Treat (Terraway Book 5)

by Mary E. Twomey

  It was a multi-tiered bomb that kept exploding. Ollie had a way to contact Allie. Boom! Allie left a lifeline with Ollie and not me. Boom! Allie wasn’t answering, the only logical reason being that she couldn’t. Boom!

  Only there was another logical reason she wasn’t answering. Allie hadn’t wanted us to contact her. Even with the secret lifeline, she had specified no contact without a life-threatening emergency. The part of me that didn’t believe in Santa Claus was certain that she wasn’t picking up because she didn’t love us anymore. She’d been through enough, and I was the beacon for it all. I was the reason she’d sacrificed. It was because of me she worked after school to earn the money for food, clothes and the mortgage while her friends were blowing their paychecks at the mall on cute shoes and designer coffee drinks. She’d given up too much. As much as it hurt me beyond all the damage I could stuff down and still be somewhat functional, I understood. I’d taken her youth. I’d forced her to be a mama before she’d hit puberty.

  There really wasn’t forgiveness for that.

  Neither of my mamas wanted me, and that’s the name of that tune.

  I didn’t know what to do or say to comfort Ollie, who was holding onto the brink before tipping over the edge into grieving. I stuck with the standard, “I’m here for you,” but Ollie was past the point of that making a drop of difference. In true Reese fashion, Ollie reached out when it was already too late. I wrapped my arms around my brother, his shoulders and forearms tensing and relaxing in spasms as he wrestled with his urge to cry.

  “I failed her,” he choked out. “I should’ve…”

  I shushed Ollie, only silencing his feelings when they were self-destructive. “No, no. You didn’t fail anyone. You drove her to the shrink. You made sure she ate. You were always, always, always good to us.”

  “I let her carry too much of the responsibilities.”

  I brought his head to rest on my shoulder, wishing not for the first time, that Ollie could be a child for once in his life. That he could rest without worry. “You took on too much for any sane human to make it through, and yet you did. There was nothing you could’ve done better. Allie isn’t dead, Ollie.” She just doesn’t want me.

  “It’s the only explanation,” he argued, pulling away, lest he never be able to sit up on his own ever again. I knew that struggle well, and was grateful for Mason and Von, who broke me out of that bad habit of perpetual distance you get from growing up Reese. “Sorry. I’m alright,” he assured me, rubbing his hand over his face to rid himself of the anxiety that never fully left us. “You get to be the broken mess next, okay? It’s your turn,” he joked, reaching for humor to keep the softness in his heart far away from fresh air and daylight.

  I kissed his temple. “Okay, Ollie.” I patted his back and walked into the living room, my soul hollow and my voice expressionless. “Mason, Ollie needs you.”

  Mason sighed. “I’m not interested in more accusations from him. I apologized too many times just to shut him up.”

  I couldn’t argue with that, but I didn’t have the words to explain all the brokenness that was going on inside of Ollie. I didn’t want to tell him about the shattering agony that was tearing me up. I tried to compartmentalize and shove the bad things into a drawer in my mind where they couldn’t taunt me with their harsh reality.

  I’d had too much hard truth in my life. I wanted whipped cream now. Whipped cream and no problems. I wanted lies. To be told it would all be okay, and for a harbor of a moment, let myself believe the beautiful blessing that was the lie. I couldn’t make Mason understand. “Ollie needs a good pulling. He needs a Duwende. It’s bad, and I can’t fix it.”

  Mason considered my countenance and stood, giving Mariang a decent pull before leaving her to stare at her phone as she waited on word from the twins. “Alright. If that’s what you want, I can do it.”

  “That’s what I need. I need you to take care of Ollie.”

  Mason wrapped his arm around my shoulder, bringing me tight to his side. He kissed my forehead while we walked in step. “I can feel this. Whatever it is that’s worse than it was when you went into the kitchen? It’s pretty bleak, hani. Anything I can do?”

  “Just take care of Ollie. That’s what you can do for me.” I paused in the hallway, the weight of Allie’s absence crushing me afresh. Allie didn’t want me.

  My knees buckled, and luckily Mason caught me before I tripped too unforgivably.

  “Whoa! Hey, take a break. What happened? What’s wrong? I mean, other than the obvious. You left for the kitchen and hit a new low?”

  I gripped Mason, letting him hold me, despite all the mistrust between us. I looked up into his slate eyes, unable to communicate with words the despair that dragged me under when the reality hit me that my mamas didn’t love me. For years I’d had no one to talk to about my weird boy issues, no one to help me pick out the right hairstyle, no one to ask if I was alright in that special mom way.

  So I just learned to be alright, and when I wasn’t, I faked it well enough. But this was crap on top of too much garbage. Always too much garbage. Bev was in the middle of a cannibal war, Von was kidnapped, and Allie was gone, possibly forever.

  Ollie had kept a secret. I don’t know why, but somehow that felt like the worst part of the things that were staring me in the face with their too many eyes and monster tentacles that grabbed at my moxie to crush what was left of me.

  Mason held me, and in the quiet of the hallway, I learned to let him.

  Fifteen.

  Von, Unhinged

  The crash of bodies through the front door brought me to my feet and my heart into my throat. Boston, Bishop and Von – beautiful Von – were a mess of bloody limbs and torn clothing. Boston and Bishop deposited Von on the floor of the foyer, giving me a glimpse of Von’s bindings. His wrists were tied behind his back and his legs were fused together with rows and rows of thick rope. Von’s eyes were filled with malice, his fangs bared as he gnashed his teeth to get at the blood his brothers were dripping all over the foyer. Von inhaled, his head whipping at me. He roared to get at us, but I ignored his need and the fear I tried not to feel. Mason hefted Von up and carried him to the basement, where the vampire cage was.

  I bolted to the kitchen and grabbed a few blood bags. Then I flew down the stairs and handed them to Mason, who was a little frazzled. “I don’t want to keep him bound while he’s in the cage, but I can’t get his ties off without maybe accidentally setting him loose. I’m going to have to feed the blood bags to him.” He looked down at his stomach that rumbled again, frustrated. “Let me grab a roll or two first. Be right back, Von. Hang in there, brother.”

  Mason ran up the stairs, leaving me to stare helplessly at my BFF. Von thrashed around on the floor, growling and dripping with venom as he howled his pain. Slowly I walked to the cage, taking a deep breath before I opened it. Von was bound, but I was still careful to keep my distance as I knelt down a couple feet from his head. I screwed off the cap to the plastic pouch, showing him the contraband and hoping the promise of relief would soothe his nerves.

  Even when he was a monster, snapping at me to tear into my skin and break me, I still loved him.

  “Here you go, sweetie,” I cooed, careful as I brought the mouth of the pouch to his lips.

  The sweet and sensual noises Von made as he drank from the blood bag were fascinating. I couldn’t look away from the yearning, the fear of the need in his eyes as he sucked like a starving and dehydrated man getting his first taste of water. I didn’t mean to run my fingers through his hair, but they found their way into the filthy black tresses easily enough. Von guzzled the blood, making gratuitous guttural noises that sounded like desire and felt like pain. I didn’t like when Von was in pain. “It’s alright, honey. I’m here. You’re safe now. I’ll watch you. I’ll make sure no one kidnaps you ever again.”

  I didn’t like the feeling of the cage, having spent so much time around men who’d been confined to them. But I would walk straight int
o the prison for Von, whether it was a good idea or not.

  Mason was clomping down the wooden steps when Von drained the last of the pouch, his tongue reaching to sweep up every last drop so none went to waste. “What are you doing? I said I’d be right back! Get out of there!” Mason ran to me, his hands under my armpits as he dragged me out and slammed the door with a loud clang. “Do you have a death wish? I knew I shouldn’t have left you unchecked.”

  I shook his hands off me. “Oh, brother. So dramatic. Von’s tied up. It’s not like he can attack me really. He was starving, so I gave him a bag of blood.”

  Mason looked up as if to communicate with God what a pain I was being. “It’ll be dumb luck if you live through this whole thing. You keep throwing yourself headfirst into danger. I was gone all of two minutes! It’s dangerous for Von, too, you know. The more he’s around you when he’s like this, the more chances he’ll be able to drink enough of your blood to complete the transformation. Then he’ll be lost to you for good. Is that what you want?”

  “Of course not! I was careful. He didn’t even nick me.”

  “Next time you go playing with a tiger and excuse it all by saying ‘I was careful,’ don’t be surprised when that tiger breaks loose and attacks.”

  “Message received. Now help him!” I lobbed the other blood bag to Mason, standing so I could watch every move.

  “I will. You go upstairs and patch up his brothers. They’re bleeding all over the place. See how much danger we’re still in.”

  I ran up the stairs, trying to block Von’s frustrated roars out of my head.

  Sixteen.

  Vandershot 101

  I snatched up the first aid kit from the hallway bathroom under the sink and clicked my fingers to the guys, motioning for them to follow me to the bathroom. “Have a seat,” I said to the twin who had more bumps and burgeoning bruises than scrapes. “Which one are you?” I asked of the bloodier one.

  “I’m whichever one you want, love.” He leered at me, which let me know exactly which twin I was talking to.

  I closed the lid of the toilet and sat him down atop it. “Alright, Boston. I don’t have any local anesthetic, so we’re just going to have to sew this gash here up without it. Can you handle that, or do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

  Boston scoffed, his bravado in full swing. “Do it up. A little needle doesn’t bother me.”

  “Glad to hear it.” I set to work getting the wound cleaned, wishing for better lighting as I tried to assess which of his cuts needed stitches. “How do people normally tell you apart?”

  “My dick’s far bigger,” Boston answered, not missing a pervy beat.

  I threw my “do no harm” vow out the window and stabbed into the tender part of his arm with the needle. “Knock it off, jackweed.”

  “Boston’s front tooth is crooked,” Bishop offered from his position in the doorway.

  “Are these three the only gashes? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  “I could use a physical,” Boston teased, pulling his bloodied black t-shirt over his head to reveal his sculpted torso. He beamed with pride at the state of his well-earned physique, watching my face to catch me in an ogle.

  I kept my examination of him clinical. “How was the retrieval? Did you kill them all?”

  Bishop answered, since it seemed Boston was stuck on perv mode and might be incapable of normal conversation. “We killed seven Ekeks and salted one Manas. I don’t know if we got them all, to be honest. I didn’t see anyone escape, but it was pretty chaotic. Can’t be positive.”

  “I did,” Boston said, his voice grave. “I saw two Ekeks escape. A blond bloke and a ginger.”

  Bishop reeled back to gawk at his brother. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Because I was more concerned with getting Von out alive. They were beaten decently bad, but they limped out through the backdoor before I could take them out.”

  Bishop shook his head. “We have to go back.”

  I turned and pressed my hand to Bishop’s chest to slow down his fight. “You’ll do no such thing. They’re most likely long gone by now anyways.”

  “But they might come back for Von! If it worked once to manipulate an Omen by kidnapping her Reaper, they’ll try it again the next time they want something.”

  I nodded at the logic. “When you’re done in here, go back out to Ezra and ask him to get Lang to send his minions out to search for the two Ekeks.” I opted for a change of subject. “How was Von when you found him?”

  Boston kept quiet at this, and both twins avoided my gaze, looking far off as they pictured the thing they had never wanted to see their big brother go through. Bishop cleared his throat. “He’s alright now. That’s the important thing.”

  “They bled him,” Boston explained. “He’s not Von right now. Ezra’s got blood on hand, yeah?” He looked down and cleared his throat, lowering his voice. “If he doesn’t, Von can have some of mine. As much as he needs.”

  “Mine, too. Between the two of us, I’m sure we’ve got enough to bring him back.”

  I softened my grudge against Boston at the self-sacrificial offer. “Ezra’s got blood in the fridge. Enough to bring Von back to normal. It usually takes a while to get into his system, though.”

  “He was chained to a post in the basement when we found him,” Bishop said, looking into the distance, picturing the horror afresh. “Like he was their dog or something.”

  Boston winced as I pierced his bicep with the needle. “We made them pay, mate. It’s over. Von’s safe now. Can’t keep a Vandershot boy down.”

  Bishop nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat as he rubbed a sore spot on his wrist. He was still coming down from the fight they should’ve had more backup on. “I’ve never seen Von like that. I mean, I’ve only seen him a few times since he was bitten. Danny never went into much detail what happened when he didn’t get enough blood. I barely recognized him.”

  “I know. He’s completely animal right now. I wonder if he could even recognize us.” Boston looked down at where I was stitching to watch the needle weaving in and out of his skin. “We left him tied up, just in case. He snapped at Bish,” Boston explained of Bishop’s haunted look. He clicked his fingers at his brother to jerk Bishop out of the funk he was settling into. “Hey, he’s not Von yet. He won’t even remember you punching him to get him off of you.”

  I recalled when Mason pinned me down to kiss me. Even through his bloodthirsty fog, Von managed to call out for Danny to come save me. “Von understands that we have to use any means necessary to keep us and him safe. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, so he won’t be pissed you had to defend yourself. He’s usually only mad at himself.” I looked at the two, feeling strange that I was instructing them on how to take care of their own brother. “So when he comes back to his senses, don’t rag on him about any of it. He gets real upset with himself, and he doesn’t need to feel that.” I didn’t look up, but I could feel their eyes on me. “Let’s practice.” I put on my best English accent, which didn’t mix seamlessly with my occasional southern lilt. ‘Hey mates, when I was out of my mind in some godforsaken basement, did I try to hurt either one of you?’” I shot them a look of warning to play their parts.

  “Of course not,” Bishop answered. “We know you’d never hurt your family.”

  Boston mirrored the sentiment, taking in my instructions with a curious tilt of his head. “You’re awfully protective of our big brother.”

  “Of course I am. I’m protective of both my Reapers. They do handy things, like keeping me alive.” I fixed my eyes on the task at hand, tying off the suture and bandaging up the rest of the abrasions. “Von’s saved my life a couple times now, and never held it over my head. He can’t control this, but he thinks he might someday be able to. So be cool and let him deal.”

  “Anything you say, love,” Boston said as he tugged his shirt back over his head. “Looks like Von found himself a sweet little cherry to take up his mantle.”
<
br />   I glowered up at Boston, tempted to stab him in the arm with the needle again just to knock the suggestive smile off his smug face. Stupid Hippocratic Oath. Boston had a wide, sleazy smile aimed at me. “Something tells me I’m really going to hate you, and I’m not the first girl to say that to your face the first day meeting you.”

  “You haven’t slapped him,” Bishop pointed out, waving his brother out of the bathroom and closing the door to shut out the antagonistic twin’s leering lips. “Well done. Not many pretty women have made it through the whole first day of meeting Boston without a good wallop to his mug.”

  I straightened that Bishop called me pretty, which was a far sight better than being called cherry.

  “Well, the day’s not over yet. Where does it hurt?”

  Bishop shot me an apologetic look and peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt, turning to show me his back. There were several slashes across the taut muscles, stretching from his shoulder all the way down, vanishing below his jeans. “I got a little roughed up while Boston got Von out.”

  “I can see that. Can you move alright? Do you think anything’s broken?”

  “Nah. I’m fine. I more just came in here so Boston wouldn’t hit on you too badly. He has a certain charm about him that some women find…” He cast around for the right word.