“No need to work me, I already let you onto the love rug.”
I chuckle. “Great rug.” The buzz of power in my veins is watered down a little once I’m able to feel her. Means she’s starting to need me.
Means she’s starting to die.
I turn her over in my arms and cup her face. “How do you feel?”
She gazes at me, her eyes a little less her own than when she walked into the gym. She doesn’t answer right away. Then, her eyes pop open, and a lopsided grin slides into place.
“I feel like I could eat a mountain of fried pickles.”
I blink, then tilt my head. “Fried…pickles?”
Her laugh is damn near lyrical when it comes out again. “Yeah, I always used to have some after a good fuck.” Her smile widens. “You’re the second person in the world that knows that about me.”
Another wave of need slices into me. My hands squeeze the sides of her face, not rough, but urgent. Her expression tightens, probably in response to something in my eyes.
“Try to remember what they tasted like,” I say before she can ask what’s wrong.
She squints at me.
I stick my lower lip out and say, “Please?”
She laughs. Finally, she nods and closes her eyes. I wait a while, ignoring the rising sense of loss in her energy.
When I’m sure enough time has passed, I ask, “Got it?”
“Mm hm.” She runs her tongue over lips.
“Good.” My grip on her tightens.
I whistle.
She sniffs the air, then her eyelids flutter.
“That’s amazing,” she says. “I can actually taste it.”
“Good,” I say again, letting my fingers slide to the sides of her neck. My eyes squeeze shut, and I swallow the lump of guilt I feel because I can’t afford to feel it.
Not now.
Maybe not for a while.
Still, my hands tremble. Valene’s lips buzz with speech that I can’t hear. My heart punches in my chest, drowning everything out.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I roll her back around, resting one arm across her neck and the other at the top of her head.
I take in a sharp breath.
Then I snap her neck to the side. A nasty crack echoes in my skull.
Her body goes limp right away. I stare over her head. I’m as still as she is. My breath is caught in my throat. The room spins and blurs.
I don’t know how long I sit holding her like that. I don’t know what’s going on inside me. All I do know is slowly, I start to feel okay. The wave of power washes over me.
One of them dies.
I get to live.
Carefully, I lower her to the floor, then crawl a few paces away and grab the towel I was using. I whip it in the air, then drape it over her body. It doesn’t cover all of her, but it’ll do.
I lift up to my feet easily. Then I drag myself across the room and duck out the door. Once there, I lean against the wall just outside the gym. The first stirrings of daylight stream in through a boxed shape window in the wall opposite me. Rows of lockers are draped in that artificial light. With a sigh, I lift myself from my body and into that place people call the mind’s eye. I search my own head for Juliet; I find her at a desk sorting through documents.
I’m done, I tell her through our connection.
I see her nod. I’ll have someone pick her up.
Lowering myself back into my physical body, I start across the room and take the stairs up to the main house two at a time. Once I’m in my private room, I dig through the drawer of the desk and pull out my journal.
In the next empty space I write: Valene Spencer.
And that’s it, because that’s the way she came to me and the way she left.
She will always just be Valene.
A few hours later at breakfast, Kiwi shoots so many die fucker glares that it’s hard to focus on what Tripp is telling me. We’re all at the small kitchen table crammed into a corner. Juliet thought it best we take our meals in our own personal kitchen from now on. I take her point.
Tripp is directly across from me, telling me what he knows about Sadie.
Putting a hand against my forehead, I shield myself from Kiwi’s hate gaze.
“I’m sorry, say it again.” I dart my eyes at Kiwi, then rest them on him.
Tripp bites down laughter, lifts a cup of orange drink to his mouth, and then sets it back down on the table. It clangs against the aging wood.
“They’re going to be able to fix her arm.”
The pressure in my chest starts to leak out slowly. I breathe easier. “Thank gods.” I bite into a hard biscuit. “When can I see her?” My mouth is still almost full when I ask the question.
He shrugs. “She’s still asleep. Hasn’t been through the ritual yet.”
“Ritual?” Crumbs spray across the table.
“Ugh, wait till you’re finished eating,” Kiwi says, her tone flexed with annoyance.
Lowering my hand, I glance over at her. Without a word, I salute her. She snorts, and I turn back to Tripp.
“What do you mean, ritual?”
He finishes the rest of his breakfast and grabs a nearby cloth napkin. He swipes it over his mouth, then drops the napkin on his plate. Then, he looks up and nods.
“Yeah, the compound doesn’t have the tools to re-attach limbs. The only reason they’re able to do anything is because of Axley.”
Axley. My eyes narrow.
“She’s a healer,” I say slowly. “The compound is letting her use magic?” My lips press into a hard line. “What’s the catch?”
“Don’t know yet.” He points at me. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t even look at anyone sideways.” His voice is hard, but it doesn’t take long for his expression to soften. “That little girl adores you.”
Warmth seeps into my skin. I smirk to keep any emotion from showing up on my face. I’m about to add a sarcastic remark to go with it when Kiwi sucks on her teeth. Very loudly.
Sighing, I turn toward her. I rest my chin on my fist and say, “So, Kiwi. How are you today?”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m okay. Just a little tired, what with some little hoe bag squealing all night.”
I start raking the hair under my chin with my fingers. “First, hoe bag had a name, and second, all night is a little dramatic… She couldn’t have been squealing for more than two hours.”
“Do you think you’re cute?”
I wink at her. “Do you?” Lowering my arms on the table, I lean closer to her. “Are you jealous of the hoe bag?”
She sneers, then hits me with that look all females get when they’re about to say some foul shit.
“And to think, that sweet little girl looks up to you.” She shakes her head while my nostrils flare. “You should be…”
“Hey!” I slam my palm into the table. The boom rattles the dishes, knocking some over. “Watch it, Kiwi. You don’t know me like that.” My jaw tenses. “You don’t know her like that, either.”
Her eyes, which had widened slightly, relax and she smiles. She almost looks pleased. “You’re right, I don’t know her all that well. But you… Well, I know what you are. It’s enough.”
Tripp sighs loudly. “Okay, you two.”
I stare at Kiwi for a few seconds, then stand, holding my hands up above my head.
“Oh, you got me!” I fold my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes. “I know a lot of Spirits look down on, ‘what I am,’” I say with air quotes. “But now I have to take shit from a fury?”
I dart my eyes around the kitchen, then roll them back to her. “Are your two sisters going to show up next? Or are you to busy worrying about what’s been on my dick to keep up with them?”
Her metallic glossed eyes turn to slits. We stare each other down. Something flickers on her face that makes me feel like a cock stain. A ten-year-old cock stain. I don’t show her that. From back behind the table, Tripp clears his throat.
Wood squeals against the yellowing lino
leum as he pushes his chair away from the table. I catch a flash of his movement from the corner of my eye. Then, he’s standing beside Kiwi, hand resting on her shoulder.
“Fuck you,” she says, shrugging Tripp off.
She rams a shoulder into me as she brushes past. I sigh, listening to her stomping though the walkway. I glance at Tripp to find his mouth puckered like he just ate something sour.
“Don’t.” I close my eyes and rub my hands down my face.
“Can’t do it.” He steps up to me and sticks his nose all over my personal space. “Don’t talk about her sisters… Ever again.”
I study him for a few seconds before nodding. No idea why he cares about Kiwi’s drama with her sisters, or why they’re not with us on this get-the-cure mission, but I can also see it doesn’t matter.
“My bad.” I back up and lean against the wall. “What’s the story?”
“They’re dead,” he says without hesitation.
My eyes widen. I don’t get it. A chilled memory of the few times she attacked me fuel confusion.
“That shouldn’t be true… she wouldn’t have any power.”
Tripp just nods. I stare at him, mentally fumbling for whatever he thinks should be obvious. When I trip over it, I close my eyes and bang my head back against the wall I’m against.
“They were murdered.” It’s not a question. For some reason, I just need to say it out loud.
“Yeah.”
“And furies inherit their sister’s powers if they are murdered.” My eyes pop open, and I look back at him again. “Is that why she’s here? Because someone here knows who murdered them?”
Tripp shrugs. “I don’t know for sure, but I’d shit a kitten if I found out she’s helping Compound Six for another reason.”
A loud banging comes from the other side of the wall. I turn my head towards it. Seconds later, Kiwi calls out that she’ll get it. Glancing back at Tripp, I nod again.
“I’ll apologize, and it won’t come up again.”
Footsteps pound toward us from the front hall. His face eases into a smile.
“Good, thank you.”
I nod for the third time, just as Juliet enters the kitchen.
“If you’re done eating,” she says in her always calm tone. “I need you in the gym.”
“Yup.” Tripp nods at me as he follows Juliet out of the kitchen.
I linger for a while, then leave to join them. When I enter the gym, Juliet is standing in front of three piles of black clothing. Hills of what looks like protective gear. Army style canteens and packs. And weapons. Badass looking weapons.
I go to stand on the other side of Tripp. Juliet stands before us, hands on her hips.
“Okay, before I ask you to gear up, I want to take a moment to discuss our mission.” Her arms lift, and she brings her hands together in front of her.
For a second, I think she’s about to lead us in prayer.
“As you know, the rise of berserkers started with the mutation of Atera, a tech virus engineered by a group of scientists who discovered a technological way to make people immune to descendant magic.” Her eyes swept toward me. “My race wanted a scientific answer to counter the effects of you all… The things the gods made.”
I narrow my eyes but remain quiet.
“The virus, as I said, mutated and had a… devastating effect on everyone it was given to. The general population uses the word berserkers to describe them, because people did literally go berserk. Mad. To the point of self-destruction.”
I sigh. “To the point of the destruction of all things.”
Juliet pauses and coughs into her elbow. “Six months ago, Compound Four located a cure and sent the details to us for execution. That’s where you all come in.”
Tripp plants his hand on his hip. “Okay… what is it, and where do we go to get it?”
“That’s classified.” Her eyes dart toward me and the muscles in her neck tighten. I almost grin. She’s not afraid of me, but she feels my presence inside her. A tiny pull in her gut that feels the need to ask my permission.
Luckily, I don’t want to do anything to fuck with this thing.
“The cure is located at a place of crossroads. A sacred ground near what used to be Virginia Beach.”
A dump truck of nasty shit builds up inside my throat. I try to swallow it down. Sweat beads up on my forehead. Now it makes sense. Now I know just why they needed me, and how badly.
My hands ball into fists. The rest of what she says starts to float away. The cure, whatever it is, is in on grounds sacred to the gods.
The crossroads.
A door to the immortals. A path to the gods.
And not just any crossroads, but the one that I can't enter and leave again, alive. The one guarded by the god that cursed my bloodline.
I am a black dude pulled over in Mississippi fucked.
As my eyes close, Kiwi asks, “When do we leave?”
“In three days.”
Shit burger.
I clench my jaw.
“Now, I need you to gear up and get used to it, because out there you will be in this gear at all times. Meet me out back in fifteen minutes.”
I glance up in time to see her do the hair flip and saunter out of the gym. I glance sidelong at Tripp, who shrugs and bends over to pick up his gear. I follow suit, then shuffle into a corner to change.
Shit is shiny black and skintight. Kevlar, I realize. When I put it on, I feel like I’m smearing black icing on to my body. Then I add the weapon holsters and padded vest. When I’m done, I’m decked out like the token black guy an action movie.
Turning around, I spot Kiwi and Tripp kneeling over the weapons. I shuffle over and join in, loading myself down until I almost forget about the crossroads bomb that was just dropped on me. Yeah, I’m ready to shoot things.
Kiwi is the first to leave. Tripp and I follow her out of the house, and into the back yard. I squint as the harsh yellow light streams its fake glow onto the ground.
Juliet is positioned in front of us, hands behind her back, like drill Sergeant Barbie. I lift my hand to cover the smile on my face.
“You all have skill sets vital to this mission, and you all know your way around weapons. Now, there are lots of dangers outside the compound that we need to prepare you for. The changing climate, displaced descendants, and, our focus for today, the berserkers.”
She removes her side arm. A Browning. Dual action pistol.
“As you know, we have designated Wranglers at each of the operating compounds, and they’ve discovered berserkers come in different classifications.” She glances at her gun, then back at us. “The less rabid ones are slower. They usually go down pretty easy.” She places the handgun back on her hip. “However, the ones that are most far gone… Well, you don’t stand a chance unless you can pick them off from a distance. So today, we’re going to do a little target practice.”
She gestures to a nearby assault rifle. An AR-15. I grin. Pretty nasty. I’ve always wanted to try one of these things.
“Go for kill shots. It’s best to get to higher ground. Now, our Wranglers have mapped one large pocket on our route that these berks are most populous in. Don’t try to engage them.”
She paces back and forth in front of us, pausing to look us each in the eye.
“Do you understand?”
I glance down the short line. Tripp and Kiwi nod, very serious. Very official. Turning back to Juliet, I copy their gestures.
“Today, I will team you up with some of our best Wranglers. Then, this evening, I will put you through an obstacle course designed to stage a real life berserker attack.” She gives us that pleasant, shit eating grin.
More nods. More seriousness.
Juliet glances at her watch, then turns around. I follow her gaze to find three unfamiliar people marching toward us. They come to a stop behind Juliet, who nods at them before turning back to face us.
She points at each of them as she says their names. “This is Vaughn,
Scotty, and Flo.” From the position of her finger when she introduced the spiky haired, slightly dumpy middle-aged white lady, I’m paired up with Flo.
Juliet claps after introductions are made. “Alright, I’ll see you all this evening.”
With that, she turns around and marches off across the yard and out of sight. Seconds later, dumpy Flo is in my face.
“Pike Richards!”
I raise an eyebrow. I have no idea why she’s yelling.
“It’s nice to meet you!” She grins, exposing a yellowing, incomplete grill. I force myself to smile back.
“You, too.” I reach out to shake her hand. She starts chuckling like I’m some kind of entertainment monkey.
When I drop her hand, she points at me. “Can I call you P Diddy?”
I narrow my eyes. “No.”
“P Dawg?”
I sigh. This woman can’t be for real. “That would be no.”
“P…”
I hold up my hand. “Please, stop.”
Her eyes widen and she rushes at me, forcing me to back away. “Can I touch your hair? It’s so cool.” She doesn’t wait for an answer. No, she just dives right in. I clench my jaw while she digs through my hair like we go way back.
“Amazing.” She shakes her head. “How long did it take to get it like that?”
I clear my throat, reach up, and remove her curious hand. “Flo? Let’s say we keep this professional, ’kay?”
She frowns, and a disappointed look shadows her leathery face. Then she nods and claps me on the shoulder.
“You ready to learn how to tap into your inner badassitude today?”
I stare. “Um, come again?”
“Your inner badassitude!” She starts moving and waves at me to follow. We come to a stop at a high workbench with a rifle case perched on top. Flo pats it.
“This is your partner, okay there, Pike? Together you will become an overwhelming force for creating meat sacks out of those monsters.”
My eyes widen, then my mouth drops open. Did she just say meat sack?
“Now, partners got to have a name.” She leans over and clicks open the case. “Go ahead and give her a look, then name that meat pile makin’ gal.”
I stand and stare as she bobs up and down on her feet. No idea what to do with this information. She nudges me closer to the table.
Silenced Page 10
