Strange Trouble (27 page)

Rune stood at the foot of the hospital bed, watching as
Elizabeth read to the child from an enormous, brightly illustrated book.

Fie leaned against Elizabeth’s chest, occasionally giggling
as a particular passage amused her.

Elizabeth still looked like death, with her white-as-paper
face, sunken cheeks, and haunted eyes, but she was recovering.

Fie was helping that along.

“You want her,” Rune said.

Elizabeth glanced up. “I’m taking both children. Just as
soon as George wakes up, he’s coming home with us, isn’t he, Stefanie?”

The little girl nodded solemnly. “He’s still asleep.”

Elizabeth’s smile was rueful. “She’s complete charmed me,
I’m afraid.”

“That’s okay. You needed a reason to go home at night.”

A cloud passed through Elizabeth’s eyes. “I’ll be fine,” she
murmured, as though Rune had suggested otherwise.

“Yeah.”

“Ellis has agreed to help Bill out until I’m ready to
return.”

Rune nodded. Ellie was ensconced in his new position. Even
knowing he would live his life always one bite away from turning was something,
he’d said, he could handle.

Rune didn’t believe him.

What he couldn’t handle, he’d told her, was not getting the
twins back. Not getting Levi back.

That, she believed. “We’ll get them back, Ellie.” But she
was sick of speaking those empty words. Time was running out for the twins, if
it hadn’t already. She
had
to find them.

Bill Rice had settled firmly on the RISC throne. It was
all his
baby now. The humans wouldn’t have him back as
police director, and he didn’t want to go back.

One of the things he promised her was to use every available
resource to track Horner and find the twins. Sooner or later, the slayer would
surface, and RISC would be waiting for him. But Rune didn’t really care about
Horner any longer.

Nothing mattered but finding the twins.

And they had no idea where the boys were. They’d torn the
Camp apart—torn the county apart. The twins were not there.

Rice seemed to think COS would contact RISC and the crew
soon. They’d want something in return for the twins.

Rune had a feeling that
something
was going to be
Lex, but that wasn’t a trade the crew was willing to make. They had to find
another way.

When she’d gone to the RISC building to pick up her package
from Amy, Rice had stopped her in the hall.

He’d seemed content. “I belong right here.” His eyes were
still haunted by the horror he’d witnessed, but he managed a smile.

“Yeah,” she said. “This is where I belong as well.”

He stared at her for a long moment, and just as she’d started
to feel uncomfortable under his serious regard, he’d spoken. “You’re mentally
ill, Rune.”

It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. She’d
stepped back and dropped her fangs without meaning to. “Fuck you!”

But he reached out and patted her shoulder. “It doesn’t mean
you don’t belong here. You’re my best operative—maybe
because
of your
illness. I just want you to know I’m aware.”

“Why?” She tried not to whisper, but that’s how the word
came out.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.
I…maybe
because it doesn’t matter.
I accept you. I admire you. I want you to
feel less alone. And maybe because I worry that you haven’t accepted yourself.”

“I have.”

“Don’t self-destruct, Rune. If you feel in need of anything,
come to me.” His eyes had been intense, and something lurked there that made
her mumble some excuse and run away from him.

What the hell?

She hadn’t a clue.

She had no idea who Rice really was.

Strad slipped into the hospital room, amazing her anew at
how quietly he could move.

Fie’s eyes lit up. “Did you bring it?”

He grinned and pushed the door shut.
“Of
course.”

Fie squealed and bounced in Elizabeth’s arms, causing the
woman to flinch with pain. But she stared at Fie adoringly.
“Quietly,
darling.
The nurses wouldn’t be happy with Mr. Matheson’s gift.” She
tentatively moved away from Fie and looked at Rune. “May I use your cell to
call Owen?”

“Sure,” Rune said, and handed her the cell.

Elizabeth smiled her thanks and slid off the bed. She
carried the cell into the bathroom. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Rune frowned. Elizabeth’s walk was slow and careful, and she
appeared to have lost weight. She was no longer slim. She was skinny and frail.

But she was alive, and she would be okay.

Strad went to the bed and carefully withdrew the smallest
puppy Rune had ever seen from inside his coat. “Be gentle,
Fie
.
He’s a baby.”

Fie’s eyes grew huge and her lips formed a perfect
O
as she carefully took the animal. “It’s
adorable.
”

“I have to take him back,” he told her, “but he’s yours as
soon as you’re home.”

“I’m going to live with Elizabeth,” she said. “And Rune will
visit. And George will live with us when he wakes up.”

“What will you name your puppy?” Rune asked.

“Hmmm.
I don’t know.” She laughed
as the puppy squirmed in her arms, but then she scrunched up her face and
squealed. “It peed on me!”

“Time to take the puppy home,” Strad said. He looked at
Rune. “Walk out?”

Elizabeth opened the bathroom door and joined them,
returning Rune’s cell. “Thank you.”

She nodded.
“Goodbye for now, Fie.
Elizabeth, do you need anything?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “But nothing you can give me.”

Rune nodded. “Call me if you need me.”

“How is Lex?” Strad asked, trying to look innocent as he
walked down the hall with a wiggling dog under his coat.

Rune touched her stomach. “Not good. She’s going out of her
mind with worry about the twins. Plus…” She hesitated. “They hurt her. I’m not
sure—”

“She’ll recover,” Strad
said,
his
tone even. “But she needs to learn how to deal with the threat of COS.”

Rune nodded. “She needs reconditioned. Rice is going to find
someone to help her.”

“And physically?”

“Doctor says she’ll heal.” Lex had been tortured by the
bastards, but Rune didn’t know exactly what had been done to her. When—if—Lex
wanted to talk about it, Rune would grind her teeth and listen.

She was safe in the clinic in Willowburg, with the crew
taking turns watching over her. She cried for the twins, almost the entire time
she was awake.

“They’re not dead, Lex,” Rune had said. “They’re not dead
and we will find them.”

But Lex could not be consoled.

“Go get some sleep,” Strad said, his arm brushing hers.

“I will.”

“And when you’re ready for me, let me know.”

She knew he needed her bite. For the last three nights,
since they’d rescued Lex, she’d wanted only to sleep and eat.

“I will,” she said, again. But she’d addicted the berserker,
and feeding the addiction was her responsibility.
“Soon.
Are you okay right now?”

“Yeah.”
He opened his truck door
and put the puppy in a little carrier. “I’ll wait.” He leaned against the side
of his truck and stared down at her.
“For soon.”

She had to get through the hell to come first. He knew that,
and understood. He just didn’t want her to do it alone.

“I got the box Amy left me. I have to open it tonight.”

He nodded.

“But when I…when I think of Z, when I let those thoughts
out, I’m going to need you.”

“I’ll be there.”

And she knew he would be.

She watched him drive away,
then
went to find her car. She was not looking forward to opening the package Amy
had left her. It scared the fuck out of her. Probably it was no more than a
note and a keepsake, but those items were going to bring her to her knees.

She narrowed her eyes when she saw a tall, slender man
leaning against her car, scribbling furiously into a notebook. It took her a few
seconds to recognize him.

Sam Cruikshank, the reporter. He’d been following her,
quietly and reasonably unobtrusively, for months.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

He straightened and pushed himself away from her SUV, then
stuffed the notebook into the pocket of his long coat. “I came to see you.”

She gestured at her car. “I figured that out.”

“Have dinner with me.”

“Dude.
I don’t think so.”

He studied her. “I have the recording.”

“Pardon?”
She massaged her stomach.
“What recording?”

But she knew. Fuck if she didn’t know.

Her first thought was how to find out where he’d hidden it
before she killed him.

Maybe he saw it in her eyes. He glanced around at the
parking lot, full of cars but empty of people. The setting sun lent a soft,
rosy glow to his face and glinted off the dark blond of his hair.

Something about the way he was staring at her was vaguely
familiar. He looked like someone.

Someone…

She frowned and closed her eyes, trying to think of who he
reminded her of and why the hell it would make her want to throw up.

Then she snapped her eyes open and took a step back. “What
was he to you?”

He shrugged. “Jeremy? Jeremy was my half-brother. And I’m
pretty sure you and your crew know exactly what happened to him.”

Suddenly cold, she forced herself not to shiver. “I have no
idea where he is. You saw what the world saw—one minute he was in Hawthorne
sending the Dark Others after me and my crew, and the next he was just…gone.”
She didn’t give a fuck if he believed her or not.

He smiled. “My brother and I weren’t close, Rune. He
tortured me from the day I was born until I got old enough to fight back.
Eventually we formed a truce, but we never pretended to feel any sort of
brotherly love.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you want from me so we can get
this shit over with?” Oh yes. She was going to have to kill him.

Fucking Jeremy.

She did shiver then.

He slid his fingers into his coat pocket, stopping suddenly
when she shot her claws out.
“Easy, Rune.
It’s just
his phone.”

She retracted her claws as he tossed her the phone.

“He showed me the video on his computer,” she said.

“The only copy of that video is on this phone. He connected
the phone to his computer to…” He paused,
then
went
on.
“To watch.
That’s how he showed it to you.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me. He had no reason to lie.”

She clenched the cell so hard it creaked. “What do you
want?”

“My brother and I had something in common besides our
father. I can give you what you want. What you need. And I can do it so much
better than he ever could.”

“You…” She cleared her throat. “You want to hurt me?”

He tilted his head, his rather unremarkable face shadowed in
the late evening darkness. “I want to help you.” His voice was gentle.
So gentle.

“Get away from me.”

“Take all the time you need to think about it. I know you.
I’ve been watching you, studying you, learning about you. I can make you
better.”

The phone cracked then, cutting her palm. “Get away from
me,” she screamed.

He wasn’t afraid. He nodded, the look in his eyes soft, yet
commanding.
And so fucking
knowing.
“When you
need me, come find me.”

And before she could even imagine he’d be brave enough,
right there in the parking lot, right there with her rage and her fear and her
sickness,
he grabbed her by the throat and dragged her to him.

As she stood frozen and off balance, her mind blank, he
stared into her eyes. “I can make you better.”

Then, he let her go, left her with her fingers caressing her
throat, and strode away.

She’d have to kill him.

Wouldn’t she?

To save herself, wouldn’t she have to kill him?

Because fuck her for the crazy bitch she
was, but she wanted that.
What he promised, what he could do, what he
knew.

She wanted it.

She moaned and climbed into her car, where she sat for two
black hours before she was finally able to start her car and drive home.

That terror, that deep, awful fear, fear of what she was and
what she’d always been and what she might do, helped her open Amy’s package.

Because horrible though it was, what had happened to Amy was
somehow more manageable than what had happened to her in the hospital parking
lot.

She couldn’t forget about it, but she could resist it.

She could.

For now.

When she slid into the dark place, she’d call Strad. He was
enough.

“I can’t be that kind of help, Rune.”

Fuck.

She slit the tape wound messily around Amy’s box and
finally, she looked inside.

There was a lined piece of notebook paper, a small envelope
with something hard inside, and a small diary in the shape, of all things, a
fang.

The stake wound on her chest was completely healed, but as
she stared into the box, the wound began to throb hard enough to make her gasp.

This is going to be bad.

She read the note first.

The handwriting was printed and rather childish, and the
image of Amy was suddenly so vivid she had to close her eyes and breathe away
the pain. Amy hadn’t been angry that Rune had deserted her. The note was simply
a couple of sentences explaining why she was going back to Nicolas. She
understood Rune and the crew would be unhappy about it, but she missed the
vampires. She missed the bite.

Rune opened her computer and read the emails, as well. They
were more of the same. The knot inside her stomach began to slowly loosen.

One of the emails made her cry, just a little.
I’m not
much,
Amy had typed,
but I’ll always be proud because I helped Shiv
Crew. I did that.
Then she’d added
,
I wish I
could be you.

The envelope held a tiny slip of paper and…

“What is that?” Rune murmured, as she poured the item from the
envelope and into her left hand. “Is that a fucking
tooth?
”

It was.
And not just a tooth, but a fang.
Not a vampire fang.
A wolf’s fang, maybe.
It had a
small hole through the top.

The tooth was…revolting.

Her hand began to itch and she tossed the tooth on the bed,
staring at it with distaste. She looked at her palm. Red blisters started to
appear and as she watched they grew, broke open, and seeped a clear, thick
liquid.

They spread from her palm to her wrist,
then
crawled up her arm.

“Oh, Amy, what have you done to me?”

She ran into the bathroom, and turned on the hot water. The
blisters hurt, and hurt even more when she held them under the spray of water.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” She realized she held the
tiny paper, and as the blisters climbed her arm, she read the note.

Nicolas will kill me if he finds out I stole this. He’s
going to hurt you. This won’t let him. A present from your BFF, Amy.

“Shit, Amy,” Rune whispered.

The tooth was some kind of vampire repellant—not just a
repellant, but seemed to be lethal to them.

Amy hadn’t known what Rune was. Hadn’t known Llodra was her
father, hadn’t known Rune was part…vampire.

Fuck me.
Ended by a well-meaning bite
junkie and a fucking tooth.

Maybe that was why Llodra had tortured Amy. Maybe he’d
suspected her of taking the deadly fang.

Most likely, Rune would never know.

The water wasn’t helping. The painful blisters continued to
slide up her arm. It felt as though someone pushed burning sticks into the ends
of her fingers. Like her claws and her bones were on fire. Like her blood was
beginning to boil.

She yelped and held her arm out to the side, staring at it
with horror. Her hand had turned black, and the blackness chased the blisters
up her arm.

And oh God, the pain.

The strap of the top she wore burst into flames when the
blisters grew beneath it, and she beat them out with her right hand, staring in
horror as the blisters and black began to spread across her chest.

What a fucking horrible way to die.

And she was alone.

Why was she always alone?

She stumbled out of the bathroom and grabbed her cell off
the dresser—she hit redial, not remembering or caring who she’d talked to last.
She needed to tell them what had happened to her.

She needed not to be alone in her last few moments of life.

Because she was surely dying.

“Fuck,” she screamed, and heard a tinny voice yelling at her
through the phone. She dropped the cell as the blisters spread to her chest and
her top caught on fire.

She ran to the shower and it took seconds for the water to
destroy the flames. But the water wouldn’t save her.

She ripped loose the remaining threads of her top and
watched in helpless horror as the blisters popped up and burst across her
chest.
Watched as long fingers of black spread in an
unwavering pool to the outside edge of her stake wound.

And then…

Everything stopped.

The blackness receded, sliding back down her arm a hell of a
lot faster than it’d climbed it, and the blisters began to fade.

The stake wound.

Nicolas Llodra, by staking her, had somehow saved her.

She turned off the water and climbed out of the shower.
Walking to her bed, she stared with a healthy dose of respect and a shitload of
fear at the tiny, innocuous looking fang.

“What the fuck
is
that?”

It was a vampire killer, that’s what it was.

Someone began beating at her door and without waiting for
her to answer, started kicking it in.

“Hang on,” she yelled, and strode toward the door before it
was completely destroyed. She yanked it open,
then
stared
in confusion.

“Owen?”

He pushed past her, a gun in one hand and shiv in the other.
“You’re okay? What the fuck is going on?”

“Oh hell.
I called you, didn’t I?”

He lowered the gun and slid the silver back into its sheath.
“You were screaming.” He swallowed, and visibly tried to regain his usual
control. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story. But I’m okay now.”

His stare probed her face, her eyes, and finally, when he
believed she was truly okay, he dropped his stare to her breasts.

She glanced down, realizing she was without her shirt but
too amazed by the healthy pink glow of her skin to care. The scar where she’d
been staked had faded, but she didn’t think it’d ever go completely away.

Owen wasn’t interested in the scar.

She pointed to the fang. “Amy sent me a gift. When I touched
it…” She shook her head. “It attacked me. It was like holding the sun. I
started blistering. My clothes lit on fire. I was dying.”

He put his gun away. “There are no marks.”

“No.
As if it never happened.”
She
looked up at him. “Get that thing off the bed for me. There’s an envelope there
to put it in.”

He picked it up, holding it between his fingers, studying
it.
“A wolf’s fang.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He slid the tooth into the envelope and tossed it onto the
dresser. She felt better with it hidden once more from her sight.

Owen walked closer, until he stood only a few inches from
her. “You called
me.
”

She wanted to tell him she’d only redialed, but as she
opened her mouth, he slid his palm over her breast.

She forgot what she’d been about to say. She stood there
beneath his caress, unable to simply turn and walk away.

She swallowed,
then
reached up to
grab his wrist.

He stopped moving his fingers, waiting.

Strad had messed her up when she’d caught him in bed with
Tina, and though he had no real claims on her, she didn’t want to do the same
to him.
Didn’t
want
to.

“Fuck,” she said. She rammed her palms into Owen’s chest,
sending him flying backward and onto the bed.

She couldn’t bite him. Could
not
addict him the way she’d
addicted Strad and Lex. But she could do other things.

She could.

He rose up on his elbows, smiling slightly. “Do you want to
know what he said?”

“Who?”
She snatched a shirt from a
half-opened suitcase, turning her back on him as she pulled it on.

“Strad Matheson.
Do you want to
know what he told me?”

Yeah. She wanted to know. “No.”

She heard a noise behind her and whirled around, reflexively
dropping her fangs.

The berserker stood in the doorway.

He didn't move, didn’t even
twitch,
and she wondered how he could possibly contain so much rage. How he could keep
that swirling, black mass inside without exploding.

He glanced at her, but then his stare, full of death, went
to Owen.

She shuddered, watching him.
Strad Matheson used to scare
you. He still should.

The berserker had put a claim on her.

She'd addicted him, and she'd fucked him.

And now, he'd put a claim on her.

She looked from the berserker to the cowboy. The room was
completely silent as the two men stared at each other.

Owen slid off the bed, his fingers resting near his shivs.

Her need was strong. Lust beat at her brain, tightened her
belly, made her want to throw off her clothes and demand they both satisfy her.

Lust and fear and promise.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing.
In and out, slowly, deeply…

And finally she regained control. “I can’t take another
loss,” she said, and looked at the berserker.
Don’t kill him, Strad.

She knew he read what was in her eyes, because he stared at
her for a moment longer,
then
gave a terse nod.

“Go away,” she whispered, and turned her back on both of
them.

They didn’t argue.

She heard the door close with a gentle click, and when she
turned around, they were gone.

But she knew without a single doubt that before the night
was over, one of them was coming back.

She just wasn’t sure which one it’d be.

She looked at the envelope holding the fang and scooped her
cell out of the floor. Ellis answered on the second ring.

“Ellie,” she said, “I have a present for you.”