Blood Divine

by Greg Howard

  Cooper looked down. His hand was no longer inside Alexander’s chest. It hung in the air between them, holding a dead, black heart in his open palm. The organ shrank down to the size of a golf ball and disintegrated into a pile of ash in his hand. Alexander stared up at him with dull gray eyes, the fight in them completely gone. His body crumpled to the floor with an unceremonial thud and burst into flames.

  A chorus of changeling shrieks echoed around the room. Then the battle behind him fell silent. Cooper turned. All around the room, the Jericho soldiers stood panting and staring at mounds of changeling ash and ember. Stephen propped himself up on hands and knees, apparently weakened by Alexander’s demise himself, but still alive.

  Randy seemed to be the only seed of Alexander in the room that wasn’t physically affected by the Anakim’s death.

  He rushed to Cooper’s side and put his hands on his shoulders. “Cooper. Look at me. It’s me, Randy.”

  Covered in changeling blood, Randy’s now amber eyes were glassy and foreign to him. His touch was ice cold and shot through the fabric of Cooper’s shirt. Cooper wanted to reach out to him, but Blue would not allow it.

  Around him, Jericho soldiers stood shell-shocked, their daggers still raised as if they expected the neat little piles of ash scattered around the room to suddenly reform and come back to life. Rafe and Betsy lowered their daggers first, then Odessa and Joshua eased away from the remains of their attackers. Lex had already busied himself tending to a nasty wound in Taj’s side. Marissa kneeled over her twin’s motionless body, covering her face in her hands and sobbing.

  “What the fuck just happened?” Rafe asked, breaking the silence.

  “Changelings aren’t fully-formed Anakim beings,” Joshua said through staggered breaths. “They can’t survive without their maker’s life force.”

  Cooper stared down at Alexander’s smoldering corpse, transfixed by the dying flames. He’d done the impossible, and he could not have done it without Blue’s help. But now it was time for the spirit to go.

  Randy shook him again. “Cooper? Are you in there? Say something, goddammit!”

  Randy’s voice was different. Lower. His eyes sparkled like two drops of liquid gold. Cooper tried to touch his face and respond to him—use the deep love he felt for Randy to escape Blue’s hold, like Miss Ida said. But he couldn’t. The spirit wouldn’t release him. Cooper could only stare at Randy through the shield of Blue’s curious yet unfeeling eyes.

  Blue.

  The voice was soft. Sweet. Angelic. It drifted through his head like an ethereal melody.

  Blue, my love. It’s over now.

  He turned and looked back at the tunnel opening. A vertical stream of light pulled at his insides with a force he could not deny.

  You can rest now, Blue. Come home to me.

  Cooper strained to focus on a translucent image forming in the light. Everything and everyone in the room fell away, and there was only her—a pale, young girl with a flowing white nightgown billowing in the chilly breeze of the tunnel. Hair the color of a shiny new penny cascaded down her back, framing a smooth face dotted with light freckles. Sally Parker.

  Blue’s spirit rustled deep inside Cooper as Sally reached out to him with open arms. Without a moment of hesitation, Cooper pulled free of Randy’s grip and reached back to her.

  Randy’s voice faded behind him. “Cooper? What are you doing? Where are you going?”

  He moved toward Sally, yet deep down, his soul reached back for Randy. He failed to make his limbs respond. Sally took his right hand, and radiant warmth filled him from head to toe.

  Sally stared up into his eyes. Blue. Your work here is done. It’s time to let him go.

  Randy grabbed his left arm and tugged on it, but Cooper held his ground. The internal conflict ripped at his insides. He wanted so badly to turn away and run to Randy, but Blue was still in control and he wanted to be with Sally.

  “Cooper, please,” the crack in Randy’s voice cut deep enough to draw his attention—or Blue’s attention.

  Randy’s skin had lost its usual tanned pigment, yet it glistened under the splatter of blood caked across his heaving chest. They looked at each other. The old Randy was still in there. His eyes brimmed with light of love and tenderness that could not be extinguished by the Anakim poison now running through his veins. Cooper loved him so much, his heart ached with a dull, numbing pain. His skin sizzled with the mystic energy of the troubled spirit controlling him, pulling him to return to Sally’s alluring call. Randy held out his arms to him, streaks of dark tears marring his perfect face.

  Remembering Miss Ida’s instructions, Cooper fought the spirit firmly rooted inside him. He focused on Randy’s eyes and the love they held for him, a greater love than he had ever known or even imagined possible. Drawing up all the power he had left in his weakened shell of a body, he pushed everything outward, expelling the dread and death that filled him.

  Cooper’s mouth stretched open. An agonizing wail rushed up from the pit of his stomach. The room spun around him as the battle for sovereignty of his soul erupted deep inside him. He would not give in to Blue. His love for Randy was too great. With a final exhausting push, the heaviness in his stomach released its cancerous grip, finger by defiant finger, and dissipated from his consciousness.

  Cooper dropped to his knees and drew in a deep gasp of air. His body was spent but purged of its domineering visitor. He looked back at the empty tunnel.

  Blue and Sally were gone.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Cooper tried to stand. His legs were like rubber and gave out. Randy grabbed him under his arms and helped him to remain upright. The room finally settled down around him, and he put a hand on Randy’s chest to steady himself.

  “I’m good,” Cooper said. “Thanks.” And he was good. It was over. Alexander was dead. Blue had finally found peace and his way back to Sally.

  Rafe and Odessa circled the room in opposite directions, Odessa inching toward Stephen in the corner, and Rafe closing in on Randy. Alarms went off in Cooper’s head. It wasn’t over yet.

  Odessa stood over a cowering Stephen. He bared his fangs at her and hissed, fear glazing his eyes. She leaned down and pointed her dagger in his face, grazing the tip of his nose. “I think Betsy should do the honors of ending this one.”

  Betsy growled at her through bared fangs.

  “O!” Joshua reprimanded with a steely glare.

  Though Odessa didn’t look at the Manheeg, she took a step back.

  Rafe edged closer to Cooper and Randy, knees bent, muscles tight. His usually rakish face was now rigid with aggression. “Let go of him and back away, Anakim.” He raised his dagger. “I know this wasn’t your fault, bro, so I’m really sorry for this.” Rafe charged.

  A thunderclap of rage exploded inside Cooper once more. Without thinking or hesitation, he threw up a hand and caught Rafe by the throat, though there was three feet of empty space between them, and slowly raised him in the air.

  Dangling in mid-air, Rafe kicked his legs and clawed at unseen fingers tightening around his throat, the color quickly draining from his face. Satisfied that he’d gotten Rafe’s attention, Cooper released his phantom grip with a flick of his hand. Rafe fell hard to the floor, rubbing his throat and gasping for air.

  With widened eyes, Randy looked around the room from one Jericho solider to the next. Cooper couldn’t imagine what was going on in his head right now—how everything must look through those new radiant eyes.

  Cooper turned and pointed at the soldiers. “Stay away from him, all of you.” His voice resonated with absolute authority. “He is under my protection.”

  “That’s not how it works, Cooper,” Joshua said, his voice low and threatening. “He is Anakim now. He and Stephen must be dealt with accordingly.”

  Cooper clenched his fists and took a step forward. “I don’t care if he’s Charles fucking Manson! You touch him and you die. Besides, you are Anakim. Go fall on your own damn sword, why don’t you
?”

  “I will, gladly,” Joshua growled through gritted teeth. “After we have rid the earth of this unholy pestilence.”

  Cooper looked over at Betsy and nodded to Stephen. “So, Elizabeth Parker. Are you going to just stand by and watch them murder your own son? Your son, for Christ’s sake!”

  Betsy’s shifting eyes betrayed her internal conflict. She looked away from Cooper, guilt resonating from every pore.

  Joshua took an authoritative step forward. “Elizabeth knows what has to be done. She will not stand in the way of our mission.”

  Cooper shot a quick look over his shoulder. Using the wall as a defensive barrier, Stephen inched closer to him and Randy, each step a little steadier than the one before. His cheeks were streaked with black blood. Fear, defeat, and sadness pooled in his eyes. His lover had betrayed him, killed his sister, brother, and father, and lied to him about it for a hundred and fifty years. And now his own mother was duty-bound to let him die. He looked less like a vicious, murderous fiend and more like a lost child watching his world collapse around him. Cooper almost felt sorry for him.

  Betsy glided forward, her eyes pleading. “Cooper, you have to leave here immediately. You have been marked now.”

  Cooper looked at her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You killed Alexander,” she replied.

  He edged closer to Randy. “Yes. I did. And I would gladly do it again.”

  “You don’t understand,” Betsy said, only an arm’s length away. “When Anakim die, their makers witness the death through the eyes of their offspring. Alexander’s maker has seen your face. He knows what you did. He will come for you, seeking his revenge.”

  Cooper stared at her, his heart softening just a bit. “That’s why you tried to stop me from killing him?”

  Her shoulders sagged, and she nodded. “I did not want you to be marked for his death. I would have gladly done it in your place and bore the wrath of his maker.”

  He studied Betsy’s usually flawless face, now dented with lines of fear and worry. Not just fear. She was terrified. “Why do you look so frightened? Who is Alexander’s maker?”

  Joshua’s voice boomed behind her. “Once my friend and most trusted ally, he is now my sworn enemy—the supreme leader of the Anakim race and the most ruthless of them all. His madness knows no bounds, and his cruelty is only surpassed by his unquenchable bloodlust.”

  Cooper stared over Betsy’s shoulder at Joshua, lost in his words. Comprehensive dread filled his veins, sending goose bumps racing down his arms and legs. The name fell off his tongue with little assistance. “Caleb.”

  Randy pressed his arm against Cooper’s, centering him. Stephen was only a few steps away.

  Joshua nodded and moved toward them. “Alexander was Caleb’s favorite progeny. He will not take his passing well. He will find you.”

  Cooper lowered his head with the dead weight of desperation. First he’d lost Lillie Mae, then Randy had been transformed into something he could barely recognize. Now this. He would continue to be hunted, not by a monster that wanted to keep him imprisoned the rest of his life, but by one that would stop at nothing to end it.

  Joshua stood beside Betsy. “Come with us, Cooper. Join Jericho and we will protect you. Your unique gifts would be an unprecedented asset to our cause. It is your destiny.”

  Cooper peered over at Randy, whose new amber eyes were full of loyalty, desire, and hunger. He knew Joshua’s offer of protection did not extend to Randy. They would never let him live now, not Alexander’s Anakim child—a descendent of Caleb.

  Joshua pointed a finger at him. “If you choose not to join us, Cooper, you shall suffer the same fate as Randy and Stephen.”

  “Joshua, please,” Betsy protested, grabbing him by the arm.

  Joshua growled at her and shoved her aside, never breaking eye contact with Cooper. “We cannot allow even the possibility of your blood falling into the hands of the Anakim. That would be devastating to our cause and to the human race.”

  Stephen had made it over to them and stood behind Cooper and Randy, making an unlikely coalition. Cooper glanced over his shoulder at Stephen. His eyes were full of intensity as he probed Cooper’s mind. This time, Cooper did not fight him, and Stephen’s message was clear.

  I can help you.

  He had no time for thoughtful deliberation. He had no choice but to trust Stephen and accepted the offer with a nod.

  Joshua, Rafe, and Odessa all charged at once.

  Stephen disintegrated into a dark cloud of thick gray smoke, swirling around Cooper and Randy as if they were caught in the eye of a tornado. Odessa sailed over their heads with her dagger drawn. Rafe charged straight for Randy. Joshua lunged at Cooper, fangs extended, and a ferocious growl exploding from his mouth.

  Cooper turned away and came face to face with Randy. Their eyes locked on each other, Randy slipped his arms around Cooper’s waist and pulled him close. Cooper held him tight and braced for the blunt impact of the attack. The moment Cooper’s feet left the floor, something sharp and hot tore into his side.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Cooper forced his heavy eyelids open.

  Long rattan blades ran in clockwise slow motion above him, the ceiling fan motor emitting a hypnotic hum. The gentle crash of low tide echoed in the distance, and a salty breeze spilled into the room, sending shivers scampering across his naked body. A dull pain gripped his side.

  “Hey there.” The honey-toned voice tickled his left ear, and he let his head fall in its direction.

  Randy lay there, beaming at him, the side of his head sunken down into a fluffy white pillow. Cooper saw a twinkle in his once dark brown eyes, now amber and sparkly when the low light of the bedside lamp skimmed their surface.

  “Randy.” Cooper’s voice was scratchy and thick on his tongue, but saying the name out loud comforted him.

  Randy smiled and touched his face, the sting of his ice-cold fingers less unnerving than Cooper remembered.

  “You gave us quite a scare there, Red,” Randy said.

  Cooper didn’t understand what he meant at first. The memories emerged slowly through the haze of his brain. A sudden realization hit him like a ton of bricks. They were in bed together, covered only by a white cotton sheet, the top of which rested across their lower stomachs. Cooper was completely naked underneath. Randy appeared to be as well, at least from the waist up.

  Cooper scratched his head and rubbed his temples. “Well, it was a pretty scary night by most people’s standards.” Cooper tried not to stare at the trail of golden hair leading from Randy’s flat navel to the border of the sheet.

  Randy chuckled. “One hell of a first date, though.”

  Cooper raised his head and scanned his surroundings. The room had an upscale take on low-country shabby chic. Two old distressed doors served as headboards, crowning the iron-frame bed where they lay. A scatter of shaggy cream-colored rugs dotted a dark walnut floor. Varying shades of white covered the board-and-batten-paneled walls, a flanked ceiling, and cushy slip-covered club chairs. Faded beams of the setting sunlight broke through the intricate lace of rustling curtains, giving the room a warm, ethereal glow.

  Cooper eased his head back on the pillow and looked over at Randy. “Where the hell are we?”

  Randy propped himself up on one elbow, the sheet falling low enough down his rippled stomach to reveal a border of curly dark hairs. Desire stirred in Cooper’s loins, causing him to shift under the sheet.

  “Stephen’s beach house in Pawleys Island,” Randy said, looking down at him. “He brought us here from Warfield last night. He’s really not a bad guy, now that he’s away from Alexander the Freak. He feels horrible about all the bad shit he did. Says he was under Alexander’s spell.” He grinned at Cooper. “I have to admit. I can relate.”

  Cooper looked away, still tentative about trusting Randy’s love. “Last night?” He shifted to sit up, and dull pain sucker-p
unched him in the side. “How long was I out?”

  “Easy there, Tiger,” Randy said, placing a hand directly on the bare spot of skin where the pain originated. It helped. The pain eased, or maybe his ice-cold touch just numbed it.

  “You’ve been out for quite a while.” Randy gently massaged the wound. “That bitch, Odessa, nailed you pretty good with her dagger before Stephen got us out of there. It’s mostly healed now, though. Stephen said it’d be sore a while longer.”

  Cooper lowered the sheet so he could inspect the aching wound on his side. He didn’t see any trace of one. The skin over the tender area was smooth and unblemished.

  Randy pushed a lock of Cooper’s hair back from his forehead. “I gave you my blood. That healed the wound. Stephen showed me how. Fucking disgusting, but effective.” He pressed his open palm to Cooper’s taut stomach, sending a charge of icy heat shooting through his body.

  Cooper let his head sink into the soft pillow and stared at Randy. He glanced down at the bulge between Randy’s legs, mounding under the sheet. “Did we…”

  Randy chuckled, leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek. The light contact of his soft chilled lips felt like a snowflake landing and quickly melting on his skin. “Don’t worry, Red. I didn’t take advantage of you. Your honor is intact.”

  Warmth returned to Cooper’s cheek. He didn’t mind the prospect of Randy taking advantage of him, but he wanted to be fully conscious and actively participating when it happened.

  “All in due time,” Randy teased with a devilish grin.

  A brief wave of panic shot through Cooper. “Don’t tell me.”

  “Yep,” Randy said, a quiet chuckle spilling out of his mouth. “I can hear your thoughts now. Can see your dreams too, and boy did have you had some doozies while you were out.” Randy stroked Cooper’s hair with the tip of an index finger. “When we got here last night, you were in pretty bad shape. The wound was really deep, and your fever skyrocketed pretty fast. Blue’s possession also did a number on your body. We couldn’t really take you to Georgetown Memorial, so we made do here. After I gave you some of my blood, I held you all night, using my new ass-backward body temperature to get the fever down. Miss Ida’s idea. Thankfully, it worked.”