The Last Sanctuary Omnibus

by Kyla Stone

  Gonzales shot Harmony a look but said nothing. Several Sweet Creek people whose names Willow didn’t know watched them from the other side of the garden, their expressions confused and wary.

  Benjie whimpered. He clutched a handful of turnips in one hand. Harmony’s face softened. “Come here, child. You too, Gracie.” Both children went to her. She dropped the basket and put one arm around each of their shoulders.

  Willow hated how vulnerable she felt. She and Silas were the only ones with weapons, and she hardly knew what she was doing. “Benjie, maybe you should come here.”

  “Everything will be fine,” Harmony said smoothly. But an intense, almost frantic look flickered in her gaze, an anxiousness that raised the hairs on Willow’s arms. Dark circles rimmed Harmony’s eyes like bruises. She didn’t like the way the woman’s arm tightened possessively around her brother. She didn’t like it at all.

  Willow glanced at Silas. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion, his mouth flattened. “What the hell is going on?”

  Horne stood up and cleared his throat. He raked his hand nervously through his hair. “We don’t want any trouble, now.”

  “There won’t be,” Gonzales said as the Headhunters parked their bikes in the gravel drive twenty yards away. He glanced at Harmony again with a frown. “Right, Harmony?”

  “The Headhunters protect us in exchange for resources,” Harmony answered.

  Willow’s skin prickled. “What kind of resources?”

  “What is this?” Anna said from beneath an apple tree. She glanced warily at the bikers. “This isn’t the normal scheduled pick-up. Why are they here?”

  But Harmony didn’t answer either of them. A dozen Headhunters sauntered up the gravel drive, several without masks or gloves. They carried various weapons—rifles, knives, a few with pulse guns. They all wore those hideous pelts across their shoulders, their faces lean and hard, their eyes glinting dangerously.

  The bottom dropped out of Willow’s stomach.

  “Well, well, well,” said one, stopping only a few feet from Willow. He was tall, with a barrel of a chest and digital tattoos squirming across his meaty arms. He was handsome in a formidable way, with a strong, stubbled jaw, brown hair shorn close to his skull, and intelligent gray-blue eyes that seemed to take everything in with a single glance. He wore a striking white wolf pelt draped over his shoulders like a cape. The fur reached to his shiny black boots.

  “What do you want?” Silas rested his hand on the stock of his rifle.

  The leader clucked his tongue. “That’s no way to make introductions. You must be one of the new ones. The fresh meat, so to speak.”

  A few of his men chuckled.

  “You’re early,” Harmony said tensely. “I thought we agreed—”

  The leader held up a hand, silencing her. “Introductions, first. This is Bones.” He gestured at a burly man beside him with lanky ash-brown hair to his shoulders, a bristling beard, and a craggy, acne-scarred face. He held a pistol in his left hand and carried some kind of specialized cooler in his right.

  “And this is Razor.” He pointed to a gaunt man with a cadaverous face and dull, sunken eyes. He cradled a pulse gun in his arms, looking every inch a cold-blooded killer.

  “As for me, you can call me Cerberus.” He gripped a slasher—a plasma rod—in one hand, tapping it against his opposite palm. Slashers were military-grade weapons, highly illegal for citizens. One touch would melt the skin off your bones.

  “The hound dog of Hades,” Finn said.

  Cerberus smiled wider. “Very good. This generation still reads. In case ya’ll haven’t figured it out by now, we’re the big dogs around town now.”

  “And you’re the alpha,” Amelia said in flat voice.

  Cerberus’s eyes snapped to her. His gaze drifted over her body and lingered at her hair. His lip curled. “A quick study. Impressive.”

  “You’ve caught us a bit off guard,” Gonzales said amiably, though his hands were curled into fists at his sides. “But we’re happy to get you whatever you need.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Bones sneered.

  “Well, get it and be on your way already,” Silas said.

  Gonzales flashed him a warning glance, but Silas ignored it. Willow’s pulse quickened. Without Jericho, Silas was attempting to step into his shoes and act as their leader. But he wasn’t as strong or as intimidating as Jericho. Instead, he came off as a smart-mouthed punk.

  “Watch where you’re aimin’, boy,” growled a burly Headhunter wearing a Rottweiler pelt. “Put that thing down.”

  Silas didn’t move.

  “Too bad you aren’t as quick as your girl here.” Cerberus flicked his left hand, and Razor leveled his pulse gun at Celeste and Finn, who sat frozen on the blanket. “That wasn’t a request.”

  “Hey now!” Horne raised his hands in a placating gesture, trying to look dignified. “There’s no need for all that. Silas, be reasonable and put down your gun.”

  Silas shot him a contemptuous look, but he obeyed, holding out the rifle and lowering it to the grass.

  Willow didn’t breathe. Tension rippled in the air. She didn’t take her eyes off Cerberus. He looked like the kind of guy who smiled cheerfully while wrenching out your teeth with pliers.

  “Much better.” Cerberus nodded at Razor, who lowered his pulse gun. “We’re all civilized here, aren’t we?”

  “Maybe we can take this inside,” Harmony said.

  Cerberus ignored her. “We’re here to offer our services. We’re traders and service providers. Communities like Sweet Creek here exchange their resources in fair trade for services rendered. In this case, protection from thieves, marauders, and various unsavory criminals. Isn’t that right, Harmony?

  “Yes,” she said, her voice tight. ‘That’s right.”

  Willow blinked. That explained why they didn’t need fences, guards, and patrols. The Headhunters did the work for them, keeping the town clear of thieves and other undesirables. But in exchange for what?

  “We take our resources and trade them with other like-minded communities. That’s how things work now. And the best thing about it?” Cerberus paused for dramatic effect, his eyes gleaming. “No taxes.”

  Willow’s group only stared at him. The Sweet Creek people said nothing. Anna crossed her arms over her chest and glanced nervously between Cerberus and Harmony. Several of the others quietly retreated, slipping away between the trees.

  Cerberus moved past Willow, ignoring her as he strode into the garden, crushing herbs beneath his boots, his white-furred pelt sweeping behind him. He paused in front of Elise. “My, my. You truly are a lovely specimen, even for your age. We don’t see many ladies of your caliber these days.”

  He pointed his slasher at Celeste. “Stand up, girl. What do you think we might get for you?” He moved to Nadira, who trembled, twisting the front of her blouse in her hands. He tugged on her headscarf until it loosened. Her black hair tumbled around her shoulders. “Or you?”

  Willow stilled. Her mouth went dry. He spoke of Elise and Celeste and Nadira like they were the resources. It hit her like a sickening punch to the gut. The Headhunters traded in people. And Harmony and her group just sold them out. “You can’t do that!”

  “We can and we do.” Cerberus’s voice went cold. “There’s no law to prevent us, not anymore. ‘He who is unable to live in society must be either a beast or a god.’ Aristotle said that, did you know? What are we, men? Beasts or gods?”

  Several Headhunters howled. The eerie sound sent chills skating down Willow’s spine.

  “You hear that?” Cerberus pumped his fist, his eyes sparking. “We’re both. And the only law any of you answer to now is to us.”

  “I’m sure we can work out a deal that satisfies both parties,” Horne stammered, the whites in his eyes showing. “We have Smartflexes—”

  Cerberus smiled warmly at him. “How thoughtful of you. But I’m afraid we’ve already come to a prearranged agreement.”

  Go
nzales turned to Harmony, his mouth gaping. “You did this?”

  Harmony ignored Gonzales. She held Gracie and Benjie tightly, her face ashen, her jaw set. Her eyes went shiny and hard. “Remember our deal for the boy.”

  Willow spun toward her. “What deal? What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll take good care of him, I promise.” Harmony met her gaze furtively then quickly looked away.

  Understanding fell swift and terrible. The woman not only sold them out to the Headhunters, but she planned to steal Benjie, too.

  “You bitch!” Willow lunged for her.

  A Headhunter swept in before she could take five steps. He swung his fist and caught her solidly across the mouth, knocking her on her ass. Her head spun, her ears ringing.

  “Down, dog,” he said with a cruel laugh.

  “Now, Scorpio, let’s not ruin the potential merchandise,” Cerberus warned in a jovial tone.

  She licked the blood from her stinging, split lip. The pain was nothing compared to the helpless rage sweeping through her. “You can’t do this!”

  “I’m sorry.” Harmony grimaced as if in pain. “There is always a cost for safety.”

  “You aren’t the one paying it!”

  Harmony squeezed Gracie’s shoulder. “I have to protect my family.”

  “Benjie!” Willow cried in desperation. “He’s mine! He’s my brother!”

  But Harmony had already turned away, taking Benjie with her.

  33

  Micah

  The tow truck was halfway up the long gravel drive when Micah heard the first scream. He rode in the backseat of the cab next to Gabriel. Jericho drove with Russell in the passenger seat. The first truck—a fifteen-year-old scratched and dented Ford—was hitched to the back.

  “What was that?” A chill crept through him.

  Russell shrugged. “Probably a coyote or somethin’. Got a lot of ‘em around here.” But an uneasiness edged his voice. He rolled up the window.

  Beside him, Gabriel stiffened. Keeping his hand low behind the seat so only Micah could see, he pointed up the road. They couldn’t see the compound yet, but a dozen motorcycles were parked on the shoulder a few hundred yards ahead. Headhunters.

  Micah’s heart leapt into his throat. Amelia, Benjie, and all the others were unarmed and unprotected. Only Silas and Horne were there to defend them.

  Gabriel gestured silently, pointing at the gun holstered at Micah’s waist. He slanted his eyes toward the back of the seat in front of him. Micah knew what his brother wanted.

  He stole a glance at Russell. The man slouched in the passenger seat, like before, but his shoulders were tensed. The pistol he’d held loosely in his lap was now surreptitiously angled at Jericho.

  The realization lodged like a splinter in his gut. Gabriel was right. This was a setup. A trap. Why else would Russell take their best fighters with him on an errand he could’ve done himself? The vehicles were bait.

  As soundlessly as he could, Micah slid out his gun and handed it to Gabriel. He didn’t like it, but he saw little choice. He would have to trust his brother. Gabriel sat the closest to Russell and could lift the gun behind the seat, catching him by surprise.

  Which he did, so swiftly that Micah barely registered his movement. Gabriel pressed the barrel against the back of Russell’s head. “Don’t move.”

  Jericho slammed the breaks without a word. He must’ve suspected something, because he didn’t hesitate or ask a single question. He grabbed his rifle, jumped out of the truck, and circled to the passenger side. “Step out of the vehicle, nice and slow, both hands up. You’ve got two guns aimed at your head, so I wouldn’t try anything tricky.”

  Russell cursed under his breath. “What the hell you doin’, man?”

  “Shut up and move.” Gabriel prodded him with the gun.

  Russell obeyed grudgingly.

  Micah reached over the front console, took the man’s pistol, and stepped down onto the weed-infested gravel road. He kept the gun pointed at the ground.

  Gabriel had Russell on his knees, his hands raised, his gun aimed at the man’s head. His body was taut, his muscles coiled, his face carved in stone. Micah barely recognized him. But he didn’t know his brother, not anymore.

  Gabriel jammed the barrel of the gun against his forehead, knocking Russell off balance. “What the hell are the Headhunters doing on your property?”

  Russell’s hands shook. “Man, chill out. How should I know? We do trades with them.”

  “What kind of trades?” Jericho leveled his rifle at Russell’s chest.

  Russell flinched. “Look, it’s not what you think. They don’t hurt nobody if you give ‘em what they want.”

  “And what the hell do they want?” Gabriel took a step back and kicked the man in the stomach. Russell doubled over with a groan. His baseball cap fell to the gravel road with a soft thud.

  Micah felt sick. He hated this. He hated every second of it. This wasn’t who he was. It wasn’t who Gabriel should’ve been. They were raised better than this. Be good. Be brave. His mother’s last words echoed in his mind. “Gabriel, we don’t need to do this.”

  Another scream drifted through the trees.

  “Hell yes, we do.” Gabriel clicked off the safety. “We’re wasting time.”

  “The girl!” Russell grunted. “They want the girl who lived. They’ll leave the rest of you alone, I swear.”

  Gabriel stilled.

  “Gabriel—” Micah warned, afraid of what Gabriel intended to do. “You don’t have to kill—!”

  “Too late.” Gabriel pulled the trigger. There was a soft popping sound. Russell dropped like a stone.

  Micah’s stomach roiled in horror. “You didn’t need to do that—!”

  “What were we supposed to do with him?” Gabriel glared at him, eyes blazing. “Let him warn the Headhunters that we’re coming? Do you want to live through this? How about Amelia and the others?”

  “We could’ve thought of a way!”

  “He sold us out,” Gabriel said. “He’s not innocent.”

  “There’s no time.” Jericho lowered his rifle. “We need to regroup. We’re outmanned and outgunned. They have our people. The tow is electric, so they likely didn’t hear the engine. The only thing we’ve got going for us is the element of surprise.”

  Gabriel seized his shoulder. “Micah! We need you. Are you with us?”

  Micah nodded numbly. He tore his gaze from the crumpled body. He couldn’t focus on that now. He hated violence and death, but he wasn’t naïve anymore. He’d seen firsthand what the Headhunters were capable of. His friends were in danger: Amelia. Willow. Benjie. Nadira. All of them. He saw the girl lying on the road in his mind’s eye, shot for no reason. Sometimes good people had to do things they weren’t proud of to protect the people they loved.

  “I’m with you.”

  They hurried back into the tow truck, backed down the driveway, drove down a side street lined with maple trees exploding with fall color, and parked. Micah bit the inside of his cheek, every nerve on edge, his mind consumed with terrible possibilities. “What’s the plan?”

  “We’re kicking ass and taking names, that’s the plan.” Gabriel was jumpy, on edge, still amped from what he’d done to Russell. His eyes blazed with that old familiar passion Micah knew so well. Gabriel was ready to fight, and he wasn’t going to back down for anything.

  “We risk our own people if we go in there with guns blazing,” Jericho said grimly. “There’s a dozen of them to three of us. Four if Silas still has his rifle, but I doubt it.”

  “You’re right,” Gabriel said. “We need to be smart. We will be smart.”

  “We need a distraction,” Micah said. “A diversion. Like one of Benjie’s sleight of hand magic tricks.”

  “Yes, but what?” Sweat beaded Jericho’s brow. The tension in his jaw betrayed the anxiety below the surface. As cool and controlled as he always appeared, he was nervous now. He cared what happened to Elise, Amelia, and the
others. “We’re running out of time.”

  Micah had to think. Every second that passed wasted time, time when their friends could be hurt or worse. He gazed frantically out the windows, his gaze skipping from the road to the overgrown grass to the trees to the abandoned sedan in front of them, its tires blown out, to the empty gas station down the road.

  He stared at the gas station, his pulse jumping. “The dogs.”

  “What about them?” Gabriel asked. “Spit it out.”

  Micah twisted in his seat to face the others. “We use the dog pack as a diversion. The warehouse is two miles by road but less than a quarter mile through the woods.”

  Jericho cracked his knuckles, frowning. “How are we gonna herd a pack of rabid dogs?”

  Micah sighed as he adjusted his glasses. “I don’t know.”

  “I do.” Gabriel’s eyes sparked. “With bait.”

  Dread and apprehension coiled in his stomach. It could easily backfire. The dogs were wild, rabid, infected. They couldn’t be controlled. The dogs were as likely to bite one of their own people as a Headhunter. And Micah couldn’t ask his own brother to act as bait, no matter what he’d done. The plan wouldn’t work. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “Stupid is all I’ve got left,” Gabriel said.

  Micah felt the seconds ticking by like a time bomb. The longer they waited, the smaller their window of opportunity. “It’s a dangerous play.”

  Gabriel only grinned, his eyes lit with a dark, pulsing energy. “My favorite kind.”

  Abruptly, Jericho stiffened. He looked past Micah, at something out the passenger side window.

  A great black wolf stood in the middle of the road.

  Before Micah could react, Gabriel clambered over him and leapt out of the truck. “Wait!” He scrambled after his brother. “That’s Willow’s wolf!”

  Gabriel lowered his gun. “What the hell—?”

  A girl stood at the wolf’s side. In his shock, Micah hadn’t noticed her. She looked Japanese-American. Her sleek black hair fell to her chin. She stared at them with dark eyes shining with a crafty intelligence that matched her wolf’s. She wore a camouflaged rain slicker, the hood pulled back, and a faded backpack with a hoverboard sticking out of the partially zipped top compartment.