Conceived in Blood, A Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian Novel (26 page)

Right. The mayor admitted to his misunderstandings——over his enemy's corpse. Harlan's gut twisted. Their hatred of the mayor was the glue that held the Aces and Eights together. That couldn't have changed, could it?

Sera snuggled close to him, ran her hand over his back and under his shirt.

He stood a little straighter. She was really getting into her part. Then he felt it——the tug on the stun-gun. He grabbed her hand and squeezed.

Wayne's attention slipped down Sera's body. "'Course, it only took the mayor three years to see his mistake, but then we never thought he was very bright."

Harlan relaxed. That was the Wayne he knew. Now to see if the man's little head was still leading him astray.

"She a breeder?"

"Yep." Harlan slapped Sera's ass. "Show him what I've bought, Peaches."

She yelped and rubbed her bottom. Anger flared brightly in her eyes.

Yeah, he'd pay for it later.

She bared her teeth and turned slowly. "Sure thing, Harry."

Practically salivating, Wayne hitched up his pants. "You keeping her?"

"Might outta." Harlan hauled her next to his side, before Wayne could paw her. He'd hate to have to kill the man. "She's eager, but I gotta make one last score to pay off Katsura."

Sera snuggled close, buried her face in his neck then bit his ear. Hard.

Tears swam in his vision. Holy shit! She'd probably drawn blood. Why had he brought her along? Being distracted, even around his old friends, wasn't good.

"Rescuing folks pay that good?"

Pinching her arm, Harlan snorted. "I gave that up years ago. Stuck with what I know."

She sucked in a gasp, but behaved.

For now. She was sneaky that way. As long as he didn't suffer for it, he could admire the trait.

Wayne nodded his head toward the saloon's entrance. "What do you know?"

Holding her close, Harlan headed for the entrance. "I know there's lots of folks with gold outta the mayor's reach. No reason I shouldn't help myself to a bit of it."

"Yeah?"

"Yep." Harlan didn't step over the threshold. As a former gang member, the current ones would knock the shit out of him and take Sera if he entered.

Sure enough, a few gathered in the entrance. No doubt wanting to spill his blood to the admiring glances of the other members.

Wayne grinned. "I see the woman hasn't made you soft."

"Quite the opposite." Harlan felt her laugh into his shoulder. "Gotta run. My future's looking golden."

He dragged her down the alley.

She glanced over his shoulder. "Why are we leaving? I thought they were your help."

"Rule one."

"Which rule one, that I'm sex bait and they're rendered stupid by my allure."

Harlan shrugged. Another few steps should do it. "Not so much yours, but gold's."

She stiffened, gripped his index and middle finger and squeezed until the bones ground together. "Then why did you tell them I was a breeder?"

Dammit, he needed those fingers unmashed. Removing the stun-gun from his pocket, he pressed it to her side. "The mayor and his cronies take all the women of a certain age around here. Either you pay for a woman's company or your hand becomes your best friend for life. A woman, a wife, is the best any of us could ever achieve. We dreamt of it as boys."

It was a powerful thing.

And its hold hadn't been broken by time.

She released him. "Sorry."

He shook his hand. "Spare me the words and give me half your energy bar."

Wayne pounded after him. "The old exit's blocked."

"There's another." But Harlan stopped before saying where. He hoped Sera could make one. Hell, with her technology, they could just fly over the wall.

"This town..." Wayne cleared his throat. "You think there's enough gold for a few of us guys? You know, for not kicking your ass, just now."

Harlan hid his smile. Greed, gotta love it. "I don't know..."

Wayne bounced on the balls of his feet. "Some of us could get horses, maybe a wagon."

"There's not that much gold." Harlan forced a laugh.

Wayne laughed with him. "I meant for the women. There's more like her there, isn't there? Healthy, needing a real man."

Sera blinked at him from under her lashes. "I have two sisters." She giggled and looked down.

What the hell. She didn't flirt with him. He got bit and poked and wrestled to the ground. Okay, that part wasn't too bad. Tightening his hold on her, Harlan straightened. "Old oak tree at sunrise and bring two extra horses or no deal."

"Yes, I'll be there." Wayne fist-pumped the air then ran back to the saloon.

As soon as the door slammed closed, Sera eased out of his arms. "You trust them?"

"With my life? Never again." Harlan fingered the scars under his tattoo. "But I trust they'll do whatever they have to for gold."

"Rule number one?"

Yep, and it was a pisser, especially for folks like him. "Whoever has the gold makes the rules."

Chapter 29

Belle trudged passed the town's welcome sign. Sanctuary was no safe haven from the 'Viders. Screams punctuated the night. Smoke and the metallic scent of blood thickened the air. The severed heads of the town's leaders gaped at her from their position atop planted spears. New village, same ending. Covering Sol's eyes, Belle veered away from the heart of the town.

Torches burned brightly, creating a macabre dance of shadows. Lights flickered in empty window panes. 'Viders looking for weapons, as well as survivors, dipped in an out of the buildings. Belongings, someone's prized possessions, were tossed in piles, waiting for the touch of flame to become a bon fire.

Pleas and cries scratched her conscience, begging for mercy, a blanket, a touch of kindness. All for nothing. She wanted to clamp her hands over her ears, block out the pleas.

Pulling the travois, Nattie sauntered next to Belle. "It's too late to set up the tent."

Nodding, Belle slowed to check on her oldest daughter. Cat slept on the travois, curled around baby John. Belle adjusted the blanket over her then kept walking toward the darkness. It was safe in the shadows, away from the 'Viders’ victory celebration. Away from the memories of when those had been her belongings on the bonfire, her town's leaders' heads on spears, her parents brutally killed for the 'Viders' amusement.

"I am tired. But the tent must go up. It's too cold for the children outside." Where they could see the brutality. She turned her back on the carnage. Her arms, legs and back throbbed. She couldn't feel her toes and a chill had numbed her nose.

But it was nothing compared to what the conquered must be enduring.

She knew this, and still she did nothing.

Nattie hummed tunelessly under her breath.

Two preteen 'Vider males pounded rocks on a corpse near a house. The body jumped with each strike.

Belle fixed her attention on a yard further down the street. Sometimes she envied Nattie. Crazy blocked out the suffering, leaving behind only the nice things. Warm sheets smelling of sunshine, baking bread and the closeness of family existed in the world she'd lost. Perhaps if she lost her mind, she'd find them again.

Sol stirred in Belle's arms before softly snoring against her neck.

Belle tightened her grip on her daughter. She couldn't leave her daughters and newborn son, no matter how attractive the alternative.

"We could find a house." Nattie's matted hair wiggled down her back when she jerked her head toward a cottage on the right.

"No. No house." Belle's heart beat double-time. A house. Four solid walls and a floor. Her children had never spent the night in one. And she... She'd only done so once after becoming tribute. Despite the chilly night air, sweat pooled under her armpits.

A year after North had claimed her, the 'Viders had overrun another village. Their third since her own had fallen. Blood had soiled the pristine snow. Since she'd been pregnant with Stiletto, North had selected a house for her. She'd been inside for not more than five minutes when a kid had dropped from the attic.

All lanky legs and arms, he couldn't have been much older than her brother Harlan. His eyes were saucers in his head, and blood matted his dark hair where he'd been hit but not killed.

She must have made a sound because North had reached her side in an instant. Axe swinging, he'd hacked the boy in pieces. The kid had stared at her the entire time, mouth open, hand outstretched, begging for help.

Shaking off the memory, Belle swiped at the tears blurring her vision and turned into the nearest yard. "I'll pitch the tent."

A little house sprawled behind a green lawn. Boards shuttered some of the windows, curtains fluttered from others. The porch roof sagged in the middle. Moving deeper into the yard, soft grass sprang under her feet. Chickens roosted on the stoop of a small coop.

Her stomach growled. They would taste good——fried. It would be a shame for perfectly good food to go to waste. Lord knew the 'Viders wouldn't eat them. All animals but humans were considered unclean.

Nattie freed herself from the harness and set the tip of the travois on a rickety chair. "Do you think human flesh tastes like chicken?"

Belle stumbled. Tightening her grip on her daughter, she staggered a few feet before finding her footing. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

"You must have tasted it.'Vider North has a big appetite and always picked the biggest slabs allowed." Placing her fists on her hips, Nattie frowned at the house. "I always thought it tasted like squirrel, little gamey but sweet."

Belle laid Sol on the porch swing before tucking her shawl around her tiny body. "North always had a big appetite."

For everything.

When he'd first claimed her, he had been rising in the 'Vider ranks and hadn't been given many tribute. Although he'd offered her a small portion of the meat he'd been given, she always refused. Sometimes, she thought he'd been almost as relieved as she had been.

Later, when 'Vider food became plentiful, his demands became more insistent. He'd loomed over her while she was cooking, shaking a bloody slab. The act seemed more for show. "But as long as I kept conceiving, he never insisted I eat the 'Vider meat."

Never hit her for refusing.

Heavens, he'd even eat her wild roots and vegetable stews when the meat ran low. Of course, any animal meat was carefully shoved to the side.

Nattie pushed her hair out of her face. "In all the years you've been with the 'Viders you've never eaten their meat?"

"Never." She was rather proud of the accomplishment. Rubbing her arms against the chill, Belle approached the chicken coop. Killing and plucking a chicken was beyond her tonight, but eggs would be good for dinner. "What about you?"

With a dirty finger, Nattie stroked Cat's cheek then checked on baby John. "Only once. Oh my husband tried to insist I eat more, to help me conceive, but I resisted. I'm different than them."

"Civilized."

Nattie had used another word once, but that was a while ago.

Belle crouched over the roosting chicken then reached inside the coop. Her fingers delved into warm straw, bristly feathers and sticky goop before closing around an egg.

"Mirabelle, I think we should sleep inside the house."

The egg slipped from Belle's fingers and dropped onto the ground. "What? Why?"

"The poison will have made Little John's lungs vulnerable to the cold." Nattie picked up the sleeping infant and cradled him close. "I wouldn't want you to lose another child so close to the others."

Oh God! Her son was sick! Belle glanced at the warped front door. Her vision tunneled on the entrance. She had to go inside, had to keep her baby safe.

Swaying from side to side, Nattie rubbed his covered back. "We could light a fire in the fireplace, get the place toasty warm."

"Yes. Yes, alright. If John needs that." Belle's stomach cramped. Perhaps if they kept to one room, things would be okay.

Nattie beamed at her and skipped to the house. "This will be so much fun."

Moments after Nattie entered, a light shone through the window. Then more and more.

On the travois, Cat stretched and yawned. Her body jerked then she patted the mound of their belongings. "Baby John?"

"He's safe, daughter. Wake your sister and go into the house with Nattie." Into the house, into the house. Belle's heart beat faster. Maybe she could sleep outside on the swing. She'd be close by if her children needed her.

A baby's soft wail warbled through the night.

Her breasts tightened and milk dampened her shirt despite the layers of padding. She had to go to him, keep him quiet. Her feet took root.

Cat cocked her head. Green eyes sparkled under her curtain of curly brown hair. "He's like Daddy. He wants to eat all the time."

Belle bit her lip. John was nothing like his sire. The baby was soft, innocent.

Cat's green eyes narrowed. "You should feed him."

"I will." Belle glanced at the black rectangle beyond the porch. She had to go inside. Her son needed her. "I'll need you to collect eggs for me."

"Eggs?" Cat scampered over, a smile lighting her face. "We're having eggs for dinner?"

Belle smoothed her daughter's hair. Eggs were a family treat. "As many as you can find."

"Woo-who! I'll find lots." Cat dropped to all fours and crawled into the coop.

Belle stumbled toward the door. It would be okay. The house would be empty. She wouldn't be responsible for anyone dying. She climbed the worn steps.

Her footfalls were stones on a lowered casket.

She buried her trembling fingers in her skirts. Grass and leaves clinging to the fabric crumbled in her grip. Just a little farther. John needed her. She couldn't let him cry, couldn't let the 'Viders kill him for the offense.

Nattie shimmered in the door. Her blouse hung loose and a shoulder was bared. "I——I cannot feed him. You must."

"I will." In time. Although other 'Vider women had used Nattie as a wet nurse, Belle always fed her children. And she would feed her son despite the fact that the door seemed to be getting farther and farther away.