Bones, p.4
Bones, page 4
“Gimme your wrist.” He glared. “I’ll fix the bandage.”
Too tired to argue, I gave it to him. He re-wrapped the bandage as I shivered. Lana seemed to be ignoring me today. I wished I could do the same, but I didn’t trust her. I kept an eye on her as she helped load up the rovers and nearly jumped out of my skin when someone draped a jacket across my shoulders. Trey didn’t stop to see if I kept it, he just moved past and climbed into the rover to start it. I wanted to throw it at him, but I knew better than to give up the warmth out of spite. So I pulled it on, checking the pockets and scowling when I found them empty.
Too soon, Griz took me by the elbow and brought me back to the rover. I climbed in and found myself sandwiched between Griz and Trey again. I ignored them both.
“On your go, Alpha,” a female voice I realized must be Raven crackled on the radio, and the rovers moved out.
Like the previous day, exhaustion pulled at my eyelids. I fought it as long as I could, but it wasn’t long before I blinked, and the sun jumped to the middle of the sky. I squinted at the unending sea of trees, trying to get my bearings. My shivering had eased, and I was slouched over on—
Whatever momentary calm I’d woken with evaporated as I realized I was curled into Trey’s side, my head on his shoulder. I jerked upright, but there was nowhere to go to get some space. Trey turned his head to look at me, but I just folded myself in half again despite the pain in my shoulder from the movement. I stayed that way for a long time, dozing until the rover slowed. I sat upright to see we’d driven up to a metal gate blocking the dirt road. Jax hopped out with a ring of keys, unlocking the gate and shoving it open. The rovers drove through, and Jax locked it behind us before clambering back in. We drove through three more gates like that, and I started feeling queasy. Wherever we were going was well protected, but I couldn’t help feeling like they were locking us in.
We went steadily up, and the trees thinned a little. When we crested a ridge, I caught my first glimpse of the hold nestled in the trees and surrounded by high walls that looked like metal. A massive watchtower sat in the middle. My heart sank. I’d never seen a hold so well protected. It looked like a damn fortress.
“Home sweet home,” Griz said.
“You ready?” Trey asked.
I stole a glance at him, but he was looking at Mac. Mac’s gaze flashed to me in the rear mirror, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. My stomach sank at the tension filling the air. Whatever waited for us at the hold, it wasn’t going to be good. I knew I should give Trey his jacket back, but I found myself clutching it tighter to my body like it might protect me.
“Let’s do this,” Mac replied, his voice tight.
Mac roared up to a metal gate that creaked open. I stole one last desperate glance at the woods before they disappeared behind the huge wall towering over us. The second rover followed close behind, and I heard the metal gate slam shut.
Buildings made of logs, wood, and metal filled the hold. People milled through what looked like a small marketplace. When the rovers drove up, most people stopped to look. A few people approached, an older tall woman leading the way. She had a leather belt over one shoulder that had two holstered pistols in the front and what looked like a giant knife holstered at her hip. Faded tattoos covered her wrinkled and weathered skin, and her grey dreads were pulled back by a scarf. Her eyes studied me, sharp as a hawk. No emotion shone in those eyes, just calculating judgment, and my stomach twisted at how much that look reminded me of Juck. Three men with impressive-looking guns stalked behind her. Most holds I’d encountered had some sort of council of leadership, but this show of force made this hold look more like the desert garrisons run by the violent warlords Juck often worked with.
The rovers came to a halt. Mac stepped out and approached the woman, tipping his head. Trey and Griz climbed down, Griz pulling me out with him. He hauled me a few steps away from the rover and then stopped, his grip tightening on my arm like a warning. Mac spoke to the woman in low tones, and she replied. I couldn’t hear what they said, but the energy seemed to shift toward something ugly. I stared at my feet, waiting, and tried to prepare myself as best I could.
“Bring her,” the woman finally called in a clear, cold voice that made me want to shiver.
Griz jerked me into motion. We filed up to the watchtower, passing through a fortified door. Guards watched us pass, holding automatic weapons that would’ve made Juck—
No. I gritted my teeth. I didn’t have to waste my thoughts on him. Not anymore.
We went down a long circular flight of stone stairs that led to a dingy hallway. The woman and her guards entered a dim room with straw on the floor, but Griz and Trey stopped in the hallway. Mac took my arm from Griz, and the three of them exchanged a look heavy with significance. My heart stumbled into overdrive, but then Mac yanked me forward, leaving Trey and Griz in the hallway as the door swung shut.
The small room smelled of blood and vomit and fear, and my hands started trembling. A single chair stood in the center of the room covered with straps and buckles capable of holding someone down no matter how much they screamed and strained to get free.
“So, Mac,” the woman said, smiling in a way that made my skin crawl, “you promised me your informant was trustworthy. You swore this trip would be worth the cost.”
She paused, but Mac didn’t say a word. I stole a glance at his face. He stared at the woman, standing rigidly like a soldier. An expressionless mask hid whatever emotions he felt, but as he gripped my arm, I could feel both our hearts racing.
“A quiet covert operation to retrieve Juck’s secret weapon.” Her sharp gaze swung to me, and I fought the urge to shrink back. “And what have you brought me? A fortune of gasoline gone, half our supply of ammunition used up in a rooftop firefight, one of my men dead, and a scrawny girl with ‘magic healing powers?’” Her voice dripped with scorn.
“Bones could be a powerful asset,” Mac said. “There’s a reason Juck called her his ‘secret weapon.’”
“How about a demonstration?” The woman clapped her hands together, her smile growing wide again.
My stomach lurched.
“You can give us a demonstration, right, Bones?” The calmness of Mac’s tone clashed with the hardness in his eyes.
I knew it wasn’t a question.
C’mon, Wolf growled in my head. You’re not helpless, dammit!
“Yes,” I got out in a hoarse whisper, fumbling to unwrap my bandaged hands.
The woman’s smile showed all teeth now. She beckoned us forward, and Mac pulled me along with him. I dropped the bandages into the hay and prayed the queasy feeling in my gut wasn’t showing on my face. The woman drew a wicked-looking knife from the holster on her belt and Mac released my arm. Two of her men stepped forward to grab Mac by the arms, holding him still, and my lungs turned to stone. I had a flash of memory back to the baking hot desert, the glint of Juck’s pistol, and the smell of Grip’s blood. The woman continued smiling ear to ear as she raised her arm and slashed Mac’s stomach clean open.
Mac doubled over as much as he could with the men holding his arms. Blood stained his shirt red and ran down his pant legs. I blinked and for a moment it wasn’t Mac standing there bleeding out in front of me. I moved forward in a panic, grabbing him as the men released his arms. I stumbled under his weight, but I managed to get him down on his back. His hands pressed against the wound, but the straw on the floor beneath him turned scarlet.
I ripped his shirt up and pulled his hands away from the wound, replacing them with my own. The hot, slippery mess of organs pulsed against my hands, threatening to spill out onto the dirty floor. Mac panted hard through his teeth, fear and death creeping into his wide eyes. My powers felt fainter than I hoped, but the comforting warmth swept down my arms and into Mac.
“It’s ok. You’re ok,” I whispered to him.
His eyes locked on mine as the blood flow eased, and my powers wove his body back together. When only a fresh, pink scar remained, I let go. I wrapped my shaking arms around myself, noting Trey’s jacket was now covered in Mac’s blood.
The woman moved forward from where she’d been hovering near my elbow and ran her hand over the scar on Mac’s stomach. Mac lay still on the floor, panting.
“Incredible,” the woman murmured. “Does it hurt?”
Mac swallowed, his nostrils flaring. “Not anymore.”
The woman turned to me, taking my face in her hands. A sugary scent washed over me as she leaned closer. It clashed with the sharp tang of blood. She tilted my head down, inspecting the scabbed gash on my head.
“You can’t heal yourself?” she asked, suddenly soothing and calm like a mother talking to her child.
“No.”
Mac pushed himself up to sit, and with the way the woman tilted my head, I could see his hands trembling. His body had healed, but my powers couldn’t replace the blood he’d lost.
“Don’t stand up too fast,” I told him.
He gave me a nod but didn’t say anything as he stood, swaying just a little bit, but he made it to the wall and leaned on it for support.
The woman still studied me, her eyes bright and calculating. “Could you do it again?” She stroked my hair as though I were a pet.
My panic spiked and I forced myself not to look at Mac. “I need…I need rest,” I stammered. “I can only do it so much.”
“How much?” she pushed.
“I…I don’t know—”
The woman turned to one of her men, cutting me off.
“Sax, bring me Hojo.”
The man gave a sharp nod and disappeared through the door. The woman let go of me and stood, pulling out a cloth and wiping Mac’s blood from her knife. I climbed to my feet, brushing bloody straw from my pants. My mind balked at every scenario running through it, and I couldn’t help glancing toward Mac. He still leaned on the wall, but he was standing. I had a strange flash of relief that at least she wasn’t going to hurt Mac again and frowned, disgusted with myself.
Mac met my eyes, staring at me hard as though trying to communicate something, but before I could even begin to try and figure it out the sound of a metal door clanging open sounded in the distance. Someone started yelling in a hoarse, furious voice.
Sax returned, dragging a dirty, gaunt man with wild, ratted hair. He threw him into the chair and started buckling him in. The man thrashed and kicked, but Sax overpowered him. Bile rose in my throat, but I forced myself to swallow it down.
“Madame,” Hojo barked, “you fuckin’ bitch.”
Madame smiled and stalked toward him. She angled the knife and set it against the man’s arm bound to the chair. “We’re gonna have some fun, you and I,” she said, then she leaned in and whispered, “You shoulda killed me instead of him.”
“I didn’t—” Hojo started, but the words cut off in a scream.
I couldn’t help the strangled noise that escaped through my teeth as she sliced into his arm. Hojo’s scream grew louder as she moved the knife up toward his shoulder, cutting so deep I could see the white of his bone. Blood spilled down his arm and into the straw.
“It wasn’t me!” he howled. “It wasn’t me!”
Madame ignored him, turning those cold eyes back on me. “Go ahead, Bones.”
Hojo sobbed and spat out every curse word in the book as I laid shaking hands on his bloody arm. The warmth remained, but using it ached like a sore muscle. The bleeding eased and the skin began to knit itself back together, slower than before, but still steady. Hojo’s sobs quieted as I healed him, and I could feel him studying me. Madame hovered close again, watching. Finally, the wound closed. Madame bent over Hojo’s arm, and I couldn’t contain my gasp of horror as she sliced his arm open again. Hojo’s scream made my ears ring.
“Again.” Madame smiled.
I did it again. I had to choke back a sob when next she crushed Hojo’s fingers in an iron clamp, but I healed those too. One of her men took an iron bar and smashed Hojo’s leg until the bone broke. I healed that too, tears spilling from my eyes as Hojo screamed and cursed and spit. They tortured him for hours, and I healed him every time, the pain from doing so turning sharper. Madame spoke to him a few times, a mixture of taunting and questioning. I wanted to tell her if he knew anything, he would’ve spilled it all by now, but I kept my lips pressed tight together.
My power flowing through me started to feel like claws shredding me from the inside. Sweat stung my eyes, and when I swiped a sleeve across my running nose, it came back bloody. Mac watched me, his dark eyes glittering. I got the impression Madame was testing him as well as me, and I gritted my teeth, trying to make myself numb.
Madame slashed her knife through Hojo’s neck, and I managed to heal the deadly wound before I stumbled and fell to my knees, vomiting bile into the bloody straw. My body shook as I heaved. Above me, Hojo sobbed.
“Get her up,” I heard Madame say.
Somebody hauled me to my feet. The room spun. Madame said something but I couldn’t focus on the words. A sharp stinging slap to my face made me gasp.
“Again,” Madame ordered.
She plunged the knife into Hojo’s chest. Hojo let out a pained wheeze. Madame pulled the knife back out and smiled at me.
“Or he dies.”
I lurched forward and fumbled at the wound. Hojo’s eyes closed, his face twisted in pain. I tried to find any remnant of my power inside me, but nothing remained but wisps of smoke. The room tilted, darkness creeping into the edges of my vision. I tried to focus on Hojo, tried to blink past the darkness, but then, nothing.
3
Murmured words were exchanged over my head. I’d never felt so drained. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t seem to remember how.
Red silk fluttered across my vision. A warm wet cloth wiped my face. I heard the sound of water pouring and tried to turn my head to look. Pain spiked behind my eyes, and I groaned.
“Hush now,” a soft voice said, “you’re—”
But everything faded away again.
“I didn’t want to,” I whispered through chapped lips and chattering teeth. I had no idea what I was saying. Was this a dream?
“I know,” a male voice said gently.
Fear sliced through me, and I managed to focus on a face framed in wavy brown hair. He smiled a little, but sorrow lingered in his gentle eyes.
“It’s ok, you’re safe,” he murmured.
I furrowed my brow, staring at him. My brain waded through thick mud as I struggled to remember his name. Trey. His name was Trey. Gods, I felt like death. Was I dying? A fresh wave of chills rattled through me, and my breath caught in panic.
“What’s wrong with me?” I managed to say through my chattering teeth.
“You have a high fever,” Trey said and his mouth twisted in a worried frown.
His face swam in my vision for a second. “I don’t get sick.”
“Ever?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Never.” I grimaced. “It feels awful.”
A grin crossed his face. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”
I licked my dry lips. Gods, I was so thirsty. As if he’d heard my thoughts, he grabbed a small wooden bowl of water. He slid one hand under my head and lifted it just enough so I could drink from the bowl that he brought to my lips.
“Maybe this has somethin’ to do with your powers then,” Trey muttered thoughtfully. “Mac said you healed until you passed out.”
Hojo’s screams filled my head along with Madame’s cruel smile and my breath caught. My eyes welled up and overflowed. Trey glanced back at me as he set the bowl down and alarm flashed across his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I tortured him,” I sobbed.
“No, Bones.” Trey’s hand wrapped around one of mine. His eyes met mine. “You healed him. Madame tortured him.”
“I can’t…I can’t do it again. Please…please don’t make me do it again.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, soft and pained. “This is my fault.”
“Why can’t I just do good?” I choked out through the sobs. “I don’t want to hurt people. I always hurt people. I’m never gonna do enough to make…make me good.”
“Bones, you are good—”
“I’m not!” I interrupted. “I can’t…I can’t do enough. It’s too much—”
Pain stabbed behind my eyes, and I squeezed them shut. My head swam as though I was spinning in circles.
A clattering noise. Voices.
“Is he dead?” I tried to ask, but I couldn’t tell if I spoke or not. I needed to know, but I couldn’t remember who—
Someone’s hand rested on my forehead, and they gave a muttered curse. “She’s still burning up.”
Something ice-cold pressed against my face and I tried to jerk away, but it followed me.
“It’s cold,” I mumbled, my teeth chattering as I tried to raise my hand to push it away.
“I know,” a voice said as a hand captured my wrist and pulled it back down, “but we gotta bring your fever down.”
“I don’t get sick,” I tried to say, but the room spun faster and faster.
“It’s alright, Bones,” the voice said, “just try to sleep.”
“Clarity, I’m telling you, I could! I could get you out.”
“Trey, stop,” a soft, feminine voice spoke. “I can take care of myself.”
“Clarity, you nearly died.” Trey’s voice sharpened. “I can’t—”
“She’s waking up.”
I cracked my eyes open. Red silks draped across the window, swaying in the breeze. Trey’s face appeared, his eyes wide and concerned.
“Bones?”
I parted my lips and they cracked.
“Water?” I croaked.
Another face appeared, and I stared at a beautiful girl about my age dressed in a skimpy red silk slip. She wore her curly black hair done up on top of her head in a pretty, delicate style. She held a bowl of water to my lips, and I gulped it. I’d never been so weak before. I tried to hold the bowl of water steady, but my hands shook so much water started sloshing over the sides. The girl, Clarity I guessed, covered my hands with hers, helping me hold it still.
