Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin) (42 page)

Rage . . . cold, harsh.

Drugs . . . drip, drip, dripping, trying to weaken.

Calm,
he told himself.
Remain calm.
He couldn’t allow himself to morph, not in any way. And for once, it wasn’t an impossible task. Vika had taught him a better way to live.

He blocked a punch, ducked, and threw one, smashing into Jecis’s kidney. He heard a hiss, though he knew the man wasn’t out for the count. Far from it. The violence must have engaged his dark side, because the skull shot out, little gold flames appearing in the darkness as it tried to chomp on Solo. Just before contact, a giant version of X swooped in, catching the skull like a basketball and falling to the ground with it clutched to his chest.

Jecis unleashed a pained wail, as if the evil were attached to him, and he could feel its defeat. Solo struck, nailing him in the temple once, twice, three times. The man’s head rattled from side to side, but on Solo’s fourth swing, he managed to get his hands up and block.

Solo aimed lower. Contact. Again, air burst from Jecis’s mouth.

From the corner of his eye, he saw that the Targon had Matas pinned to the ground. The shadows that had always hovered over Matas’s shoulder had stretched out and were biting and biting at the otherworlder, but the male paid them no heed. He continued to rain fists of fury into his opponent’s face. Again and again. Until it wasn’t just blood flinging in every direction. Until the shadows slowed . . . stilled . . . flopped to the ground and vanished.

Jecis used his distraction against him and landed another punch to his jaw. His head whipped to the side, and he went with the motion, dropping to his side and kicking up his legs. His boots knocked Jecis’s teeth together, sending him stumbling backward.

Solo straightened and followed him, grabbing him by the collar. Swollen, bloodshot eyes peered up at him.

“Kill me, and she’ll never forgive you,” Jecis spat.

No. He wouldn’t believe that.

Boom!

Jecis’s body jerked, his eyes going wide. He fell to the side, but Solo maintained his grip, keeping him upright. He recognized gunfire when he heard it and held on to the man to use him as a shield if necessary. He tracked the noise with his gaze. Vika stood a few yards
away, holding a smoking gun, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Solo loosened his fingers, intending to drop the man to the ground and race to her side, to gather her in his arms, to offer comfort, or whatever else she might need. What she’d done . . . all to protect him . . .

“My own daughter,” Jecis gasped out. “How could you?”

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The shots came from a different direction, from behind Jecis, but still the man jumped each time. And as three sharp stings registered in Solo’s chest—all straight in the heart—he looked to find
Audra
with a smoking gun. Dr. E sat on her shoulder, and he was laughing all over again.

“If I can’t have you,” the little man called, “no one can.”

The girl had shot Jecis, but the bullets had gone straight through him and into Solo. He finally dropped the man, but not to get to Vika. He no longer had the strength. The man responsible for his torment all these weeks flopped lifelessly to the ground, and Solo fell to his knees beside him.

“Solo!” Vika cried out, rushing to his side. Her hands patted at him, trying to stop the flow of blood. “You’ll heal, yes? You did before. Many times. I’ve watched you. You have to heal from this, too. Right?”

He heard a cry, watched as X collided with Dr. E, knocking Audra to the ground. As X and Dr. E fell, Dr. E’s body elongated, growing to the same size as X’s. Maybe he was seeing things.

Dizziness consumed him. Black dots wove through his vision. With every pump of his damaged heart, his life slipped away a little more. “Vika,” he managed to choke out as blood bubbled up in his throat.

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” she rushed out. “Just tell me!”

“Nothing to be . . . done.” His injuries were too severe. He’d caused this kind of damage in others. He’d seen the results too many times. He knew.

“There is!”

“Can’t lie . . . Vika . . . This is . . . it.” He struggled to keep his gaze on her as his fingers and toes grew cold.

X moved in, kneeling at his side. Still giant, as big as Solo. “Tell him good-bye, Vika.”

“What? No! Never.”

Solo pitched forward, no longer able to hold his own weight. Somehow, Vika managed to catch him, balancing him against the softness of her trembling body.

“Tell her good-bye, Solo,” X commanded.

“No!” Vika shouted again. “Not good-bye. Just good night. You’ll go to sleep, Solo, and we’ll patch you up. You’ll revive in the morning. You will. You’ll see. You vowed to give me anything I wanted and this is what I want.”

“Love . . .” He had to tell her how much he loved her. He had to explain everything she’d come to mean to him. Until her, he’d never really lived. But the black dots still winking through his vision expanded, thickened, and the blood bubbling in his throat cut off his airway. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

“He will die at home,” X said. “And don’t you dare protest, Vika. It must be this way.”

“No! He’s not leaving me. He promised to take me to his farm, too, and he always keeps his promises.” To Solo, she said, “You’re going to get better, I know it. I feel it. I have a knowing. Just . . . get better. Please, Solo. Please.
Please
.”

Strong arms banded around his waist, pulling him backward, tugging him away from Vika.

“No,” she said, and now she was sobbing. “X, don’t—”

They were the last words Solo heard.

Thirty-three

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

—LUKE 12:34

V
IKA WASN’T SURE HOW
long she knelt in place, staring at the pool of crimson Solo had left behind. X had put his arms around him, and the pair had vanished. All she knew was that, when she finally looked up, the circus was engulfed in flames.

She laughed without humor. Her father’s pride and joy was being destroyed bit by bit, all of his work soon to be ruined. Justice had at last arrived. But then, it always did, didn’t it? Somehow. Someway.

The otherworlders were still in their cages, screaming to be released. Performers were shouting and running in every direction. Her father’s body was motionless beside her. Matas was splayed a few feet away from her. Or rather, what was left of him. The crimson-soaked Targon stood over his body, arms lifted as he danced in the man’s blood. Audra stood in the same spot she’d occupied before, still holding the gun. She was pale and shaking—and she was no longer tattooed. The spiders were gone.

Audra noticed her gaze and shuddered. “I didn’t mean to kill your beast,” she said. “I just wanted to hurt Jecis the way he’d hurt me.”

“Solo wasn’t a beast! He was the best man I knew.” Horrified by her words, Vika hurried to correct herself. “He
is
the best man I know.” He was still alive. She wouldn’t believe otherwise. He was too strong, too vital, and he’d promised. He never broke his promises.

Audra nodded, as though ashamed, and dropped the gun on the ground. Sirens blared in the background. Sirens Vika heard. Not as clearly as before, in the cabin, but enough. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“What should I do?” Audra asked.

She could hear the girl’s voice, as well. “Start a new life,” Vika told her.

Where was Solo? Where had X taken him? Home, the creature had said. Did that mean the farm? Or perhaps X’s home, in that other realm?

A tap on her shoulder caused her to look up.

The Targon peered down at her, and he was smiling. Splattered as he was with blood, it was a chilling smile. “You might want to close your eyes for this next part,” he said.

He didn’t wait for her response, but turned to her father and unsheathed a blade. Vika watched. With one sharp motion, he cut off Jecis’s thumb. The brutality of the action barely registered. She knew what he planned to do with the appendage, knew it was necessary.

He picked up the detached piece and rolled it along his palm. “Mara was my wife. Matas killed her.”

Mara. Vika’s Mara. “Killed her? No. I freed her.”

“You did. Your father found her and gave her to Matas. I was bonded to her, and I witnessed the entire thing through her eyes.”

Mara was dead. Mara hadn’t abandoned her. Hadn’t forgotten her. She’d been caught, killed. “I’m so sorry. I—There are no words. I loved her.”

“I know you did. That’s why you’re still alive.” He moved to the cage nearest him and began freeing the otherworlders.

Most sprang from behind the bars and ran, never looking back. Tawny fur grew from Kitten’s pores, covering her entire body as she disappeared around the corner, but she quickly returned with an unconscious, bleeding circus performer. She dumped the body on top of Jecis, kicked it—the performer was still alive, judging from that gust of pained breath Vika heard—and disappeared again . . . only to return with another body. This time, she was a little bloody herself and missing several patches of fur.

The Bree Lian raced toward Vika, his claws bared.

The Targon grabbed him by the back of the hair and jerked him to the ground. He loomed over the otherworlder and scowled.

“You don’t touch the girl. Ever. She took care of you and was your only means of protection.”

A trembling “All right.”

The Targon freed him, and he lumbered to his feet.
He didn’t bother glancing or glaring in Vika’s direction, but sprinted away.

Criss strolled out, stopped and checked her cuticles.

“Run,” the Targon said. He’d finished releasing the otherworlders and dropped her father’s thumb on the ground. “I don’t owe you any protection, Cortaz, and I won’t offer it. You’ve got an attitude that needs adjusting.”

“I think I’ll stay,” the girl said with a confident smile. “When Jecis died, my brothers were finally able to get a lock on me. They showed up a few seconds later.”

The Targon spread his arms. “And where are they? Because they can feel free to bring it.”

A brighter smile. “You see the fires?” Looking beyond the otherworlder, she called, “The circus is charbroiled now, guys, so stop showing off. I’m ready to go home.”

A second later, five glittering lights surrounded her, blocking her from sight. Those lights were shaped like men, and when they faded, Criss was gone, her footprints nothing more than charred grass.

Kitten dropped another body in the ever-growing pile and turned to grab another victim. But cops suddenly swarmed the area, their guns raised, stilling her. She held her hands up and said, “Don’t shoot. I’m with AIR, and the Targon and the blonde are with me.”

“Kitten?” a male voice growled.

“Dallas?”

A handsome dark-haired man with otherworldly blue eyes that reminded Vika of Solo—a sharp pang
in her chest—shoved his way forward. Kitten caught sight of him, squealed, and threw herself in his arms.

He hugged her, but he never lowered the barrel of his pyre-gun.

Pyre. Something only AIR agents carried. And Kitten had said she was an agent, hadn’t she. And yet, Jecis had enslaved her. Well, he had signed his death certificate the moment he’d done so. If Audra hadn’t shot him, AIR would have eventually found him. Everyone knew they never gave up.

“What are you doing here?” Kitten demanded. “This isn’t New Chicago . . . I don’t think. Unless we’re in a contaminated section I’ve never visited.”

“No. Not New Chicago,” the blue-eyed agent said. “Word got out that a certain circus had a Teran in a cage. We hoped it was you, but didn’t really think it was. Still, we kept out feelers, and the moment we heard the circus had landed in the flatlands last night, I hopped a plane.”

Oh yes. Jecis’s downfall would have happened one way or another.

“A family reunion. How sweet.” The Targon chuckled, and in the next moment, the entire world stilled. The flames stopped crackling, the smoke stopped wafting. “Come on, little Vika. I told your man I would take care of you. Vowed it, in fact.”

How like Solo. “What did you demand from him in return?” She doubted the creature had been willing to help out of the goodness of his heart. Daddy Spanky wasn’t the type.

He tugged her to her feet. “Doesn’t matter. I didn’t really want what he was offering, just wanted to see how much he was willing to give up. By the way, he was willing to give up
everything
for you.”

Just like that, tears burned the backs of her eyes. She blinked them away—they were silly. X would bring him back, Solo would insist on it, if Solo wasn’t at the farm already, and she would have the opportunity to say thank you, to tell him of her love.

“Now, come on. I’m weak, and I know that’s not saying much. My weakness is actually the strength of ten men, but I’m not sure how much longer I can hold such a big group of people with the magnificent power of my mind. If we stay, they’ll question us. If they question us, they might decide to keep you. I don’t relish the thought of springing you from prison.”

“Yes. Let’s leave.”