Breach (The Blood Bargain)

Breach

Macaela
Reeves

Copyright © 201
3 Macaela Reeves

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1494759470

ISBN-13:
978-1494759476

By Macaela Reeves

Legacy of the Dreamer Series

Winds of Fate

To Bleed A King

Blood Bargain Series

The Blood Bargain

Breach

Learning to fly is the hardest thing on back with a single wing 

the plunge is fearsome, the screams,

yet landing on your feet will make the fall seem weak

then the flight will be all you will seek.

The sun was coming up, light peeking through the thin curtains in gentle beams illuminating the ancient flowered wallpaper that decorated my room.  Turning over slowly, my mind booted to consciousness at the increased brightness that signaled the new day.  While my surroundings transitioned from blurry sleep to crystal clarity, I caught movement in my peripheral vision.

I was not alone.

A figure loomed in my doorway, shoulders hunched over, head thrown back and mouth open in a loud groan.  With an uneven step forward, the figure lurched into the light, arms stretching...

“Cole put some pants on, there are kids down the hall.”  I mumbled, throwing a pillow at him. A half-awake Cole Marshal in his boxers was a feast for the eyes, but was also incredibly inappropriate if he were to be spotted by Zoe’s three year old twins; Max and Tyler.  I wasn’t in the mood to get an earful from her on the subject.

“Sorry
Liv, had to take a piss.”  With an eye roll I flopped back down on the bed and rolled over.  Cole had been kind of crashing with me for the last few weeks on and off.  A fact that from his comments elated his Mother, and from my own observations annoyed the hell out of my Dad.  Still the old fed didn’t say a peep on the matter, I’m sure he never would.  I was back under his roof and with a human man, not that I had ever really told him the vampire Dimitri meant more to me than a roommate.

D...thinking about him put a vice grip around my heart.  I felt betrayed, used and despite better judgment missed him.  True to his word, I hadn’t heard a peep from him since his goodbye two months ago.  I had no idea if he was even back, wasn’t sure if I ever would. I’d never had boyfriend before-what with the end of the world and all-perhaps these lingering emotions were part of the normal healing process.

Looking up at the overhead light that hadn’t worked in a decade my eyes traced the ‘antique’ dark lines that snaked through glass covering the bulb.  Wasn’t that me in a nutshell, dark scattered pains through a pristine surface.  A seeping hole frayed at the edges rather than a clean strike. I don’t know how I had expected things to turn out, I never thought he’d be around forever, I just never thought he’d leave with so many unanswered questions.  It wasn’t a door shut to a chapter of my life, it was a door left ajar letting in the cold.

Feeling like a total
asshat pining for him while Cole was standing in my room virtually naked, I forced those thoughts to the back of my mind.

My guest didn’t climb back into bed, instead he was over at my dresser, stuffing his muscular frame into a black thermal, and black cargo pants layered over his boxers.

“Leaving so soon?”  I more whined then asked.  This late in the year the bed was cold despite the number of blankets I threw on it.  I was getting spoiled by my human heater.

“Going to be late for my shift.  Sure you don’t want to tag along?”  He asks me every day but my answer never changes.

“Nah, I’m happy with what I’m doing.”  Truer words had never been spoken.  For two months I had been assisting with children’s education rather than guarding Junction.  A decision easily made after a series of situations that almost resulted in my death.

Blood and bone, the scent of copper filled the air while it grabbed at my skin.  Mangled rotten flesh pouring over the roof only to be met by the hundreds below that reached up in desperation.

I waved the memory into my cognitive trashcan.  Reflections still get to me sometimes.
Which I guess puts me in line with everyone else who lived through the outbreak.

Working with those kids was a breath of fresh air, all of them had been born after the world went to shit and was converted into the new normal.  The vampires who safeguarded our colony provided enough protection for them to live without fear, most had never even known of it.  They knew something ‘bad’ had happened and we don’t go outside at night and that was the end of it.  No nightmares, no looking over their shoulders, just an old fashioned lifestyle and smiling faces.  A generation of children who had no firsthand knowledge of electricity, television, the internet, nor any other social fads.  Ironically, this made them the most energetic happy kids I remember running across.

“That’s a damn shame, you’re as lethal as you are beautiful.”  With both of his katana strapped to his back and his steel toed boots laced he was ready to leave. However, before he disappeared out the door he came back to the bed and enveloped me in a tight hug.

“I like this.”  I ran my fingers through his hair.  Since we’d moved passed friends, he’d grown it out from the traditional skull trim I’d seen him with for the past decade.
I never would have guessed that he had such thick dirty blond hair.   “Don’t cut it.”  He pulled back and smirked at me.

“I could say the same to you.”  Since I quit wall duty I’d also given the scissors a boot, I had no reason to worry about getting dead hands tangled up in my locks anymore. The dark brown stuff was now edging past my shoulders.

“I won’t, not like I’m in harm’s way.”

“See you tonight.”  With that he was gone.  On some level I knew I should worry for him. I knew more than most how dangerous his job could really get.  Honestly though, it was because I had been there that I didn’t fret. I’d seen the guy punt heads for
crying out loud, not to mention his blade and fist skills were insane due to years of martial arts training in the prior world. Cole was arguably one of the most highly seasoned humans in Junction when it came to dead combat, he’d spent a decade on the wall and joined me on my escapades in the infested city to the north.  If anyone could take care of themselves, it was Cole Marshal.

I thought it would have been more of an awkward transition from friends to more, turned out once
Dimitri said his goodbyes it had been smooth sailing.  The big lug had visited me every day while I was bed bound. The breaks had both healed cleanly and I fortunately did not succumb to infection.  There had been a lot of worry those first few days in bed, I had caught my Dad murmuring with the nurse about the possibilities of amputation.  When the casts were removed there was thankfully no discoloration nor puffy oozing, simply two pasty half atrophied legs in dire need of a shave.

The first day after the plaster came off, I found myself using a borrowed cane, barely able to move around.  That for me was almost worse than death.  I had become a giant liability, in capable of defending myself against a set of stairs let alone an undead onslaught. That first night, despite the lack of physical pain I cried out in more agony
than I had with all my broken ribs and legs.  This world did not favor the week, it did not allow time to recover. Darwinism was in overdrive in the most literal sense of the concept.  When Cole got off his shift that night I was on the end of my bed, holding that cane, eyes puffy from too many tears.  He knew what I was thinking, he’d been in my shoes on that wall.  When I looked up at him, his eyes didn’t carry pity.  Not one shred.  Those big boots of his walked over to me, he leaned down and took that cane out of my hands.  In a resolute tone he told me that we would get through this.  Not me, we.

From there he was literally with me every tiny step of the way.  He taught me to focus away from the pain, encouraged me when I needed it and made me laugh when I wanted to cry. I liked the simple way he smiled at me.  No hidden agendas, no plots or tricks.  Just genuine compassion. Usually such a thing would throw me off, I detested simpletons.  Yet, he was different, beneath that easy grin I knew he would kill to keep me safe.  Protective and thoughtful were things a girl could get used to.  Hell, was getting used to.
  A lazy smile crossed my face as I closed my eyes. Just another minute, then I would get up.

A mixture of male and female voices along with the high pitched squeals of the twins drifted up the old stairwell, what I thought was only a minute turned out to be an extra hour of sleep. The house was in full swing, which meant I was once again not helping with breakfast and probably going to be late to meet up with the kids.

With a stretch and a yawn, I stumbled over to my armoire. Off went the super baggy t-shirt and on came the long johns, jeans, long sleeve purple thermal, another t-shirt over it, socks, more socks and tennis shoes.

Layers, it’s what’s for winter.

It took a bit of effort to avert my eyes from the array of weaponry patiently waiting for me on the shelf above my clothes, picturing my knives with googly eyes and frowny faces from neglect.  I hadn’t found the time to get rid of the stuff, or maybe I just didn’t want to.  It wasn’t that I wanted to go back into the field, I really didn’t.  I think it was more of an adjustment issue. After a decade of living on the line I was having a hard time dropping into ‘civilian’ mode. When I closed my eyes there were still too many scenes fresh in my memory for me to throw all my arms in the trash can.  Having them in the room was like my own little nightlight at bedtime.  They kept me calm, even though I had nothing to immediately fear.

C
losing the cabinet with a heavy sigh I turned to make my bed.  Hands working quickly to smooth out the old quilt that had begun to fray around the edges. I’d never given a crap about the linens till Cole started crashing over.  Now it just seemed indecent if I didn’t make the tangled sheets orderly.

When I was done the room looked perfect; from the rod iron bed with its hand stitched colorful quilt, little red roses and their long curling green vines welcomes visiting birds on the wall paper, the oak armoire seemingly innocent with its doors shut, little black silhouettes sharing no secrets.  It was my time warp to the late 1800’s.  I kept it that way because it reminded me of life before the industrial age, before major technological boons, long before the outbreak.  It was a life with oil lamps, outdoor plumbing and hard labor.  A reminder to myself that if they could do it, so could we.

Throwing open my door I stepped out into the hall, almost slamming Candice against the far wall.  She yelped like I had hit her anyway.

“That almost ended horribly.”  She put voice to my thoughts.

“Good morning to you too sunshine.”

“Wish it were.” Candice whined while working on pulling her long blonde hair up in a ponytail.  Her ample assets protested confinement in her top with her arms up and fiddling with her locks.  For Candice winter meant sleeves, but the front cut was still as low as possible
without giving it all away. “I’ve got so much crap to do today.”

“I hear
ya.  Garage tonight?”  The Garage was our local afterhours watering hole. Even in the collapse of traditional society, the liquor flowed.

“Deal.”  She beat feat down the stairwell.

Tromping down the stairs I caught sight of Dad, sitting at the far end of the table, making precision cuts into his eggs.  It was unusual for him to stick around in the mornings, as a member of the council he was constantly being inundated with this crisis or that catastrophe. The man seemed to get older every time I saw him, more white streaks popping into his brown hair and his hairline creeping back on his head.  Wrinkles spawned fresh offspring with every frown. This season there had been a lot of frowns, bags under his observant eyes seemed purple regardless of how much rest he got.

Keeping hundreds of people alive in an enclosed area relying only on the resources we had available was no easy task.

After a quick sideline into the kitchen, I grabbed a plate of fixings from Zoe-dodging the twin’s matchbox cars scattered on the floor in the process-and wandered back out to eat.  All food had to be consumed at the table, house rule.

“Hey Dad.”  I gave him a limp half hug and sat at the other end, setting my plate in front of me carefully.  I was known to spill.

“Evelyn. How are you today?”

“Good.”  I took a bite of the eggs Zoe had cooked.  “Oh man Zoe, you are really the best you know that?”

“You can keep telling me!”  She hollered from the kitchen.

Dad
cleared his throat loudly.  “I have something to talk to you about.”

“What’s up?”  Despite my light tone, my innards were suddenly all bunched up. Whenever anyone throws out the
‘talk’ word it’s never ever a good thing.  Talk is reserved for deaths, breakups, critiques, chores, failure to do chores or any combination of the above.