The soldiers, without their master to control their every purpose, froze, and even the crawlers hesitated, uncertain. Marcus dropped the body of the soldier he’d killed and strode toward Asher’s body.
“He’s dead?” Marcus asked.
Asher lay in four separate pieces. “Yes,” Hudson said. “He’s dead.”
Marcus knelt next to the body and grabbed Asher’s head. One twist, and it detached. Standing, he held it by his side for a moment, shoulders heaving though he hadn’t exerted himself. Asher’s long dark hair covered his face, and Hudson found himself wishing he could relive the moment they killed him again.
Marcus flung the head next to the body, and together, the four of them stood over the corpse.
It happened slowly. The golden skin turned gray and began to flake. It peeled off, floating up into the sunlight like dust motes. In no time, Asher had disintegrated until he was a pile of ash on the floor.
He was gone, and there was nothing left.
His disintegration changed something in the air. The soldiers moved now. There weren’t many of them left, but those who were ran out of the building. The crawlers were long gone. They had the intelligence to know that when Asher fell, their best hope at survival was escape.
Hudson could have given chase. But the monster inside him was silent. It didn’t want to fight anymore. It was curled up, the way Sylvain had curled over Briar’s body and mourned.
Briar.
What would they do with her? They couldn’t leave her here to be found; no family should go through the pain hers was about to face. It struck Hudson that he was suddenly worried about Briar’s mother and father when he’d never spent more than a moment on them before.
Perhaps it was because now he and her family had something in common. They’d lost the girl they loved. No one else on this planet would understand their torment.
Briar lay where they left her. Sylvain knelt by her side, Valen touching his shoulder, offering him support when there was really none to give. Hudson went to them. His feet felt clumsy, like he was wading through cement. When he got to her, his knees gave out, and he landed, hard.
They’d done this to her.
Before they forced themselves into her life, she’d had a plan, a goal. She was going to be a scientist, discover a cure for her condition. Even before he’d met her, Hudson knew that was her fate. She was so intelligent and had so much promise.
They’d taken everything from her.
“How do we do this?” Valen asked, voice rough. He took Briar’s hand in his. Her blood stained the floor beneath them and got on Valen’s hands.
Hudson couldn’t answer, the words caught in his throat. He just wanted to sit next to her until he disintegrated the way Asher had.
Outside, he could hear traffic driving by the warehouse. People went about their business, driving to work without a care in the world. They had no idea that here, everything was over.
Hudson heard the whine of brakes and hiss of air, like a bus rolling to a stop. Then a short blast of siren and an engine idling.
“What is it?” Marcus asked and Hudson went to a split in the wall to look out.
“Cops,” he answered.
“I won’t leave her here.” Sylvain and Valen joined him and Marcus by the wall. They glanced out as well. “There’s a lot of them,” Sylvain mused as yet another car carrying Boston’s finest parked nearby.
Hudson glanced over his shoulder at Briar and froze. He examined the warehouse, gaze raking it from ceiling to floor and every nook in between. “She’s gone.”
“What?” Marcus whipped around and strode toward the spot where Briar had lain. “How?” His body flashed from corner to corner as he searched for her.
Sylvain leapt straight into the air, grabbed a girder, and hung by the high windows. “Someone was still in here,” he murmured. “I don’t see them, but we can follow their trail if we leave.”
It felt sacrilegious to leave the spot where Briar died, but the idea that something had taken her from them had Hudson seeing red. Rage built in his chest, and the voice with which he spoke was purely the beast’s. “We’ll find her.” He pictured the soldiers carrying Briar’s body away. For what purpose? To drain her? The image of their teeth sinking into her put him over the edge, and he roared. It wasn’t only his roar, but the roar of his beast, the one who Briar saw and accepted. Briar had won not only Hudson’s heart, but the black heart of his beast.
Hudson touched the dirt where her body had lain and dug his fingers through the cement to scoop it into his hand. He imagined something of Briar’s, a cell or a molecule, was left in the dirt. Squeezing it tighter, he hoped he could absorb it and then it’d stay with him for always.
“Let’s go,” Sylvain growled.
Hudson stuck the dirt in his pocket. Later, he’d take it out again, hold it in his hands, but for now, he’d carry it with him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Marcus
For the first time in his eternal life, Marcus felt ancient. When Annie had died, he’d soldiered on. His brothers had left him, but he’d never once considered what he knew he would do next.
End it all.
The ending was written on his brothers’ faces as well. They would find Briar, and then, perhaps they’d travel south. Perhaps they’d go so far south, the sun never set. Then they’d wait for the medicine to wear off, and they’d burn.
The way Briar had burned.
His beautiful girl’s ruined face would be the last thing he saw when he closed his eyes. It was the only thing he saw now—swollen eyelids, blistered skin.
They flew away from the warehouse without looking back. Sylvain was the best tracker, and he followed the trail now. It snaked next to the Charles, west, toward his home.
Home.
There was no home anymore without Briar. Nothing. There was nothing.
In a fog, he trailed after Sylvain. Valen was behind him, urging him forward when he slowed. He hadn’t even realized he’d stopped until his brother pushed him. “Go, Marcus. Keep going.”
Marcus shook his head. What was he doing?
Briar. Find her.
That’s right. The soldiers had taken her body.
Marcus glanced down at his own body, expecting to see his chest gaping open. He thought, when he looked at himself, he’d see his heart beating slowly, and he could touch it with his hand so he could scream in pain.
Briar hadn’t screamed. She’d walked into the sunlight, and the sun had burned her, but she’d gritted her teeth and kept going. How had she done that?
Brave girl. All to save them when they didn’t want to be saved. None of them wanted a life without her.
“This way,” Sylvain growled. It struck Marcus that each time Sylvain spoke, it was the predator who gave voice. Their youngest brother, the one who tried to hide how much he felt, how hurt he’d been, tracked something Marcus couldn’t see.
He glanced at the sky as he raced after Sylvain. It was sunny. Not a good day for Briar. She’d have had to cover herself from head to toe. He’d have brought her to school, walked her to class. Maybe today he’d have sat with her, ignoring his own work at his lab.
Where were they? This place looked familiar. It was Back Bay. There was the Hilton. Marcus’s home was not far. Why would the soldiers go to his home? Didn’t they know their survival depended on staying away from Marcus and his brothers? He had no qualms ripping them apart. He’d take out anything and anyone who got between him and Briar. He’d do it in front of cameras, in front of humans. He didn’t care.
Marcus didn’t care about anything anymore.
Sylvain slowed, head canted to one side. He paused, listening. Marcus paused as well, but he didn’t hear anything except the humans going about their morning business—starting cars, pouring coffee, yelling goodbyes to family.
“What is it?” Valen asked, voice low and broken. Valen didn’t sound like Valen anymore. His voice was rough, as if he’d screamed and screamed and scre
amed and ruined his throat.
Maybe he had. Marcus couldn’t remember.
Sylvain shook his head. “Nothing.” He glanced around the street, took a step forward, and stopped. “I’ve lost it, the trail. I need to go back.”
And they set off again.
All day long they followed a trail that started, stopped, disappeared, and doubled back. Whoever Sylvain tracked knew someone was behind them. Over and over, the trail led back to Marcus’s house before stopping cold. They searched the house, thinking someone was inside, but there was nothing.
Nothing except Briar’s lingering scent.
“I need to go back,” Sylvain muttered as they gathered in the living room after searching from attic to cellar.
“It’s pointless,” Valen stated. “They’re leading us on. There’s nothing here.”
“They’re gone?” Hudson collapsed. There was no other word for it. His legs gave out, and he sat on the floor, knees drawn up like a child. “She’s gone?”
“No,” Marcus got out. “No. We keep searching.”
But Sylvain looked at him, gaze filled with what Marcus didn’t want to accept. She was gone. They didn’t even have her body.
They had nothing.
“So let’s go,” Marcus whispered. He glanced up. Each of his brothers studied him, waiting for him to elaborate. “Let’s go south. To Mexico. To the desert. And we’ll wait there.”
Sylvain nodded first, and then Valen, and finally Hudson.
“We’ll go to the desert and wait for the sun,” Hudson said. “Who knows what Asher dosed us with? Maybe it’ll be faster than we expect.”
Marcus pushed himself to stand. When had he sat? There was nothing to pack, no notes to send. They filed through the house toward the back door. They’d run. No one said it, but Marcus knew that was what they’d do. None of them wanted comfort, they wanted to exert themselves to exhaustion.
Before reaching the door, however, Sylvain paused. Marcus hadn’t been paying attention and tripped into Valen, who steadied him. Even heartbroken and ready for death, Valen cared for him.
“Do you hear that?” Valen asked.
In a flash, Sylvain ripped the door open. It was night and Marcus hadn’t realized it. There, curled up at the door like a puppy was a girl. Her scent hit Marcus first. Wildflowers, sunshine, the sea, ice, heat, and apple blossoms. It was all of those scents.
Snowflakes caught in the girl’s hair, covering the back of her head as she rested her face against her knees.
Sylvain dropped to the ground like a stone, catching himself on his hands. “Briar?”
Marcus heard the name, smelled her, but still his brain wouldn’t recognize her. Impossible. If it wasn’t true, he would die right here.
But then the girl sat up straight. Pale skin, gold freckles, a crescent shaped scar beneath her eye, blue eyes like a summer sky, fine, light brown hair that whipped around her head when the wind blew.
Briar.
Marcus gripped the doorframe to keep from collapsing. His fingers sunk past the wood into the lath and plaster, but he still fell. He heard the crack as he raked the wall, and then he was eye to eye with her.
Her blue eyes filled with tears as she glanced between them. Hesitantly, she lifted her hand, but not to touch him, no. She wrapped that hand around her throat and sucked in a breath before speaking. “Marcus. I’m thirsty.”
Read on for an excerpt from the final book in the Midnight’s Crown series…
Prologue
Briar
Someone was chasing her.
She’d awoken on that dirty floor, surrounded by the smell of decay and death, and run. Her instincts had screamed at her—don’t wait, run! Run!
So she did.
Everything hurt. Every sensation overwhelmed her. The sun was too bright. The sirens, the heartbeats, the traffic—all of it was too loud. The wind on her skin was like sandpaper, and no matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t escape it.
Then came the chase.
Something urged her forward. Inside her head, a tiny voice whispered that she could find safety. It was just ahead of her.
But then she got there—home. And she smelled them. Marcus. Sylvain. Hudson. Valen. Then the wind changed directions, and she smelled something else. The rot again. And death. So she ran, rather than lead the evil back to them. All day long she ran. The sun was bright in the sky, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should be afraid of it.
But she wasn’t.
The sun didn’t burn her; it tickled her skin like static electricity. It distracted her for a moment, and she held her hand out to the rays. She felt it warm her, and she tilted her face back, imagining the heat burrowing beneath her skin.
Then the back of her neck prickled a warning, and she ran again.
As she ran, her mind cleared, processing the sensations that overwhelmed her. One by one, she filtered through the sensations, tuning them out to focus on the things that mattered.
Valen.
Sylvain.
Hudson.
Marcus.
Thirst.
Briar paused by the Charles River, tracing her face with her fingers. She should be burned down to the bone, but her skin was silky smooth. Her hands, when she examined them, were smooth and white, graced with golden freckles that were as familiar to her as her reflection.
A thousand questions assailed her—but one was central. How was she alive?
Perhaps this was a nightmare. Perhaps all of this was one of Asher’s creations from which she couldn’t awaken.
Briar breathed in deeply and caught a scent. It was familiar and loved, and she followed it like it was a marker tracing a street route. It led her home.
She breathed in again, and something within her eased.
But only for a second, because she was overtaken by her thirst. What had begun as an uncomfortable tightening at her throat, soon engulfed every other sensation.
The scent she’d traced here, it separated. Each one was original and unique: Valen, Sylvain, Marcus, Hudson.
Slowly, Briar climbed the stairs toward the door. She wanted to fly up them, rip the door off the hinges and bury her face in the source of the scent, but she was afraid.
At the top step, her energy drained away, and she fell to her knees. Hollowed out, she couldn’t knock, couldn’t call out, because her body was a shell.
Help. She couldn’t pushed the words past her swollen throat. Exhausted, Briar let her head fall to her knees. Marcus. Valen. Sylvain. Hudson. Find me.
As if they heard her, the door opened. Warm light and the scent of them filled the night, and she glanced up. It took every bit of energy she had, but she tipped her head back until she could meet their beautiful eyes.
She almost didn’t recognize them. Their faces were bleak, devoid of expression with eyes as empty as she felt inside, but when they saw her, they changed.
Disbelief.
Confusion.
Hope.
Briar wanted to wrap them in her arms, but she couldn’t move. She was weighed down with something that made such a thing impossible. If she didn’t fill up, slake this thirst, then she’d die.
Again.
She swallowed hard, then with the last bit of energy she had, she whispered, “Marcus. I’m thirsty.”
Marcus moved fast. She remembered a time when she wouldn’t have been able to track his movement, but now she could. He reached over Sylvain, sweeping her into his arms. He buried his face in her neck and breathed her in.
“Briar. Briar. Oh, God.”
They rushed into the living room, but he didn’t let her go. The others crowded around her. Hudson knelt by her, pushed back her hair and studied her face. “You’re alive.” His voice broke, and his icy-blue eyes filled with pain. “How are you alive?”
She’d lost her voice, used up the last of it speaking to Marcus, so she shook her head. She kept her hand wrapped around her throat as if it would ease the ache, and Hudson’s eyes widened.
“Marcus. Blood,” he whispered.
But Marcus hadn’t let her go. Maybe he couldn’t. His arms tightened around her, and he shook his head, so it was Valen who left and returned with an IV bag full of blood.
Briar breathed in. She could smell it, the metallic tang beneath the heavy plastic, and held out her hands before jerking them back. Why did she want it? What would she do with it?
Her gums swelled and something pricked her tongue. Slowly, she lifted a hand to touch her teeth. Fangs.
The logical part of her brain overrode the part of her that was freaking out.
Okay. Okay. So this was why she was alive. Okay.
Hudson passed her the bag, and she took it, wincing at the cold and the way it sloshed inside the plastic. “Bite it,” he said. “It will help.”
She brought it to her face, aware of Valen and Sylvain watching her. Delicately, she bit through the plastic. Liquid filled her mouth, coppery and tangy, and she gagged. Forcing herself to swallow, she gave the bag back to Hudson. She didn’t want to smell it, and she gagged again. Over and over she swallowed, trying to rid her mouth of the horrid taste. It had done nothing to quench her thirst. If anything, it was worse now.
“You have to drink, Briar,” Hudson whispered. “It will help.”
No. She shook her head, and Marcus drew back. He sat straight, studying her. In the quiet of the room, Briar heard his heart give a strong thump, and his pulse throbbed in his neck. Gaze drawn there, she eased forward and breathed in.
He smelled so good. Her mouth watered, and she pressed her face against his neck, wanting to bathe in his scent. He cupped the back of her head, pushing her toward his skin.
“Bite,” he whispered, and helplessly, she flicked her tongue against his skin.
Yes. This was what she wanted. Now she could move. Briar straddled him and eased back to hold his face between her hands. Her gaze went to his neck again, and then to his face.
Shadow of Thorns (Midnight's Crown Book 2) Page 21
