Strange Trouble

by Laken Cane

  Something inside her had hardened with Llodra’s death. With her killing of him.

  She was different, and the world was different.

  And she would go on.

  A small part of her didn’t really believe it was over. The new zombies, the mad master…

  They couldn’t be over, not just like that.

  But COS was still to come, and she knew defeating them would not be easy. It was a fight that would never end, because COS did not end.

  So maybe with Llodra, fate was just giving her a fucking break.

  It hadn’t been easy—but it could have been worse.

  They made short work of the other vampires, who never stirred when they were staked. Nor did they struggle when they were burned by an unforgiving sun, or when they finally, silently, dissolved into sad little piles of dust.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Rice called her as she drove back to town.

  “You killed Llodra,” he said.

  “How’d you know?”

  “The new zombies are gone. All over the county, they lay back down. Some of it was caught on film.”

  “Awesome,” she replied, her voice dull.

  He paused. “Are you okay?”

  “Will you tell Ellie he doesn’t have to go back into the room?”

  “Gladly.”

  “And also…”

  “Yes?”

  “Tell him we’re on our way to get Levi and the others.”

  “I’ll tell him.” He made no attempt to caution her to watch herself—COS had covered their tracks. Rune could be the one to end up in legal trouble.

  She clicked off and tossed her phone into the passenger seat. The sadness—the sadness of Amy and Llodra and the COS abductions and Z, oh God, Z—all that was cementing into a hard, black ball of rage.

  Rage she could handle. She needed rage to destroy the fucking slayers. To free Lex and the twins.

  To make everything okay if just for one fucking minute.

  Her cell rang again. “Did you find the location?” she asked Strad.

  “I did. They’re in the Moor.”

  “Because in the Moor, no one cares.”

  “Yes.”

  He gave her the address and she headed to the Moor, the bad place at the edge of the city where desperate humans seemed to congregate in large numbers.

  The place in which she would soon be living.

  She’d fit right in.

  Even though they parked a couple of streets away from the address, Rune wasn’t sure COS and their greasy ringleader, Bach Horner, weren’t already aware of their presence.

  They hadn’t even taken much trouble to conceal themselves. Either they were that arrogant, or they had a plan.

  She was betting on the plan.

  It was the middle of the morning. Somehow it didn’t seem right. Battling COS was a nighttime kind of act.

  She put her cell in the glove box and left her car as the men parked behind her.

  Across the street a half-lit bar sign flashed. A man lurked in the bar’s doorway, watching them. Two doors down a thin woman in a black coat and a knit hat stood poised to go inside a decrepit sex shop. She spit in their direction and then disappeared into the dark depths of the store.

  “Welcome to the Moor,” Rune muttered, and pulled her guns.

  When they reached the house inside which COS had planted themselves, Rune, Owen, and Jack went to the front, while Raze and Strad covered the back.

  It was a white, two-story house, not in bad shape comparatively speaking. In the Moor, most of the houses were ramshackle and the buildings were crumbling.

  Except for her new house. It was like a diamond sparkling amidst the ruins. Probably not for long, but so far it hadn’t been burned or otherwise destroyed.

  “We knocking?” Jack asked.

  She shook her head. “We’re kicking. Take the fucking door out, Jack, and let’s go in blazing. I want Lex and the twins.”

  She stood at the side with her guns ready as Jack kicked in the door. In seconds, they were inside.

  But no one else was.

  “What the fuck?” she said. “Strad was told they were here.”

  “Somebody lied,” Owen answered.

  They looked up when Strad and Raze walked into the living room.

  “I’ll check the basement,” Strad said.

  She hugged her arms against a sudden chill, pacing the floor. “Something isn’t right.”

  Jack nodded. “Even I feel it. And you all know I’m not the most sensitive of individuals.”

  The landline inside the house began ringing. Rune lunged toward it, nearly ripping it from the wall in her hurry to answer. “This is Rune.”

  “And this is Bach Horner,” he said.

  “Black Horror,” she murmured, forced to lean close to the phone. The phone was an old one, and the curly cord connecting the earpiece to the base was short.

  “Pardon?”

  She cleared her throat and wished her heart wasn’t beating quite so hard. After the staking, that was a little painful. “Nothing. Where is my crew?”

  “I’ve talked with our leaders,” he said, not answering her question. “And we’ve come to a decision.”

  “Why don’t you tell me this decision, asshole?” She didn’t want to antagonize him, she really didn’t. But she was so angry. So afraid.

  “That’s uncalled for. I’ve been nothing but courteous to you.”

  “You took Lex and the twins. God knows what you’ve been doing to them. In my book, that’s not being courteous. That’s being a piece of shit and will get you killed.”

  He sighed. “I’m being nice, Ms. Alexander, by bothering to explain to you that the three we’ve taken are back where they belong. You will have to stop.”

  For a second she couldn’t speak. Strad had come back up from the basement and stood staring at her. Waiting.

  “I will never stop,” she said, finally.

  “Lex and the twins are COS—a fact you should have accepted by now. Why, Lex doesn’t even want to leave.”

  It was a trap. A fucking trap in the Moor, and she’d walked right into it.

  She swayed on her feet as spots began to dance before her eyes. Get out, she mouthed to Strad. Out. Now.

  “She would rather die than be in the church,” she said, hoping her voice was calm.

  The men headed quietly for the front door.

  No doubt it was a bomb—COS loved blowing shit up. She darted her gaze frantically around the room.

  What would trigger it?

  Hanging up the phone? Walking across a certain spot?

  What?

  The crew eased out the door, and once they were outside, Rune breathed a little easier. “So what have you planned for me? You rigged this house with explosives?”

  “I knew you were sharp.” He paused. “Did you warn your men? I’d rather have taken you all out, but you’ll do, Ms. Alexander. You’ll do.”

  “Why?”

  “Karin hates you. The church hates you. You’ve insulted her. You addicted one of our men to your filthy blood and sent him to prison to suffer. You’re our enemy and you’ll hunt COS until you die. So we’ve decided you need to die soon.”

  “I’m immortal,” she said.

  “Likely you are,” he agreed. “But there are some things even the immortal can’t come back from.”

  So a bomb.

  She looked up and realized her men hadn’t left the porch. Strad stuck his head back into the room. “Let’s go, Rune. Come on. Now.”

  “Don’t fight me on this, Berserker. Get the fuck away from this house.” She glanced down at her feet. “Am I standing on the trigger?” she asked Bach.

  “Maybe you are. Maybe you aren’t. But you will not escape the house.”

  She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds coming from the phone. She heard the call of a Blue Jay, and finally, the lonely, eerie whistle of a distant train.

  She put her fingers over the mouthpiece.
“I think they’re in Hawthorne Forest,” she told Strad. She wasn’t afraid—not for herself. “When I move, I’m going to trigger a bomb. I need you not to argue with me. Get away from this house.”

  Raze, Owen, and Jack walked up to stand beside Strad. “We’ll leave when you leave,” Strad said.

  “I might die,” she said. “I’m not taking you with me. Standing there is stupid. If we all die, Lex and the twins are lost.”

  She gave them a minute to think about it.

  “Boys, you know I’m fast.”

  “Not that fast,” Raze said. “Why is it we’re always on the verge of losing you?”

  She shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”

  Jack adjusted his eye patch nervously. “Fuck, Rune.”

  She smiled. “If I’m blown to bits, don’t stop until you have Lex and the twins. And destroy COS. Every time you see a new branch, destroy it.”

  “You know we will,” Strad said, his voice hoarse. “Be fast, Rune. Faster than you’ve ever been.”

  “I’ll give it my best shot. You guys take off.” She grinned. “Go on, now.”

  Owen was the only one who returned her smile. “See you on the other side.”

  They lingered, lingered just long enough to make her afraid they’d refuse to see reason and would be killed with her.

  But then, finally, they melted away and left her alone.

  Alone with the bomb.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  She stood frozen when they were gone, afraid to move. She didn’t hang up the phone but let it dangle against the wall. Just in case hanging up would be the trigger.

  But beneath her feet she saw the line where the floor had been cut. The explosive was right below her.

  Maybe.

  It didn’t really matter.

  It would go off and if she could move faster than she’d ever moved, there was a chance she would live.

  The house was silent and watchful. She heard nothing but her own breath, rushing through her ears as adrenaline built.

  Fast. Faster than I’ve ever been.

  Faster than a bomb.

  She didn’t want to try for the door—even though it was only a few feet away, it was still too far. There was a window to her left, and it was closer.

  Even if she’d wanted to follow Z from the world, she wasn’t going to let COS be responsible for her departure.

  She inhaled life, pulled it deep, and as her lungs expanded as far as they could, she vaulted off the floor, her stare on the window.

  Faster than she’d ever been.

  Faster, maybe, than anyone had ever been.

  The house exploded.

  It was something she’d never felt—it was as if in half a second, her body was ripped apart and various parts of her violently swirled in space before ramming forcefully back together again.

  She was the blast. She was the heat and the energy and the force, and she exploded through the window, her body battered as it was flung into the side of a neighboring building.

  She lay in a boneless heap, blind, deaf, and so disoriented she had no idea where she was or what had happened.

  Then red, licking flames appeared in the blackness. Scorching wind whooshed around her, cradling her in a burning bed of chaos.

  She was alive.

  Wasn’t she?

  She cackled, half-crazed but joyful, and fought her way back to the daylight.

  The crew needed to know she was still there.

  Still fucking there.

  As she crawled away, trying to stand, a burning board hit the side of her head. Blood, hot and angry, gushed down her face.

  “Son of a bitch,” she muttered, and climbed to her feet.

  She heard sirens in the distance. Even in the Moor, a place in dire need of a cleansing fire, the firefighters would rush to the rescue.

  It was what they did.

  Rune tottered in the direction of the destroyed house.

  The crew would be watching for her. Hoping.

  The street churned with people. “Bring on the zombies,” one of them yelled. “We’ll have us a barbecue.”

  And in a line, as close as they could get to the burning house, stood her men.

  She kept her stare on their backs as she made her way toward them, ignoring the shock of those who caught sight of her as she pushed through the crowd.

  “Watch it,” a man said, when she bumped into him, and turned with aggressive anger toward her. His yell of terror caused those near him to turn around to look.

  A woman screamed.

  Rune walked on.

  Ordinarily she would have been more concerned about their reactions, but her mind was on only one thing. Letting Strad, Jack, Raze, and Owen know she was alive.

  They’d been through enough—she didn’t want them thinking they’d lost her, as well.

  She wasn’t in any pain. Her body was numb. She realized she probably looked like death, burnt and broken with seared skin and a bloody face.

  But she had no idea how bad she actually looked until Owen turned and saw her.

  She grinned, but his immediate shock and the horror in his eyes made her smile disappear.

  Her crew, alerted by Owen, spotted her then.

  The crowd quieted as they watched.

  “Unreal,” someone said. “Is that Rune Alexander?” The voice echoed inside her skull, coming from far away and yet, right there, right beside her.

  Maybe inside her. She didn’t know.

  She stood still then, letting her men come to her.

  “I’m alive,” she said, when they reached her. “I’m alive.”

  Strad reached out, then withdrew his hand. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

  Jack murmured, “Rune,” then turned away. It was the first time she saw him cry.

  “But I’m alive,” she whispered, a little confused.

  Owen crossed his arms, then swallowed, and also turned away. “If you can,” he said to Strad, “you need to fix this.”

  “How can that be alive,” someone called. “How can that be walking?”

  Rune sighed, fed up. She didn’t need another fucking delay—COS waited in Hawthorne and it was time for retribution.

  She lifted a hand to Strad. “Feed me,” she said, then fell silent as she realized, finally, what all the shock was about.

  Her clothes had been burned away, as had much of her skin. She was a walking skeleton. Bits of scorched flesh clung to the bones of her hand and arm as she reached out to the berserker.

  Unable to help herself, she looked down at her ruined body.

  Many of her bones were visible. Skin had been melted away by the blast, and the bones gleamed through gaping wounds.

  And when she saw it…

  She screamed and stumbled back, unable to process it. “What?” she asked.

  But she knew. She could live with damage like this, because she was immortal. An immortal monster.

  Shamed, she hid her chest with her crossed, bony arms. “Cover me,” she begged.

  They moved fast then, competent but shamefaced, awkward as they tried to touch her without hurting her.

  They surrounded her and walked her gently toward the arriving EMTs. When the emergency workers backed away with horror-filled eyes, her men ignored them and loaded her into the back of the vehicle.

  Strad climbed inside with her.

  “Fix her,” Jack demanded, before he slammed the doors shut.

  She sat on the edge of the cot and then leaned back gingerly, her gaze glued to the berserker’s face. He barely fit inside the vehicle.

  She didn’t want to feed, but knew she had to. “I feel different.”

  Strad leaned over her. “I know, sweetheart. I’m afraid to touch you. Can you drop your fangs?”

  She tried three times before she gave up.

  “No matter.” Strad pulled a shiv and sliced through his wrist. “Drink.”

  She closed her eyes and ignoring her protesting stomach, drew his blood inside her.

&nb
sp; And when, with each suck, the pain became more and more real, she kept Lex’s tragic image in her mind, and that gave her strength.

  She concentrated on the twins’ faces, on their smiles.

  She thought of Ellie and his devastation.

  And COS…

  She would annihilate them.

  Nothing else mattered.

  But then, she realized why she felt different.

  Her monster was no longer inside her.

  And quite suddenly, something else did matter.

  It mattered a lot.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  She pushed Strad’s arm away, feeling infinitely better, but strangely empty. She held up her hand and stared at the bones still visible through the slowly knitting flesh.

  “How do I look? Better, Strad? At all?”

  “You’re not dead.” His voice was gruff, and he refused to let her see what was in his eyes. “You’ll heal. You just have to give it some time, like you always do.”

  “Not this time. It’s different. I don’t…my monster. He’s missing.”

  He met her gaze, finally. “Your monster is you, Rune.”

  “No. It’s something else. He’s gone.” She shook her head, whether in denial or slowly dawning horror or an almost overwhelming relief, she couldn’t have said. “I can’t fight without my monster.”

  “You fought before. You’ll fight again.” He smoothed back her hair. Despite the damage to her body, her hair, she realized, was still there. “I’m taking you to Willowburg, to Dr. Haas. She’ll take care of you until you’re better.”

  “No.” She sat up. “We’re going to Hawthorne. Move over, Berserker.” She waited until he had awkwardly moved his big body out of her way before she held her hands in front of her and tried to shoot out her claws.

  They wouldn’t come.

  “Gone. My monster is gone.”

  She looked at Strad and silently dared him to argue.

  He didn’t say a word, but the flinching sympathy in his eyes was nearly too much for her.

  She stared at her hands, watching as slowly, the flesh began to mend, trying to repair the damage it had sustained.

  Regrowing.

  She blew out a tired breath, a puff of air that burned her throat. “I was mistaken. I’m always going to be a monster. For a second, I thought…”