Withered + Sere (Immemorial Year Book 1) (14 page)

Eventually the buzzing stopped.

He felt a nudge against his shoulder.

The man turned his head. The dog licked his face once. Twice.

You okay?
Bad Dog asked, voice soft.

Cavalo grunted. “Yeah. You?”

Sore. Tired.

“I know. Can you walk?”

Think so
, Bad Dog said. He moved slowly, favoring his side. He was shaky, but his tail wagged. He turned his snout to the man under Cavalo and sniffed once. Twice.
Bad man dead?

Cavalo let go of the stick. It stuck into the air, the black plastic gleaming dully. A little tendril of smoke curled up around it from Bernard’s mouth. His eyes were still wide, only the whites visible. His fingers were curled like claws at his sides. His chest did not rise. A leg twitched but then was still.

The bees had quieted. Cavalo closed his eyes. He was cold. His hands hurt. His mind raced. He wanted to go home. He wished this day had never happened.

“Yeah,” he said. “He’s dead.”

Clever monster
, the bees whispered.

Thank you
, Bad Dog said, bumping his head into Cavalo’s hand.
MasterBossLord saved me. Thank you.

Cavalo couldn’t be sure any response would come out steady. Instead he curled his fingers into the scruff of Bad Dog’s neck, squeezing gently. They stood there for a moment, side by side. Man and Dog. If asked, Cavalo would have said at that moment, he saw what losing his friend would have done to his mind. It would break completely. It was a fragile thing, like the thinnest glass. It would not take much to destroy it.

Then from behind them, came a choking sound.

Cavalo turned.

Before him stood Wilkinson, face blue, eyes almost popping out of his head. One hand was at the metal chain wrapped around his neck. The other reached out for Cavalo.
Help me
, his eyes pleaded.
Save me.
Saliva glistened on his chin.

The boy stood behind him, one arm and both feet still manacled. Muscles quivered under his skin as he pulled the chain tighter around Wilkinson’s neck with the other arm.

Help me
.

Cavalo took a step toward Wilkinson and the Dead Rabbit.

Save me.

Wilkinson’s hand shook. All Cavalo would have to do was reach out to take it.

He felt cold.

He took a step back.

Comprehension came over Wilkinson. He opened his mouth. Bared his teeth. Eyes flashed. His hand turned to a fist. It punched the air. It fell to his side. He turned his head toward the ceiling. He shuddered. Moments later there was a rattle from somewhere deep inside his throat. He slumped. The chain loosened, and he fell to the floor where he did not move.

The man stood there, watching the Dead Rabbit. The boy stared back. The dog stood between them, head going back and forth. They might have stood there until the world finally crumbled if not for Deke Wells.

“Holy shit! You stay where you are!”

Cavalo jerked his head. Deke stood in the unfinished doorway to the building, a dusting of snow in his hair and on his shoulders. His face was flushed high with fear. His breath was a constant stream of white from his mouth. The rifle in his hands pointed toward the Dead Rabbit. Snow fell heavily behind him.

“Deke,” Cavalo said. “Stop. Listen to me.”

“What the hell happened!” Deke’s voice was high. Breaking. The barrel of the rifle shook.

“They were torturing him.” Cavalo took a step toward Deke. “They weren’t who they said they were.”

Deke shook his head jerkily. “He’s a Dead Rabbit! He deserves anything he’s got coming to him.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Another step.

Bad Dog growled.

“Stay where you are!” Deke shouted. He wasn’t looking at Cavalo, but over his shoulder.

“Deke, look at me.”

“He’s got the keys!”

“Deke, look at me!” His voice carried a whip crack of warning.

Deke heard it, the rifle wavering. He glanced at Cavalo. “Did you let him do this?”

“Listen to me.”

“They killed Warren!”

“I know.”

“They left his head!”

“I know.” Another step.

“You
don’t
know!” Deke was wheezing. “You
don’t
know because you’re never here!
I found it
.
I found him
.”

Cavalo heard chains rattling behind him. “Stop,” he snapped over his shoulder, never taking his eyes from the gun. “Now.”

They stopped.

“Are they
dead
?” Deke asked. Cavalo knew he didn’t have much longer. He took another step. One or two more and he’d be between the gun and the Dead Rabbit. He couldn’t let Deke take a life. It’d ruin him. It’d ruin so many things.

You could have ended all of this
, the bees said.
This could have all been avoided.

“Deke, give me the gun.” Cavalo kept his voice calm.

Another step, and if Cavalo wanted, he could raise up his hand and touch the open mouth of the barrel.

“Gotta get my dad,” Deke said. “He’ll fix this. He’ll know what to do.”

“We’ll go get Hank. You and me. Together.”

“You didn’t do this?” he asked, voice small like a child. “You promise?”

“Just take a breath.”

“Because you’d choose us, right? You’d be with us, right? Not the Dead Rabbits?”

“I would always choose you,” Cavalo lied.

Another step. He raised his hand slowly.

Bad Dog growled again. The chains clanked. Deke’s jaw tightened, and Cavalo knew he had only a second before—

But he’d forgotten. In all the chaos, all the death, he’d forgotten that one of them was not dead.

Simon rose up beside Deke, pulling a gun out of a holster on his leg, near the boot. Deke took a step back, confused. Simon knocked the rifle from his hands. He wrapped his massive forearms around Deke’s neck and pulled him flush against him. He put the gun to Deke’s head. Simon looked at Cavalo, his face covered in gore. His nose was flattened to one side. He spat out a tooth. It fell to the floor and bounced away.

“I will kill him,” Simon said.

“Don’t,” Cavalo said, raising his hands.

“Cavalo!” Deke cried.

“We’ve heard about you,” Simon said, digging the gun into the side of Deke’s head. “We know what you are. What happened to you.” He smiled through the blood. “What you did. To your wife. To your son.”

The bees began to fly. “Let him go.”

“Please!” Deke said, tears on his cheeks.

“You don’t know what you have there, do you?” Simon motioned behind Cavalo.

“I don’t care.”

To your wife. To your son.

“You should. He’ll draw Patrick out. Then you’ll care. All of you will. The boy is—”

A whisper of hair near Cavalo’s cheek. The brush of a feather. A soft
thunk
. Simon’s head jerked back. He staggered a step. Looked forward. For a moment, Cavalo was sure Simon had sprouted a horn in the center of his forehead, brown and thin. But then blood poured out from underneath it and Simon fell, almost dragging Deke down with him. He landed faceup, the arrow protruding obscenely from his head as blood pulsed around it.

Cavalo turned.

The Dead Rabbit lowered Cavalo’s bow, taken from the window. He’d managed to free himself from the chains, even if his thumb was bent at an unnatural angle. That cold admiration flooded Cavalo again, and the completely alien thought of how they could have been friends in another life filled the bees.

He was startled out of these unfathomable thoughts when the boy nocked another arrow, pulled from Cavalo’s quiver at the boy’s feet. He pointed it toward the doorway.

At Deke.

Cavalo turned to Deke. He’d gotten his rifle again. Pointed it at the Dead Rabbit.

“Don’t—” Cavalo started as he stepped in between them.

The gun fired. Wet heat blossomed in Cavalo’s chest as he was spun away. He fell to his knees as Deke dropped the rifle and ran out and disappeared into the snowy night. He wasn’t sure what had happened, only that the bees were
swarming
and they were
screaming
, and he looked up toward the ceiling.

A face filled his world, covered in a black mask.

“They’ll kill you,” Cavalo said. “For what you’ve done here.”

ARE YOU OKAY?
Bad Dog asked, his voice booming.
MASTERBOSSLORD, ARE YOU OKAY?

“Fine,” Cavalo said. “I’m here. I’m fine. Look.” Cavalo raised his hands to show just how fine he was and was surprised when nothing happened. “Huh, that’s odd.”

The black mask cocked its head.

“We all die sometime,” Cavalo said.

HOME!
Bad Dog shouted.
TELL ME HOME!

“Home,” Cavalo whispered.

YES! TELL ME AGAIN. LOUDER.

“Home.”

An arm slid under him. He was pulled to his feet with great effort.

“Home,” Cavalo said. “Bad Dog. Go. Home.”

HOME. MASTERBOSSLORD! HOME!

Cavalo did not remember much after that. He was lost in the snowfall.

the doors in the storm

FOR CAVALO,
it was all snow.

It was a blizzard unlike anything he’d ever seen or felt before. Cold. Nearly all white. He thought himself lost, but he couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Not really. How could he be? In this blizzard, in this haze of white, there was pain, and it rolled over him in such great waves that it caused him to gag. He vomited once down the front of himself, but then he was back in the blizzard and it was forgotten.

There were flashes through the snow, barely perceptible human shapes. They spoke to him, and at first, he could not make out their words. It was a low hum, the known cadence of speech, but lost to the winds. For a time, Cavalo was okay with this. He didn’t want to speak to the shapes. He didn’t want to hear what they had to say, because he thought he knew who they were. And if he did know, then they would be ghosts, and he did not want to be haunted while lost in this storm. It seemed dangerous.

So he walked, pushing his way through the storm. There were times there was an arm around him, supporting his weight. Those were the times the pain was at its worst, and he would scream and moan. Whoever it was with their arm around him did not speak but carried him on. He hated that arm. He needed that arm. He wished it would die. He wished it would never leave.

Then the arm would be gone and he would feel the brush of fur at his fingertips, as if an animal moved at his side. It was comforting, this presence. He knew who this was, though he couldn’t remember a face or a name. It brought warmth to him and it was the first voice he could make out. It was a deep voice, a rich voice. An imaginary voice, one that he swore was real and yet could not be.

It said,
Here. Here I am. Here you are. I will not leave you. I belong to you, and you belong to me. I will help you through the storm.

And so they walked. And walked. The snow was in the man’s face, stinging cold and sharp. He stumbled every now and then, but the arm was around him, or his friend’s back caught him.

He didn’t know where he was going, just a vague sense of direction of
forward
. For all he knew, he was walking in circles, but if he could still put one foot in front of the other, he would not stay in the same place he was. He laughed at this to himself, nothing more than a chuckle really, and colors lit up from him through the snow, blues and greens and golds. They danced away from him in fluid lines, like Tinker Bell from
Peter Pan
. This reminded him of his mother, though he didn’t know why. She’d died from some wasting disease when he was a boy. He tried to remember what she’d looked like, but it was lost in the white as the colors faded.

“All of this has happened before,” he said. “All of this will happen again.”

“You are
nothing
,” a shapeless shadow said off to his right. “You will
fall
.”

“I am losing my mind,” Cavalo said. He was concerned now.

Maybe
, his friend said, touching his nose to the man’s hand.
Maybe you are. But it doesn’t matter to me. I’ll stay with you even then to keep the shadows away.
Then his friend barked harshly and the shapeless thing faded away. The arm holding him up squeezed tighter.

He looked up and the skies parted and he saw an entire universe of blazing stars, bright diamond chips against eternal blackness. They circled above him and he felt so
small
and so
finite
that he screamed at how
nothing
mattered, how
nothing
could be changed. The stars shook above him, shaking in their heavens as if the very fabric of reality were breaking apart. He wondered if the end would hurt more than he already did. He decided, in his finite wisdom, that it wouldn’t matter. He would welcome the end. He would welcome it gladly.

“Come on!” he shouted. “Do it!
Do it
!”

The stars exploded.