The Bastard (5 page)

The elevator door slid open, but there was no one there. A tall bottle of Gen’s favorite vodka, shot glasses and a pack of incense sticks graced a plain silver tray on the floor. Fight drained from both him and Rex, their shoulders drooping. Fighting could wait. It was time to mourn.

Wordlessly, reverently, Myth retrieved the tray. Sela poured eight glasses, handing one to each man before carrying the last two to the altar. One sat untouched beside an empty crystal rectangle no bigger than a box of kitchen matches. The gray ash made no sound as she tipped the bag, filling the box and laying Gen’s soul-dust to rest.

Sela raised her glass. Vike never knew who lit the incense stick, but the sweet, cloying fragrance nearly choked him. No, it wasn’t the scent. It was the pain of losing his best friend. Gen was gone. Sela spoke a few words, nice things he was sure, but Vike didn’t hear them. The remembered dying light in Gen’s eyes held him captive.

He tossed the vodka back, forcing the pain deeper, swallowing it for later, for when he was alone. The rest did the same, all except for Zale.

Vike slammed his empty glass down. “He fought beside you for over a thousand years. Would it kill you to at least pretend, you cocksucker?”

Any other Forsaken would have flipped him off, flung a sarcastic remark or threw a punch. Zale’s gaze was cold, calculated and devoid of emotion as he put the untasted liquor back on the tray. The insult rubbed Vike raw. He and Zale had never gotten along. It was simple, really. He was fire next to Zale’s ice. He’d like to burn the bastard now, turn his frozen heart to cinders. Hell, maybe Zale didn’t even have a heart, just a cold black void in his chest. Nothing would surprise Vike.

Sela’s hands were soft as they framed his face. In her eyes, he found empathy and he latched on, needing someone else to ache as he did. Her soft voice carried a heavy verdict.

“Always, you let your emotions reign, my fiery warrior. Harness them. We share your loss and we mourn in our own ways. But we have a job to do. Get close to this woman, Vike. Be charming. Be sweet. Put her at ease. Draw her closer. Keep her safe. If the threat is too great, kill her and bring me her soul-dust. It’s better that any Scion be dead than fall into the wrong hands.”

Ice encased Vike’s gut with the frosty burn of possession. History had called him a Berserker. Sela called him fiery. Tonight he’d learned how cold his soul truly was. That woman had broken through the ice. No one was going to touch her but him. He’d guard her or he’d kill her.

Chapter Three

Her head wouldn’t stop itching. Lacy used one fingernail to scratch around the line of stitches, wincing when she pressed too hard. She needed a shower in the worst way and would sell her soul for a good shampoo right now. A toothbrush would be heaven. Soon, she sighed. The doctors had kept her for a twenty-four hour watch because of her head but had now released her. She just had to wait for the paperwork to get squared away.

A soft knock on the open door jerked her head up.
Oh my God, he’s here!

She knew she’d had some weird skull-to-wall hallucinations last night, but she couldn’t stop seeing him, all long blond hair and cut muscles, swinging that axe. Her smile tugged the scab on her upper lip and she remembered she was sitting in a hospital bed, wearing a backless gown and no bra, probably looking like something the cat threw up.

She gave up the flirting idea and went with plain old gratitude instead. “Erik, come in.”

He froze. “You know my name?”

“Trooper Donaldson gave me a copy of the report. I couldn’t keep calling you the Chocolate Chip Pancake Guy.”

Fingers tucked in the front pockets of his jeans, Erik shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Thanks to you. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t heard me scream.”

She motioned toward a hard plastic chair. He was freaking huge and dwarfed the thing, settling gingerly onto it as if it might collapse under him. She fingered the edge of the sheet pooled around her waist.

“The police haven’t found anyone and I’m not sure I could make an ID if they do. I guess that would be up to you.”

“Sure, if they find them, I’ll pick them out.” A chilling smile pressed soft lines around his mouth as if he had a secret. “How’s the head?”

“A little sore. My mom always said my head was harder than a brick wall. Guess that’s true.” His low chuckle made her forget all about her split lip. “Most of it’s a blur but the flashes... I could have sworn I saw another man with you.”

He glanced away. “I was alone.”

The haunted shadow that crossed his face niggled at her. Everything was confused, smudged in her mind. He hadn’t been swinging an axe beneath that parking lot light, with the golden glow bouncing off his hair. The men who assaulted her hadn’t had snake tongues. She hadn’t seen a bleeding man in the gloom suddenly disappear. There hadn’t been a knife pressed to her throat. None of that made any sense.

“This is awkward,” he said. “But what’s your name?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Lacy Cooper.” She held out her hand and he took it, fingers curving around hers.

“Hello, Lacy.” Whisper-soft, his words drew her gaze up. His eyes were gray, not blue, with tiny bits of silver in them. Something inside her stretched, reaching out like a cat in a sunbeam. Her heart raced and she couldn’t look away. Maybe her concussion was worse than the doctors thought.

“Erik, I —”

“Vike.” He shrugged at her frown. “I’m a big guy with long blond hair named Erik. Like a Viking. Vike for short.” Humor sparkled in his gaze. “There’s a saying that there are more Vikings named Erik than nuns named Mary.”

Vikings weren’t very nice from what little she could remember from high school history class. The only thing that came to mind really was raping and pillaging. She preferred Erik.

A nurse bustled in with papers in hand. She outlined release details, explained wound care and handed over prescriptions. Lacy started to climb from the bed then realized if she did, she’d flash her ass toward him. “I need to call my sister to come and get me.”

“You have a sister?” His jaw flinched. “Where is she?”

“At work. She’s a paramedic and was here most of the day, but had to go on duty. She said she and her partner could give me a ride home free of charge.”

“Don’t bother her. I can take you home.”

“You get dressed, honey.” The nurse patted her shoulder. “I’ll go get the wheelchair and then your fella can get you out of this place.”

Lacy opened her mouth but the woman who was already out the door. “Really, you don’t have to. My sister’s waiting for me to call.”

“Lacy, come on. Let me keep pretending to rescue the damsel, okay?”

He gave her a puppy dog look she was sure was contrived but was so cute she smiled. “But Annie’s bringing my clothes. I don’t have any here except what I came in wearing. The jeans are okay, I guess, but they threw my shirt away. And there’s blood on the one you gave me. I’ll wash it and return it.”

“So you can wash two. Take this.” Erik stood and unbuttoned his shirt. Under the solid flannel, he wore a pale gray tee shirt that turned his eyes to flint. The flint softened when their fingers brushed and a wet shivery feeling washed over her.

“Okay, thanks.” She leaned over to grab the plastic bag with her clothes from the floor and peeked back at Erik. Her knees trembled as she stood. Cooler air hit her thighs and she fisted the gown’s back while slipping into the bathroom.

Once the door clicked shut, she pressed her face into his shirt. Sea salt and copper, the scents of winter wind blowing over the ocean filled her lungs. In the mirror, her eyes sparkled. A nurse had used a washcloth to wipe most of the blood out of her hair but the front was stiff and darker than the rest. Bruises dotted her skin and her nose was swollen. Two ultra-glamorous plastic bandages covered her temple. She was a hot mess, all right.

The split on her lip pulled with her smile. Erik didn’t seem to mind.

The thin hospital gown hit the floor and she shrugged into his shirt. It seemed so intimate, wearing something fresh from his body. Soft and warm, it engulfed her, reaching to her mid-thigh. She buttoned all except the top button but it still gaped wide around her neck. She rolled the sleeves five times. Her blood-soaked bra had been trashed with her shirt and her hard nipples pushed against the flannel. She prayed he wouldn’t notice, but a naughty voice whispered that he would and she was glad.

There were a few drops of dried crimson on the jeans, but she tugged them on and shoved her feet into limp socks. The green flannel smelled so clean, it made her feel grubby.

Her shoes squeaked as she left the bathroom. The nurse was waiting with the wheelchair and a plastic cup holding two tiny pills. Lacy grimaced. “My head’s not hurting that bad.”

“Doctor’s orders,” the nurse said.

“Take the drugs, Lacy.” Erik’s face was firm. Maybe he was afraid she’d puke in his car. She swallowed the pills with a sip of lukewarm water from a disposable cup then, feeling completely useless, slid into the waiting chair. Erik picked up a vase holding a huge bouquet of blood-red roses.

“Co-workers?” he asked.

“No, it’s really weird. The card says ‘See you soon’ and it’s signed ‘Forever, Sam’ but I don’t know anyone named Sam.”

His eyes went hard as he pulled the card free. “Have you had any visitors you didn’t recognize?”

Confusion angled her head. “How did you know? There was this one weird guy who came in right after I woke up this morning. I asked if he was Sam but he said no and left quickly, like he was embarrassed. He must have gotten me mixed up or something.”

Erik sent her a stiff smile and said, “I’ll bring my truck around.”

The day was warm as only the mountains could be after a chilly autumn night and she turned her face into the fading sunshine. The late afternoon sky was so blue it hurt, and the scent of fall leaves hung thick in the air. Allegheny General Hospital served two counties but it was still small, with only three floors. The brick sides seemed to reach toward the clouds. Everything felt so big after being in that little sterile room.

What was big was the mammoth red pickup that pulled up next to the Exit door. Erik left the truck running as he sprinted around the front to her chair. The nurse locked the brakes and he scooped Lacy up.

Her arms clamped around his neck in surprise. “I can walk.”

“Later,” he murmured and set her into the front seat.

The nurse laughed. “Honey, take it while you can get it.”

Heat flushed Lacy’s cheeks. Erik leaned over to buckle her seatbelt and his hair fell against her arm. She fingered the long piece, thick and silky. He turned, looking up into her face. “Warm enough?”

Someone stole her voice. She nodded but didn’t let go of his hair. His gaze fell to her mouth and her lips parted, waiting for his kiss. The barest brush of a breath touched her split lip then he pulled back. The door shut with a loud bang.

Lacy exhaled. What was she doing? She didn’t know this guy at all. So he had come into the diner every day for the past two weeks. He could be a mass murderer for all she knew. Even a mass murderer had to eat, right? A lifetime of common sense knocked inside her aching skull.

Erik scoured the surroundings, his eyes narrowing like an eagle scouting for rabbits. Whatever he saw, or didn’t see, satisfied him and he climbed into the cab, the truck dipping with his weight.

“Directions?” He closed the driver’s door and kept his face trained out the windshield.

“Davis Street, a right after the light.” He pulled into traffic with a nod and she dug for her cell phone. “I’m texting my sister so she won’t freak thinking I just disappeared.”

See, I’ve got family and they are expecting me. I’m being smart.
Even as she typed, she felt silly. He rescued her, why would he want to kill her? A voice inside her assured she was safe. Nothing could explain the way she just felt right beside him. She hit send and tucked the phone away.

Along the steering wheel, Erik’s hands were huge, broad and long-fingered. They had calluses and blunt nails, a working man’s hands. “So where do you work?”

“Black Handle Security.” A twitch formed in his jaw. “It’s a private firm. We protect priceless objects basically.”

The drugs were kicking in and her head felt light. She blinked, forcing herself to focus. “Is it dangerous?”

“Sometimes.”

“Dangerous like you wear a gun?”

Erik shifted in the seat, but a wry grin spread out. “You’re nosy.”

“I’m stoned,” she giggled. Wow, those painkillers were awesome as shit. Her head threatened to loll back and she forced herself to remain upright. “What do you mean priceless objects? Paintings and vases and stuff?”

“Mostly a different type of container.”

The tiniest thread of an accent colored his words, just a gruff edge to certain sounds. It was different enough from the mountain dialect she heard daily to stand out, but soft enough to intrigue her. “That’s not hillbilly twang. Where are you from?”

“Norway, a long time ago.”

Sun slanted through the fall foliage, making patterns on the dash. The play of light entranced her and her medicated mind went into a numb loop. His voice tugged her back to fuzzy awareness. “What were you doing at Dawson’s so early? The diner doesn’t open until six.”

“I had to start the day’s bread, so I always go in that early. This time I just walked straight into a mugging.”

The seaborne scent of him filled the truck cab and she sucked in a greedy breath. It did nothing to dispel the drugged haze wrapping around her. For several blocks, she said nothing, nor did he. The giant motor purring like a kitten filled the easy silence. Her eyelids drooped, threatening to close completely, but she forced them open.

“Whoa, I don’t mean to space out on you.”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to entertain me.”

Somehow her thoughts went from
entertain
to
movies
to
horror
shows
she used to watch as a kid, all in one split second thinking of her medicated mind. It brought back all the hazy flashes. “You know what’s the weirdest part about my attack? I really thought those guys had forked tongues, you know, like a snake’s?”