Backs Against the Wall (Survival Series) (6 page)

“Who’s the whore?”

“What?” he laughs.

“Freedom. You guys didn’t m
ake her up, did you? She’s real.”

He sighs, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, she’s real.”

“Who is she?”

“She’s a girl my brother was… friendly with.”

“She was his girl?”

Ryan shakes his head. “
I don’t think so. Not really. But he never paid her. I told you, he was a legend in the Underground. This girl really liked him. Her and a lot of other girls.”

“Ugh,” I groan, finally standing.

“Hey, it’s one of the perks. You get good at it, the women start flocking to you.”

I point my finger at his mangled face. “Never again!”

He laughs all the way to the bathroom.

I sit on the closed toilet and watch him get cleaned up. I offer to help but he waves me away, claiming he’s done it plenty on his own. I believe him.

“How is becoming a Risen not the dangerous part of fighting?”

Ryan hesitates, the alcohol soaked rag hovering over a particularly nasty cut on his face.

“The dangerous part is being good at it,” he says quietly. He presses the rag to his skin, flinching slightly. “I got in the ring a few times, but it was never anything official.”

“
By ‘official’ do you mean being owned by the gang?” I ask, thinking of Nats and Breanne.

“Yeah. They wanted me to fight for them too, but Kev wouldn’t let me. I still got noticed, though. I got offers from other gangs to join up with them.”

“To fight for them.”

“Yeah.”

“You know what I just realized?”

Ryan smirks as he dabs at another spot of blood on his face. “That being a fighter is close to being a
prostitute?”

I frown at him
, worrying he’s a mind reader. “No. I just realized I don’t know the name of your gang.”

“Do you want to?”

“Is it bad if I do?”

“No,” he
chuckles. “It’s the Hyperions. It’s Greek for one of the Titans. He was the father of the sun, the moon and the dawn.”

I snort.
“So you’re a humble bunch?”

Ryan
smirks sideways at me. “It’s not as impressive as it sounds. He got it on with his sister to have them.”

“Sick!
”

“Yeah.
But we didn’t exactly pick the name. The building we’re in used to be a theater. It was called the Hyperion.”

“Original.”

“Judgmental,” he says, pointing at me.

“It’s rude to point.”

“Pot and the kettle and all that,” he mutters, dabbing ointment on his fingertips and applying it to his face.

I shrug. “I can’t help it. I was raised by wolves.”

“Wolves have better manners.”

“You hate wolves!” I protest.

“I hate
a
wolf,” he corrects, “and he probably still has better manners than you.”

I kick him in the shin. Not hard, but it’s enough to jostle him and his responding laugh is short lived as it turns into a grunt of pain. I’ve made him slip, digging his finger into a cut on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I say hastily, springing up to stand beside him. “Let me see.”

He lets me stand in front of him, dropping his hands down to his sides as I r
ise up on my toes to look.

“Do you want me to finish it?” I ask, my
breath rebounding off his face back at me. I hadn’t realized I was standing so close. I meet his eyes and take a deep, calming breath. He’s staring at me, watching me. He’s patient, but he’s tense. “Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to kiss me?” I whisper.

He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Then why don’t you?”

“Every time I go to touch you,” he says softly, “you pull away. I don’t want to crowd you. I don’t want you to run.”

I reach down with my right hand, taking hold of his. I move it until it sits heavy and warm on my hip. He follows my lead, pressing his other hand on the opposite side of my waist.

“There, see? You’re touching me and I’m
still here.”

“This time,” he points out.

“I know. I’m a pain.”

“
So I’ve heard.”

He kisses me softly, his hands pulling me closer to him. He’
s careful of my arm this time. He pulls my hips flush with his but leans over me with his upper body. He’s holding me and hovering over me and I feel weightless and strange. And warm. His kiss, his breath, courses through me the way the vodka did, burning and churning into my stomach. His fingers find the edge of my thin t-shirt. They slip under, scorching across my skin. I start to feel anxious and so much more. So many things that I don’t understand.

I pull away.

Ryan takes his hands away, smiling that crooked smile of his and just like that, the heat fades. I can breathe again.

“We should go to bed,” I breathe, trying to bring myself down. To remind myself I’m alright.

Ryan stares are me, surprised.

I swat at him. Hard. I’m not good at being playful.

“Not like that and you know it.”

“I know,” he admits, grinning. “I know what you mean. We should get to sleep.”

When we step out of the bathroom, Ryan immediately heads for the door. He lays down slowly beside it, still being careful with his right leg.

“Goodnight,” he calls softly, settling in.

I hesitate, unsure. I don’t know what I want. Or what he wants. Or what I can handle.

“Ryan, you can—“

“No,” he says gently, turning his head to look at me. “I’m good here.”

I sigh, feeling relieved. “Do you want a blanket?”

“Do you have one to spare?”

“No, but I’ll give it to you anyway.”

He chuckles. “That’s alright, Joss. I’ve slept without one before. It won’t kill me.”

I pad across the room, carrying the blanket with me. Ryan looks up at me, watching me as I drape it over him.

I grin faintly. “And it won’t kill me to share.”

“
You sure about that?”

I shrug. “
Only one way to find out.”

I do not die. I don’t exactly sleep, either. Ryan snores. I didn’t know this until now because the last time we had a slumber party I kicked him out before anyone fell asleep. He had to go. He was being a dick, asking questions and wanting answers. Who does that?

We expected to see Trent in the morning, but as it drags on into the afternoon, we get worried. Well, I get worried. Ryan says it’s no big deal.
I suck at this, the worrying and not worrying. Knowing when it’s needed, when it’s expected and when it’s useless but you do it anyway. Exhausting. When it was just me, I didn’t have to deal with this crap. I have Ryan to thank for that and I remind myself to kick him in the shins again the next chance I get.

What we do for now is go hunting. I’m out of meat
so I know Crenshaw must be too because I’m his sole supplier.

“What do you want to go for?” Ryan asks as we make our way toward the park.

“Shouldn’t we hunt somewhere else? Somewhere farther away from your home?”

He shakes his head, rolling his neck and shoulders. His back must be killing him from sleeping on the hard floor all night.

“Nah, there have been roundups around the other hunting grounds.”

My stomach flips at the thought of the Colonists. “Are they still swarming the watering holes too?”

“Not as much.”

“Have you seen them?”

He scans the roads, his face blank. “Yeah, I’ve seen them.”

I try to smile at him,
to reassure him, I think? But I don’t really get why I’m doing it, so I stop.

“You okay?”

“I got out,” I say, trying to sound solid. Like with the smile, I fail. “I’m great.”

What I am is feeling guilty. It’s been too long since I made it out of the Colony. I’m sure at this point
Vin and Nats think I either betrayed them or The Hive killed me on sight. Is it too jacked up to hope they think I’m dead?

“We’ll go back for them, Joss.”

I nod my head but I don’t say a word because that’s all it is. Words. None of it gets us anywhere. None of it brings us closer to where we need to be in order to free them. It’s all I can think about every day, even when I’m trying hard not to. When I’m laughing with Ryan and telling myself it’ll be okay, I can feel it gnawing at me that it’s not. That I’m failing. But I won’t sacrifice him for it either. I won’t ask him to fight for me.

“There has to be another way,” I mutter to myself.

“And we’ll find it. I promise.”

We’ve entered the woods and I stop, staring into the darkness beyond the trees. Part of me knew
already but I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to break the rules any more than I already have, but I have to because he’s my last hope. My last chance at being better than I or Vin ever really were made to be.

“Gandalf.”

Ryan frowns at me, following my stare. “What?”

“Crenshaw,” I say, looking up at him. “We have to ask Crenshaw.”

“Ask him what? To help us?” he asks dubiously. “Unless he’s a real wizard and knows how to summon us a dragon, I don’t think he can do much for us.”

“But he knows things. He knows people. Maybe he knows someone who can help.”

“Someone other than The Hive,” Ryan agrees, looking into the woods again. “It’s worth a shot.”

“Let’s get a kill first, make sure we have meat to bring him. I worry about his diet.”

“People didn’t eat meat before the sickness came and they were just fine,” Ryan reminds me, falling in step beside me as we venture deeper into the woods.

“I know. I just… I worry about him. I don’t want him to get frail, I guess.”

Ryan nods in understanding. “He’s alone, like you. You want to make sure he’s strong enough to fend for himself.”

“
Yeah, maybe,” I mutter.

I’m not sure if he’s right but I’m not sure if he’s wrong either. The basic fact is that I worry about Crenshaw. I always have. Even before Ryan, people were still with me. I hadn’t
really noticed before because Crenshaw made it so simple. So black and white, easy to understand. I’ve always known what he wants from me and what I want from him. With Ryan, it’s so much gray. So much I don’t get and can’t categorize.

When we hunt for rabbit and squirrel, what we get are Risen. Lots of them. There are so many more in the woods than I remember seeing and it sends my stomach straight through to the ground. Ryan is less effected, telling me this is how it’s been since the Colony collapse. That it got worse after I left as more filtered down here into the heart of the city. As we close in on three of them, I worry about Ryan’s cuts, his aching leg, his stiff shoulders and my busted arm.

“Do you have your ASP?” he asks, flanking the Risen on the left and gesturing for me to do the same on the right.

“Yeah, of course. Thanks for that, by the way.”

He grins. “No problem. I’ll handle two, you take the third.”

“Got it.”

My Risen is a beauty. All gray tissue sagging slowly off the face like pizza dough in a hot room. The left eye socket is dropping down over the bone, exposing black muscle tissue that’s long past useful and the sagging skin over the top of the eye is probably the only thing holding the bulging eyeball in the socket. I have the morbid desire to lift that flesh and see if I’m right. To see if the eye slips out and dangles down, swinging like a pendulum.

When I hear a grunt from Ryan followed by the moist squish of his spike going into decomposed skin, I snap out of it. I get to work. I swing my right arm across my body, then snap it back out, basically backhanding the Risen in the face with the steel tip of my ASP. It makes a loud crunch, sending a spray of skin and black blood arching into the bushes
. The head is snapped back hard and before it can try to right itself, I reverse my momentum and bring the ASP back the way it came. This time I make contact with the side of the skull, right in the sweet spot of the temple. The meatbag drops to the dirt - done.

I’ve hardly exerted myself, but when I look at Ryan, I’m breathing
quickly and grinning.

“How messed up is it that I missed that?” I ask him, not even caring what his answer is.

My injured arm aches but there’s so much strength coursing through my veins, it doesn’t matter to me. This is so much better than sewing or baking. I’d give up all the pumpkin pie in the world for this feeling. To know I’m strong. Effective. Meaningful. I was nothing in there. Inside the Colony, I was just a body doing a duty. Washing dishes or making a bed. That’s not me.

I spin my ASP in my hand, loving the tensile power inside of it, power given to it by my hand. Without me, it’s just a piece of steel
. Without it, I’m just a broken girl running for her life. Together, we’re deadly.

Ryan smiles. “I don
’t think it’s messed up at all.”

I nod to his knuckles. “What is that? Did you make it?”

He flexes his fingers, looking at the spike along his knuckles. “Kevin did. He made it for in the arena.”

“In the Underground?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s cool,” I tell him admiringly.

He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “It’s better than nothing. Let’s get that meat you wanted and go see the wizard.”

When we finally manage to bag a couple of rabbits, we start to head back toward Crenshaw’s.

“I should do it alone.”

He frowns down at me.
“Why?”

“He likes me.”

“He likes me too,” Ryan insists, sounding offended.

“He likes me more.”

“What are you? Two years old? It’s not a competition. I’m sure daddy loves all his kids the same.”

“But I’m special.”

“Why? Cause you’re a girl? Get over yourself, Joss. I’m going with you.”

I want to hit him for trivializing how hard it’s been to do this on my own being a girl surrounded by Lost Boys, Colonists and Risen. It’s been a nightmare, and honestly, b
eing around people again has its pros and cons too. I can’t exactly say it’s hands down a better deal than what I had before. It’s different, sure, but is it better? I feel annoyed more often, that’s about all I know. Like right here, right now.

Annoyed.

“Whatever, let’s go.”

I turn my bac
k on him instead of hitting him or yelling at him. I feel like that’s a sure sign that my social skills are improving.

We reach the edge
of Crenshaw’s property and pause, scanning the trees.

“You want to knock or should I?” Ryan asks.

“Just do it.”

He chuckles. “You are seriously a sore loser.”

“I haven’t lost anything!”

“Athena?” Crenshaw calls.

“Nothing but your temper,” Ryan whispers in my ear, his breath tickling my hair across my neck.

I shiver, shoving him away as I try not to smile.

“I saw that,” he mumbles.

“Shut up.”

“Ah, Athena,” Crenshaw says happily, emerging from the shadows like mist the way he loves to do. “I thought that was you.” He looks Ryan up and down briefly. “And you’ve brought young Helios with you.”

I turn to ask Ryan who the hell Helios is, but my words die in my throat. He’s
down in the grass on one knee, his head bowed.

“Master
Crenshaw,” he intones deeply.

Crenshaw grins
affectionately, waving his hand to him. “Rise, rise, my boy. As you’ve brought Athena with you, I assume this is to be a social call. No need for such ceremony.”

Ryan stands beside me. I stare at me in amazement.

“What was that?”

“
Shh,” he shushes me. “Master Crenshaw, we seek your council.”

“Ah, so then it is not entirely a social call.”

“No, sir.”

“Well, come, my children.
Come. You’ll sit at my hearth and tell me your troubles.”

We follow silently and carefully behind Crenshaw as he leads us through his maze of traps. I’m bursting with questions about what the bowing and ‘Master’ bit was about, but I lock it up for now. Talking to Crenshaw, especially about real issues, is a delicate thing. Some days you get sharp moments of a man well aware he’s living in an apocalypse. Other days, you get the wizard who wants to show you his latest trick of turning water into wine. It’s not wine. It’s not even grape juice. It’s water with mashed up grapes in it, seeds, skins and all.
But you drink it because you’ll hurt his feelings otherwise and if there’s one thing you never do, it’s piss off a wizard.

He
seats us at his small table inside his hut, Ryan actually on his bed with his long legs tucked up nearly into his chest. We both pass on whatever brew he has going on the stove that wreaks of onions because that’s probably what it is, boiling onions, and we offer him a share of our kill in exchange for his advice.

“What knowledge do you seek?”
he asks us seriously, his large round eyes scanning both our faces.

Ryan glances at me quickly, looking anxious. This is where it could go well or very wrong. You never know.

I clear my throat. “Helios and I,” I begin, feeling like an idiot, “are looking to free the other souls I was imprisoned with.”

Crenshaw’s face falls in shadow. It’s as though the light of the entire world has been sucked from it and the only
thing left besides the darkness is the burning fire in his eyes.

“Those zealots,” he says quietly, his voice trembling slightly, “have been a menace since the start. I have seen countless souls ensnared in their nets. Countless bodies tossed carelessly within their chariots
to be their slaves. To work their fields, tend their livestock. Fatten their King. But the day I knew they’d taken you,” he reaches out with his warm, worn hand and rests it gently on top of mine. I tense, doing everything I can to keep my hand there. To sit still and not offend him. I can feel Ryan’s eyes heavy on me, on my hand, and the weight of his stare makes it so much worse. “It broke my heart, Athena.”

I freeze, staring at him in surprise. I’m surprised by his sad voice, by his angry eyes, but most importantl
y I’m surprised that it’s all for me.

“It did?” I whisper.

“Of course. You are my bellatrix.”

“Like
in Harry Potter?” Ryan mumbles.

I kick him under the table.

“What does that mean, Cren?”

He laughs, squeezing my hand before mercifully releasing it. “Your Latin is atrocious! It
is a woman warrior. You are a Valkyrie, Athena. Defeating the devils that have escaped Hell’s gates.”

“I’m not exactly doing it alone,” I chuckle nervously
, feeling both of their eyes on me.

“No, you’re right. You have Helios to help you. I must say that this,” Crenshaw gestures between Ryan and I, “is right. It is as it should be. You’ve fought valiantly, my dear, but there’s no shame in accepting help. And Helios, he can help you.”