The Dead (The Thaumaturge Series Book 1) (30 page)

I struggled to my feet, and immediately my body was engulfed in enough pain that I staggered, gasping with my mouth wide open. My eyes bulged from the pressure. My chest felt like it was full of jagged rocks.

Then Marcus and Leo were at my side, and Leo, in the most inappropriately timed display of possessiveness ever, shoved Marcus to one side and put his arms around me himself.

“Are you okay?” he said, his hands all over me, flying over my face and my shoulders and my chest. I winced when he came in contact with my ribs and pushed him back. Marcus's face appeared over Leo's shoulder, concern written all over it.

“What happened?” I asked, dazed.

“That fucking bitch got past - “

“Morgan attacked - “

They stopped, glaring at each other. I grabbed onto Leo's arm and used the leverage to haul myself up.

“What happened?” I asked with more force.

Marcus flinched, but Leo answered promptly, “She stabbed Cody, Ebron.”

Bile burned on the back of my throat. “Is he okay?” I asked. My mouth tasted like pennies.

“He needs you,” Leo said softly. “Ebron, what happened up there?”

I pushed him off of me and hobbled back to the counter. I grabbed onto a shelf to steady myself and forced myself to look.

Cody’s sightless eyes stared up at me. Blood speckled over his white lips. He looked smaller. His baseball bat had fallen off and lay disregarded in a puddle of blood. I bit my lip, and stumbled over, leaning painfully over to pick up the hat.

My eyes sought out Morgan. She sat near Corvin’s body, her face a bloody mess, her arms hanging oddly at her sides, apparently broken. Now that was the Leo I knew and loved.

“He's gone now,” I told her and she pulled her lip back in a snarl. Leo growled back at her, a real, honest to goodness growl, but she stared straight ahead, unconcerned.

“What about her?” I asked numbly.

“Your call,” Leo said in my ear.

I thought of Aubrey's coat, of her holding the flaps together to keep her guts from spilling out. I thought of Marcus's bare feet, crusted with blood and of how he had sat shaking in my bathroom. I thought of how Marcus had looked, curling around his friends, his eyes pleading and hollow. I thought of the blood on Cody’s lips.

She listened with focused intensity. I looked at Leo.

“Are you hungry?” I asked him, and something passed over his face, a shadow that was there only for a second.

“I could eat,” he said conversationally.

Marcus gasped. “You can't. You just can't.”

“Why not?” I asked, staring at the blood on the sleeves of her blouse. Her eyes leapt between Marcus and I.

“She killed my cousin,” I told Marcus.

“And she’ll pay for that,” Marcus insisted. “But you don’t need to kill her.” He stepped closer to me, filling my vision. “Don’t do this,” he said quietly. “Leave her to us.”

At my elbow, Leo snarled.

I looked back at her defiant face, streaked with blood. Corvin’s. Cody’s. Rage simmered through me and my eyes searched for my gun.

I thought I could still hear Corvin laughing.

I’m not like you. I’m not a killer.

If you want that to be true. . .

“Fine,” I said. “Whatever.”

“Ebron,” Leo started but I just shook my head. I turned away before Morgan could smirk. I left them to argue and went to Cody.

How come the dead always looked so flat? Cameron knelt at Cody’s side, pressing his good hand to the wound on Cody’s stomach. “It’s okay,” I told Cameron and he shuffled backwards, his eyes wide like he had seen a ghost.

Carefully, I rolled Cody onto his back, and tried not to think about how his blood was probably ruining his expensive boots and also not about how he had helped me with a body just two days ago. The world felt like it had shifted in some inexplicable way, and I didn't fit very well in this new world where I was a killer and Cody was dead and there was blood all around me on the floor of my cozy shop

I frowned, wincing a little as I reached an exploratory touch upwards. Pain throbbed in my head, behind my eyes.

“You need help,” Shaina said, and she abruptly knelt beside me and put her hand on my mine, where it rested on Cody’s chest.

I looked dully at her. “You can't help me.”

“It's energy,” she replied. “You don't have any left. I can give you some of mine.”

I started to protest, but there seemed no point, so I just let go a little, letting my mind drift upwards. Before, it was like trying to climb through an overgrown forest. And now suddenly, there was a clear path. I opened my eyes and looked at her. She smiled.

“Wow,” I said softly. “Thank you.”

“Here,” Jim said, and he crouched on my other side, putting his hand on my shoulder. “I can help, too.”

And now the clear path was a highway, paved and smooth. I put Cody back together as smoothly as stitching a wound, tucked in his soul as easily as putting in a new car battery and turning the key. When I opened my eyes, he was wide-eyed and breathing and I wasn't even winded.

“I didn't know that could happen,” I said to Jim.

“I think there is a whole lot you don't know,” he told me, and took his hand from my shoulder to make a fist.

“You didn't have to kill him,” he said angrily, right into my ear. “Corvin. There was no
need
for you to kill him. I could have found him help.”

I stood up, letting myself tower over him and looking down into his frowning face.

“You brought this mess to my doorstep,” I said quietly, and watched his eyes lower. “You brought this all to me, and you think you get to lecture me on what's right and wrong?”

“I was trying to stop him -”

“But you didn't,” I interrupted. “I did.”

Cody gasped and tried to sit up, his hands clutching at his stomach. He stared at me, and I thought sadly that he had just woken up into my new world, the world where I was a killer and where he had once been dead.

Something in me twisted. My mouth felt sour. My head ached. I set my jaw before the twisted rope of emotion inside me started to uncurl.

Scott turned to me, and before I knew it, I was being pulled into an aggressive hug, my back being heartily smacked.

“I owe you again,” Scott said as he released me.

“This is a freebie,” I said, because I thought he meant money and when he frowned I realized he was thanking me for killing Corvin.

“One day,” Scott said quietly. “I want you to sit down with me and tell me everything.”

“One day we'll do that,” I said, and realized that I hoped that that happened.

“What will you do with the body?” he asked. See, that's why I liked Scott. Right to the point. No waterworks or drama. Just practicality.

“It’s really not my problem,” I said coolly, and Jim's face went hard.

“You killed him,” he said. “Not us.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but Marcus stepped between us. He looked about twenty years older than he had this morning.

“We'll take care of him,” he said, his voice flat and tired. He glanced at Morgan, who knelt still in the pool of Corvin’s blood. She didn’t look up. Her small hands lay limp at her sides, still like broken birds.

“Marcus - “ Jim started, but Marcus shook his head.

“So we're even,” Marcus said quietly to me. “You saved our lives, and we take care of this for you.”

“We're even,” I echoed. I didn't look at him. I wondered what my aura looked like now.

I pushed past him and stumbled back to where Cody leaned against Leo, apart from the rest and away from the body.

“Let's get out of here,” I said to them both. I had no idea what time it was. Cody shivered in spite of the fact Leo had put his own coat over Cody's bloody shirt, a gesture that seemed more practical than sentimental.

I looked back at the store, where the same bottles and jars sat on the same shelves. The same store as yesterday, when I hadn't killed anyone yet. My breath caught in the back of my throat and a strange sensation, not quite nausea, not quite cold, rolled up my stomach and into my chest. I shivered. My hands felt numb. Dark stains splattered over the front on my coat, and I distantly wondered if it was blood or if it was brain.

“You okay, man?” I asked Cody softly.

He closed his eyes. “I want to get home.”

Leo gave me a nod, and looped Cody's arm over his shoulder, moving towards the door. I stayed behind for a moment, gazing back, listening as Scott and Jim argued. I wondered if I would ever understand what had happened tonight. I wondered if Corvin was really gone. I wondered who I was.

My eyes met Marcus's and for a long moment we just gazed at each other. Grief, sharp as a blade, ran over my heart and the back of my throat tightened. There was no point in any other goodbye. He had only been a dream.

I watched as he looked away, bent and took up the ankles of the dead man before him. Jim grabbed the shoulders and together they carried the body into the back room.

I made my way through to the parking lot and headed for home.

Leo parked my truck under the carport and came around to help me out. I needed it; my legs shook so badly they knocked together and when I tried to pull open the door handle, my fingers missed clumsily and fell somewhere to the side. I squinted at the door, fumbling again for the handle, but Leo pulled it open and reached for me. He took the full weight of my body against him.

“What do you need, love?” he asked quietly as he half-carried me into the living room. “Food? Shower? Sleep?”

It seemed impossible that only a few hours had passed. It should have been days, years, life times later. My laundry still lay rumpled on the living room floor. Johnny came hesitantly forward, his tail waving in an unsure swish. His nose twitched.

“Yes, all of those,” I said tiredly, pulling at my bloody clothes.

His hands went to the zipper of my coat and pulled it down. He reached for the hem of my shirt.

“Leo,” I said softly, and he glanced up, meeting my eyes.

“I'm so sor-”

“Shh, Ebron, don't.”

“But-”

“No, I know. And it doesn't matter now. I don't care.”

My heart grew heavy and I took a deep breath. “I know you don't,” I said sadly.

He tilted his head, and narrowed his eyes at me. “Don't do that.”

“What?”

“I don't care about that guy. I don’t care about those witches tonight. I do care about - about you.” he looked surprised at his own admission, and his mouth snapped shut.

“What happened while I was gone?” I asked. “I feel like I got hit by a train.”

His eyes turned thoughtful. “You were moaning. Writhing on the floor. You kept, like, jerking, like you were getting hit. What happened up there?”

I shook my head. “I saw him. We talked. We fought. I won.”

He nodded. “I knew you would.”

Exhausted and miserable, I leaned forward and rested my head on his shoulder. After a second, I felt his arms come up around me, holding me cautiously. I exhaled and just for a moment, we were still and at peace, holding each other in the eye of the storm. He tightened his arms around me, warm and comforting.

“You really were spectacular tonight,” he said softly.

I stifled a hysterical laugh. “I killed a man tonight.”

“You had to,” he said gruffly. “It was self-defense, Ebron. Forget him.”

“I want to go to bed,” I said faintly, and felt him nod.

“Yeah. Let me go run a bath for you. You're covered in blood, babe.”

He helped me into the bathroom and I sat on the toilet seat while he got the bath going. He kept touching me, running his fingers over my shoulders and stroking my back and I leaned into the touches. Casual affection was nothing new with Leo, but the way he touched me was different. Like he had to reassure himself I was all right.

“Ready now,” he said softly, and reached for the fly of my jeans. I swatted his hand away.

“I can do it myself,” I mumbled, and he smiled faintly.

“I know you can. Would you just stop and please let me take care of you?”

Surprised, I looked up into his calm dark eyes, amber flecked with gold. Something was building up inside me, some intense emotion that could have been love or fear.

“I love you,” I whispered and saying the words made my stomach drop. I had never said those words to him before, had never heard them said to me. I dropped my head as soon as they passed my lips and bit down hard on the inside of my mouth.

Gentle fingers touched my face, tilting my head back up. Leo crouched in front of me. The look on his face made my heart sink. I knew that face. It was the one he gave me when he was about to tell me that he was leaving again, the one that always accompanied his vague explanations of why he'd been gone for ten months straight. It was a piteous, sympathetic look. It made me want to simultaneously hit him and grab on to him and bury my face in his neck and cry.

“Ebron . . .” he said, cupping my face with one hand.

“Forget I said it, okay?” I begged, blinking away hot tears. “I'm just tired.”

I sniffed, my head bowed, waiting for him to tell me that he cared about me, just not like
that
, or to tell me that there was someone else, someone he stayed with when he wasn’t with me. Or, worse, to tell me that there was no one else, no one serious, but casual hook-ups were still preferable to being with me.

He shook his head and leaned in, kissing me lightly on the lips. “You idiot,” he said affectionately. “What would I do without you? Come here.”

And he pulled me into a hug, tight and hard, his chin hooked over my shoulder and his arms squeezing almost painfully around my neck. Numbly, I hugged him back, breathing in his smell.

“I love you too, moron,” he said into my ear, and my breath hitched in my chest. He laughed a little, a low rumble against me and he pulled back, cupping my face again.

“How could you not know that?” he asked.

“You never said . . .”

“Neither did you.”

“Yes, but I'm an idiot.” I gave a strangled little sob that turned into a laugh and he smiled again, tender and warm.

“Can I take a bath with you?” he asked, and I smiled back.