The Horde Without End (The World Without End) (13 page)

“Did you think I would?” I ask.

Claire’s eyes soften, a little. “I had hoped, darling boy.”

I don’t respond—Claire has always been good at seeing through and calling me on my bullshit. And has absolutely no qualms in loving me, despite my faults.

“What is happening in the Haven?” I ask softly. “How the hell did Kenny win the presidency? Have they lost all sense?”

“He ran on the family ticket. Even using his mother’s maiden name, he was something familiar. With everything that’s happening, familiar is nice. It was necessary.” She shrugs. “And frankly, he hasn’t been a bad president. The Havens have done well under him.”

I snort, “The ones that survive. The ones the infects haven’t taken.”

Her eyes narrow on me, and she takes a deliberate sip of her tea before setting it aside. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I get up, pacing anxiously. “Same currency?”

Claire has the grace to look offended. “You don’t buy information, O’Malley. You’re a friend. I won’t demand payment from you.”

“And I won’t take your charity,” I say gently. Something flickers in her eyes, grateful respect.

“The Havens are falling,” I say bluntly. “Seven in the past year. That we know about. The zombies are changing—ERI-Milan has always been a disease of mutation, and I think it’s had another jump. I think our time behind these walls—in the safety of the Havens and the Walkers—it’s coming to an end.”

“The Havens have been safe for twenty years, O’Malley. You can’t waltz in here and say that’s going away. People won’t believe you.”

“I don’t care what people believe. They can accept the truth, or they can ignore it—neither makes it less true.” I pace the length of the room. “You can’t stay here—they
will
come to 1. The hordes will keep moving until there is nothing. The infection doesn’t burn off—we won’t cure it.”

“And you came to 1 to deliver this message? Seems incredibly altruistic for you, O’Malley.”

“My partner,” I say softly. “He’s missing. I think he came here with a Black priest. It’s the only reason I’m back.”

She studies me for a moment. Then, “Stiles will insist on making this a state visit. You know that, right?”

I give Claire a tight little smile, my eyes going cold. “Kenny can go fuck himself.”

“That won’t be a popular opinion here, darling. The boy has done well by us. And people still remember you and your loyalty to the First Family.”

“It wasn’t to the family, Claire. You know that. It was to
her,”
I say.

“So what will you do? Alienate the man who can help you?”

I don’t answer, because I don’t know what to say. Accepting Kenny’s help goes against my best instincts—and my instincts have served me well to keep me alive.

“I’ll put up with it, to a point. I need time to get everything together in 1 and to find Collin.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks.

“I haven’t decided yet, but you are right about one thing. This isn’t home anymore. I’m done here. This will be my last time in 1.” Sorrow fills her eyes, and I lean in to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for everything. I would have been lost here without you."

"Of course. Do you want me to come if there's a party? You might need a few people who like you."

I think about Ren, with all of her questions unanswered, and this woman who knows too much about me. "No. I think it would be best if I didn't have allies."

A smile turns her lips. “You can't protect her or hide her forever."

"Probably not, but I'll give it a damn good shot."

Claire laughs, a solid, hearty noise that follows me as I leave her house.

I will say this about Kenny: he moves damn fast.

The room is a mess of dresses and glittering shoes when I return. Nurrin is grinning like an idiot and talking to an effeminate man in his mid forties.

I don't say anything, just stop and stare with my eyebrows raised. She smirks. “Kendall is throwing you a party to welcome you home formally.”

“Well,” I say, “that's very nice of him. Glad he asked me if I could clear my schedule first.”

She snorts and turns away from me to discuss dress choices with the other man, effectively dismissing me from the entire conversation.

Little Nurrin has grown balls in the time we’ve spent together. I'm not sure what Collin will think of her when we find him.

“You should get dressed,” she says over her shoulder “The party starts in an hour.”

I'm tempted to argue with her and stay in what I'm wearing. I have no need to impress the officials and pompous assholes who populate this Haven. But I heave a sigh and go to my room to change.

One thing I learned quickly after the Turn: politicians don't change. Doesn't matter if the dead rose and are outside the door eating the guests, politicians stay the same—the same self-serving, power-hungry bastards who have nothing else in life to do but spend the people’s money. This party promises to be more of the exact same behavior.

But it’s a good excuse for Nurrin to get dressed up, and I won’t pass up that opportunity. She looks fucking hot in a dress. She’s picked a jade green one tonight, with a low back and high Mandarin collar that wraps around her smooth throat. It contrasts sharply with her blonde hair and green eyes, and I want her, a sharp pang of desire that hits like they always do—unexpectedly and with the force of a bullet.

She gives me a slow look, taking in my suit, the jacket hanging open, and slicked back hair.

“How many weapons are you carrying?” I ask, stepping into the living room.

Her eyes sparkle with sad amusement—it’s the same question her brother asks, every morning.

“Three.”

I almost ask about ammo, but I don’t. The fact that she’s managed to hide three weapons—at least one gun—in that sexy as sin dress is too much of a turn on.

“You know this is going to be a mad house, don’t you?” I say softly. She’s turned away from me, the smooth expanse of her back a wide oval of unmarked skin. I itch to trace the curve of her spine, trail kisses down to where her back flares to meet her ass. Push her until she’s panting and begging.

“It’ll be fun. Kendall promised to show me around the Haven after.”

I go still, the desire gone abruptly. “Excuse me?”

“After the party. He knew you’d probably want to see some of your old friends, so he offered to show me around a little bit. Why?”

“Nurrin,” I say, practically snarl. “He’s dangerous. For the love of god, stay away from him.”

“You don’t like him.”

“I don’t trust him,” I correct. Her hands are in her hair, attempting to pin it up. I pluck the little pins from her fingers, let it fall, and lean past her to pick up a small decorative comb. I recognize it—of course I do.

Kenny is a sick fuck.

I tuck the comb in one side, pulling her hair out of her eyes. Nurrin lets out a shaky breath and twists to stare at me. Too close. Too much. I want too much, and I can’t. Her eyes go soft and sleepy, a hint of a smile to her lips.

And I step away, giving us both the space I need to get my head on straight. Because this can’t happen—not here, not now. Maybe—probably—not ever.

“Do you trust me?” I ask quietly. Because I want that. I want that so much—no one but Collin has trusted me in so long I’ve begun to forget what it actually feels like to not be looked at with scorn and hate.

Oh, some people, the smart ones like Lissel, will keep some respect in their eyes. But it’s not for me. It’s for Thrasher’s solider, the one who still has ties and a past.

I hate her, for dying. For leaving me behind with this mess while she escaped. I hate myself, more, for living.

“You don’t make trusting you easy,” she says.

I incline my head, acknowledging that. I don’t. I never will. It is who I am.

“Yes,” she says.

A little bit of the tension inside me eases, and I put a shawl around her shoulders. “Come on, Ren. We’re gonna be late.”

The party is, quite predictably, ridiculous.

Women in slinky dresses, men in suits, not a single one of them carrying weapons.

Cater waiters—fucking cater waiters—wandering around with trays of delicacies and dishes nobody's ever heard of.

Except here. Here the stupid extravaganza is commonplace. It's nothing—just a little party to welcome home a hero.

Not that anyone believes that. No one here thinks I’m a hero. No one has for a very long time, and I can see it in the looks that they give me when I think I'm not looking.

Fuck it. And fuck them. I don't care. I watch Ren, concentrating on her as she navigates this glittering ball of vipers.

She moves through the crowd like she was born to it, with smiles and little laughs and the occasional small talk when someone stops her. Kenny is escorting her around, and that brings people’s attention to her. That, and she looks just like Kelsey.

I shake my head. There is a general approaching me. I recognize him vaguely. He must have fought in the war.

For a while I'm caught up in the crowd, making small talk about the last Haven we were in, avoiding dirty looks, and hating every fucking minute of it. How on earth did I let myself get dragged here?

I manage to slip in a few questions about the Black Priest, but no one knows anything, and if they do, they aren’t talking. Not surprising. The Order doesn't have much of a presence in 1—or at least they didn't when I left.

Politicians have very little use for a cult other than their own.

Somehow I manage to keep track of her, so I see when she loses it, when her eyes get a little bit too wide and her breathing little bit too fast, the smile on her face a little too stiff.

Buchman is still talking to an advisor.

Two politicians’ wives are praising her dress and touching her, and I can see that she's about the bolt or snap and pull her weapon. That would make my night, but I sigh and step into action. I’m moving across the dance floor before I can stop myself.

“Nurrin,” I say sharply.

She jerks, startled, and then a small smile of relief forms on her lips, quickly gone. I offer my arm, and she steps away from the other women, away from Kenny, who is approaching her, pushing into my space.

He frowns. And even though I know he's the president of the fucking United States, I have a very hard time seeing him as anything more than the little boy who followed me and Kelsey around.

“You aren't leaving are you?” he asks.

“No,” she says quickly. “I just need some air, and Finn needs my..."

"I need to talk to her,” I add, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Knowing this is rude, knowing that people are watching, I turn away without waiting for response and lead her out of the room.

The farther we get the crowd, the more she relaxes until finally she shakes my arm and says, “You have to quit doing that.”

I don't say anything, just smirk. I lead her to the back of the building to the small staircase that leads the roof.

Her eyebrows go up when she sees it. “How did you know about this?” she asks.

“Always.
Always
with the questions.”

She grins. “You would have no idea what to do with me if I quit asking questions.”

I let my eyes do a slow crawl over her, tracing from her hair, still in its comb, to the high collar of her dress, all the way down, tracing every curve along the way. Then I flick my gaze back to hers and give her a slow smile. “I could figure something out.”

She flushes. There’s an interesting bit of color crawling up her neck, just enough to get me interested in how far down it goes. “Promise?” she whispers.

“Don't,” I say soft and, low my voice a warning. “Don't do this if you're not incredibly sure it’s what you want.”

She steps to me, and her lips cover mine. All thoughts ceases for a few seconds. Her soft lips part, her tongue darting out to flirt with mine. I'm against her, and it takes a huge effort of will to step away. More than I thought possible, but somehow I manage it.

“Stop,” I whisper. “This isn’t what you want. And I don't want his sloppy seconds.”

The color in her cheeks now isn't arousal—it's anger. She steps back. Frowns. “You really are an asshole, you know. I have no idea how Collin put up with you for so long.”

I keep my face blank. "I'm an acquired taste, sweetheart."

She snorts. Steps away from me to peer over the Haven. The lights are on in full force tonight, illuminating the Haven, the limos that wait in the street for their respectable occupants.

How many whores will find their way into the back of those cars tonight?

"It's insane, you know?" she says softly. "I never dreamed a place like this could still exist. Collin would talk about them. Places like this. But—I just...it never seemed real. It doesn't seem real now. How do you leave a place like this?"

It's easy.

I don't like everyone knowing everything about me.

“I don't like being questioned every time I open my front door. I don’t like everyone thinking they know what is right for me and being in my business. Right now, sitting there, you see it. It's beautiful and glitter and Kenny is charming. What we don't see is how fascinated they are with gossip and how much they don't care what happens outside their walls. They’re selfish and self-absorbed and bored.”

She’s quiet, staring off into space. Softly, she says,“Havens are falling. The infection is changing. People are dying by the thousands, and 1? They don't care. They throw parties.”

“I saw that a long time ago, after the war ended. I left and I found a place where I could live. It was a good place, though you hated it,” I say. She’s staring at me like she’s never heard me speak—and to be fair, I don’t usually talk
this
much.

“Collin did. Hate 8. But he would love this.”

“Yeah, it's beautiful. I hope you enjoy it while we're here. Just don't forget
why
we're here. Don't let Kenny charm you out of remembering your brother.”

She inhales sharply, a stinging little noise, but I don't take it back. I don't explain myself. I just leave it there. I leave the party behind—if she wants Kenny, let him bring her home