Blood and Bite (Rune Alexander)

by Laken Cane

  Blood and Fire hadn’t been there for her.

  They’d been there for him.

  Just as she’d been there for him.

  “How long have I been here?”

  He crinkled his nose, thinking. “Nearly sixty hours.”

  A large cart rattled to a stop in the hall outside her room and a uniformed woman distributed breakfast trays to the patients.

  Scents of cooked meat drifted to her nose and her appetite woke up with a roar. Her stomach growled loudly enough for Ellis to hear.

  “Want some breakfast?” he asked, smiling.

  “I really do, baby.”

  She felt pretty damn good. But it had taken her sixty hours and she was still not back to top shape. Ellis had gone into the hall to score her a tray, and when he came back she sat up in the bed, frowning. “I must have been in bad shape.” She flexed her left hand. She couldn’t feel a hint of the shattered claw inside as she could the others, but it didn’t hurt, either. She’d test it later.

  Ellis sat the tray on a tray table and pushed it to the bed. “I don’t know how you were alive, honey.” He met her stare. “I think you’re immortal. It’s the only way to explain how you lived through that.”

  She lifted the dome off a plate of bacon and eggs. “In the end, when the fire might have been too much for me—and would have for damn sure been too much for Matthew—Blood and Fire came. They wrapped us in a circle of protection and nothing could touch us. Boosted me out the door.”

  He frowned. “I saw the news footage. There was only you, carrying the child. You looked…” He put his fist to his mouth as his eyes misted. “It was so terrible, Rune.” He cleared his throat. “But there were no dogs. Just you, carrying that poor child out of hell.”

  “I can’t escape TV,” she said, and forked up a bite of egg. “But Blood and Fire were there. You just couldn’t see them. I have a feeling they’ve done what they came to do and will leave now. If they haven’t already.” Strange, the sadness that overtook her at the thought. She had a definite connection to the beasts, but might never know what it was. “I think their purpose here was to save Matthew.”

  “You saved Matthew.” Ellis folded his arms.

  “I did help save him,” she agreed, and dropped the subject of the dogs. “Tell me about the battle. I was on my way here when Emerson called. Kinda changed my plans for me.”

  “They hurt my feelings.” He stuck out his bottom lip. “I couldn’t believe the Others turned on me like that.”

  “I’m glad only your feelings were hurt.”

  “But listen, Rune. In the end, I showed them the sign, and they returned it. All is forgiven and they—I think—have truly accepted me.”

  Ellie tapped his chest, over his heart, twice. He then raised his right hand high, his index and middle fingers crossed. He stared at her, waiting.

  She grinned and mimicked the gesture. This was their symbol of protection to the Others. When the Others gave it back to them, they were showing acceptance.

  Ellis had always been optimistic that someday the Others and humans would be equals. Rune didn’t think it’d happen in their lifetimes, but the Others were already much more accepted than they’d been a mere few months ago.

  It could happen.

  Now that she’d been yanked kicking and screaming from the monster closet, Ellis was even more intent upon equality.

  She knew she was fortunate. She hadn’t been chased from River County by a mob with torches, hadn’t lost her job, hadn’t been jailed for her lie.

  A lot of Others weren’t that lucky.

  “Anyway,” Ellis continued, “the crew and I handled it. Levi was spectacular.” He grinned at her.

  “So.” She casually poked at her food with her fork. “About you and Levi.”

  He laughed. “I’m happy, Rune.”

  “I see that. Are you and he—”

  But her question was cut off as Tina rushed into the room. Her eyes were red and swollen, the only color in her deathly pale face. “Rune. You’ve got to come.” Her tears spilled over and she grabbed Rune’s hand. “You have to feed my son.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jack drove Rune to the hospital, following behind Tina as the woman zigzagged in and out of traffic.

  She’d made Ellis stay at the clinic. He’d argued, but in the end had been satisfied with Jack going along to keep an eye on her.

  Tina told her the doctors had done all they could for Matthew. The first day, they’d actually seen a bit of improvement, but then he’d backslid into a greedy, dark abyss that Rune wasn’t going to let claim him.

  The kid had to live.

  “You can’t save everyone, Rune,” Ellis had said. “I don’t want the child to die, either. But sweetheart, you can’t interfere like this. You’re not…”

  Not God.

  No, she wasn’t, but she had a gift. She had it for a reason.

  She didn’t look forward to the pain that came with feeding, but would handle it. Matthew had to live.

  “It may not save him,” she told Tina, striding into the hospital. “It may make him feel good for a while, but may not save his life. I don’t know much about how it works.”

  “You brought Lex back from death.” Tina’s face was grim, set in determined lines Rune had never seen before. And lurking deep in the depths of her eyes was dread. Fear.

  Rune frowned but asked no questions. Something was going on and she’d find out soon enough.

  She just had to reach Matthew.

  The nurses on the boy’s floor stared at them silently, exchanging confused, sad looks.

  “He’s in here,” Tina said, ignoring them. She pushed open the door and urged Rune and Jack inside. “He’s here.”

  Strad stood at the window, his big body held in such a straight, tight line that Rune knew he was hurting in a way few people hurt. He was in pain. Deep, deep pain.

  Rune recognized the look. “Strad?”

  He turned to look at her, startled. “What are you—” Then he glanced at Tina and a terrible understanding dawned. “Tina, no.”

  Tina stood at Matthew’s bedside, her face calm. “Feed him, Rune. Save him.”

  Rune swallowed, understanding immediately that it was too late for Matthew. He was dead. She fought back tears and rage. Why?

  He’d been meant for greatness. He had been.

  She put a hand to her stomach—her constantly churning stomach—and tried to compose herself. She had no right to devastation. She had to be strong. Had to be.

  Fuck me.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, aching for the huge berserker and the little blonde.

  Tina shook her head. “Don’t be sorry. Heal him. You saved him. You brought him back to us once. Do it again, Rune.”

  Rune wrapped her arms around Tina. “I can’t raise the dead, Tina.”

  “How do you know? You don’t know. Just try. That’s all I ask. Try.”

  Rune felt a presence and looked toward the door, understanding what she would see before she actually saw it. Her skin erupted with gooseflesh and her mind seemed to shiver.

  Blood and Fire. They came into the room silently, faces calm. They glanced at Rune and then their stares went to the boy’s still form.

  He’s ours now.

  She didn’t understand. Probably never would.

  But a thought slid through her mind, there and gone. Maybe he was theirs because they’d saved him. Maybe if he’d died in the COS inferno, he’d have been lost to them.

  The dogs might have planted the thought there. A sort of parting gift. Anything was possible. She’d witnessed enough of the impossible to know that.

  “Jack. Do you see Blood and Fire?”

  He stared down at her, then glanced around the room, frowning. “What?”

  Strad took Tina from her. “I’ll take care of her.”

  Rune nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  But Tina wasn’t going to give up. She shoved away from the berserker and grabbed
Rune’s neck, forcing her toward the boy. “Just try,” she begged. “Try.”

  Strad pulled her off. “Tina! Enough. He’s gone. He’s gone.”

  The big man’s voice broke, and it took everything Rune had not to throw herself into his arms and try to comfort him. But there was no making it better. Time was all they had. Time might make the loss a little more bearable. Rune could not.

  Tina hit Rune’s face, gently, not to hurt her but to gather some of the red tears escaping her eyes.

  She put her wet fingers to her son’s mouth, wiping his lips, begging him to drink.

  Rune couldn’t take anymore.

  “Jack,” she whispered. “I need to go.”

  Blood and Fire waited. Watched.

  As Rune turned away, she glanced at them and then stared, frozen to the spot.

  Matthew waited with them.

  He stared at her, and then he smiled.

  “Tina,” Rune cried. “Strad!”

  Strad strode to her, pulling Tina’s resisting body with him. “What is it?”

  Rune pointed to where Matthew stood smiling between the two dogs. He and the animals looked as solid and clear to her as Jack did.

  “He’s there with Blood and Fire,” she said. “He’s smiling.” She turned to look at Strad and Tina. “He is meant for great things. Just not here.”

  But they couldn’t see him. They couldn’t believe something they couldn’t see. Not really.

  “Rune.” Jack took her arm, his voice soft. He thought she’d lost her mind.

  Maybe she had.

  But as she watched, Matthew left his spot and walked to her. He pulled her head down, his touch as real as any she’d ever felt, and whispered into her ear.

  “No,” she said. “No.”

  He just looked at her, then stood once more between the animals. He hadn’t moved, just was suddenly there. He nodded, lifted his hand, and was gone.

  On to great things.

  She realized she was sobbing and felt the heaviness of Jack’s arm around her shoulders. “He’s gone.”

  “Stop it,” Tina cried. “Stop it!”

  Rune turned to face her. “I swear it, Tina. He’s okay. He…” she glanced at Strad, Matthew’s whisper still echoing in her mind. She did not want to share that secret, though Matthew had insisted.

  It would make them believe. It would comfort Tina.

  But it would devastate Strad.

  Tina went back to the body on the bed, the vessel that no longer held her child. She began smoothing back the hair from his forehead, murmuring words Rune didn’t want to hear.

  Her heart shattered.

  “Tina. He was here. He spoke to me—”

  Strad ran a hand over his face. “Be quiet, Rune.”

  God, she wanted to. “I can’t, baby. He wanted me to tell you both something. Something Tina knows but you don’t. He said you both needed to hear it.”

  She had their attention.

  “What then,” Tina asked. “What?” She had a look in her eyes that said she wanted to hurt Rune, wanted to hurt somebody to see if it would take some of her pain away.

  Rune swallowed, then forced the words through a desert-dry throat. She glanced at Strad, but had to look away. “He said that Tim Emerson was his father. He said no one on earth knew that truth but Tina.”

  At first no one moved, no one breathed. Then Tina began to shake as Rune’s words sank in. She grabbed Rune’s shoulders, squeezing hard enough to bruise. Her face was a grimacing mask of disbelief, then hope so bright it hurt Rune’s eyes.

  “He told you? My child really…you did see him? Tell me everything. Tell me where he was going. Tell me everything.”

  She believed.

  She believed and was comforted.

  Strad believed as well. Rune saw it in his eyes, in the way he held himself so still and stiff he might have shattered into a million pieces if someone had touched him.

  “Tina?” he asked.

  Tina glanced at him. “Yes, it’s true. I was pregnant when I met you.” But she turned back to Rune, uncaring how that might affect Strad. She’d lost her baby. She couldn’t worry about Strad. She needed to save herself. “Where did he go?”

  Rune kissed her cheek. “He went to a wonderful place. Blood and Fire were special. Guardians, maybe. I don’t know what Matthew will be in that world, only that he will be. He’s not dead.” She looked at Strad. “He’s just not here.”

  And because Strad’s eyes were so flinching, so filled with anguish, she lied. “Berserker, he said you would always be his daddy.”

  Strad moaned, then fled the room. He wouldn’t want anyone to see him break. She understood that.

  She spent the next hour with Tina, explaining over and over what Matthew had said, how he’d looked, how he’d smiled.

  She talked about Blood and Fire, about Gunnar—who Tina wanted to question as well—and about possibilities.

  But in the end, when Jack left to get some coffee and Rune slipped into the bathroom, Tina left a scribbled note and went to find her son.

  He’s out there. I want to be with him. I’m going to find my baby.

  They found her hours later, sitting behind a pipe in a small basement room, her wrists cut and a smile on her face.

  Maybe it was what Matthew had wanted.

  Or maybe that was just what Rune needed to believe.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The world was full of grief and pain, but it was tempered by love and joy and a deep-seated desire, by those who inhabited it, to survive. Such was life.

  And no matter what happened, it went on.

  Alone, Rune forced herself to go to the graveyard in which Amy was being buried, to stand at the edge and watch as a pathetically small crowd of people said their final goodbyes to the girl.

  Amy’s father looked up once, toward Rune, and she thought he might have seen her. But then he looked down again.

  Her eyes filling, Rune murmured a silent goodbye to the little bite junkie and slipped away. She should have talked with Amy’s father. Should have.

  And three days after Tina and Matthew’s deaths, Rune and Shiv Crew attended the difficult double funeral. Rune walked away from the cemetery in which Strad had laid his wife and child to rest, digging deep to find a bright spot to latch on to. Anything to keep the darkness at bay.

  It couldn’t win, that darkness.

  She’d been fighting it for too long to give up now.

  Ellis found her a house.

  “Not just any house,” he’d said, “but the house.”

  It belonged to relatives of his, and the owner, a thirty-something with a need for adventure, was eager to sell. Very eager.

  The relatives were leaving the country and needed to show her the house that day, so she picked up Ellis and headed to see it. She wasn’t particular. She needed a place to live and it if even remotely suited her, she was buying.

  The only downside was its location.

  “The Moor, Ellie? It’s like moving from a garden to the wastelands.”

  “I know. It’s perfect for you. You’ll see. I have a feeling about this place. And you need to live where the neighbors won’t blink an eye if you stumble home with a bullet wound and a pack of ghouls chasing you.”

  “I see your point. Why did your cousins build there? That’s a little weird.”

  He grinned. “My cousins are a little weird.”

  And Ellis still hadn’t turned. Despite the nagging worry, she let herself believe that if he hadn’t turned by now, he wasn’t going to.

  The house looked odd in the Moor. Most of the houses were broken and old. Dark, mean, and ugly.

  But her house was all clean lines and landscaped property. It was only one level—no upstairs, no attic, no basement—but that one level was nearly three thousand square feet of hardwood floors and sunny rooms. It contained three bathrooms, one with a sunken tub large enough to fit two big men at once—were she so inclined to have them there.

  It al
so had a fully functioning panic room. Living in the Moor, one might find it handy. Not her, of course, she’d never hide from a threat. She’d shoot a motherfucking threat.

  There was furniture in the house, but not a lot. An enormous kitchen table, the appliances, a couch in the living room. They owners were leaving them there.

  Rune had a feeling there was more to the cousins packing up and leaving the country in such a hurry, but no one was talking.

  “I’ll take it,” she said.

  And just like that, she had a house.

  In the Moor.

  Living in the Moor might not have been the smartest thing to do, but it felt right. In a few days, it’d be her new home.

  And Ellie hadn’t fucking turned.

  There was her bright spot, her light of hope.

  That night at the inn she stood naked before the full-length door mirror and catalogued her scars.

  She had no idea why some of them disappeared when she healed and some of them lingered, but she was amassing a hell of a collection.

  It was almost as though her body needed at least one memento from all the shit she’d been through, all the battles she’d fought. Some lost, some won. All of them changing her.

  She sighed and turned from her reflection in the rickety door mirror, grabbing her cell with something close to relief when it rang.

  She no longer craved silence. Or solitude.

  Yeah, she’d changed.

  She glanced at the display. “Hey Z.”

  “Hi, sweet thing. How’re you doing?”

  She hesitated. “I’m all right.” Restless, anxious, unsettled…but all right.

  He knew her, no matter what she said. “You need to work.”

  “Always,” she answered. “What do we have?”

  “Nothing tonight, Rune. I’m sorry. I’m still at RISC. Elizabeth asked me to call you. There are a few things I need to tell you.”

  “Go.”

  “First, RISC was contacted by a master vampire looking for a city. He wants to apply for Spiritgrove. Elizabeth would like you to talk to him.”

  “Apply? Have we started handing out applications?”

  She could almost hear him shrug. “It’s not a bad idea. The bigger cities are being courted by vampires looking for a place to live. She said he’s very courteous, this vampire, and because of the trouble we’ve had with Llodra, is asking permission.”