Blood and Bite (15 page)

She didn’t wait for an answer.

Acknowledging the look of astonishment on Emerson’s face,
she ran toward the small crowd of slayers. Screaming, she leaped into their
midst, slashing as she went. They scattered like bowling pins, vaccinators, for
one moment, forgotten.

More than anything, she wanted to kill them.
Wanted to feel flesh give beneath her claws, wanted to taste their
blood as it splashed from fatal wounds.
Blood would help her heal.

She wanted to hear screams of agony.

But in the back of her mind the entire time was the boy, and
how she needed, despite the bloodlust that made her very nearly an unthinking
killing machine, to protect him.

She navigated her way to the open door and they turned from
Matthew’s direction to face her. And then with desperation and rage guiding
her, she fought the men.

Her claws were deadly, sharp blades and she ducked, slashed,
and decapitated with venomous joy. She ceased to believe that even in her
weakened condition they could take her.

She drank quickly of slayer blood, and even the small
amounts she managed to get inside her made her almost immediately stronger.

That was what she’d been born to do.

Emerson backed away and she raked her claws across one of his
men, turning to stab another, desperate to get to the one man who really
mattered. Emerson.

And she may have. His men littered the floor. The three
remaining stood with fear in their eyes, prods held like baseball bats.

But Emerson knew how to stop her. “Alexander,” he screamed.

She looked toward him, knowing immediately what was going to
happen.

He crouched over Matthew, vaccinator pushed against the
boy’s head. “Stop or I will kill him.”

Immediately she retracted her claws and fangs and dropped
her hands to her sides. She was breathing hard, her body still too hurt to be
in top shape. “Okay.”

The three men who yet lived converged upon her, beating her
with their fists, their boots, and finally, their vaccinators.

“No silver,” Emerson yelled. “She has to feed me.”

She fell to her knees and one of them swung his prod at her
face. She hit the floor, her cheekbone shattered,
her
entire body one soft ball of misery. Her claws slid out again, but slowly.

She heard buzzing inside her head as the room began to spin,
her fingers scrabbling at the hard floor.

And as she lay dazed, one of the men lifted a vaccinator and
slammed it against one of her claws. It shattered and seemed to scream, as
though it’d been an actual living thing. Or maybe the screams were hers.

“Enough,” Emerson roared. He waded into their midst and
shoved the men away from her. “Sean, hold your prod to the boy’s head. If she
refuses to feed me, kill him.”

He buried his fingers into her hair and jerked her to her
knees. She hung from his grip, her battered body unable, for a moment, to
function.

He knelt and grabbed her right arm. When she listed to the
side he yelled at another of his men to hold her up, and he stared into her
eyes. “Is there anything special you have to do to heal me? Or do I just…” he
hesitated, shuddering with disgust. “Or do I just drink your blood?”

She didn’t fucking know. “Drink,” she managed.

He nodded. “Good.” He pulled a small folding knife from his pocket
and handed it to the one man left who had nothing to do. “Cut her wrist.”

“Fucking coward,” she murmured.
“Can’t
even use a knife.”
But her mouth didn’t move the way she meant it to and
her voice was too thick for him to understand her.

The man bent down, grabbed her arm, and sliced her wrist
with Emerson’s knife.
Too deeply.

Emerson took a deep breath and pulling her bleeding wrist to
his mouth, began to drink.

She had little to give.

If I can die, it’ll be now.

He was draining her.

The agony was immediate, just as it had been with Lex. Pain
like nothing she’d ever imagined grew inside her when she fed a dying person.
The world went dark and silent, and the pain ruled her.

Seconds or hours later—she had no concept of time—he finally
pulled his sucking mouth from her wrist and released her.

She lay on the floor, unable to move.

“Is she dead?” someone asked.

“I don’t know,” Emerson replied, “but oh my, I feel so…so
good
.”
He was crying. She heard the tears in his voice.
“Oh, so
good.
So good.”

“What do you want us to do with her and the kid?”

“You go push the magic button. The case is in the hall.
You’ll have ten minutes to get out before the church explodes. Everything is in
place.” He giggled, giddy with the ecstasy her blood gave him. “I’m not even here.
Burn it down!”

One of the remaining men held his vaccinator to her hip and
sent silver into her body.
One last act of hatred.
“Just in case,” he murmured.

They left the room, running, in a hurry to torch the church
and escape before the blast either trapped them inside or brought the
authorities too close.

Finally, all was quiet.

She grabbed at the slippery floor and dragged herself to
Matthew. He hadn’t moved, as far as she knew, the entire time. If he still
lived, she’d be surprised.

The finger with the destroyed claw was shrieking with
red-hot, excruciating agony and the strands of silver exploded inside her, but
after the feeding, any pain would have seemed tolerable. Why had she been given
the ability to heal people when doing so was unbearable?

“Matthew,” she tried to say. She had to get him out of
there. They were going to blast the church and according to Emerson, there was
only a ten minute window to get out.

Ten minutes for her to heal enough to carry a small boy from
the building. She gave herself a few short moments to simply lie on the floor
and do nothing. She had not the energy to even close her mouth.

Those moments would not be enough, but it was all she had.

God, she hurt.

“Matthew.” Her voice was a raspy whisper, barely loud enough
for her to hear, let alone the boy. She slid her hand across the bag to shake
his shoulder. “Wake up, baby. We’re going home now.”

He looked worse in the light than he had in the shadows. His
little chest barely moved with shallow breaths. Otherwise he was still as
death.

She forced herself to her knees, allowing groans to escape
between clenched teeth. She deserved to fucking groan.

She had to get Matthew up. Letting him die was not an
option. Hands trembling, she unzipped the bag. It seemed to take hours. Inside
her head, the clock was ticking the short minutes away.
Ticks
of doom.

When he was free of the bag she climbed to her feet, her
screaming body resisting every move. Adrenaline fueled her, helped her shove
through the agony. Part of her would have liked nothing better than to lie down
beside him and give in.

She leaned over him and slipped her broken hands beneath
him, ignoring the pain. She pulled, trying to lift the small child from the
floor, but only managed to fall on top of him.

“Shit,” she cried, and tried again. She could feel him
fading, almost see his life force dimming, leaving her staring at only a shell
of flesh and bones.

And somehow, she stood, cradling him against her chest. She
swayed on her feet and cackled, for a moment nothing more than a deranged, half
dead girl.

“I got him. By God, I got him.”

The door was a million miles away. She slid one foot
forward, then the other. She wasn’t walking, exactly, but she was moving.

He was only a tiny, thin child, but to her tortured body,
she might well have been carrying a car. Her arms shook with the effort of
holding him and her legs buckled.

But on she went, nearly crying when she stepped out the door
and into the hallway. How long had it been since Emerson had left her there?
Three minutes? Eight minutes?

She had no way of knowing, but the urgency inside her pushed
her on and she carried her treasure down the hall.

The hall was carpeted, unlike the room she’d just left. That
floor had been tiled and slippery with blood, which had made it easier for her
to slide her feet across.

The carpeting in the hall seemed to grasp at her soles with
fingers of harsh wool, trying to make her fall.

Careful, Rune.
Walk the
fuck out of here.

 Matthew’s little face was the face of an angel. She
kept glancing down at him, maybe to reassure herself that she truly held him,
maybe to remind herself why she must keep going.

The hall stretched out before her, seemingly endless, but
she saw the doorway at the end. Through that doorway was the room she’d first
entered, and then freedom.

She kept her stare on the doorway, that distant doorway, and
put one foot in front of the other. One slow, tortured step at a time, she
neared the end of the hall.

But then the world exploded.

She fell to the floor, her precious bundle spilling from her
arms, and was plunged suddenly into total darkness. Another blast shook the
building, and she smelled the sharp, acrid scent of smoke.

“Matthew,” she screamed hoarsely, crawling on the floor, her
hands out before her.

A sudden
whoosh!
and
the
room lit up, scorching the skin from her naked, bloody body.

But she saw the child in the sudden light and snatched him
to her once more. She struggled to get her feet beneath her, wondering for a
moment why she even tried.

Flames surrounded them.

Disoriented she walked aimlessly on, unsure. Was she headed
back, or was she going to the doorway?

She had nothing with which to cover the child’s face, but
bent over him as best she could,
trying
to see through
the smoke and fire. Trying to see something that would let her know where she
was.

But there was nothing.
Nothing but smoke
and fire.
She was trapped.

She threw back her head and howled, rage overflowing.

And terror.
There was that.

She had failed a child.

Even over the roar of flames and her screams of fury, she
heard sirens. But they were too late, the sons of bitches.
Too
late.

She stood with the child in her arms, lost, surrounded by
scorching fire, and finally, she gave up.

She dropped to her knees, whispering nonsense to the boy.
Thankful that at least he slept, unaware.

The smoke would kill him before the fire did.

But then, two shapes rushed out of the flames, mouths open,
roaring, and as though they were made of smoke themselves, impenetrable smoke, they
wrapped her and the boy in a circle of space. Cool space. There was no heat, no
singeing flesh in that space.

Blood and Fire.

She sobbed as she was lifted on invisible wings and set on
her feet, the now formless shapes pushing her onward.

Inside the silence of Blood and Fire she stumbled on, sure
they would lead her in the right direction. There was nothing to see but the
slow motion dancing of yellow and red flames and the thick waving wall of gray
smoke.

Her earlier dejection was forgotten. She and the wild,
beautiful spirit beasts would save the boy. And she knew—that moment right
there was why the dogs had come to Spiritgrove.

The smoke cleared enough for her to see the great gaping
exit doors of the church, beckoning her into the cold, soothing dark of the
outside.

Through the flicker of flames she saw the outside as if it
were a different world and she was about to step through a portal, spat out
into that dark, icy beauty.

It was a chaotic world.
Men running,
sirens blasting, lights turning.
Screams, yells,
desperation.

She saw her Shiv Crew among them, her vision as clear and
bright as though there was no smoke, no fire. The night was tinged red from the
burning building, confusing her for a second. She’d expected to see daylight.

“We’re coming,” she said, and squeezed Matthew tightly
against her.

And wrapped securely in the mysterious arms of the invisible
dogs, she strode through the doorway.

She walked out of the fire with Matthew in her arms, and
everyone outside the burning building was stunned into silence.

At first no one moved, no one spoke, no one so much as
blinked.

Blood and Fire withdrew.
Just melted away.
One minute they were there, and the next, they were gone.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and then every injury, every
pain she’d lived through came roaring back. She began to fall as her legs gave
out, and her arms bent beneath the weight of the child. “Take him,” she begged.
“Take him.”

The berserker was there, his arms around her, supporting
both her and Matthew. His eyes were wet and filled with disbelief.
“Rune.
Rune.”

“He’s alive,” she whispered, smiling. “He’s alive, Strad.”

He took Matthew from her, stepping back to allow her crew to
take his place. They surrounded her, protecting her beaten, bloody body from the
flashing cameras.

“Get the fucking EMTs over here,” Z screamed.

She was dizzy. The sounds and sights became blurred and
confusing, melding together in a frenzied mess that made no sense. Nothing was
clear.

Raze picked her up and cradled her in his arms, and Jack
shrugged off his coat to cover her.

“What’d they do to you,” Lex murmured.
“Oh,
evil fucking COS.”

Owen and the twins ran up to the small group, closely
followed by EMTs hurrying along with a gurney.

Levi’s eyes widened when he got a look at her. “
God,
Rune.”

Denim turned away, but not before she saw the look of
murderous rage in his eyes.

Owen just grinned. “I’ll let you off the hook for dinner,
Alexander.”

She couldn’t help but smile back, at least inside. Fading in
and out of consciousness, she caught snatches of their conversations, heard
them discussing where to take her. Levi convinced them to drive her to the
Other
clinic to be with Ellis. It was the right thing to do.

Raze lowered her to the cot. It was cold. She began to
shiver as the EMTs belted her into the small bed.

I need to feed.

If she could manage to get some blood into her, she’d feel
better and would heal a hundred times faster.

But her eyelids were so heavy, her brain so tired. She
couldn’t make herself form the words.

I need to feed.

Levi answered his ringing cell. “She’s…she’s not good,
Ellie.”

Then he listened, nodded, and clicked off. “Ellis says to
give her blood.” He glanced at Rune. “His exact words were, one of you
motherfuckers feed her, and feed her fucking now.”

Again, Rune grinned.

Ellie was a force to be reckoned with when he was pissed.

Later she’d want to hear about their battle with the
Others
at the clinic. Right then, it
was
enough to know they were all safe and accounted for. Ellis was safe.

But was he turned?

That was a question for another time.

“I’ll feed her,” Denim said, and every one of her crew
offered as well.

But she wasn’t about to addict any more of her people to her
blood.

Lex took her hand. “
I
will be the one to feed Rune.
You guys don’t need to know the reason why it has to be me. It just does. Get
the strangers out of here and let me help our captain heal.”

They sent the medics away and formed a protective circle
around her, and Lex climbed up on the cot. She didn’t hesitate to lie down on top
of Rune’s ruined body and bare her neck.

“Drop those fangs, honey,” Lex whispered, “and
take
your medicine.”

Her first attempt to drop her fangs failed, as did her
second. But finally, she gathered enough strength to send them through her
gums, and right into Lex’s neck.

Thank you, baby.

She felt Lex smile.
No problem.

For one startled second she realized that not only could Lex
hear her thoughts, but she could hear Lex’s as well.
Maybe
not real words, but the feelings.
A
knowing
of
thoughts.

It was fucking freaky to be so connected to another person.
The line of blood from Lex to Rune was a strong link.

She was bathed in the blood, the magical, healing blood.
Each time she swallowed a mouthful it coated her inside, flowed through her
veins,
made
her heart beat.

It made her high.

But she’d been devastated, and it would take her longer to
recuperate. The blood hurried things along.

She took only what she absolutely needed, then reluctantly
released the
Other
. Now, she could rest.

Her burns, cuts, and bruises were less painful, no longer
flooding her with agony. Yes, she still hurt, but it was bearable. She could
think.

When Lex climbed off the gurney, Owen leaned over and took
her hand, gently. His eyes, once hopeless and full of secrets, were now bright
and full of promise. Maybe he’d just needed Shiv Crew. They were awesome, after
all.

She smiled at the thought.

“We got the fucker, Rune,” he said. “We got Emerson.”

She blinked back tears. Emerson was going to prison. He was going
to have to live with an addiction worse than anything he’d ever known or
imagined, with no access to the drug he needed.

“A cruel and unusual punishment,” she murmured. “Way to
fucking go.”

Jack was next to lean over her. He kissed her on her forehead,
his one visible eye gleaming with relief. “You’ll be all right, sweetheart.”

She wanted to touch his eye patch, and was shocked when she
found she could actually raise her hand to his face. “I’m so sorry about your
eye.”

He grasped her hand and turned his face into it, kissing her
palm. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It makes me irresistible to the
ladies.”

“You were always irresistible.”

“True,” he said, smiling.

“Let’s get her to the clinic,” Z said.

She closed her eyes and spiraled down into a dark and
dreamless sleep. Her crew would take care of her, and Matthew was safe.

So she slept.

When sleep released her and she swam through the murky
depths to awareness, she knew a lot of time had passed.

Hours, many hours.

She opened her eyes and found Ellis staring down at her, his
eyes cloudy and sad. But when he saw her watching him his face immediately
changed.

“Rune,” he yelled, and started raining kisses onto her face.

She grinned. “Hey baby. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing great.
Now.”

She studied his dear face. “Did you…?”

“No. Not yet.” He squeezed her hand.
“Maybe
not ever.”

Please God.
“How is Matthew?”

A quick frown, there and gone.
“He’s doing better.”

“Don’t lie to me, Ellie.”

He sighed. “He’s not great, Rune. But there’s nothing else
you can do for him. He’s being cared for.” Again, he squeezed her hand. “You
just concentrate on getting better, my love.”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. She’d dragged the boy out
of bloody hell only to have him die in a hospital? He’d been born for
greatness. She knew it.

Blood and Fire hadn’t been there for her.

They’d been there for
him
.

Just as she’d been there for him.

“How long have I been here?”

He crinkled his nose, thinking. “Nearly sixty hours.”

A large cart rattled to a stop in the hall outside her room
and a uniformed woman distributed breakfast trays to the patients.

Scents of cooked meat drifted to her nose and her appetite
woke up with a roar. Her stomach growled loudly enough for Ellis to hear.

“Want some breakfast?” he asked, smiling.

“I really do, baby.”

She felt pretty damn good. But it had taken her sixty hours
and she was still not back to top shape. Ellis had gone into the hall to score
her a tray, and when he came back she sat up in the bed, frowning. “I must have
been in bad shape.” She flexed her left hand. She couldn’t feel a hint of the
shattered claw inside as she could the others, but it didn’t hurt, either.
She’d test it later.

Ellis sat the tray on a tray table and pushed it to the bed.
“I don’t know how you were alive, honey.” He met her stare. “I think you’re
immortal. It’s the only way to explain how you lived through that.”

She lifted the dome off a plate of bacon and eggs.
“In the end, when the fire might have been too much for me—and
would have for damn sure been too much for Matthew—Blood and Fire came.
They wrapped us in a circle of protection and nothing could touch us.
Boosted me out the door.”

He frowned. “I saw the news footage. There
was
only you, carrying the child. You looked…” He put his
fist to his mouth as his eyes misted. “It was so terrible, Rune.” He cleared
his throat. “But there were no dogs.
Just you, carrying that
poor child out of hell.”

“I can’t escape TV,” she said, and forked up a bite of egg.
“But Blood and Fire
were
there. You just couldn’t see them. I have a
feeling they’ve done what they came to do and will leave now.
If they haven’t already.”
Strange, the sadness that overtook
her at the thought. She had a definite connection to the beasts, but might
never know what it was. “I think their purpose here was to save Matthew.”

“
You
saved Matthew.” Ellis folded his arms.

“I did help save him,” she agreed, and dropped the subject
of the dogs. “Tell me about the battle. I was on my way here when Emerson
called.
Kinda
changed my plans for me.”

“They hurt my feelings.” He stuck out his bottom lip. “I
couldn’t believe the
Others
turned on me like that.”

“I’m glad only your feelings were hurt.”

“But listen, Rune. In the end, I showed them the sign, and
they returned it. All is forgiven and they—I think—have truly accepted me.”

Ellie tapped his chest, over his heart, twice. He then
raised his right hand high, his index and middle fingers crossed. He stared at
her, waiting.

She grinned and mimicked the gesture. This was their symbol
of protection to the
Others
. When the
Others
gave it back to them, they were showing acceptance.

Ellis had always been optimistic that someday the
Others
and humans would be equals. Rune didn’t think it’d
happen in their lifetimes, but the
Others
were already
much more accepted than they’d been a mere few months ago.

It could happen.

Now that she’d been yanked kicking and screaming from the
monster closet, Ellis was even more intent upon equality.

She knew she was fortunate. She hadn’t been chased from
River County by a mob with torches, hadn’t lost her job,
hadn’t
been jailed for her lie.

A lot of
Others
weren’t that lucky.

“Anyway,” Ellis continued, “the crew and I handled it. Levi
was spectacular.” He grinned at her.

“So.”
She casually poked at her
food with her fork.
“About you and Levi.”

He laughed. “I’m happy, Rune.”

“I see that. Are you and he—
”

But her question was cut off as Tina rushed into the room.
Her eyes were red and swollen, the only color in her deathly pale face.
“Rune.
You’ve got to come.” Her tears spilled over and she
grabbed Rune’s hand. “You have to feed my son.”