree you’d like. Obviously we can’t always accommodate every wish, but we try our best.”
He flipped through some sheets, and I squinted in his direction. He was shoving a piece of paper at me.
“Would you like to see a list of trees that do well here?”
I waved it off. “You can put me down for whatever you want.”
He scratched a green shadow on his chin. “I don’t know about that. They’re supposed to be chosen by the deceased.”
“Okay, fine, let me see the list.”
He held out the sheet. Instead of taking it, I pointed to words that meant nothing to me.
He looked it over. “The Whimsy Willow. Nice choice. That tree lives to be seven or eight hundred years old and is said to have been created by fairies. Of course, since it’s a new tree, we haven’t established if the fairies’ boast is accurate about its life span. Either way, they’ll be happy to have another planted, and they’re already so happy with you to begin with. I think they’re running a little short on space in the grove right now.”
“Fairies? You’re saying fairies made a tree and they’re living in the grove? I thought fairies didn’t come this far north?” I’d always known fairies existed, but I’d never seen one. Then again, they were rare in these parts of the world.
Full Blood (Wyrd Blood Book 2) Page 12
