Darkest Hour (27 page)

A twin set of tears skated down his cheeks. “Everybody’s gone.” His finger tensed on the trigger.

Kate’s reaction came from a deep place, pre-thought, even faster than primal instinct. The only reason she knew she acted at all came from the sudden drop in her energy and the now familiar flash of her blood as the magic consumed it.

Craig’s gun went off. His head snapped to the side. The gun’s kick shoved the gun out of his hand and onto the bed. He fell off the bed and onto his side on the floor. He cried out in pain and rubbed at the side of his skull. But there was no blood. No visible damage at all.

Still rubbing his head, he looked up at Kate, his face tear-streaked and red. She had never seen this man, this warrior, look so pitiful. She would have never thought it possible.

Which meant that whatever he had let happen to Jessie, it was worse than she could imagine.

Worse than death.

Chapter Thirty-Six

The days went by, but time dissolved for Craig Lockman. He spent most his days in bed, staring at the brick wall he had bloodied with his fists the night he lost everybody. While he stared at the wall, his mind’s eye projected the carnage for him like a movie, replaying what he saw from when he first stepped through the portal until he knelt at Adam’s side as the ogre took his last breath.

Occasionally, he watched himself in this movie digging the graves for the dead that had returned or remained on this side of the portal. Alexia, Dixon, Obstermeyer, and Adam. He buried them in a space next to the mess hall. Not the most honorable of gravesites, but Lockman had worked with what he had.

Other than staring at the wall, he would wander the site. He kept expecting to run into someone—a gnome coming out of the mess hall, one of Adam’s ogre brothers on his way to check ammunition stores, a harried looking scholar with some ancient text or another tucked under his arm.

He only ran into ghosts, and strictly the metaphorical kind.

All the scientists and scholars not part of the army proper had scattered. They probably had returned to their homes and families if they had them, hunkering down in wait for the inevitable apocalypse.

During all this time, Lockman was vaguely aware of Kate doing the very basic things to keep him alive. She made meals. She healed his hands, which had had numerous broken bones from pummeling the wall, with her new found mojo. At times she would prod for details about what happened to Jessie.

He told her the whole story, starting from Jessie’s turn in New Orleans, in pieces over several days. He couldn’t do it all at once. When he tried to tell too much, he started hearing voices. The voices would scream at him. Berate him. Sometimes it was his own voice. Other times Jessie’s or Marty’s or Adam’s. Even Creed would dress him down in Lockman’s mind, as if Lockman had never left the Agency and still worked for the old man.

There was nothing supernatural about these voices. In fact, an analytical piece of Lockman’s mind could separate itself from the chaos of emotions and recognize what was going on with him. The voices, the zombie-like nature of his daily living, his inability to care for his basic needs, and that unfamiliar but persistent wish for death. The shrinks called it PTSD. Lockman had seen guys at the Agency come back from bad missions, changed forever. They ended up on permanent leave, stamped with the PTSD label.

At one time, Lockman had considered that label an excuse for a weak mind. If you couldn’t handle the horrors, you didn’t belong in the job of fighting against them.

Some nights, Lockman would lie in bed while observing himself with this distanced analytical self. On those nights he would laugh himself to sleep. Those nights frightened him more than the nights he cried himself to sleep.

However many days later, Lockman told Kate the final piece of the story. How, in his attempts to rid Jessie of Gabriel, he had instead given Gabriel the fuel to take her over completely. The ensuing rally as they realized they needed to defeat the vamps in Alaska before Gabriel could get to them. And the utter failure of that plan when they arrived to find that, not only had Gabriel got there first, he had somehow endowed those vamps with the same invulnerabilities he had instilled in Jessie.

He finished describing, in detail, the night he lost everyone around him, and realized he had nothing left to say. He felt empty, but relieved. His last mission, to pass on the fate of their daughter to Kate, complete, he had nothing left to offer this world.

They sat on the porch. Kate had pulled the folding chairs from the makeshift processing desk out a while ago. This was where she would usually make him tell the story, always before noon, while the sun still hit this side of the house. The sun helped some—when it didn’t remind him about all the vamps that could now probably walk in it.

Today, the sky was overcast, and the air carried the scent of future rain. An appropriate day to end his story.

Both of their chairs faced out toward the acreage before the house, but Kate sat sideways in hers now, staring at Lockman with unreadable eyes. He seemed to have lost the ability to recognize her emotions. Or she had gotten very good at hiding them.

After a silence that could have been seconds or almost an hour, Kate inhaled deeply and crossed her arms. “What next?”

Lockman stared at the distant tree line. He spotted movement among the scrub at the forest’s edge. A family of wild turkeys waddled into the open, at least six of them from what Lockman could see from this distance.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“What are you going to do next? Just let that man continue to use Jessie’s body? And all those vampires to run free, killing people?”

“What can I do?”

“The Craig Lockman I knew would think of something. He wouldn’t just curl up into a ball and let the world end around him.”

“Well, I’m not that Craig Lockman anymore,” he shouted. He stood, knocking over his chair in the process. He kicked the chair and sent it scraping across the porch planks. “I’ve told you everything. I don’t have anything left to give. Why don’t you leave me alone now.”

“So you can kill yourself?” She rose to her feet. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“You’re the one working the mojo now, Kate. You’ve become one of them. Do whatever you want.”

One of her eyebrows twitched like a nervous tick. He had never seen her face do anything like that before. She had always been a strong woman, independent. Lockman would have never fallen in love with her if she was anything else. But that strength had changed, taken on an angry edge. Not that he could blame her for such an evolution after what he had put her through. But it looked like her version of Craig Lockman was as out of date as his version of her.

Then again, had they ever really known each other? Hell, most of his life had been a complete lie when they first fell in love.

You’re a fraud
, a chorus of voices said. His own voice, Creed’s, Jessie’s. He even thought he heard Obstermeyer in there, inexplicably.
You’re a made up man. There never was such a thing as Craig Lockman.

Lockman pressed the heels of his palms against his temples as if he could squeeze the voices out the top of his head. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

Kate staggered away from him. The twitching brow had given way to wide eyes and dropped jaw.

“What?” Lockman snarled. “I’m supposed to be the impervious soldier? No feelings? Just execute the fucking mission.” He waved a hand through the air. “I’m not that man anymore. I stopped being that man the moment Jessie came into my life. It’s made me weak. Lucky you, you get to see the end result of that weakness. I’m done. I’m gone.” He got right in her face. He could smell her skin lotion. He ignored the familiar chill that sent through him. “Leave me to fall apart in peace.”

She didn’t back away. She set her shoulders and lifted her chin. Stared at him down the length of her nose. “I won’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you have to help me save Jessie.”

“You haven’t been listening. Jessie is gone.”

“No she is not.” Her cheeks flared red. “You know she’s not.”

“There are too many of them. And Gabriel is too powerful.” Lockman pointed in the direction of the arch, not visible from the porch, but in plain sight to him. He could feel the cursed thing like the magnetic pull of the North Pole. “I had an army of supernaturals that they wiped out in seconds. Even if I knew how to push Gabriel out of her, there’s no way to get near him.”

“There has to be a way.”

“Why? Because you wish it?”

“Because I’m not ready to give up.” She grabbed him by the arm, squeezed. The feel of her skin against his sent a tingle up to his elbow. “And neither are you,” she said. “What you saw, what happened here, might have damaged you. But it didn’t destroy you.”

“Only because you and your mojo didn’t let it.” He tugged his arm free of her grip and immediately regretted the loss of her touch. “You don’t need me.”

Her gaze drifted. She watched the wild turkeys continue their journey into the open land. It gave Lockman a moment to study her profile. Despite the differences he’d noticed, she still looked like his Kate. Not the one from almost twenty years ago, but the one he had returned to and started to rebuild a life with before Teresa pulled him into the fiasco in New Orleans. The one he had convinced himself he would stay with for the rest of his life.

He wanted to reach up and stroke along the edge of her jaw. He wanted to nuzzle into her hair and smell her. He wanted, more than anything, to hold her.

That ship’s sailed, brother
, Marty’s voice piped in.
You fucked that pooch sideways and upside down. Why don’t you do her a favor and suck a bullet already. She doesn’t want you anymore.

Before Marty could say any more, Kate said, “You haven’t asked how I got my power.”

The flavor of cold grease filled Lockman’s mouth. He felt the urge to retch. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t like it.”

“That you’re dabbling in the same shit that got Jessie in trouble?” He turned away and strolled to the railing around the porch. “No, I think it’s great.”

“I wasn’t given much of a choice.”

He gripped the railing. Peels of dry paint crinkled under his palms. “You can blame me for a lot of things, but I never forced you to use mojo.”

“I’m not blaming you.”

Suddenly she stood beside him, though he hadn’t heard her footsteps on the porch.

“The people that did this to me,” she said, “believe Jessie is very important to something they call The Return.”

More prophetic nonsense to Lockman’s ears. He shook his head. “Of course.”

“My point is, they could help us.”

“What makes them any different than all the people I had here? Do they have an army they want slaughtered, too?”

“As far as I know, there are only a little over a dozen of them. All supernatural beings. One is even a ghost.”

Lockman couldn’t believe what he was hearing or—even crazier—who he was hearing it from. “Sounds like you’ve found yourself a nice group of friends there.”

“They aren’t my friends. They killed me, brought me back to life, then tried to kill me again.”

He stared at her a second, waiting for the punch line. When she didn’t say anything else, Lockman said the only thing that came to mind. “What the fuck?”

“They wanted me to help them find Jessie. They worried something had happened to her—”

“They got that right.”

“—and their usual...methods or whatever weren’t working. They figured my connection to Jess would override whatever was getting in their way. They also claimed I had magical ability that just needed to be woken up. That’s why they killed me the first time. I crossed over and came back with the power.”

“Who are these people?”

“They never gave me a name. They just referred to themselves as a
team
. But their leader is Romeo Kress.”

“The actor?”

Kate nodded. “He isn’t human.”

Her story had distracted Lockman from his self-loathing for a moment. The second he realized this, though, it rushed back like a forgotten hunger. He ached with it. “Whoever they are, I don’t see how it changes anything.”

“Kress was right about my connection to Jessie. It’s even stronger than I think he realized. According to what you told me, Jess was in Alaska when I did the magic to find her. Instead of leading me to her, it led me here instead. The vision I had of Jessie? That was really her. And she wanted me to come here, to find you.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Two reasons. First of all, she knew if I went to her Gabriel or his vampires would kill me. Second, because she is depending on you.”

Lockman pushed back from the railing. “That’s bull.”

“You are her father, and the one who has been protecting her ever since she showed up at your door in California. She believes you are coming to save her.”

“She said that? In your...” He waved a hand. “...vision?”

“No. She only told me to come here.” She leaned toward him before he could dismiss her. “But why would she want me to come here if not to join you?”