Treat (Terraway Book 5)

by Mary E. Twomey

“He’s our brother. Of course we won’t hurt him. But we have to keep him from injuring himself, or you two.”

  We watched the scene as Mason took the cap off the blood bag, knelt down and fed it to Von. Bishop started rubbing feeling back into his brother’s arms. Von was breathing heavily to the point of a feral snort as he sucked down more and more blood. Bishop pointed his finger at me, his eyes flashing with fear. “Run! Lock yourselves in a room and wait until we say it’s okay.”

  Mariang grabbed my shirt sleeve, obeying faster than I intended. She all but yanked me up the stairs and pushed me into the conference room where Ezra was already working. The light from the windows on the way there told me it was barely dawn, probably no later than five o’clock.

  Von had been bled dry. There’s no way he was himself already. Yet he’d spoken. He was coherent, though not totally out of the woods yet. It made no sense.

  Ezra put his phone down, standing when we entered so he could lock the double doors behind us. “Good morning, girls. Did you sleep well?”

  “Von’s coming out of it, but they’re not sure how stable he is, so we’re waiting with you until they get him under control. Where’s Lynna?” Mariang asked. “Call her and tell her to lock herself in a room. Ollie, too.”

  Ezra obeyed without hesitation, and we all breathed a little easier when we heard the bathroom door outside the kitchen slam shut, along with the ding of Ollie’s text of confirmation.

  The relief was short-lived. I heard one of the twins cry out in pain, and the angry clang of the cell door accompanying the shouting that rose up the stairs and wafted in under the door. Mariang was in her father’s arms. He was her safe place.

  I looked back at him from my spot near the doors, my chest heaving when he opened his other arm and waved me to him, inviting me to hide for a while until the storm passed. I had a handful of reasons to hesitate, but I ignored them all and ran to him, crashing into his embrace that held me tight. Ezra had his faults, but even when his engagement to Bev imploded, he hadn’t turned his back on Ollie or me. “It’ll be alright, darlings,” Ezra said, his cadence calming.

  “I know,” Mariang said, gripping her father and me with all her dainty might.

  I’d never met my birth father, and clung to Ezra more than either of us expected me to. I couldn’t let go; I’d kept my chin up for too long, and it needed a safe place to rest. Ezra was that harbor, that lighthouse in the hurricane that held me tight until the monsters went away. Or more realistically, drank enough blood to turn back into themselves again. “I’m here,” he promised. “I’m always ever here.”

  I bunched his shirt with my fist and clung tighter to him. It wasn’t that I was afraid of Von, or that the guys couldn’t contain him. I’m sure everything was under control already. It was that Von had to be locked up in the first place. It was the whole sloppy mess of a life that I was smack in the middle of, and wasn’t quite sure how I’d gotten there. Ezra was cooing soothing words to me, but I couldn’t hear them. When he asked if I was alright, I couldn’t open my mouth to tell him that no, I wasn’t alright, and most likely wouldn’t be for a long time.

  My name is October, and I have a problem. I don’t have the healthy fear of monsters most people have engrained in them. I’d chosen to work at the prison. I’d chosen to visit Bev once a week to make sure she was alright. I’d slept next to a wolf and pretended he was my innocent puppy. I’d made out with a widower and was shocked to learn he had issues. I’d made out with a slave trader and killed zombies alongside him. I was now psychically linked to a reverse centaur with an attitude. And Exhibit A was gnashing his teeth in the cell as I remained locked away from him. Every kiss we shared was, in reality, a danger. One nick of his fangs could pierce my skin and turn his bloodthirst crank to the point of no return.

  And yet I’d chosen all these things.

  Yes. My name is October, and I have a problem.

  Nineteen.

  Barfing in the Bathroom with the Boys

  Ollie and Ezra were firm that Von should stay locked up a full twenty-four hours after becoming sentient again to make sure he wouldn’t hurt anyone. Von agreed.

  I did not.

  Unfortunately, no one gave two rips what I thought. Now Ollie and Ezra seemed to be in cahoots, with Ollie taking Ezra’s side in little things, like me not going to work that day.

  That debate didn’t last long. Numbers didn’t lie, and that’s why I loved them. I laid out the math, reasoning that we needed to keep ahead of the reaping count to make sure the famine didn’t kill more people while help was still in transit. In truth, I couldn’t stand seeing Von locked in a cage like an inmate, and he wasn’t too thrilled about any of us seeing him like that, either. I spent a fair amount of time in the garage, detailing Terence my Taurus and making sure there were no blood stains from the fight with the Ekeks. People underestimate how calming it is to clean.

  I started up my car, loving the feel of the purr that connected me to Terence the Taurus. Mason rode shotgun while Tweedle-Dumbass and Tweedle-Not-So-Bad occupied the backseat. The guys made small talk while I drove in the direction of the nearest hospital.

  “It’s alright, kid. He’ll be good as new when we get back.”

  Mason was sweet, but I didn’t need it. “Thanks. I’m more in a fake-a-smile-till-it’s-over kinda mood right now, but I’ll let you know when I’m up for a pep talk I might actually believe.”

  Boston chuckled and leaned forward between our seats to crank up the radio. I swatted at his hand and turned the volume back down to a respectable level. When I parked on the third floor of the structure, Mason was still running through the list of the job responsibilities with the twins, down to the last “clear ever corner before she goes down it” that made me internally roll my eyes. “I’m not a fan of the high-stakes, always looking over your shoulder kind of thing. Makes me paranoid after a while.”

  “Paranoid Omens live longer,” Mason pointed out as he exited the car, stretching his arms over his head. He wore a dark green polo that made his eyes look even grayer, along with jeans that made him look a little too handsome for his own good. The haircut that removed his seven dreads had been cruel, but it certainly made him fit into my world a whole lot easier. Mason reached out his hand to grab mine, linking our fingers and walking with me in the direction of the hospital. Bishop walked ahead of us and Boston behind, keeping us safe and making me a little jumpy. I didn’t like Boston where I couldn’t see him.

  We strolled through the glass tunnel that led to the main building, and as we walked, I noticed our reflection in the window that stretched from the floor to far over our heads. “Wait a second. I want to see something.” I pulled Mason over and looked at our reflection, noting with a frown the stark differences between us. Mason was tall, broad and ruggedly handsome. I was far shorter, dressed like a teenager going to the resale shop and looked decidedly less attractive than he did.

  “Whatcha looking at?” He stared beyond us to the people below.

  “Us. We don’t look right. I look like your sister or your kid or something.”

  Boston laughed while Bishop and Mason smiled. “You don’t look like my kid. I’m only nine years older than you.”

  “I love that you say ‘only’, like almost a decade isn’t totally weird.”

  “You didn’t mind so much when we were together,” he said, clearly miffed, his nose in the air.

  “Minding something and acknowledging it’s weird are two different things.”

  “Okay. Weird, yes. But it doesn’t make me old enough to be your father. Here,” he said, pulling me into the kind of embrace that makes a woman suck her stomach in while her heart flutters. He grinned down at me with a devious and dashing smile, knowing exactly the effect he had on a girl. “Now take a look.”

  I glanced at the window-wall again, seeing a different image. I was less a teenager in this pose, and more a woman out for an afternoon of flirty fun with her guy. “Oh, that’s much better. You look way le
ss like you could be my dad now.”

  Mason’s smile fell into a grimace as he released me. “Oh! Is that what this was? When we were together, were you trying to fulfill some childhood daddy issues?”

  “No!” I was indignant, hoping none of that was true. “And where did you even hear talk like that? That’s Topsider shrink nonsense.”

  Mason shrugged. “Mariang and I were watching TV, and there was a man on giving people advice.”

  “Well, his advice doesn’t apply to us. We didn’t get together because I don’t have a dad. Forget I said anything. Let’s move.”

  Boston sniggered behind us, while Bishop tried to conceal his grin at my discomfort. Boston made a few crass comments before I turned around and gave him a good shove to shut him up. “Knock it off. I’m working, here.”

  “Of course, your majesty,” Boston said with a sweeping bow.

  My gut led us to radiology where I pretended to be lost until I reaped a tall, thin man with a limp that I walked past. He didn’t even notice more than a brush of my arm to his, but I sure did. Out of nowhere, my stomach roiled, making me belch. Mason reaped the soul almost as quickly as it came into me, but my stomach was still throwing a tantrum, tiny fists pounding on the lining as the moshers threw a party on my gag reflex. I keeled over, unable to contain my discomfort. “Oh! Something’s wrong. Bathroom, guys. I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Bishop located the nearest bathroom and cleared the way for me, my knees quaking and my forehead sweating with every step. I barely made it inside the one-person handicap-accessible room before the chunks started coming up. I didn’t have a choice; I had to hold onto the toilet seat to steady myself as I threw up my breakfast. My eyes squinched shut as the fecal germs and who knew what else crawled all over my hands, making me emotional as I puked. “You should go,” I eked out between heaves. I was grateful Bishop and Boston were safely in the hallway. “You don’t want to be here for this.”

  “I’m exactly where I want to be.” A tear jerked out of me when Mason pulled my hair away from my face and rubbed my back. “What’s going on? Are you coming down with something?” he asked when I stopped vomiting long enough to hear him.

  “No. I don’t know. I was fine until I reaped that guy, and now it’s all coming up. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “Take a breather. Hey.” He looked surprised when he saw my compulsory vomit-induced tears. “It’s alright. Just a little setback. We’ll go home and let you get some rest. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

  “No,” I flushed the toilet and stood slowly to start the lengthy process of washing my hands, wrists, the unbandaged inches of my arms, my face and anywhere else that irked me. “We’ll finish out the day.”

  Mason’s stomach growled as I finished cleaning up, probably taking far longer than a normal person would’ve. “If you’re sick, we should go home.”

  “You’re sweet, but you’re going soft on me because we’re close. The famine doesn’t care if I’m sick. It’s going to kill people, and I’m the only one who can stop it.”

  He ran his hand over his face. “If you say so, but only the bare minimum. There are four lands left who need the stone, plus one to keep everything going. So we’ve got four reaps left, and we’re going home.”

  “Roger that.” I reached for the knob with a shaking hand, but Mason got the door for me.

  Boston handed me a stick of gum while Bishop cast me a sympathetic look. “This way,” I instructed, not wanting a pity party or a discussion about us going home versus finishing the job. My queasy gut led us to another wing where there were lots of rooms with doors left open, which suited me just fine. I wandered in with Mason and Bishop, while Boston flirted with the nurses at the station to distract them. Or disgust them. I honestly couldn’t tell with that guy.

  The sixty-something woman with salt and pepper hair asked me to change the channel for her, since she couldn’t figure out the remote control that was in the bedframe itself. I politely showed her how to operate the TV using the buttons on the side of her bed, gently reaping her without her knowledge.

  My stomach rebelled as the waves of nausea rose up in me, taking me down with the slightest provocation. I was barely able to excuse myself before I ran to her bathroom and vomited again, now certain that the spontaneous flu I was undergoing was related to the reaping. I didn’t understand why, but somehow when I reaped today, I puked.

  I really missed my old job.

  I was a mess by the time we got four reapings under our belts. I knew I needed one more, but I was so weak, I couldn’t hold my head up. I didn’t have the gumption to protest when Bishop scraped me off the floor of the fourth bathroom I’d barfed in that day.

  I would not cry. I would not cry.

  Bishop was gentle as he carried me through the hospital and to the car, insisting Boston drive if he could manage not to take any hard turns on the way back to Ezra’s.

  Mason was chewing on his hand, his stomach growling as he began panting his discomfort. “I’m going to shift soon if I don’t get food, guys, and it’s not going to be pretty. Turn off at the first sign of anything I can eat. I’m not picky. Anything at all.”

  Bishop had stolen a bedside barfing tray for me just in case for the drive home, but luckily I passed out a few minutes after Boston drove us out of the parking lot.

  The stink of the fast food revived me and made me want to ralph all over again, but nothing was in my stomach. When we finally reached the mansion, the sun was starting to set. Bishop roused me gently, pulling a modicum of stress from me. He walked around the car and opened my door, knowing I was too beat to move on my own. “Easy, now. Let me help you.”

  I looked up into Bishop’s eyes and saw only kindness there. My hand was unsteady and trembled as I reached for his, but before I could grasp him, Bishop cried out in pain, knocked forward into the car.

  I looked past him but saw nothing. And just like that, the invisible something lifted him ten feet off the driveway and launched him onto the front lawn.

  Twenty.

  Invisible Attack

  “Manas!” Boston cried. “Stay inside, kid!” He flung himself out of the car and ran toward his brother, getting caught in a fight with an invisible foe along the way. “I’m coming, Bish!”

  Mason ran full blast at the force Boston was dueling and grabbed it around the… throat? Torso? Arm? It was anybody’s guess. Boston whipped his blade around and stabbed it forward. He ripped upward, making me scream when it looked like he was gutting Mason. I exhaled when the invisible enemy began to bleed, and Mason’s struggle with it died down. Boston hadn’t gutted Mason, but the thing they were fighting. I remembered being told Lumipad was filled with Ekeks and Manas. I’d seen a few of the male bird-like Ekeks, but hadn’t encountered many Manas yet, other than Sylvia, who’d been cool enough. I remembered Danny telling me that Manas were the women of Lumipad, and they could detach their top halves from their bottom halves. They sent their winged tops out to hunt for meat, usually invisible, to gain the best sneak and attack on their mobile meals.

  As the invisible enemy who was oozing blood stopped struggling in Mason’s arms, I started to see her features as she materialized before me. She had black hair that flowed to the end of her half-body. Her face was stunning: full, red lips, pointed ears almost like a fairy, rosy cheeks, and a giant pair of black bat wings. The leathery webbed wings slumped as she fought her last, and I guessed her wingspan to be just a little longer than Mason’s arm-length. Her breasts and ribs were dressed in crimson leather to match her lipstick, and beneath the bottom of her shirt I counted two ribs before random intestines dangled from where her torso was severed from her lower half. Totally gross.

  Ezra stormed out of the house in his suit, gun in hand and malice on his face. He stomped with purpose, calling out the Manas with a command in his tone I didn’t recognize. Ezra with a gun was a fearsome, glorious sight.

  I was already pretty well freaking out, but I screamed
when the car door opened. A hand cupped my mouth and jerked me backwards. “Not a sound, little Omen. You have no idea how many of us are watching. I’ll send them down on your men in a heartbeat if you try to escape.”

  I struggled, but I was so worn out from my random puke-fest that I was ashamed at how ineffectual my fight was. When nothing broke me free, I thrashed around as best I could just to make it clear that I wouldn’t go quietly. I knew what happened to girls who went quietly. I treated the men who took them to their graves. I grabbed her head and bashed it to the window, jarring her hand loose. I turned in my seat and punched her across the face, wishing I had more room or more oomph. Or that I could, you know, see her.

  I bolted out of the backseat and ran toward Ezra, my legs weak, but knowing they had no other choice. “Ezra! Get in the house! She said there’s more! Too many more! Go!”

  “Get in the house, October.” Ezra pointed his gun into the sky, aimed at nothing with a lot of precision and pulled the trigger, dropping the half body that materialized out of thin air and thudded onto the front lawn. Boston was charging from behind, it sounded like to tackle me, but at the last second, he rushed a Manas who had almost snatched me up.

  I didn’t join the fight because I knew I wouldn’t be of any use in the state I was in. I ran to the front door, but just as I made to twist the handle, someone invisible grabbed my wrist and jerked it to the side. Before I could figure out which way was up, the world was upside-down. I was flung over the Manas’ shoulder seconds before her wings fluttered outward like so many bats taking flight. I screamed and fought as I levitated, elbowing and punching the back of her head until she finally dropped me from a height of only seven feet in the air. Boston stabbed her in the next heartbeat with his blade, giving me exactly one breath of relief before more descended on the both of us.

  I couldn’t count how many hands were on me, tearing at my hair, clothes and skin. Sharp talon-like nails dug into me, drawing blood and slicing too deep to muscle my way through. I screamed and flailed, punching at random as the frenzy continued. It felt like I was being pecked to death by razor claws.