I Am Not Junco Omnibus: Books Four - Six (68 page)

I let out a moan that turns into a growl as I fall back into the bed. “Fuck, Selia.”

She gets out of bed and even though I should be looking at her ass or the curve of her hips as she walks over to the chair to grab her uniform, all I see are the bullet holes.

All twenty-seven of them.

Proof that she’s already dead.

Why, Caleb?
I’m dying to talk to him. I need to know the answer to this so bad. Why save her when clearly,
clearly
she was already dead? “Do they hurt?” I’m not sure why I ask it now, I’ve never asked before.

Selia slips her shirt over her head and then pulls up her pants before she turns to face me. “Yes. They hurt all the time. But not pain like we know it. It’s like—it’s like each hole in my body is an empty vessel. And they make me feel… they make me feel like I’m spilling out through the holes. Like I’m sand and I’m spilling out of the holes in my body.”

Or like she’s sand and she’s melding into my body when she’s next to me.

“I love you, Selia.”

She smiles and nods, tearing up a little. “I know, Ashur. I love you too. And no matter what, we’re gonna spend our end together. And when we meet on the other side, we’ll get our chance.”

I get out of bed and turn to my own clothes on the floor so she can’t see my expression.

How do I tell her? How do I tell her that I’ll never cross over and we’ll never get that chance?

We are Tier and Junco. Only I’m Junco. I’m the filthy one and Selia is the one who is worthy. I can never cross, but the one I love has been Chosen.

And how do you process that? How can I possibly be mad that the one living being I love above all else—even Lucan, even Tier—is saved, and I am damned?

Chapter Twelve—ASHUR

As soon as Arel sits down next to Selia and me at the mess table I know he’s pissed. It’s not hard to tell because Arel is a guy who almost never gets pissed, so when he
is
pissed, it’s not something he’s interested in hiding.

My first clue is the way he thuds his boots when he walks. Arel is a small guy compared to the rest of us, so he tends to step lightly. Except when he’s pissed. Next it’s the scraping of the chair across the mess floor. Then the irritated sigh. Then the actual words.

He growls them. “I’m gonna say this one time, Ashur. I’m not your fucking bitch. Merk needs your help down in the Stag. Tessen is out of control. The whole thing blew up down there, seven people are dead—”

“What?” This has my attention.

“Seven fucking warriors are dead. That abomination has killed seven of our warriors, including Bridge, Cres, and Tak from the Fledge Team, Ashur.”

“Where the fuck is Tier?”

“I already told you,” he seethes. “He’s underground in the Polar Friendly, no messages in or out. I’m meeting up with Ryse now, and we’re gonna handle the Pillars together, but I expect your ass to show up at Pillar Four soon, do you understand me?”

“Are you giving me an order?”

“You can take that any way you want, asshole. Just handle that shit in the Stag and meet us at Pillar Four. Ryse isn’t gonna fight until Esta is back, and I said I’d help him, so that’s where out ground zero starts. We have a ship out there and you had better fucking show up.”

And then he ports out of the mess.

Selia stands and smooths down her armored shirt. “I’m ready, let’s go. Port us out of here.”

I think about this for a second.

“Ashur, the time for arguing is over. I’m going with you and if you leave me behind, I’ll steal a ship and fly myself back to Earth and spend the rest of my short life doing all manner of dangerous things without your help, you got it?”

Selia can be a little bossy, but it’s sorta cute when she tries to tell me what to do. I don’t let her know that, though. I scowl at her instead. “Selia, I’m only gonna say this once, so listen. If I let you come”—she starts to balk on that word
let
but I ignore it—“then you will stay next to me at all times and you will follow my orders without question. You will not leave my side. If I go back to work then I gotta
work
, OK? People will start depending on me. I’ll have to act, I’ll have to make decisions, I’ll have to fight. And if I have to worry about you, I won’t be able to do that shit and warriors will die. It’s better that I stay away completely than risk people’s lives being distracted by you.”

She starts nodding and then puts her arms around me. “OK, I will, I promise. Just port us to the Stag because I have to know what’s going on with that baby.”

“Well, first off, that’s not a baby, Selia. It’s a… a…
thing
. It’s not a baby. OK? Babies are human, it’s not human.”

I can see she’s in the mood to argue that point with me, so I shush her with a hug and we move through time together and exit the shift in the middle of the Stag Camp ruins. Most of the buildings were burned to the ground because Tier blew them up before we ever took Junco off Earth that first time and no one bothered to rebuild out here.

But one building still stands.

I asked Tier why he left it back then, but he never answered. I learned later that this was Gideon and Junco’s home.

“God,” Selia says. “I’ve heard about this place so many times, ya know? But I’ve never seen it.” I feel her shiver and put a hand on her shoulder. “When I was a kid in the Mountain Republic they used to teach us about the Stag in school. All that talk about secret genetic projects, mutants, monsters, and all sorts of things kids use as fodder for nightmares.” She stops for a second to look me in the eyes. “It still scares me.”

“You can stay here if you want,” I offer.

“No,” she replies quickly. “I need to see this baby.”

I ignore the baby remark and let go of her hand. “OK, we’re on the clock now. Follow and obey.”

“Yes, sir,” she says, and not in a sexy joking way, either. She’s all business now.

The last remaining building is nondescript, really. It’s made up of cinder block painted a very pale orange. If things all had a color assigned to them, like a living being has an aura, then the Stag would be orange. I’m not sure why—maybe it’s the tall grass, dry and brown as it waves in the wind. Or maybe it’s the deep russet soil that makes you think of Mars. I’m not sure, really. But the color of this building practically announces that we’re in the Stag.

I walk forward, past the remnants of something that might’ve been a shooting range, based on the shell casings on the ground and the pockmarked wall of earth that was probably the downrange target. I take it all in as we approach the warrior manning the main door.

He snaps out a salute to me first, then Selia. She outranks him because she’s 039, even if she’s not a warrior. I salute back. “Who’s inside?”

“Sir, Fledge Team Warriors Merkar, Pike, Tessen, and Fledge Science Officer Wyrd.”

Why we still call these guys the Fledge Team is unknown. We just do. They’ve never been assigned a number, they’ve never been given a role, really. They don’t even have a commander, because technically their commander is Tier, and Tier ignores them most of the time. So Annun is the leader of the Fledge team, but Annun is almost never with them either because he’s practically connected to Tier at the hip. So, I guess that makes Merk the ranking officer, except Tessen and Pike don’t ever listen. And Bridge, Cres, and Tak were just tag-alongs.

Their unit is a complete fuck-up. Not at all the team you want running a demon baby in a secret camp a couple of days ahead of the Angel Apocalypse.

“And,” the warrior continues, “that
thing
, Sir. It’s been drugged into a coma, but it’s still iffy. Be careful.”

“I appreciate the warning, warrior.” I look back at Sel. “Stay close, OK?” She nods and the warrior flashes his palm against the biometrics, the doors slide open, and we walk through into a hazy darkness reminiscent of dawn or twilight.

The doors swoosh closed behind us and I’m just about to breathe out and relax when the screaming starts.

Chapter Thirteen—LUCAN

“You can let him up now.” I speak avian in my demon voice as my father stares at me. “That’s your grandson you’re impaling, you do realize that, correct?”

His stare never wavers, but his knives withdraw from Rikan’s ribcage and I bend down and pull Rikan to his feet. The holes are already healing, the blood stopped.

“Impressive,” my father says.

“Yes, well, I took all necessary precautions with his gifts since he’s related to you. His healing skills are unmatched.” I stop and curl my lip. “I do mean unmatched, so let’s not waste time on him.” I turn to Rikan. “Back to Earth with you. Bring us the Seven.”

My father reaches out and grabs Rikan’s arm and forces him to be still. “Not so fast,” he says in English. I have to give him credit for that because the last time he was this close to Earth, English didn’t exist. His absorption rate has surely increased. “What’s your name?”

Rikan stumbles over his words for a few seconds and I put a calming hand on the shoulder nearest me. “Rikan,” he finally says. “Number twenty-seven.”

“Only twenty-seven. Such restraint!”

I shrug. “I hate children.”

“As do I.”

“Rikan, to Earth. Bring the Seven.”

“No, Rikan. We’ll go to Earth together.” He stops to watch my reaction, but I lock this one down. “After the trial. We’re not animals, we believe in Justice. Speaking of which, where is Rache? And that blubbering geneticist?”

I call for them in my mind and seconds later my Fallen brothers appear.

“Gib,” I say as I turn to him. “Aesin was just telling me how little he thinks of your skills.”

“Is that right,” Gib says with a smirk. “They were good enough to drive him away, though, weren’t they?” We chuckle together, like this is a joke.

My father nods and smiles. “Lucan, your trick bought you four months of time. Four months. Is this really something you should be proud of?”

It’s Rache who answers this time. We’re a team after all. “Four months on your calendar. But for us, seven thousands years, Aesin. And let me remind you the life cycle of a human is one hundred twenty, under the most optimal conditions. We can breed them at fifteen and make adjustments. So every millisecond that passed on your calendar, we bred a new genetic line. That’s a lot of offspring, Aesin. A lot of human children. A lot of raw data.”

“So what took you so long?” he laughs.

We all laugh then, even Rikan. It’s a good one, right from the belly.

Aesin shuts his trap.

“They’re insane.” I laugh again. “I can’t wait to show you Junco. Your Seven!” I clasp my hands and rub them together a little. “She’s spectacular. The only true Seven to live after dozens of live trials on Earth where each Seven child was raised until it had to be put down. She came of age and she is why you were called. She is all you have left.”

His expression is cautious, perhaps sensing something, but he remains passive with this bit of news. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Rikan can bring her now.”

“No, we will proceed to trial. You must be found guilty first.”

“Well, at least the pretenses are over. I’m guilty before the trial, what’s the difference?”