Kelly Meding - Another Kind of Dead

“About a day since you first woke up, so in total it’s been a week.”

“Holy hell.” I brushed the thick stubble on his cheeks. “You need a shave.”

“You don’t like the mountain man look?”

I quirked one eyebrow. “I think it’s going to burn when I kiss you.”

He leaned over and pressed his forehead to mine. Our noses touched. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Why?”

Perfect question. His mouth slanted over mine. It was a chaste kiss, though I longed to deepen it. I was just out of a week-long coma—my breath couldn’t be all that amazing. As expected, his whiskers grazed my cheeks, a delicious friction on my skin.

“Still want me to shave?” he asked as he pulled back.

“Definitely, Mountain Man.” I cleared my throat, desperate for a glass of water. “Have we heard from Thackery since he shot me?”

“No.” He practically growled the word.

That surprised me. “He wasn’t alone. He had some teenager with him. Hard to tell who he was, and, no, Thackery didn’t introduce us. But he did say he had more of what he shot me with, this parasite gel, and that he was going to use it to get what he wanted. I was a test to prove he was serious.”

Wyatt propped up on his elbow, thinking cap on. “He’s made a weapon out of vampire parasites?”

“Yeah, that’s what he said. He also said that the second vial, the one I cut my hand on, was some kind of antivenin.”

“It wasn’t an antivenin or any sort of antidote. We had a sample of it checked by Erickson’s men. It’s a tracking dye similar to what we use, but the range is much smaller. He estimated a distance of maybe five hundred feet for it to be traceable.”

And I’d put my hand down right on top of it. Brilliant. “Could Thackery have used it to track me here?”

“Unlikely. You’d have needed a higher dose than what little might have entered through your cut hand. We were also on the move for a while before we brought you here, and Phineas did a few flyovers of the mountains to make sure no one was watching.”

I felt only a tiny bit better about that. “So Thackery had no reason to think I’d survive being turned, other than my healing ability.”

“He took a big gamble on it, yeah.”

“He was taking a big gamble on every—The crystal!” I jackknifed to a sitting position, nearly cracking my skull off Wyatt’s chin. “Shit, did we get it?”

“We have it, Evy. He didn’t back out of that part of the deal.”

“Where?”

“It’s at Boot Camp, in a lead-lined box, three sublevels down in R&D, locked far away from people.”

Weariness mixed with relief, and I flopped back down against the pillow. Wyatt stayed upright, a looming presence. “Amalie is okay with that?” I asked.

He shifted. “We told her Thackery never gave it up.”

“You what?” I gaped at him in amazement, unsure if he was being smart or suicidal.

“Gina and I made the decision. A few hours after you were shot, Deaem called on Amalie’s behalf to find out our status. We told her what Thackery did to you, and that we never recovered the crystal.”

“But why?”

“Amalie doesn’t know how to destroy it, she won’t keep it at First Break, we still don’t know who Jaron said betrayed who, and the last place Amalie said was perfectly safe was robbed. Do you think I should have given it back?”

“Not when you put it that way. I guess the gnomes didn’t have a magic crystal that heals vampire infection, huh?” It was a tease that came out a serious question.

Wyatt’s expression got impossibly darker. “She never offered to help, and we haven’t heard from her since.”

Nice to know where I rated with the Fair Ones nowadays. “Anything else happening I should know about?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until you’re back on your feet.”

“Okay.” I’d been asleep for a whole damned week, but weariness settled over my limbs like a wet afghan. My body had been through more than just broken bones this time. I’d battled and expelled a parasite intent on changing not only my physical functions but also my brain chemistry. I’d fought for my soul and won.

Yeah, more sleep was allowed. My eyes drooped shut. Wyatt’s weight left the bed, and I snapped awake again.

“I’ll be in the other room for a while,” he said. “I’ve got some things to do, then I’ll be back. Promise.”

“ ’Kay.”

I slept, knowing full well things weren’t settled yet. Thackery had issued a threat in the train yard, one he’d not yet put into motion. Better to rest while I could, because sooner or later—as it always did—the shit was going to hit the fan.

I woke the next morning alone. The bedroom door was shut. Beams of golden light hit the floor in thin strips, cast through the room’s only window, announcing it was still daytime. It took a few tries to get my engines going fast enough to throw off the covers and haul my ass out of bed. I was awake and ready to get back into things, and I didn’t fall over when I took a few steps toward the door. Good news for me. I padded across the chilly wood floor on bare feet.

The brass knob turned, and the door opened as I reached for it. Wyatt stepped back, eyebrows arching. “Hey, morning,” he said, surprise melting into a grin. “You look rested.”

“I would hope so.” I ran my hand through my tangled, somewhat greasy hair. Gross. “I’m also desperately in need of a shower. Can’t imagine I smell that great.”

He chuckled. “You smell fine, but you’ll probably feel better. Bathroom’s over on the right.”

“Clean clothes?”

“Dresser drawers. Listen, I need to run into the city for a bit—”

“So go. I don’t need a babysitter.” The way his mouth twitched alarmed me to a small degree. “What?”

“Just think of David as a silent guest, then.”

“David?” I peered past Wyatt’s shoulder into a wide wood-paneled living room. A fire crackled somewhere out of sight—the source of the burnt-wood odor—and an actual deer’s head was mounted on the wall by the front door. I spotted a familiar mound of black hair above the back of an ancient, sagging sofa.

“He and Kismet’s group are the only people who know you’re not dead, so she brought him into her Triad to replace Tybalt. It’s temporary, though, as far I know. Sooner or later, David will be assigned to a new Handler.”

I blinked. A week was a long time to be out of things. “Replace Tybalt?”

“They won’t make allowances at Boot Camp for his condition.” Wyatt practically spat the words, as though simply speaking them disgusted him. “Gina can’t keep him in her Triad, but she’s also not going to just turn him out on the street. They’ve been together too damned long.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

I hated it. Fucking hated everything about it. Tybalt was a Hunter. The people he’d fought for, bled for, and sacrificed half an arm for had turned against him. Just like they’d done to me.

“Go run your errand,” I said, finished with the depressing conversation. “I really need that shower now.”

I slipped past him, waved hello at David, and locked myself in the bathroom. It was small, with an old-fashioned claw-foot tub and single tiny window. After seven days of wrestling with my inner demons and sleeping, I got my first glimpse in the mirror. My hair lay flat as I’d ever seen it, shiny on top and tangled at the ends. My skin was dull, a little too pale, lips dry and cracked. I yanked off the long T-shirt. I’d lost weight, leaving both hip bones more pronounced than they used to be. Ribs, too.

My fingers absently stroked the spot above my left breast where the dart had struck, sure I could still feel its sting.