Instinct Ascending: Rabids Book 2

by Amy Cook

  Chapter 23

  Harley

  Blood dripped from his face as he slammed the sword through the Rabid’s neck, severing it from its emaciated body. The head rolled to the ground, large eyes grimacing up at him as though cursing him from the grave. Harley nudged the head to its side, facing it away from him.

  He looked across the rubble and body-strewn streets, eyes searching for any sign of life to extinguish. Cajun came walking toward him with a grin, his own body covered in gore and sweat. Charleen was at his side, looking royally pissed off, as was the norm for her around this time. Blood Moon Hunts were not her favorite.

  “Still alive, I see, brother.” Cajun slapped Harley on the shoulder.

  “Always,” Harley replied in turn. It was the same dialogue each Blood Hunt. It was their way of assuring one another was safe and sound, and giving their manly sort of seal of approval on that fact without getting into the mush. Kyree, Tyson, Greeves and Jackes walked up in the distance, all worse for wear, but alive.

  Cajun looked out across the carnage they had reaped, a satisfied expression on his face. If you didn’t know to look in his eyes for the truth, you’d think he had enjoyed the whole mess. But Harley knew his brother, and he didn’t need more than a glance to see it had taken its toll on him, just as it did them all. It wasn’t as bright as it once was, but it was still there. And as screwed up as it sounded, that haunted look in your eyes was actually a good sign. It meant your humanity was still in there somewhere.

  “Death owes me a commission,” Cajun stated. Charleen rolled her eyes, but exchanged a glance with Harley. They both knew his statement for what it was. Humor was Cajun’s way of dealing with pain — always had been and always would be, as long as he was still in touch with his good side. And their look was a shared expression of relief in the knowledge that Cajun was still with them. They both had reasons to worry that wouldn’t always be the case, not with the way his brain was screwed up. Cajun caught their exchange, face screwing up in mock defense.

  “Well, he does! With as much business as I bring the guy, you’d think he’d cut me a share of the goods.”

  “I don’t think he cares for makin’ deals, Caj.” Harley smirked. “You’re still alive; I’d say take it and be happy about it.”

  “Who says Death is a man?” Kyree snarled, coming to stand far too close for Harley’s liking. He took one big, obvious step to the side and forwards a little, not even bothering to meet her gaze. Some might think he was backing down to her, but in the Hybrid world his actions spoke of deep disdain. He could practically feel her anger deepening.

  The woman was crazy. She had always been crazy, but ever since he’d accidentally pelted her with his boot, she’d taken it as some sort of twisted declaration of intention. Now the weirdo was always popping up somewhere, staring him down in a way that made him cringe. She either wanted to lick him, or stab him: maybe both. Nasty.

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m so sick of men making everything to resemble them. Women hold way more power than men do. Men are just too asinine to realize it, until they’re shown,” Kyree growled, her gaze shifting to land on Cajun as she spoke, making it clear exactly who she was addressing. The rage stirred from fighting always brought the Hybrid to the surface, always made a Hybrid at its most dangerous; and in this case, at its stupidest. Kyree was dangerously close to challenging Cajun with her words.

  Cajun folded his arms over his chest, eyes alight with dark mischief. He was going to enjoy this argument too much, and the relief Harley and Charleen had shared earlier dimmed. Harley didn’t like that look.

  “This is the stupidest conversation I’ve ever heard,” Cajun remarked. The harpy scowled at him.

  “That’s because you’re a man, and your brain can’t make sense of anything. You’re a moron. Women should be leading with our QueenLeader, not you.”

  Kyree was a through and through feminazi. Harley had utmost respect for women and their contributions to the world. His family had ensured to drill that home to the marrow. But there was a difference between women who were proud of their sex and accomplishments, and women that jumped on every possible moment to one-up men.

  Amiel: now she was a classy example of a perfect woman. She held her head high with an inner strength that shone to all with eyes, and she did it without grinding men under her heel. She held a strength and intelligence that was radiant, attractive and empowering. She didn’t feel threatened by men, and therefore didn’t feel the need to squash them. And she wasn’t too proud to admit when she needed help.

  Charleen was another example. She carried such awesome power that it could be staggering, yet she never flaunted it. And with that quiet, radiant power came the respect of all who were near it.

  Kyree, on the other hand, enjoyed harping on anything and everything the men around her did. Eagerly degrading them about the tiniest details sustained her like life-giving breath. She was hard: crusty on the inside and out. No matter her somewhat pleasant looks on the outside, her actions made her uglier than any physical beauty could cover.

  Most days, Harley ignored her. But today, his troll-o-meter had reached its max, and he couldn't stand another one of her harpy attacks. She had issued a challenge to his brother, and Harley was stepping in to snuff it out before it escalated. She was toeing a line. If she crossed it, Cajun would have to act. And his brother was dangerously toeing his own line: the line of sanity. Harley wasn’t about to let her push him over it with something as stupid as asserting her nonexistent dominance.

  “Well, let’s see.” Harley spoke, eyes not leaving his brother as he goaded the girl’s wrath toward himself. “Death accompanies illness, catastrophic disasters, and utter pain. No one is ever happy to see it comin’ their way, and do what they can to avoid it. Yet it hounds ya till your last breath.” He shook his head. “Nope, the dude is right, Caj; death is definitely a woman.”

  “Did you just call me a dude?” Kyree hissed angrily, stepping closer in another challenge. Harley spared her a quick, dismissive glance.

  “Ain’t nobody alive that could confuse ya with bein’ a woman. There ain’t a single ladylike quality about ya. Now shut up and do somethin’ useful with your time somewhere else.” He tightened the internal reins when he heard his accent thickening. He wasn’t going to let this chick get the better of his temper; she wasn’t worth it.

  From the corner of his eyes, he saw her raising her hand like a claw, and an internal dread rose with it. He hated hitting girls. But she was moving past the realm of putting her in her place verbally. If she outright physically challenged him, he’d have to physically put her in her place, or lose control of the entirety of the Hybrid ranks. He’d lose his place of succession, and therefore his ability to protect his brother. And that was quite simply not something he could or would do. His fists clenched at his side, prepared to act.

  There had been a few times when he’d had to put a female Hybrid down because she had become crazed from their lifestyle. He could count those times on one hand. He avoided it when possible, and when not, he put them down as quickly as he could. Yet they always haunted him. He saw his mother’s face in every single one of them as the life left them. So it was a huge relief when Charleen moved forward, saving him from having to act. Her hand shot out, constricting around the woman’s throat, nails digging into soft flesh. Kyree cried out in a garbled scream.

  “You dare to challenge my First, and strike my Second?” Charleen hissed, mottled rage burning in her cold eyes. Harley’s breath caught, and he wasn’t the only one. All the Hybrids surrounding Charleen froze, heads bowing slightly under the sheer power that the woman exuded. Kyree instantly went still, fear in her own gaze.

  “Aggression toward my kin will end with your torturous death. I will rip your entrails from your body one by one and strangle you with them if you look in their direction again.”

  Kyree went limp, her skin so pale it was nearly translucent. Charleen dropped the woman in a di
sgraced heap, and then promptly turned her back on her.

  A hush fell over those assembled as Cajun also turned his back; their collective gazes swung to see what Harley would do. Kyree grasped her bleeding neck, head hung in degradation. Harley felt an uncomfortable twinge inside. No matter how ugly the woman was inside, she was still a woman, and no woman should have to cower on the ground. Seeing her bow her head, demoted to nothing better than the dirt beneath their feet, it made the gentlemanly side in Harley regret.

  Yet he could hardly let her challenge them so blatantly, or it would result in more challenges in the future, and possibly push Cajun over the edge. With Hybrids, a tight leash had to be kept, or all Hell would break loose. He steeled himself against the weakness within, blocked off the emotions as he turned his own back.

  “Forgive me, First,” Kyree gasped wretchedly, clearly aware of how close to peril she stood. Cajun stood rigid, not responding. A long silence followed, before a soft touch was felt at the top of Harley’s booted foot, Kyree’s hand gently cupping it in a show of deference.

  “Forgive me, Second.” Her voice was gravelly from the chokehold Charleen had placed her in. Harley’s muscles went rigid and he silently stalked toward the jugs of gasoline in the back of Cajun’s SUV. He tossed one to Cajun and Charleen, nodding dismissively to the other Hybrids, giving them permission to disperse and attend to other duties. He ignored the girl as she climbed to her feet and disappeared into the darkness. Sloshing the gas over the bodies with a single-minded determination, Harley moved quickly through the carnage, still ignoring the conflicted emotions he held on lockdown. He was more than ready to get out of here.

  The other Hybrids disappeared into the inky night, spreading out to head in their own directions now that the Blood Hunt was complete. Charleen nodded her own permission to Harley before stepping into the car. Harley moved forward, tossing a match on the nearest body. Flames instantly rushed to life, spreading over the Rabid bodies, cleaning the area of their infection. Cajun placed a conciliatory hand on his shoulder.

  “Thank you brother. I was… not myself.”

  Harley nodded silently. They watched the flames for a moment, letting the situation burn away with the bodies.

  “Tonight the night?” Cajun finally spoke, changing the subject. Harley sighed, another gravity shifting to lie heavily across his shoulders.

  “Yeah.”

  “Let us know if you need us.”

  “I won’t,” Harley replied firmly. He was taking Amiel out on her first patrol tonight. His Hybrid held an eager sort of anticipation that edged on the verge of stupidity. Despite their combined worry of the dangers, his Hybrid was eager to see the girl in action again, to fight at her side. It also didn’t particularly care for the idea of sharing that excitement with his brother and his fiancée. Besides, they’d done their parts, and it was too dangerous for either of them to be running about tonight: Charleen with her allure, and Cajun with his edgy attitude. And if Harley were honest, his Hybrid was wary of Cajun being near his charge, with the unpredictable way he was acting tonight.

  Cajun stiffened for a minute before his shoulders sagged with an air of defeat. Understanding shone in his gaze, and it was a kick in Harley’s gut. Neither of them liked what they saw in Cajun tonight; and they were both helpless to change it. His brother straightened, cheesy grin forced back into place.

  “Be safe then, mate.” Cajun saluted before jogging to the car. Harley’s eyes shifted to meet Charleen’s, and he offered a bow of his own head, giving her a silent thank you for her actions. She nodded in reply, no words needed; just like they didn’t need words to convey their shared worries for Cajun.

  Chapter 24

  Amiel

  “Sure your ribs are fine now?” Harley asked for the millionth time. She giggled when he reached out, poking her in the side.

  “Stop that! I’m fine! Except for the sheer boredom of sitting here, of course. I’m going to turn into a petrified statue.”

  “Maybe it’d keep ya outta trouble,” Harley mumbled, before sighing heavily. “All right. Let’s go.” She jumped up and down with an excited squeal, and his eyes turned doubtful once more as he took in her sleek catsuit.

  “And you’re sure ya wanna go like that? Ya might get cold.”

  Amiel put on an innocent grin. “You said this is supposed to regulate my temperature. Besides, I’ll have my jacket on. And I’ll be fighting. What more warmth do I need? Besides, my Robin suit blends in with the night better.” And maybe, just a little, she liked the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. The Robin suit had magic powers of Harley-head-turning persuasions. She bit her lip, tossing her leather jacket on and doing a little spin.

  “See? Perfect. Let’s go, Sir Harley. Off to the battle.” She grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the stairs of the gym. Harley shook his head.

  “Yeah, yeah, destiny awaits, blah blah.” He chuckled. “Sure are excited about this. Thought it scared ya?”

  Her face only gave the slightest pinch of frustration at being called out on her weakness: she was that riled up. She let go of his hand to bounce up and down on her toes, shaking her hands out in front of her in an effort to dispel the tingles gathering there.

  “I can’t help it. I’ve got all this crazy, restless energy pent up inside me, like I’m bouncing around in my head.”

  Harley reached out, grabbing hold of her shoulders to still her bouncing. Still she thrummed with energy, and his touch only seemed to heighten it. Her heart flew, pounding so hard in her chest she almost worried she’d pass out. He looked deep in her eyes, and the current of the connection yanked her mental feet right out from under her.

  “Amiel?”

  “Yeah?” she whispered breathlessly.

  “Calm down. Both of ya.” His words flowed through her, and like some kind of miracle, it flipped a switch within. Amiel hadn’t realized it was her Hybrid side causing all of the trouble. She’d had this restless energy brewing in her for the last two days. The last hour of work tonight, Joyce asked her if she were on drugs. Amiel couldn’t calm the storm within, no matter how she tried. And yet all Harley had to do was give her one look, one simple command, and boom: she was filled with such calm strength, it was like the restlessness never existed. A grin grew on her face as she floated in his gentle current.

  “Wow.”

  “Calm now?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. I’m not gonna keep my promise if you’re gonna get crazy like that.” This time, she knew he was talking directly to her Hybrid side. He blinked, and the intense connection was gone. She missed it immediately.

  “Think y’all were on the verge of hyperventilatin’ there, kid.”

  She giggled, filled with a new sensation: giddy infatuation.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” she apologized. “I still don’t know what I am doing. I didn’t even realize it was the Hybrid side of me. How can you tell when your Hybrid side is acting up?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know. It’s just there. I can feel it, just like I can feel my hand. It’s just an extension of me.”

  “I don’t feel anything. That’s weird, right? I should feel it?”

  He watched her carefully for a minute before looking away. Reaching out, he tugged on the braid that was tossed over her shoulder.

  “No worries, kid. We’ll figure it out. We’ll start workin’ on gainin’ that control tonight. I just can’t have ya passin’ out on me.” He offered a mischievous grin. “Now, remember everythin’ I said about patrol tonight?”

  “If I see red, pat you to let you know.” She paused, brows drawing down in confusion. “Why don’t you wear your glasses anymore?”

  Harley coughed uncomfortably. Still not wanting her to feel badly that his glasses weren’t fixed yet, he brushed over the topic.

  “They’re on the fritz. Now, if ya need to stop, just poke me on the stomach or somethin’ that doesn’t require ya lettin’ go of me. I don’t want ya p
assin’ out and fallin’ off the bike before I can stop.”

  She nodded, refusing to blush at the idea of patting his stomach. For goodness sakes, she always had her arms wrapped around him on the bike, what was the difference between patting him on the stomach and holding onto it? Absolutely nothing — they both made her blush.

  “What else?” He interrupted her thoughts.

  “Let you know if I feel a change in the tags, even if I don’t see red.” He nodded. “And stay near you, no running off on my own to fight because you won’t be able to help if I need it. Between each fight, we take stock of injuries and weapons. If I feel uncomfortable or afraid, tell you and we head home. But I won’t.” She added the last bit as a form of defiance, though she also included a grin.

  “Stubborn,” he teased. “All right, let’s head out.” At the bike, Harley pulled out a new surprise. A shiny black helmet, exactly like the one she’d lost the last night she’d fought.

  “Your other one was pretty screwed up, so I grabbed you another. Can’t let ya fight without your favorite weapon, can we?” He smirked. Amiel grinned, immediately feeling whole. She hadn’t even realized the missing sensation, or what it meant, until that helmet was back in her hands. She assumed that was her Hybrid’s satisfaction she felt radiating through her. She couldn’t help grinning over her Hybrid’s attachment to helmets as a weapon.

  They hopped on the bike and headed for their new destination. Amiel’s grin grew as the buildings flew past them. She’d worn her aviators home every night since Harley gave them to her. And every night, she marveled at the colors as they whizzed by. She loved these things. Blurs of red ahead caught her attention, moving quickly toward them, several streets away. They still had enough distance that her tags had just begun to hum. She frantically patted Harley on the stomach. He nodded, already pulling off the road.