by Laken Cane
It was reflex—he just as quickly pushed her away.
But she let it go and stood still for Ellie’s hug, winking at Jack who stared at her somberly as he waited for his turn.
“You look like hell,” Raze said, and dragged Ellis off her. Raze wasn’t the patient sort. He yanked her into the air and held her against his chest in a bone crushing hug. “You look like fucking hell.”
Rune smiled against his warm neck. “Smooth talker. It’s no wonder you have such a way with the ladies.”
Her crew laughed, and it was good. The darkness had been nearly unbearable.
At last she gave Jack a quick hug, then stepped away and accepted the coffee Ellis handed her. “I lost Fie.” She told them everything that had happened with the witch, Llodra, and the child. “Tell me exactly what happened here.”
They did. Twenty seven RISC employees had been attacked. Four of them were alive—though it was doubtful they’d remain that way.
Elizabeth and four guards had gone to release Llodra. The cameras showed him waiting at the door, already aware they were coming.
He attacked Elizabeth first, which might have been what saved her. The guards had started to pull guns from their holsters, and he had turned his attention from her to them.
Then others came…the ones who had locked themselves inside their rooms had been pulled screaming into the halls where he’d savagely fed and then flung their drained bodies against the wall.
The entire slaughter had last only a few minutes, then Llodra was gone. He had gone to Rune, had exchanged blood with her…
And now he was gone.
But not for long. She’d find him.
“It doesn’t make sense,” she murmured. “Why would he kill these people?”
“Because he’s mad,” Raze said. “And he’s a killer.”
“Yeah. I guess.” She swallowed half her coffee. “He said…” How could she say it so it wouldn’t sound ridiculous? “I have a dad. Llodra force fed me blood he’d supposedly carried from my father to protect me from the witch.” Yeah. It sounded ridiculous. She took another gulp of coffee, avoiding their stares. “Not that I believe it.”
Right.
Ellis took pity on her. “Why would he do something to protect you if he’s such a coldblooded killer?”
“Exactly,” she said.
“Rune.” Jack’s voice was gentle. “We have him on camera killing our people.”
“No, I know. I know. And we’ll make sure he pays for that. It just doesn’t make sense, that’s all.”
“And you don’t like it when things don’t make sense,” Lex said.
“Lex!” Rune turned and grinned at the blind Other. “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” Lex walked unerringly to Rune, shot a hand out and wrapped her fingers around Rune’s wrist. “How are you?”
Rune gently extracted her wrist. “I’m okay. Where’s Owen?”
“Still at the hospital with Elizabeth. I called a cab. I felt you were near.” Lex could feed her addiction simply by being close to Rune. Feed, as she put it, from Rune’s energy. She didn’t have to have her blood.
But Rune was pretty sure the blood would have been much, much better.
“Is Elizabeth…?”
Lex shook her head. “She hasn’t regained consciousness.”
“Rune.” Levi squeezed her shoulder. “Let me go now. I need to search for my brother.”
“Not alone,” Lex said, her dancing eyes fierce. “I’m going with you.”
“As soon as we get things sorted out here,” Rune said, “we’re all going to search for Denim.” She brushed a hand over her face. “We have to avoid the soldiers.”
“They’re going to bomb Rock County,” Raze said. “We can’t go back in.”
“You know that for sure?”
He shrugged. “That’s what I heard.”
She straightened her spine. “Then I go back alone.”
“We left you there once,” Jack said. “We won’t do it again.”
“You can’t go. I’ll be okay.”
“He’s right,” Raze said. “We’re not leaving you there alone again.”
“I can’t risk your lives,” she said, her voice barely loud enough for them to hear. “Don’t make me force you.”
“You’re the boss,” Jack said. “You can order us to stay behind and sit on our asses while you go in and risk your life.”
“But this time,” Raze said. “We won’t listen to you. When you go back, we go back.”
She clenched her fists so hard her nails cut into her palms. She clenched harder. “Bombs might not kill me, dude. But they’ll kill you.”
“Denim is in there,” Levi said. “You have to let me go find him.”
She was glad Levi seemed to be getting back to normal. Before he’d been bitten, he wouldn’t have stopped searching for Denim in the first place. Now, he did what she told him to do—but he was starting to argue. “We’re going to find Denim. No matter what. And we’ll find Llodra and Marta.” She took a deep breath. “We—”
But she cut off her words when Raze’s cell began to ring.
They all watched him with dread as he answered. “Yeah?” He listened for a second, his eyes widening.
“What, Raze?” Rune asked. “What is it?”
He smiled slightly. It was maybe the second time she’d ever seen him smile.
“That was Strad,” he told them. “And he has Denim. He’s unhurt.”
“God,” Rune said, and let the relief pour over her. Ellis grabbed Levi and whispered words she couldn’t understand, over and over.
Then, he left Levi and flung his arms around her. “You see? It’s all going to be fine. Right, Rune?”
“Yes.” She kissed his cheek. “It will.”
“And,” Raze said, then waited for them all to pay attention.
“What?” Rune asked. Please don’t be bad news.
It wasn’t.
“Denim found the little girl. She’s hurt, but she’s alive.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The relief was overwhelming.
She hadn’t realized exactly how wound up and worried she’d been until Strad called. She really hadn’t believed Denim or Fie were alive.
With that relief came utter exhaustion. It had been a hard couple of days, and she was running on fumes. Being so fatigued and depleted was dangerous for her.
“I’m going to go eat and sleep,” she said, after Lex, Levi, and Raze agreed to get Fie settled in at the hospital. They’d make sure she was next to George.
Rune had phoned one of the only women she’d trust with Fie—a woman named Lane who seemed like the grandmotherly type until you saw the steel beneath her smile. She’d been with River County Children Services for fifteen years, and Rune didn’t know anyone who was better suited to see to Fie and George. “Tell them…”
“We will,” said Jack. “Come on, honey. I’ll drive you to the inn.”
But she shook her head. “My car out front?”
Raze tossed her the keys. “In your usual spot.”
“All of you get some rest after you see Denim and Fie. This is not even close to over.”
Ellis took her hand, his face pale. Dark blotches lay under his eyes like thumbprints, and the spark that made him Ellis was dim. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, baby. Go home. Sleep.” She squeezed his fingers and handed him off to Levi.
But Ellis wasn’t finished. He took her hand again, and with his other, caressed her battered face. “Don’t ever forget that I love you, Rune.”
He was always so afraid for her.
But then, he knew her. He knew he had reason to be afraid.
She left them there and stumbled to her car, ignoring calls from the media. She couldn’t talk to them. She had to eat, shower, and sleep.
And then she’d deal with Llodra.
As she started her car, Bill Rice, the police director, pulled in beside her. She groaned, but put down her
window to talk to him.
“I’ve got to go for a while,” she told him. “We’ll talk later.”
To her surprise, he didn’t try to stop her. He looked long and hard at her regrowing hair and her wounds, peered into her eyes, and simply said, “Call me when you wake up. I want you to get that bastard.” Then he strode away and into the building of blood.
She plugged her phone into her car charger, gave it a few minutes, then called Owen as she drove. “How is she?” Her hands were shaking, and she clenched the wheel so hard she heard a creak.
“The same.” He paused. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
He didn’t blame her. Not yet. Or maybe he just wasn’t ready to show it.
“Strad is on his way back. He found Denim and the kid.” She shivered beneath the blast of hot air coming from the vents, pretty sure she’d never be warm enough again.
“Great news.”
“I’m going to get some sleep. In a few hours we’re going to find Llodra. I’ll explain everything to you then. You should stay with Elizabeth.”
“No. I need to work. I need to find that fuck.”
She understood. “Okay.”
She clicked off, grabbed a bag of greasy burgers and a large coffee, and finally, she was home.
The inn wasn’t really home, but it was a warm place to stay until she could get moved into the house she’d just bought. The way things were going, that was going to be a while.
She wolfed down the food and coffee and stumbled to the bathroom. She had to shower, as tired as she was, but first she needed to find a mirror.
She didn’t look as messed up as she’d thought she would. There was only one thing that caused her to stare in shock.
Her hair had grown a couple of inches, and it was no longer black. At least, not all of it was. It was white, with rapidly growing black roots.
But her eyes were different. Not in color or shape, but they’d developed a new flinch, as though shrinking back from all they’d witnessed.
From the new things they knew.
Father. Who was he?
She didn’t cry, or mourn the changes that had come, or curse. Not then.
She climbed quietly into the shower. The water, hot and clean and washing away every bad thing, was heaven. Heaven.
But the bad things, they came anyway.
Sometimes, she had to cave. She had to let life crush her so she could reach the bottom and either die or stand the fuck back up and walk through the dark with her spine stiff and her fists ready.
So there in the insulated waterfall of her steamy shower, she let herself cave.
When she lay on the bottom, where familiar despair and filthy guilt and shameful fear grabbed her by the throat and held her under black, putrid water, only then could she admit one thing to herself.
She missed Jeremy.
She missed what he’d done for her.
She needed him.
But he had gone and there was no one to help her. No one to make her feel better. No fucking one at all.
And masquerading as a sane person was exhausting.
So she had to let herself fall to the bottom. She licked the wicked floor with a greedy, wounded tongue, and cried for herself even as she gently embraced the darkness that lived inside her.
She was alone, and she was mad.
She held her hands under the stinging spray of water, a futile attempt at cleansing them of the blood she’d shed.
She did good things, but the good would never make up for the bad. Never.
Would they punish her for demanding Llodra’s release? Would they do anything other than refuse to meet her stare when she stood before them?
No.
“Then fuck you,” she muttered. “Fuck you.”
She didn’t react when she was plucked from her wet hell. The berserker cradled her in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her upon it and then straightening to stare down at her.
She looked at the ceiling.
“Come back to me,” he said.
Unaware she was even going to, she sat up and shot out her claws. “Make it stop,” she screamed. “Make me stop!”
“Sweetheart,” he whispered. He drew his spear and tossed it aside, then ignored her claws and knelt down beside the bed.
She held up a hand, threatening, but he didn’t move.
“Cut me if you need to,” he said, “but I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t want to cut you,” she said, and that was partly a lie. Her voice was so thick she wasn’t sure he’d understand her words. “I want to cut me. It helps. It helps, Berserker.” But she retracted her claws.
He grasped her arm and pulled her hand toward his chest. He placed her palm above his heart. “I can’t be that kind of help, Rune.”
“Ah,” she cried. “Ah, God.”
He had no words to change what had happened or make her okay. Such words did not exist. So he did what he could do.
Pushing her back, not gently, he climbed to his feet. He never took his stare from her as he tore off his belts and holsters and sheaths, then rid himself of his clothes and boots.
She watched him with a ferocious desperation, and began to calm. “Hurry, Berserker.” She scraped her nails along her bare thigh, drawing blood, but he didn’t try to stop her.
The berserker was fierce. His energy attacked her, taking up all the space in her mind. It squeezed out the bad shit until there was little room for anything but him.
Because whether he understood it or not, he would hurt her. There was no evil attached to his gift, no deliberate attempts to crush a girl whose issues were overwhelming. He was simply that fierce.
She trembled with eagerness. “Do not hold back, Berserker. Not this time.”
His cock stiffened and grew to almost alarming proportions, but that was not frightening to her. It was what he held inside himself that frightened her.
And that was exactly what she needed.
She wrapped her fingers around his hardness, the heat of him enough to warm her cold palm.
He shuddered beneath her touch.
He shook his head, his long, black hair streaming over his bare, muscular chest, and smiled. His eyes shot sparks of internal rage and controlled passion about to be unleashed. “No,” he agreed. “Not this fucking time.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
He kept his word. He did not hold back.
And neither did she.
Afterward, she lay on the floor, her mind empty and her spirit numb. Her body, the shell that held her, was throbbing with pain in every spot, every orifice, every nerve.
It was good.
She didn’t even have to beg Ellie to bring blood, did not have to pull him into her warped world and cause him pain.
The berserker was full of blood.
Or he had been, before she’d gone a little crazy beneath his rage and his addiction and had nearly drained him.
He lay beside her, still and pale, one arm flung over her belly.
She didn’t care.
The berserker could take it.
She smiled, or meant to. “Thank you.”
His finger twitched against her skin and she knew he heard her. And as soon as she could force herself from the near coma of bliss and begin to worry again, she’d feed him.
Now, she could deal with Llodra, and with the possibility that her father was alive and well and knew who the fuck she was.
Could deal with the dead RISC workers.
Maybe she could even deal with Z and Levi.
She could deal with life.
Curled against the berserker, she slept.
And in her dreams, Nicolas Llodra told her how to find him.
Not deliberately, but she saw his secrets.
When she jerked awake and sat up, gasping, Strad didn’t move. She pushed the dream of Llodra away and opened a vein for the berserker, forcing blood back into his drained body.
“Strad,” she demanded. “Now you come back to me.”
She’d taken too much. She’d done the very thing she’d been terrified of doing, and had hurt him.
“You can’t hurt me, Rune. Not that way.”
But she could. She had.
Fuck.
“Strad,” she whispered, as she fed him. His mouth had begun to move, to suck at her wrist, to take the medicine he needed to live. “I think I know how to find Llodra.” She hesitated. It didn’t matter that he might not hear her. She’d just needed to say the words aloud. To admit that she…
She was of the dead.
“You do not fully realize your power, do you? There is a chance you would pull out the secrets inside you and give me what I so deserve.”
She shivered as she remembered Llodra’s words. Her blood brought Strad back from the brink, and at her shiver, he opened his swollen eyes.
Everything that had happened—feeding from the witch, her bites from the zombies, the forced exchange of blood from Llodra, bringing back her boys…
All of it had changed her. She’d known it would.
She hadn’t realized what bringing back Levi and Z had actually meant.
But she was terribly, terribly afraid she did now.
She was of the dead in ways she hadn’t comprehended.
That wasn’t what caused her the most distress. Because in her dreams, she’d discovered something else.
Something worse.
Her father. She knew her father.
He turned his face from her wrist. “You can find him?” His voice was rough and hoarse and barely there, but she heard him.
She squeezed her wrist to stop the bleeding, and shook her head. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. “I hurt you.”
“Yeah.” He tried for a wry smile. “I didn’t think you could. I was wrong.”
She stretched out on top of him and put her lips to his ear. “I’m so sorry.”
“No. It was the best thing I’ve ever gone through.” He ran a hand over her back. “I’m not afraid of hurting you anymore.”
“I told you.” The words rang with pride.
“Did it quit?” he asked quietly.
Quick tears sprang to her eyes and she pushed her lips against his throat, waiting for the spout of emotion to pass so she could speak. “You made it quit, Strad.”
