Beneath Blood and Bone

by Madeline Sheehan

  “You’re not sick,” she said, her tone accusatory. “And those are rare gems you’re asking me for, E. What about the people who really need ’em?”

  “You shouldn’t have them to begin with,” I countered. “You know the damn rules. You come across something like that, you hand it over to the doctor.” Baring my teeth, I gave her a nasty grin. “And now I’m done playing this fucking game. You give them to me and I don’t turn you in for breaking the rules. We clear?”

  The infuriating woman only snorted in response. “First,” she said haughtily, “you’d have to prove I have them. And good luck with that. No one but me knows where they are.”

  My nostrils flared as my breaths slowed and deepened. I couldn’t trust her, not knowing the way she ran her mouth all over Purgatory. If I spilled and told her I had the girl the guards were looking for stashed inside my house, everyone would know within the space of thirty minutes. But the girl’s stab wound was still a nasty red and oozing, even this many days later. She was weak, still feverish at times, and no longer able to hold anything down.

  And then what will you do with her? the voice asked. Keep her as a pet?

  Ignoring the voice, I continued to glare at Grannie. “Woman, I will make your life a living hell. I will follow you wherever you go, night and day, until I get those pills.” Taking a threatening step forward, now towering over her shorter frame, I leaned into her personal space. “And Adam’s death will be on your hands.”

  Grannie’s narrowed eyes widened and the hands at her hips began to fumble, clenching and twisting in the material of her long skirt. It had been Adam who’d given me the heads-up on the antibiotics, pointing me in Grannie’s direction, and everyone around here liked Adam. Surely Grannie wouldn’t risk his life? Not that I would actually kill one of the very few people I still trusted in this world. At least, not if I didn’t have to. But Grannie didn’t need to know that.

  “You wouldn’t,” she whispered, her reedy voice suddenly tinged with fear.

  A grin twisted my lips. “I would and I will. You know that.”

  She swallowed, her throat visibly convulsing while her hands continued to tremble. Several strands of graying hair fell free from her bun. Seeming distracted, she reached up to brush them away. “I was saving these,” she said, her unfocused eyes beginning to glisten. “For a child or one of the women, someone who really needed them. Don’t do this, E, don’t take ’em from someone who needs them.”

  Rage flooded me, instantly filling my body with adrenaline, and it took every last ounce of sanity I had left in me to not beat this woman senseless. Something was wrong with me. Ever since Wildcat had shown up bearing an all-too-familiar face, a face I hadn’t wanted to remember, I’d become less focused, unhinged even.

  “Woman,” I gritted out. “Give. Me. Those. Pills.” My words were clipped and nearly inaudible as I spat them free through clenched teeth.

  “Monster,” she said in a low voice, gazing up at me with a mixture of horror and rage. “What have you done to deserve them more than anyone else? What makes you so special? Are your losses worth more than ours? Do your tragedies trump the rest of us?”

  Tell her! the voice taunted. Tell her what you did to us! Show her what a monster you truly are.

  Control temporarily evaded me, my rage still steadily rising. Reaching out, I gripped her throat. Her eyes bulged in surprise as her hands flew to my wrist, pawing at me weakly, but her strength was no match for mine.

  “You think you’re better than me?” I growled, squeezing and smirking as she gasped for air. “You think because I was the one in that ring while you stood outside of it that I’m more of an animal than you are?”

  Lowering my head, I brought the old woman nose to nose with me. “You’re lying to yourself. You’ve lived good here off those fights, off the blood I spilled. I saw you there, cheering from the sidelines, placing bets and making deals. All that blood you seem to think is only on my hands, that’s on you too. That’s on all of us.”

  “I . . . don’t . . . hurt . . . people,” she said, wheezing.

  “Give me the pills!” I shouted, shaking her. “Give me the fucking pills before I pop your head straight off your shoulders!”

  My body twitching, my muscles tense and rippling beneath my skin, I began to squeeze her throat. It was a gradual increase of pressure, as I was still fighting with myself to maintain some sense of control. But it was a losing battle, and I was a lost cause.

  Her eyes popping, her face now an unhealthy shade of red, Grannie stopped clawing at my wrist and began frantically digging around in her shirt. Temporarily distracted, I loosened my grip, watching as she pulled free a dirty and battered pill bottle from inside her top and held it up in the air, shaking it. With my free hand, I snatched it from her grip, then released her with a hard shove.

  She stumbled backward, her hands flying to her throat as she gulped in deep, wheezing breaths of air. Her feet tangled in several piles of stacked clothing and she lost her footing, falling backward into the canvas wall. Dazed, her breathing still ragged and hoarse, she blinked up at me through tear-filled eyes.

  “You reap what you sow,” I ground out as I slipped the bottle inside my denim jacket. “None of us is innocent, and sooner or later we’ll all get what’s coming to us.”

  Turning, I left the tent and headed straight into the heart of the marketplace. Already midday, the sun high in the sky, the strip was flooded with people. The cooking barrels had been lit for lunchtime and the scent of smoked meat hung heavy in the hot air, drawing an even bigger crowd. Tents and tables lined the walkways, stacked high with pillaged junk, the vendors loudly hawking their wares while others milled around, bartering and trading.

  Music was playing from somewhere, a low bass beat that rippled below the cacophony of voices, reaching me and causing me to pause mid-step. Momentarily faltering, I stood there in the midst of the crowd, recognizing the song. Then, for some inexplicable reason, I closed my eyes, and the action heightened my other senses.

  The sun beat down on the back of my neck, warming me. Voices, both loud and soft, blended together into a solid murmur of sound. And the music, the beat, a steady thump-thump, pounded in time with my own rapid heartbeat, a sensation I could feel throughout my body.

  It felt . . . standing here with my eyes closed, it sounded almost . . . almost as if . . .

  “Eagle.”

  My eyes opened, revealing Liv standing before me, her thin brows raised in question as a smirk tilted her lips.

  “What are you doing?”

  I stared at her a moment, pissed off that she’d interrupted me, even more pissed off that it was Liv who had interrupted . . . whatever it was that I’d been doing.

  “Is your temper tantrum over?” she continued flippantly. “Because I don’t have time—”

  My anger flared to life and I grabbed her, much like I’d grabbed Grannie. Only instead of taking her throat, I gripped her arm and shoved her forward, forcing her roughly through the throng of people, turning her quickly between two nearby buildings and finally around a darkened and quiet corner chock-full of metal bins filled with trash waiting to be burned.

  I hated Liv, hated her with every fucking fiber of my being. But hating her had less to do with her and everything to do with me. She was the living, breathing embodiment of everything I hated about myself. Her very presence forced me to come face-to-face with the man I’d become, with the loss of the man I’d never be again. For that reason alone I enjoyed hurting her, more so than anyone else.

  Fucking her had just been a bonus. Because for some fucked-up reason, I now equated sex with pain. You couldn’t seem to have one without the other, or maybe I just didn’t want one without the other.

  Lately, though, I hadn’t just been hating her. I’d been wishing her dead.

  “Shut up,” I growled and shoved her face-first against the concrete wall, using my body to keep her pinned there. Taking a handful of her hair, I yanked her head back unti
l she was gazing up at me with gleaming eyes. Her breathing hitched, causing her chest to rise and her small breasts to bulge from the plunging neckline of her shirt.

  “Fuck you,” she whispered, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Make me.”

  “What’s with all the visits, Olivia?” I sneered, giving her hair a hard tug. “Is Jeffers not fucking you more than usual?”

  Still gazing up at me, she twisted her lips into a snarl. “You liked her,” she said in disbelief. “You fucking liked that red-haired slut.”

  Barking out a laugh devoid of humor, I tugged on her hair again, this time pulling until she winced in pain.

  When it came to the wildcat, it was pointless to deny it. I’d given away food, clothing, weapons, ammunition, and a goddamned vehicle to her and her friends. Then, as if that weren’t enough, I’d compromised the security of Purgatory for her. I couldn’t deny it; the truth was there for all to see, glaring me in the face and mocking me for being such a fool.

  Yet you saved that girl, the voice said, laughing. Once a fool, always a fool.

  But just because I couldn’t deny it didn’t mean I was going to confirm it either.

  “You’re still upset about this?” I chuckled darkly.

  “You’re still acting strange,” Liv retorted, her snarl turning pouty. “I don’t fucking like it.”

  “Because I give a shit about what you do and don’t like.”

  “You should!” she shouted, suddenly struggling in my grip. She twisted her body, fighting to free herself but only succeeded in pulling on her own hair and crying out in pain. “I could end you, E! One word to Jeffers, one fucking word and—”

  Pulling back, I brought my body forward, effectively slamming her torso up against the wall. Her breath left her in a surprised rush, and I reached around her and wrenched open her jeans. Shoving my hand inside her underwear, I reached down between her thighs.

  “And what?” I seethed, my mouth pressed up against her ear. “You’ll do nothing, you spineless bitch. You know how I know you won’t do a damn thing?” Finding her entrance, I began roughly fingering her.

  “Fuck you,” she gasped. “Fuck you . . .”

  “Because if he knew,” I whispered, “he’d be done with you, and if he’s done with you, you know there’ll be nothing stopping me from killing you.”

  In response, Liv groaned loudly and spread her legs even further apart. Her hips already undulating against my hand, her torso began grinding the concrete wall in front of her.

  Before she could reap too much pleasure from my abuse, I pulled my hand free, released her hair, and finished shoving her jeans down her legs. After fumbling with my own jeans and freeing myself, I gripped her hips and brought her ass up. Bending my knees, I positioned myself behind her and pushed inside her body.

  I only made it so far inside before I felt compelled to pull out and push in again, but this wasn’t about pleasure, and it sure as hell wasn’t about comfort. Sex with Liv was and always would be about pain and misery. And so I locked my legs in place, readied my hips, and shoved hard, giving us both what we wanted.

  She wasn’t quiet; her moans and cries mixed with my grunts were loud enough to attract the attention of anyone nearby. Anyone who did happen to stumble upon us would put us at risk of Jeffers finding out. I should have cared about that, Liv should have cared about that, but the truth was that neither of us cared about Jeffers. Because neither of us valued anything anymore.

  The image of two rotters fucking came to mind, their dead skin flapping, their brittle, broken bones jutting through their rotted flesh, their pained groans and growls as they rutted like the mindless animals they were.

  That was Liv and me. And the only difference between us was the question of who would be put down first.

  • • •

  “When will you tell me what happened between you and Jeffers?”

  In the middle of zipping my jeans, I glanced up at Liv and smirked. “Ask him yourself.”

  Yanking her jeans up over her hips and pushing her pink hair out of her eyes, she glared at me. “I have, asshole, many times. He just shuts down. I want to know what the fuck happened. After all these years, I deserve to know.”

  Righting my jacket, I patted the inner pocket, ensuring the pills were still there. Finding them, I turned to leave.

  “E! I deserve to know!”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I snorted. “The only thing you deserve is a bullet.”

  As I walked off, turning the corner into the sunlight, I waited for the voice in my head to berate me.

  But it never came. And strangely enough, the silence made me feel even worse.

  Chapter Ten

  Autumn

  I stared blankly at the ceiling, watching the gray patterns of age fade in and out of view. I was sick, that much was clear. I’d gotten better only to make a turn for the worse. My body couldn’t hold down food or water, I couldn’t stop trembling, and yet I was so hot I was drenched in sweat.

  Pulling up my shirt, I looked down at my bandages, noting the dark stain seeping through from underneath. Death was coming for me, I could feel it in my bones, and yet I wasn’t scared. At least this death would be less violent and ugly than the one I had always envisioned. The one that haunted my dreams. Shivering, I pulled my shirt down and covered my belly with my hands, as if I could hide the infection away.

  I lay there, trapped in a painful bubble and my thoughts veered to my mother. Remembering, as a little girl, her looking down at me, a sweet smile on her face while she tucked me into bed at night. I remembered her smell, the sweet scent of her perfume that would envelop me as she would hold me, her arms wrapped around me, comforting me when I was sick. She would sing and hum her favorite songs until I drifted off to sleep.

  A tear escaped from the corner of my eye and trailed slowly down my cheek, and I buried my face in the blanket.

  I hadn’t thought about her in so long, couldn’t bear the memories. But now, sick, all I could think about was her, and wishing she were here now, to hold me close, to tell me that everything was going to be okay, and hum to me one last time.

  The familiar thump of metal on metal and the heavy boot steps that always followed sounded from the other room. I closed my eyes tightly, not wanting to see Eagle’s anger today. There were times that looking at him was like looking at the devil himself, staring straight at my own mortality and finding the end near. I wasn’t scared of death—only one death in particular—but neither did I want to be constantly reminded of it.

  His footsteps grew louder, and I heard him muttering something beneath his breath. I kept my eyes closed, sealing myself inside the darkness, wishing he’d go back to wherever it was that he went when he left me here.

  “You awake?”

  I flinched when one of his large hands gripped my shoulder and roughly shook me. “Wake up,” he growled. “Sit up, I’ve got meds for you.”

  Even with my eyes closed, I could sense the tension emanating from him. I wasn’t ready to see him, to look into his angry eyes.

  “Sit up, or I’ll drag you up,” he snapped.

  Growling under my breath, I reluctantly opened my eyes but refused to meet his gaze. My hands fumbled, finding purchase on the mattress as I attempted pushing my body into a sitting position. I winced as I moved, feeling nauseated again. My clothes—his clothes—were clinging to me, soaked through with sweat already. I hated that my stench was so strong. The stronger my natural scent was, the more likely it would be that the biters would find me. I needed my camouflage. Being clean was worse than being touched.

  When I was finally sitting, half slumped on my good side, he held out his hand to reveal two large yellow pills. I eyed them nervously, making no move to take them.

  “Don’t argue with me.” He pushed his hand forward. “Just take them.”

  He wasn’t going to give me a choice, and I was too weak, too sick to debate it with him. Sighing, I took the pills from him, noticing for the first time
how pale I was compared to him. My skin was nearly white beside his deeply tanned hand and arm.

  “Water?” I asked, and he shook his head.

  “Not taking my chances with your stomach.”

  Frowning, I placed the pills on my tongue and tried to swallow, only to have them stick painfully to my throat, refusing to go down. Lifting a shaky hand to my face, I opened my mouth and gave the pills a gentle nudge in the right direction. I gagged repeatedly, nearly vomiting just trying to get them down. Swallowing repeatedly, I was relieved when they finally fell away.

  Facing him, I opened my mouth to show him they were gone. He stared back at me with a blank look on his face. “Go to sleep,” he eventually said, and turned to leave.

  Resting my head back on the mattress, I followed his large frame with my eyes as he stormed across the dim space until he’d disappeared into the other room.

  The man stormed everywhere, he never simply walked. He stormed with purpose and directness, and he stormed with anger. I didn’t know why he had saved me, or why he was helping me. But neither did I want to ask. I couldn’t help but wonder if I would regret hearing the answer.

  • • •

  “Wake up.”

  Two words—wake up—repeated on a loop until they were echoing all around me. Soft at first and then louder, obnoxiously louder, grabbing at my subconscious, slapping it awake and brutally wrenching me from sleep.

  Forcing my heavy eyelids open, I found that everything was blurry, even the pair of black eyes looming over me. Belatedly I realized I was feeling even worse than I remembered.

  “Open up,” the eyes said.

  My focus swam until the eyes were nothing more than a blur of color. I could somewhat make out a large shadow behind them, but nothing more. I couldn’t seem to move, couldn’t latch onto anything either physical or otherwise, and before long I felt myself sliding back to sleep.