Pushed (27 page)

I did my best impression of someone coming unhinged. The fact that I trembled in real terror helped. I sensed time running out.
16 . . . 15 . . . 14 . . .

I took several steps back away from the big front window. “Stay away from me!”

Mark appeared to Xavier’s left. “I’m tired of this. Let’s end this already.”

“Not yet.” Xavier smiled at me. “You’re not going to shoot yourself, are you? You think your friends will come back for you. You think they’re different from us, but it’s a lie. They’re only pretending to care about you. They think if they’re patient, you’ll give them what they want.” A telltale emotion must have shown on my face because he smirked. “That’s the truth, isn’t it? I’ve spent some time with Gabe. How far do you think he’d go to feel again? Something tells me he would go pretty far.”

“Did he tell you he’d come back to save you? Is that why you’re stalling?”

The hand holding the gun wavered.
5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . .

“Enough. Give me the gun.”

Xavier’s harsh demand reminded me of the things they had done to me before. I could almost feel the slice of his knife into my skin.

2 . . . 1 . . .
Time had run out.

“He’s not coming for you,” Xavier said.

The old doubts flickered through me. Almost everyone in my life had abandoned me, including my mother. I had no reason to think Gabe would risk his life now that he had his brother safe. The Blackwells could leave and go back to their lives without anyone knowing the difference. Then I imagined Gabe’s fierce promise earlier.
I’ll come back for you. No matter what.
The worry puffed out, and I pointed the gun at Xavier with a steady hand. His eyes widened and then narrowed in rage.

“You’re wrong,” I said. “Come on then. Do your worst.”

Xavier launched forward. There was a blur of motion coming toward me. A hand covered mine on the gun, and I stumbled, trying to keep my grip. The blur came to sudden, startling focus a mere foot in front of me. Xavier jerked the weapon away from me, and I let go as a blast sounded in the room. He stared down at me, his eyes huge. I gathered my energy in case I needed it. Then he dropped his gaze to the dark stain spreading across his chest. He’d been shot him in the heart when he grabbed the gun, I realized. Asher had once told me that there were some wounds even a Protector couldn’t recover from. Was this one of them?

Xavier collapsed at my feet, and I didn’t pity him. He’d hurt Asher and murdered Yvette. He could die for all I cared. I sensed movement to one side and raised my head in time to see Mark appear next to me. He grabbed my shirt with both fists and lifted me off my feet. I kicked him as hard as I could, and he threw me sideways. Cathedral bells rang in my skull when I hit the wall headfirst. I crumpled to the floor, too confused to avoid the next blow.

Mark stood over me, but somehow I saw Dean’s face. The world froze in remembered agony as he pulled back his leg to deliver a vicious kick.

That was when a truck drove through the living room wall and burst into flames.

The corner of the bumper smashed into the back of Mark’s legs, and I heard a
snapping
sound. He fell forward, and I forced myself to roll out of his reach. A broken leg—or even two—wouldn’t stop a Protector who couldn’t feel anything.

Three down,
I thought.
Two to go.

The male Protector ran for the driver’s door and ripped it open. “Nobody’s in the truck!”

He threw an arm up to shield his face. The fire blazed in the cabin, I realized. The gas tank hadn’t exploded: someone had set a fire in the truck before sending it into the house.
Gabe.

I slid my back against the wall, using it to steady myself as I stood. The bells had reduced to whistles. Irritating whistles that made my head ache. The woman rushed toward me and yanked on my arm, jerking me after her as she ran for the kitchen. I stumbled and tried throwing my weight in the opposite direction. That didn’t slow her down, so I dropped to the floor, forcing her to drag me.

She cursed and almost yanked my arm out of the socket. She stopped short when Gabe appeared in the kitchen doorway. Before she could make a sound, he’d punched her in the face. The sleeve of my shirt ripped as she flew backward, stumbling over me.

“You okay?” Gabe said, reaching for me.

The male Protector appeared behind him. He had a knife in his hand and swung it in an arc toward Gabe’s back. I opened my mouth to shriek a warning, but I was too late.

Gabe’s eyes widened, but it was the male Protector who fell over, blood oozing from a gaping wound in his head. He groaned. Asher stood over him with a broken lamp hanging from his limp fingers.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-SEVEN

“R
emy,” Asher said, with a disbelieving look at me.

Then he passed out.

Gabe and I rushed toward him. Gabe lifted him and threw him over his shoulder.

“Grab the guns,” he ordered.

I did, and then ran after him to the car he’d left parked at the curb. I couldn’t see Asher’s face. All I could make out in the poor lighting was how limply he hung over Gabe’s shoulder. A belt tightened around my heart.

I glanced away and gulped. Neighbors were approaching from both sides of the street. If the gunfire hadn’t woken them, the crashing truck had. We were going to be surrounded in about ten seconds. I ran ahead of Gabe and got in the backseat. He placed Asher on the backseat beside me. Then we were all in, the car doors slammed, and we pulled away from the curb with a screech of tires.

I glanced back at Yvette’s street and saw her house lit up in flames, big plumes of black-gray smoke billowing into the night air above. Even the Protectors wouldn’t survive that blaze. I had an insane sense of déjà vu, as I wondered if this was anything like what my mother had seen when Franc drove her away from their burning home. Except somehow it seemed like poetic justice this time after what the Protectors had done to Asher.

Beside me on the seat, he lay unmoving and twisted. I pulled on his shoulder to roll him on his back and sucked in a breath when I got my first good look at him in a passing streetlight. His hair had been chopped off as if a child had taken blunt scissors to it. One side of his scalp had scabbed over, and I realized that was where the bullet had grazed him when I’d seen him shot in the head. His captors had beaten him brutally. Bruises and cuts crisscrossed his heavily whiskered face. His nose and one cheekbone appeared to be broken. Dried blood had crusted under his jaw. And the smell. Oh God. The smell coming from him. Infection and grime. They’d left him to rot, and the stench made me gag.

I wanted to hold him, but I couldn’t find a place that wouldn’t cause him pain. I touched his hand, the fingernails smeared with dirt. His chest lifted in steady breaths and his heart beat steady, if a little slower than usual. I scanned him quickly before pulling away to stop my body from healing him. I wanted to cry. He had at least a half-dozen broken bones, and the bruises on his face were only a sampling of what covered him. Some of the cuts looked fresh and still bled. His eyelids didn’t even flicker when I pressed the corner of his T-shirt to one cut.

“How is he?” Gabe asked. He tossed me a glance over his shoulder and wiped blood off of his lip. His face looked battered now, too, and I winced. I wondered what had happened to the Protector who had carried Asher out of the house.

I smoothed a hand over Asher’s mangled hair. “He’s in bad shape, but he’ll live. We need to get somewhere where I can heal him.”

“First we have to get rid of this car. Too many people back there could have seen the plates. As soon as we can, we’ll get rid of the guns, too. I don’t want anything left behind with our prints.”

“Right.” I was a criminal now. I’d shot someone. I set that aside for the moment. “Gabe?”

Our eyes met in the rearview mirror.
Thank you. For getting us out of there.

Gabe laid a hand over his heart in a gesture that could have meant
you’re welcome
or even
I love you
.

 

Gabe found us a new car. I didn’t ask questions as we transferred an unmoving Asher from one car to the next. During the switch, I laid a finger against Gabe’s wrist to see how bad his injuries were. I’d scanned a deep tissue bruise on his shoulder and a cut on his lower back before he pulled away from me with a reprimanding scowl. I wasn’t sorry for checking up on him. He would suffer in pain before he’d tell me he’d been hurt.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s just focus on getting my brother safe. How’s your head?”

He must have seen me pressing a hand against it. “Fine,” I said. He gave me a doubtful look, and I frowned. “I have a headache, okay? I’ll live.”

I settled in the backseat with Asher again. I couldn’t stop touching him and staring at him. Morning light crept over the horizon, revealing more injuries. I wanted to begin healing him, but I could be incapacitated and I didn’t want to leave Gabe taking care of both of us until we were all safe. Gabe drove north for almost two hours, determined to get us out of the city. At one point, we drove through the Presidio, so close to my grandfather’s I almost could have spit on his house. Then we were farther up Highway 101, crossing the Golden Gate Bridge as the sun fully rose, its rays rippling over the bay. In a weird way, that sunrise felt like a promise. A promise that things would get better.

I blinked back tears. It wasn’t time to cry yet.

Eventually, we arrived at an inn in Guerneville, a small town on the edge of the Russian River. Surrounded by redwood forests and wineries, the land offered a quiet place to lick our wounds. Since I was the least damaged looking, I checked in using Gabe’s credit card. Gabe carried Asher into the room, and I followed with our bags and the deluxe first aid kit we’d picked up from a store along the way.

Gabe took Asher straight through to the bathroom and climbed into the shower stall with his brother. Then we worked together in silence, removing Asher’s clothes. Each discarded piece of clothing revealed another mile of damages. Gabe set his jaw, and I swallowed around the ache in my throat. What had they done to him?

“I’ll kill them,” Gabe whispered fiercely.

Gabe shot me a weird look, and I realized we were down to Asher’s boxer briefs. My cheeks heated, but I nodded for him to go ahead. Modesty had no place in this moment. Once Asher stood nude, I stepped back and Gabe turned on the shower as hot as he could stand it. He placed Asher directly under the steaming water. Dirt, blood, and grime mixed in trailing rivulets down Asher’s body and swirled down the drain. He’d lost weight these weeks, his muscles not as thick as they once were. Had they even fed him?

“Why don’t you find something in my bag for him to wear?” Gabe asked. “I have this handled now.”

I almost ran out of the bathroom to do as he asked, but once I was alone I gave in to the urge to sit on one of the beds and cry. They’d tortured Asher. They’d held him for weeks, hurting him over and over, and I’d made him mortal enough to feel it all. How could I even ask him to forgive me? I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted me out of his life.

From the bathroom I could hear the soothing murmur of Gabe talking to Asher, though I couldn’t make out the words. Asher’s voice didn’t respond, and I wondered what Gabe said to him. I made myself get up and set out clean clothing for both Asher and Gabe on the bathroom counter and closed the door on my way out. It felt intimate and uncomfortable to do this for both brothers. Afterward I sank down one of the queen-sized beds to wait.

At last, the water shut off and I heard Gabe maneuvering Asher about. I jumped to my feet when the door finally opened and Gabe hefted his brother over to the closest bed. Hauling Asher around had obviously worn Gabe out. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, and his skin looked pale.

“You look tired, Gabe,” I told him. “Why don’t you rest and let me see what I can do?”

He gave me a weak smile and shook his head. “No rest until we’re all seen to.”

He would wait to help me heal whatever injury I took on from Asher.

“Do your thing already, Remington.”

I shifted my attention to Asher. Gabe had dressed him in shorts and left him bare-chested, and I winced at seeing the condition of his body again. Even with the filth and blood gone, he looked awful. I breathed through my nose and inhaled the scent of soap. The stench that had clung to him before was gone. Then, I laid my hands over Asher’s heart.

This time when I scanned him, I took my time, searching out each and every injury. A couple of dozen bruises. Just as many abrasions or cuts. The scab on his head from where the bullet had missed his brain by a millimeter. A busted lip and black eye that had swelled shut. A broken nose and cheekbone. Two broken ribs, along with a bruise in the shape of a boot. Broken right ankle and left wrist. A dislocated kneecap. And to top it off, a ruptured eardrum. I couldn’t even imagine what kind of pain he’d been in.

Gabe hissed a curse as he heard the list of injuries in my thoughts. I wanted to curse, too, but I was afraid I’d lose it. If I started crying again, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I gulped, thinking of the pain to come. I would take it, though. I would take every wound and a hundred more to have Asher safe and alive beside me. I leaned over, pressing my lips to his.

Gabe laid a hand over mine until I glanced up. His mouth had turned down, and I knew he’d heard my thoughts. I opened my mouth, unsure what to say, but Gabe spoke first.

“We do this slowly. An injury or two at a time, and then we heal you and rest a bit. Grand gestures won’t do him any good.”

I wanted to protest, but I couldn’t. “You’re right,” I admitted. “Of course, you’re right.”

I nodded and Gabe released me.

Setting aside my fears, I picked an injury—the ruptured eardrum—and sent my energy winding toward Asher.

 

“We have to stop now,” I told Gabe through chattering teeth.

Thirteen hours. It had taken thirteen hours to heal the worst of Asher’s injuries. Some of the cuts and bruises remained, but I couldn’t keep going. Pain came and went in waves as I absorbed wounds and then healed them. Exhaustion threatened to melt my bones until I became a heap of nothing. And Gabe . . .

He’d almost fallen over at one point, wasted from loaning me his energy to heal myself. Now, when I called a halt to the healing, Gabe didn’t even protest. That told me more than his words could have. We probably should have stopped an hour before I’d insisted.

Asher still hadn’t woken up, but I couldn’t find any brain injury or trauma that would keep him knocked out. I sensed his sleep had more to do with exhaustion and thought we should let him rest.

“Gabe?” He swayed and his eyes drooped. “That’s enough for now. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

He nodded and dropped onto the opposite bed. He was out almost before his head touched the pillow. Both brothers snored, I observed, and for some reason that made me feel too much.

I grabbed Gabe’s phone and snuck into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. There was one thing I had to do, and it couldn’t wait any longer. I dialed, and a muffled voice answered.

“Erin, is that you? It’s Remy.”

She didn’t respond, but I could hear her breathing.

“I don’t know what they told you, but you need to be careful. Franc and Alcais are working with the Protectors. They—”

“You really believe that? That I would work with the people who murdered my wife?”

I almost dropped the phone when my grandfather’s agonized voice came over the line. He’d guessed that I would call to warn Erin. If he thought he could trick me with more lies, he was seriously delusional. I started to hang up, but something kept the phone glued to my ear.

“If you hate them, why give them Yvette?”

My grandfather sighed. “The truth? When you’re a leader, you have to make choices. Difficult, awful choices. A small group of Protectors discovered us last year, and I did what needed to be done to keep my people safe.”

Erin had once said that a few Healers had died in the area, and I shuddered, realizing Franc had been behind it all. “You sacrificed those Healers.”

“A few to save the many. It’s better this way. We stay in one place, our numbers grow, and soon we’ll be able to overpower the Protectors. One day we’re going to kill every last one of them.”

My legs gave out, and I sank down to perch on the edge of the bathtub. My view of the room blurred. This was stupid. I had to hang up soon. I didn’t think he could track the call, but I couldn’t chance it.

“Remy?”

“Why are you telling me this?” I choked out.

“We need you,” he implored. “You’re not like the other Healers. Somehow you’ve adapted, and we’ve seen how you affect Protectors. That one boy had experienced the return of his senses.”

He meant Asher, except Asher wouldn’t have willingly admitted that information. What had they done to get it out of him? I smothered a sob with my fist.

My grandfather heard me. “Don’t cry, kiddo. I understand you were alone and scared after your mother died. He and his brother tricked you so they could use you.” He offered comfort like he had before in these last weeks. All lies. “I’ve already forgiven you for bringing them here. Just come home. Everything will be okay.”

I dropped my fist. “I’m not coming back. You won’t see me again, Franc.”

“Don’t do this,” he said, his voice brittle with anger. “If you choose them, I—”

“I am them.” I exhaled. No more lies. “Don’t you get it? Mom hid me for a reason. Let me go,” I pleaded.

I hung up before he could answer. Maybe he wouldn’t come looking for me now that he knew what I was. Nothing else had convinced him that I didn’t want to be his pawn. I scrubbed my eyes. I couldn’t deal with this now. Later. Much later, when I didn’t feel so battered.

Right this minute, everyone I cared about was safe. I didn’t have to be afraid or sad or hurt. I could let myself feel peaceful, even if only for a moment. The danger would return. Pain always returned. But for now . . .

I shivered, powered off the phone completely, and left the bathroom. I lay down next to Asher, and finally let myself rest.

 

A door closed in the distance, waking me from a deep sleep.
Gabe,
I thought.
He’s gone to check our surroundings.
I curved toward Asher, sliding back into dreams.