Night Betrayed

by Joss Ware

  “Thank you,” she whispered, and sank down on the warped, rusted hood of a car.

  Theo worked off some of his anger and confusion by dragging the twelve zombie bodies into a pile some distance away. By the time he was finished, he was breathing roughly—but not from physical exertion.

  No, it was nothing to move the horrible bodies into a makeshift funeral pyre.

  It was what lay ahead: the murderous anger burning inside him, the confusion, the questions and answers. The reality that would come with tomorrow.

  That was what burned and curdled inside him, and left him with a hollow heart.

  He lit the second bottle bomb and tossed it onto the pile of corpses. As the explosion lit the night, he turned to Selena.

  “Let’s go,” was all he said.

  Chapter 8

  Selena awoke the next morning to a blast of sunshine streaming through her window.

  She opened her eyes with no problem, but when she tried to move, her body protested. Pain, aches, throbbing—everywhere. But that was nothing compared to the dark memories, the remnants of that night’s terror.

  She blinked, pushing them away with relative ease, and looked outside. By the height of the sun, she knew it was late in the morning.

  She lay there for a moment, digging around the wisps of nightmares and benign dreams and trying to retrieve the memories. Her own memories.

  Theo had brought her back after. He’d insisted on carrying her, and she wasn’t a fool. She let him. He’d helped her clean up, put salve on her old wounds that had reopened and on the new ones that, fortunately, weren’t as bad, thanks to the protective shirt she’d worn. He’d made her drink something, eat something, drink something else, and then he tucked her into bed.

  All the time, speaking very little except to give her orders.

  And then had, obviously, left.

  Something unpleasant scraped deep inside her, but she ignored it. The shock and disbelief, even betrayal, had been all over Theo’s face. In his eyes.

  Even anger was there.

  Just as it had been with Brandon.

  But, she told herself, forcing her body to cooperate and pull upright, the whole situation with Theo was worlds different than with Brandon. The only comparison was that both had included great sex.

  Although calling last night “great sex” would be an understatement. Her lips actually moved in a smile, and a little flutter awakened in her belly at the memory. But she didn’t have enough energy to appreciate it any more than that.

  Someone knocked on her door, and her attention whipped toward it. “Come in,” she called, dread filling her heart. Theo? What am I going to say to him?

  A sandy brown head poked around the entrance. “Mom . . . how are you feeling?”

  What did Theo tell Sam? “I’m . . . fine,” she said carefully. Wondering how bad her face looked.

  Her son came in, looking so much like Brandon—except for the mouth—that she stilled in surprise. She hadn’t noticed how much he’d come to resemble his father. He was carrying a tray with food and drink on it, and a vase with a flower. A flower. “Mom. Theo said you got hurt last night and that you needed rest.”

  Oh my God. How could he? “What else did he say?” She tried not to sound panicked or accusatory. Then in a desperate attempt for diversion, she gestured to the daisy. “Nice flower. Was that your idea or Vonnie’s?”

  Sam’s expression of worry vanished, replaced by one of indignation. “It was mine! Geeesh.”

  “Thanks, love.” She took the tray and saw that it had Vonnie’s fingerprints all over it—except for the touch of the flower, of course. Tea with lemon and honey, a bowl of cut pears, a dish of almonds, crusty bread and butter, and a neatly folded yellow napkin.

  “Theo said you were going down to check on Robert last night and you fell in the dark. Down the stairs. Mom! You have to be more careful!” Sam no longer channeled his father, but now was taking on the characteristics of Vonnie.

  She’d lifted the cup of tea so as to have a moment to think, unsure of what he was going to say. Now she lowered it, relief and appreciation rushing through her. “I know. It was stupid of me.” She raised the tea to sip again. “How is Robert? Do you know?”

  “Vonnie’s with him. She said to tell you he’s doing okay.” Sam sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her.

  Selena’s heart sank. He had that look on his face . . . the same look he’d had when he asked her what had happened to his father. And why the bounty hunter Seattle looked at her the way he did.

  “Mom,” he said firmly. “This Theo guy . . . he’s a little . . . different.”

  Selena nibbled on a wedge of pear. “Different how?”

  Sam shrugged and looked away, then back at her. “He offered to show us about those things in the arcade. I want to learn.”

  The relief she felt because he didn’t seem to be aware of the depths of their relationship was swiftly usurped by unadulterated fear. “No. Absolutely not.” She drew in a deep breath, squelching a different kind of panic. “Sam, it’s too dangerous. They’re too dangerous. There’s no reason to get involved with those things—they’re from another world. Another time.”

  “But Mom, he knows all about ’em. I saw him working on them . . . He’s like . . . magic. Like on the DVDs. It’s so cool.” His voice rose, half pleading, half in admiration.

  “No. Stay away from them. And from him. This is a direct order from your mother, Sam. And besides . . . he’s not going to be here much longer. Now that he’s healed and healthy, he’ll go back to Envy or wherever he’s from.” Thank God. And the sooner the better.

  Sam’s face twisted with frustration and belligerence. “Mom, that’s—”

  “Sam.” Her voice whipped out with more sharpness than was probably necessary. But it had the effect of silencing him—for now.

  “Whatever,” he said, sullen.

  “Sam,” she said, remorse soft inside her. “I love you. That’s why.”

  His features eased a bit. “I know. But I still think it’s busted.” He stood. “I have to go help Frank before he pukes a ’phant.” He bent to kiss her on the cheek, and she lifted her sore arm to hug him. “Rest awhile. Okay, Mom?”

  “I will.”

  But that wasn’t likely. She had things to do. Patients to attend to. And—her heart squeezed—Theo to handle.

  How was she going to handle him? She needed to get rid of him. Get him away from here, away from Yellow Mountain and back to Envy, where he could forget about this whole thing.

  Not only that, but he was too young for her. It was ridiculous to want or expect anything more than a little fling. She’d heard Jennifer’s horrified conversation with Theo the other day. The girl hadn’t attempted to hide the shock in her voice. “She’s old enough to be your mother. That’s just . . . busted! Totally rank.”

  Jennifer was right.

  As if conjured up, the expected knock came on the door at that moment, followed by Theo’s ink-black head poking around the door. “I just saw Sam and he said you were awake,” he explained without preamble.

  His slanted eyes seemed more deep set than before, with shadows beneath them. His hair was wet, as if he’d just showered; and what she could see of his olive skin carried a damp sheen. Selena’s mouth dried as she noticed the outline of muscle beneath the dark shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders.

  “Yeah,” she said. Selena eyed him, trying to read his expression. But it was inscrutable. So she dove right in. “I’ve been expecting you. A visit from you.”

  “I’m sure you have,” he replied mildly, closing the door behind him.

  “Thank you for . . . everything.” Her voice roughened and she blinked.

  Last night . . . she couldn’t think about it. It had been the worst. It had been so close, and she’d feared for her life like never before. If he hadn’t been there—if he hadn’t brought her back and taken care of things . . . and told Sammy and Vonnie lies—

  “What
does Vonnie know about your night time activites?” he asked, sitting on a chair next to the bed.

  Not on the bed. Not on the same bed they’d done a thorough job of destroying last night. She was acutely aware of that. Good. Keep your distance. Let’s make this as easy as possible.

  If it were one of the old romantic DVDs, they’d both be dancing politely around what needed to be said—but both would have the same goal: to end it without hurting anyone. Without awkwardness.

  Here’s hoping it works the same way now.

  “Vonnie . . . not much really; she doesn’t know all of it.”

  “Well, what the hell part does she know?” His voice tightened, got a little louder. “The part about you going out alone at night without a weapon? Or the part about the damned monsters mobbing you half to death? Or does she know about the way you have to touch them and—what?—kill them? Tame them? What the hell was going on out there?”

  He clamped his lips shut and shoved a hand through his hair, making it spike all over. And glared at her. “You know, there’s a helluva lot safer way to get rid of them besides shaking their damned hands.”

  Selena’s heart was pounding. How could he understand? No one else did, not with ganga attacks year after year. All he and others saw were murderous, flesh-eating creatures; everyone except Vonnie, and even she didn’t really comprehend it. She didn’t understand what Selena had to do.

  Why?

  “Theo,” she said, forcing herself to smile, “last night was . . . well, I wish you hadn’t seen it. It’s terrifying and incomprehensible, and it’s probably best if you just forget about it. It’s not going to happen again, and everything worked out all right. In the end. Thank you.”

  Now his face darkened and, for a minute, she was almost afraid. “What the hell kind of fool do you think I am?” he said from behind a tight jaw.

  “I don’t think you’re a fool, Theo,” she said soothingly, trying to hide her desperation. This was not going to go well. “But it’s really nothing you need be concerned about.” She moistened her lips. “Look, Theo, there’s no reason for you to stick around here now that you’re healthy—heck, you don’t even have a wound. You’re going to head back to Envy or wherever and get back to your regular life. And please . . . just please . . . forget about this. It’s nothing.”

  He stood abruptly, his motions jerky. Instead of leaving the room, as she’d expected, he paced. Across, back and forth, with heavy, furious steps, his hand curling into a fist and his other swiping through his hair. And then he sat back down and glared at her again.

  “Cut the crap, Selena. I know you’d like to relegate me to being your young studly boy toy and send me on my way after you’ve had a little fun, but I don’t believe it for one goddamn minute. I’m not a child—in fact, I’m far from it—and I’ve seen and experienced things you have no idea about.”

  “I heard the conversation you had with Jennifer,” she began.

  “Yeah? Then you must have heard me tell her I wasn’t interested in her. And I don’t care what she thinks. There are things about me that you don’t know either.” He calmed a little. “You keep hinting that I’ll be leaving soon. What? Do you expect me to slink off with my tail between my legs after having been involved with an older woman? As if I’m ashamed of it? Have I given you any indication that that’s my intent?”

  Selena shrugged, trying not to wince—God, I’m so sore. “There’s nothing for you here. And what about Sage?”

  “Sage?” She might have found the shock on his face amusing if the conversation hadn’t been so intense. “Huh. I haven’t even thought about her in . . . wow. Quite a while. But what do you know about her?”

  “That you love her, for one,” Selena said, realizing how difficult it was to force the words out. And to accept the concept that there was another woman in his life. “You were raving about her when you were . . . well, when you first got here.” She wasn’t about to mention at this point that she’d caught one of his memories during his resurrection—an image of a beautiful, young redheaded woman.

  “Loved. Definitely past tense. Besides, she’s with someone else,” he said quietly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. And try as she might, she didn’t see any real grief in his face. “She’s happy, so I’m happy too.” Then he shifted, and his eyes grew flinty. “So now that we’ve discussed my romantic past, how about your turn? Is this what happened with Brandon? He found out about you and—what?—tried to help and got hurt or killed? Forbid you from doing it? He got all angry at you for risking your life? I can’t say I blame the guy, if that’s the case.”

  Selena didn’t think she’d ever felt so out of balance and outnegotiated. He was quick. Too quick and insistent. “Leave Brandon out of this. It’s a totally different situation.”

  “What? How the hell am I going to understand you and help you if you won’t fucking talk to me?”

  Understand me? . . . If only. Selena drew a calming breath. Here we go. “I don’t talk to anyone, Theo. It’s no one’s business, no one’s burden but mine. And I’m going to keep it that way.”

  Theo didn’t slam the door when he left Selena’s room, but he wanted to.

  Instead, he went outside to work off some steam by helping Frank and Sam rebuild a weak area of the protective wall. And then, when he was good and hot and sweaty—and still angry as hell—he took a long, hard swim upstream in the nearby river. Half of the anger that fueled him was directed toward Selena, but the other half was with Brad Blizek. Theo had discovered more layers of security, which made him realize he’d only made it through a false gate. He had to start over again and try to get in through the back door.

  After his swim, because he knew he would be no good company to anyone but a machine with a keyboard, Theo went back up to the arcade and forced himself to face yet other problem.

  At first, he’d assumed last night’s failure to produce the power surge was simply due to pressure and lack of concentration while in the midst of a zombie mob. Not exactly comforting, but understandable.

  But the first thing he’d done this morning, after slipping away from Selena’s side once the sun was up (to make sure she didn’t do anything insane like sneak outside again; and yes, he fully believed she was capable of such a thing) was to test it out.

  And . . . nada. Zip, zero, zilch.

  And . . . that was also when he’d taken a good look in the mirror and noticed not only a healthy dose of stubble . . . but a white hair.

  For a guy of seventy-eight, stubble and a white hair would be no cause for alarm. But since, in the last fifty years, Theo had barely had to shave once a week, and hadn’t grown more than a few white hairs, it was a bit of an eye-opener.

  Had he not only lost his superpower, but was he also doing a Dorian Gray?

  The thought of his age suddenly catching up to him was not a happy one, because how the hell was he going to protect Selena the next time she decided to do something suicidal if he was a doddering old man?

  What would she think if she found out the truth? Would she run in the opposite direction—not because he was too young for her, but because he was nearly three decades older than she?

  He’d thought it would be a little amusing to keep the truth from her for a while. He’d let her think he was really a young stud and watch her make all of her excuses for being involved with him. And then he’d tell her the truth, once she realized he cared about her regardless of how old either of them were—or looked. But now, he was more than a little worried that instead of being able to give her everything she wanted in bed, he’d be looking for the extinct little blue pills called Viagra.

  Theo took out his frustration and fear on the keyboard, letting his fingers fly over the keys with ease, letting himself sink into that familiar pleasure. There was something soothing about coding. Hacking too. There, it all had to work out. It all had to fit.

  Everything in its place. Every answer logical and perfect.

  Unli
ke life, dammit.

  After a while, he took a break and started flipping through some of Blizek’s files, using the transparent electronic whiteboard to bring up some of his game prototypes. Sometimes, clearing the mind and rerouting it to come back at a problem from a different direction helped.

  Aside from that, looking at screencaps and concept images for new video games from the master was pure pleasure. Seeing how the man’s mind worked, from concept to prototype to even the coding, was fascinating.

  He was looking at the files for Jolliah’s Castle, which looked like some sort of sweet adventure game when Theo was jolted out of his zone to see Vonnie standing there, holding a tray in her hands. Damn. He blinked, trying to pull himself out of the zone.

  “I thought I might find you up here,” she said.

  “Oh. Wow,” he replied, pulling his attention reluctantly from the board, as if awakening from a deep sleep. Connectus interruptus.

  He would realize later what a shock it was that Vonnie—the haste-makes-waste Vonnie—had made it all the way into the room and over to his corner without bumping into or dropping anything. In fact, she sounded a bit out of breath—probably from climbing three flights of stairs—but her curly salt-and-pepper hair was smoothed back in place and her round cheeks were only a bit pink. He thought she looked adorable, in a comfortable sort of way.

  “You missed lunch, and I thought you might be hungry.” She set the tray down on the table, moving a bunch of circuits and cords he’d laid out . . . just the way he wanted them.

  Now, they were all jumbled up.

  Theo smiled at her anyway. “Thank you. It smells good.”

  It did. And he was hungry. A chicken sandwich on that brown, sunflower-seed-studded bread with tomato slices and soft, fresh cheese oozing out the sides. A ripe pear cut into wedges. Raw carrots and some iced tea. His mouth began to water, and he looked at her again. “Thank you.”

  Vonnie was peering at the three monitors he had on, all of them lined up in a row, each with their own keyboard. “I remember some of that,” she said, gesturing vaguely to one of the screens. “It’s long before your time, but we used to have something called Facebook, where you played a game and built a farm. And YouTube. Where you could watch movies—you know, DVDs—right on the computer.”