Ibenus (Valducan series) (29 page)

"I knew you were a spy." Chaya drew a pistol and leveled at Victoria chest.

Victoria didn't even react to the gun. She squeezed Allan's hand. "I love you, Allan. I'm so sorry."

Chapter Eighteen

The pain wormed its way around the medication around 2 a.m. Subtle at first, probing through the wall of opiates so slowly that Allan hadn't immediately recognized it. As with any surprise attack, the full assault began the moment Allan realized it was coming. Then at once he felt it all: the broken rib, the stitched bite in his arm where a cherry-sized chunk of muscle has been ripped out, and the leg.

The leg was the worst, a steady throb extending from the cast and up to his spine as if some winch were pulling on the nerve, winding it tighter, sending sharp flares along its length. He'd half-expected cold or itching or any of the phantom limb symptoms he'd heard of, but it was evidently too early for that. It felt like a vise was crushing his ghost foot, squeezing it impossibly hard past any point that flesh or bone could endure.

Doctor Laroux, who had visited Allan shortly after he'd first awoke, had explained the bulk of the pain wasn't real, that it was his brain panicking because the map of his body was wrong. She'd warned of the painkiller addiction that many amputees developed trying to win an impossible war.

Gritting his teeth, Allan had calmly explained that the arm, the rib, and the horror show of mutilation beneath that bloody cast were
not
imaginary, and while he'd keep her advice in mind for the future, he definitely needed something more than the aspirin she'd originally offered. The fat-cheeked woman only frowned, an expression made easier by the deep scowl lines that looked to have been cut into her face with a chainsaw, and gave him a bottle of painkillers. She then entrusted Malcolm with two more bottles, with orders that he was in charge of doling them out. The mere fact that she'd come armed with three bottles but didn't initially disclose that, told Allan all he needed to know about the gangland surgeon.

Laroux had made one passing comment about the blonde that hadn't left Allan's side, but didn't ask where she was. Allan wondered how the sadist doctor would react if she knew that Victoria was locked in another room, wrists bound, and Chaya beside her with a bad attitude and sword. She'd probably shrug and pretend she didn't see it.

That morning, after the doctor's final stamp of approval, they'd left and begun the four hour trip back to the mansion. The arm and rib only made getting in and out of the wheelchair infinitely harder. Sam and Malcolm had to help him with that and push him. Two days ago he was a Lead Knight, an angel at his hip. Now he couldn't even move his own wheelchair. He still possessed Ibenus. Being a current prisoner it didn't make much sense to let Victoria carry it. Allan sat sideways in the van's bench seat, his leg extended before him, and the bronze sword in his hand. It wasn't right. It didn't feel the same. He was no longer Protector and he knew it. But Victoria…

He turned his head to where she sat in the back, hands bound and Chaya beside her with a gun hidden beneath a bundled shirt in her lap. Victoria smiled weakly, the same smile a child might give a parent after accidently burning their house down, desperately fearful they've lost any chance for forgiveness. Not returning the smile, Allan swallowed and returned his attention to the window, absently watching the trees whisk past.

She had betrayed him. She had shared the secrets he had fought to give her. He had vouched for her and, in return, she had spat on his trust and lied to him. She'd revealed their names to a man intent to use that information against them. And while she claimed ignorance of TommyD's appearance, the betrayal was no less real. The messages telling him to back off while she procured him a holy weapon were the most damning. Chaya had wanted to put her down right then and there. Mal and Sam had reasoned that Victoria would be the most likely means of tracking TommyD down and rescuing Umatri. Allan agreed, though his true motivation for mercy was less tangible. He ran his fingers along the wood grip panels. Like it or not, Ibenus was Victoria's now. Ibenus had chosen her they day they'd met. Had it known this would happen? Was that why it had made him accept her? How could Ibenus have known?

Allan closed his eyes, shaking the new feeling of betrayal before it could take root. His vow to protect the khopesh was no less binding than it had been the day of their bonding. Protecting Ibenus' new guardian was part of that. That vow superseded everything.

The others wouldn't understand. He wouldn't have.

"Here we are," Malcolm said as Sam turned into the drive.

Allan drew a breath and held it.
Here we go
. His first true day of retirement. He hadn't considered what exactly his role would be now that hunting was off the table. Librarian for certain, though the library was downstairs. Surely they could work around that. But what else would he do? Tom became their chef after he'd lost his leg and a few fingers, but Tom could always cook. Maybe Allan would have to learn. Maybe he'd become the gardener, nurturing flowers and herbs to ward away monsters. Whatever it was, his new full time job was to serve as a living example. A reminder for other knights as to what their own future might hold.

The gate opened and the van continued onto the drive. Allan released his breath. Now he had to deal with Master Turgen and look the old man in the eye. Turgen would never say, "I warned you," not in a million years. He'd be nothing but sympathetic, supportive, and kind. But Allan still had to face him with failure. Somehow that made it worse.

As they rounded the bend to the side of the manor, Allan noticed a small crowd gathering near the door. Turgen and Schmidt stood at the front. Directly behind them.
I don't believe it
.

The van stopped and Luiza Hollis was the first to open the door. Her black hair was pulled back into a thick ponytail. She wore a loose-fitting blouse of red silk tucked into tight jeans the color of walnut. Akumanokira, an olive green army katana with a polished copper handle, hung at her left hip. "Hey, stranger."

Allan's voice cracked with the surprise. "Hi."

"Hey, man." Matt said, stepping around beside her. Gabi was in his arms, intently staring into the vehicle.

"I can't believe you're here," Allan said. "Hi, Gabi."

Gabi's mouth opened into a wide grin, exposing her two teeth along the bottom front. Then she turned her head, following Sam's path out from her seat and toward the back of the van.

"We came right away when we heard," Matt said. "Flew in last night."

"You flew?" Allan smiled for the first time in days. "I'm honored."

"Yeah, so don't ever say I don't love you."

Sam squeezed past rolling an empty wheelchair. "Here we go."

Malcolm crawled from the front seat and squeezed up beside Allan. "Matt, can you give us a hand?"

"Of course." He handed Gabi over to Luiza and together he and Malcolm guided Allan out and into the chair. The cast restricted knee movement, which resulted in his leg sticking straight out before him like a battering ram.

"You good?" Malcolm asked, offering Ibenus once Allan was properly seated.

Allan pressed his tongue against to roof of his mouth until the dulled pain from his rib subsided. "Yeah."

"Hey, Mal," Luiza said.

"Hi." He kissed Luiza on the cheek. "You look beautiful." Malcolm gave Gabi an appraising look, his brow raised. "So this is our newest knight in training?"

"This is her. Say hello to your Uncle Malcolm."

"So you two figured out which weapon she'll grow up to use?"

She smiled to Matt, revealing white teeth. "We're still figuring that out. I think she'll take after her mother and use Akumanokira. Matt, of course, is rooting for Dämoren."

"My money is on Dämoren," Schmidt said. Short scratches marred his left cheek, surrounded by a purple bruise.

Matt nodded. "Thank you." He patted the large revolver slung under one arm. Bronze wolf heads capped its ivory handle.

The old man tickled her belly. White tape bandaged most of his knuckles. "She's stubborn and a born troublemaker. Dämoren can't resist that."

"Hey," Matt said in feigned annoyance.

"Name one of her protectors that wasn't those things," Schmidt said.

"I'm not a troublemaker."

Malcolm snorted, eliciting a laugh from Luiza and Schmidt.

Matt gave Allan a look. "See what I put up with?"

"Sorry, mate," Allan said. "I'm with Schmidt on this one."

"Everyone's a critic."

Allan endured the condolences and well-wishes from the other knights. The tears at the corners of Luc's eyes when he said he wished he'd been there affected him the most. He'd never seen Luc cry, not even when their ranks were decimated. All of that was immediately forgotten as Chaya led Victoria out of the van.

All eyes followed her but Victoria only looked at Allan and Ibenus.

"Take Miss Martin to the first floor guestroom." Master Turgen didn't try to conceal the venom in his voice. "It has its own lavatory and we know there's nothing hidden there."

"She came of her own free will," Allan said.

"No," Turgen said. "She might not have resisted but she didn't come freely until she was caught. We will discuss this later once you are settled."

Allan drew a breath to reply but a terse head shake from Victoria silenced him.

"Am I to be denied Ibenus?" she asked, meeting Turgen's glare.

The old man didn't look away. "Luc, please escort Miss Martin to her room."

Allan squeezed Ibenus in his lap as Luc and Chaya led her away. Their feet clomped up a wooden ramp that had been erected over the side entrance stairs. Sawdust clung in some of the corners along the walk from when someone had obviously used a leaf blower to clean up the fresh construction.

"Come on," Matt said, breaking the tense silence. "Let's get you inside before we add sunburn to your injuries." He pushed the chair up the ramp and stopped as Orlovski tapped out the keypad combination.

"We set new codes and passwords," Turgen explained somewhere behind Allan.

The door bolts thudded and Orlovski swung it open. There, in the giant mirror, Allan got the first true look at himself, his sunken eyes and three-day beard, an invalid pushed by his best friend as he held a sword he would never hunt with again. Allan looked away from the reflection, his gaze absently watching the inlaid symbols in the wooden floor tiles as Matt wheeled him down the hall.

His days away from the manor had dulled Allan's immunity to the pungent herb and flower bouquets. Soon he'd again be so used to them that he wouldn't even notice. He thought again to the prophetic vision, his likely future as gardener. He'd have to get a prosthetic, maybe a greenhouse where everything was up on tables so he could reach it from his chair.

"So this used to be some Nazi mansion?" Matt asked, breaking the line of thought.

"Yeah," Allan said. "Well, they didn't build it. Just took it and added the shelter beneath for barracks or balls or whatever it was they had in mind. Allies dropped a bomb on it and that was that."

"It's so weird."

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know," Matt said. "Just not the kind of place you'd think about living. Bad vibes, you know?"

Allan snorted "Your American is showing again. Finding real estate on this side of the world without dark history is impossible."

"Eh, I guess. I suppose living in a Nazi mansion with a ballroom in the secret bunker is normal around here."

Allan laughed, setting off the fractured rib. Wincing, he clenched his teeth until the pain passed. "It does sound a bit odd when you word it like that."

Matt guided Allan into a near perfect reproduction of his upstairs bedroom, though the door was on a different side and Allan normally didn't decorate with a million flowers. There was also a private bathroom. "Here we are."

Allan eyed the empty sword stand and grunted. Were they supposed to pretend Ibenus hadn't chosen a more capable protector?

"So." Matt sighed. "Here's the question of the day. I'm sure you need to take a leak and get yourself cleaned up. You need help?"

Allan craned his head up at him. "You offering to help me piss?"

"Whatever you need, man."

"I'm not a
complete
invalid."

"No problem. Just want to make sure you're okay."

Allan swallowed. Through the open door he could see the handles in and above the cast iron tub. He had one good arm and one good leg. He could do it. "Could you wait for me in here? You know, just in case?"

"Of course."

"Thanks, Matt. Thanks for coming. Both you and Luiza. It means a lot."

"You're family, Allan. No need to thank us."

#

The bath went about as well as expected. That is to say that it didn't. Between not wanting to soak the leg cast and the difficulties with his arm and rib, Allan settled on performing a glorified and rather messy sponge bath. Removing the film left from his bed in that abandoned building and the car ride had refreshed him. He still felt it coating his foot, and he desperately wanted to clean it and scrub between his toes where it felt particularly gross, but that foot wasn't there any more. Only its ghost desired to be cleaned and groomed as its widow had been.
Just ignore it
.

Shaving with his left hand had been more awkward than Allan had anticipated and he now had two nicks and a strip of missed stubble along his jaw line to show for it. Still, it felt good to be clean and to have done it himself.

As promised, Matt had dutifully waited outside. "Everything all right?"

"Splendid." Allan had figured out how to operate the chair with only one and a half hands, but he wasn't very fast and pulled to the left. In short, it was exhausting and not very good.

Matt sat beside the bed, watching him struggle through the door before Allan finally conceded.

"Can you give me a hand?"

"Of course," he said hopping to his feet and taking control. He parked Allan beside the desk and gathered the clothes from the bathroom.

Allan eyed Ibenus now resting in the stand and frowned.