Beyond These Walls (15 page)

No. Not Jake, I begged as I ran to the ladder. “Come on,” I yelled to Nobody. “We need to lay down some cover fire.”

“No, Indeara.” He grabbed my arm, plucking me from the ladder like an overripe fruit. “Jake can handle himself. We need to get you out of here. Now!”

“But—”

I didn’t get the chance to finish my argument. Instead, at that moment, Jake fell through the sewer grate, a bullet hole in his blood-soaked upper chest.

Chapter 31

“Jake.” I tapped the side of his face and his eyes fluttered open, hazy and distant, which wasn’t surprising since he was shot full of morphine. After the debacle at the Lair, Nobody had half-dragged, half-carried Jake to the headquarters of the Resistance. Jake had lost a lot of blood, and all three of us knew he wasn’t likely to survive. Or at least Nobody and I had. Jake adamantly refused to accept his impending demise, muttering things like: I’m not going to die, damn it, through bloody lips.

Once we arrived at headquarters, a team of medics, again all about half my age, rushed Jake into a makeshift medical facility filled with plague-riddled mutants. I shifted from foot to foot waiting for news of Jake’s death. Nobody stood at my side, his face a mask of something I couldn’t decipher.

About an hour later, Nobody glanced at his watch and with an apologetic look said, “Call me when he dies.”

I nodded, blinking away the wetness burning my eyelids. Throughout the night I sat on a hard plastic bench, waiting. Memories from a lifetime ago flickered through my mind, fading images of Emily’s diseased body, and the rattle of her lungs as she fought for every breath, Calvin and I waiting by her bedside.

Always waiting.

My own wound had healed hours ago leaving me only with the emotional ones. Until tonight I hadn’t realized how much I cared for the stupid, blond hunter. And damned if I knew why. He was everything I hated about mutants and he’d lied to me at every turn.

He gave his life to save yours, a voice inside my head whispered. But why? What was this connection between us?

“Indeara,” said a boy dressed in pineapple-colored scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck. “Jake’s waking up.”

“He’s going to be all right?” I raised my eyes to meet his and relief flooded through me.

“He’s going to make it. The bullet went through the muscles of his upper chest.” He shook his boyish head. “Amazingly it missed his lung. It will take a couple of days, but he’ll be back to fighting the mutant fight soon enough.”

That was two days ago.

Since then I’d stood next to Jake’s hospital bed, watching his chest rise and fall while I plotted my next step. Somehow the HOA had known about my meeting with Nobody and had tried to stop it. Why? What was Nobody refusing to tell me?

“Indeara.” Jake’s eyes fluttered open.

“How are you feeling?” I ran my hand over his forehead, checking for fever. His skin felt cool to the touch, almost too cool, as if chilled by his near-death experience.

“I’ll live.” He blinked, his icy blue eyes slowly focusing on my face. “But the thing is—I’m not so sure I want to. How are you? No permanent damage?”

“Fit as a fiddle.” I pressed my hands against my healed wound. “But next time, try to remember I’m not a fucking Frisbee.”

Jake laughed, and then yelped, grabbing his chest. “It’s a good thing I love you; otherwise, I’d think you’re just a pain in the ass.”

His words stabbed into me like a knife. Love? Was that what this was? I didn’t think so and I’d be dammed if I’d make another mistake like the one I had made with Quinn. My heart wouldn’t survive it. My silence must have broken through his drug-induced haze. Jake grabbed my hand, my heated skin pressed to his chilled flesh. “We need to talk.”

“No.” I shook my head, pulling my hand from his to pace the small room. It smelled of disinfectant and death, but I ignored the stench, instead focusing on the fear burrowing like roach-sugar in my stomach.

“Indeara…,” Jake whispered.

As childish as it was I refused to let him speak the three little words that would damn us. Jogging across the room I planted my lips against his, wiggling my tongue against his chilled mouth, in hopes of distracting him.

It worked better than expected.

Wrapping his hand around the back of my neck, he pulled me against his rapidly heating flesh. Our bodies melded into one, drawing passion from blood, betrayal, and faded memories. I pressed harder against him, and he winced. Quickly I pulled away. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He tugged at my tank top, pulling me toward him. “Now finish what you started.”

“But I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, motioning to the bandages around his chest.

“You won’t.”

“Liar.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” Jake tugged on a curl that had slipped from my skullcap. I decided, for once, to obey. Gone were words of love replaced instead with lust and longing. His fingers caressed my breasts through the thin fabric of my tank top. I moaned in response. Our kiss deepened, wet with desire and need. He tasted like chilled vodka and promise.

Careful not to hurt him, I straddled his legs, my thighs brushing his as the world sped up around us. My fingers explored the contours of his chest, trailing lower to the hard muscle of his abdomen and the patch of coarse hair leading underneath his boxer shorts. He shook his head and grabbed my wayward hand as it slipped inside the cotton fabric. A wicked smile grew on my face, but I allowed him to distract me from my mission with the palm of his hand against my wet panties.

The tip of his finger slid inside me, seeking the swollen nub hidden within my folds. I arched my back when he hit the right spot, and cried out, my fingers and toes curling. Jake grinned and continued to play me like a well-tuned instrument, hitting the exact chords, every time.

Over and over again.

Then he began a game, a new and exciting one that two could play, until I nearly went out of my mind. Three orgasms later, rung out and breathing so heavy I considered calling for a doctor, I flopped across Jake’s prone body and moaned.

Jake laughed and leaned over to kiss me. “I love you,” he said. “Whatever happens don’t forget that.”

I ignored his words, but deep inside me, the coldness I’d felt since Quinn’s bullets had pierced my heart warmed.

I wasn’t sure I liked it.

******

The next morning, I gathered most of my rumbled clothing (sans bra) and snuck from the HELLO MUTANT KITTY warehouse, leaving Jake fast asleep.

A mutant chickenhawk on the corner whistled so I flipped him the bird, and continued my walk of shame to the No-Mutant-Tell Motel a few blocks up. I couldn’t go home. Not yet. And I needed time to regroup, to think, to forget about the rusty scent of Jake’s blood and the way his arms felt around me.

My legs shook a bit, whether from my nocturnal activities or fatigue, I didn’t know. Drained, both emotionally and physically, I wanted to curl on my couch and eat a tube of Ben & Larry’s Mutant Chocolate Chip ice cream. The kind with the real mutant chucks, guaranteed to erase one-night stand associated shame. Or so the carton should’ve read.

So much had happened in the last weeks, from meeting my grandfather to my sleeping with a hunter, not to mention the total destruction of the Lair. I smiled, picturing Ivan’s face when he saw the damage. The HOA had better watch out.

My mind turned to last night, and the time I’d spent in Jake’s arms. Nobody was right. I had needed to get laid or so I told myself all the way to the motel. It was sex. Nothing more. Not love or a promise of a future.

Because, for me, there would be no future. At least not one found in a hunter’s arms. I’d fallen in love once and been burned. I’d never wanted to experience that sort of betrayal again. Or worse, like my father, watch the person I loved most in the world die, and not be able to do anything to stop it.

All because of Resden.

All because of Arthur.

It was time to pay dear old grandpa another visit.

Chapter 32

After taking a long hot shower and scrubbing every inch of my body until it shone red, I changed into a newly purchased pair of cargo pants and the only tank top on sale at Mutant-Mart. It had the words MUTANT STAR emblazoned across my boobs in pink glitter. I glanced in the motel room’s bathroom mirror and winced.

Like so much of my life it would have to do.

I checked the clip of my PM40 and slid it in my pocket before I slipped on my combat boots and left the motel. The air outside smelled faintly of burnt leaves and car exhaust. I headed up the street, my stomach rumbling with hunger. But I didn’t have time to eat.

I had more important humans to fry.

Dialing Nobody’s mobile number I listened to it ring once and go to voice mail. Damn. I left yet another message, my twenty-third in the last twenty-four hours. My frustration with my mutated friend had reached explosive levels. If Nobody didn’t call me back soon I was going to hunt him down. I hated all the secrecy. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to protect me. But from what? Were they afraid for me? Or of me?

Only one way to find out but first I needed weapons. Big ones. With lots of bullets. Maybe some grenades…

I hailed a taxi and gave the mutant driver an address in Fey-sucking country. “That’s gonna cost ya,” he said. I nodded, tossing him a twenty from Quinn’s wallet.

“Hope you brought repellant,” he said, shifting the taxi into gear.

Nope, I thought. Who needed repellant when I had something better? My fingers brushed Quinn’s Gold Card, and I smiled.

Fey-sucking repellant: $25 a bottle.

Using a stolen Resden company credit card to buy illegal weapons, then using said weapons to destroy aforementioned company: Priceless.

However my happiness was short lived. As soon as the cabbie pulled into traffic, my cell phone vibrated. I checked the caller ID and frowned.

“Where are you?” Jake yelled when I answered.

“What, you didn’t fit me for a new GPS locator?” I paused. “I’m disappointed.”

Actually he had. I had found it tucked into the lining of my skullcap this morning. Right now, the GPS should be rushing through the sewers with the rest of the mutant waste.

Jake’s silence damned him, but he quickly recovered. “This isn’t a joke, Indeara. The HOA is out for blood. Your blood.” His voice softened. “Come back here, baby.”

A part of me, the romantic girlie part, wanted nothing more but I gave that bitch the smack down. “No,” I said into the phone. “It’s time to end this. Too many mutants I… care about are in danger.” Like you, Jake, you’re in danger, I added silently.

“Is this because of him?” Tension filled his voice. I didn’t bother to ask who. I knew. I started to shake my head and then realized he couldn’t see me through the phone, and stopped. “Don’t be stupid. I don’t care about Quinn. I haven’t cared about him in a very long time.” Liar, liar cargo pants on fire, the little girl inside me teased.

“You still love him.”

It wasn’t a question.

Before I ripped into Jake for not minding his own damn business, the cab pulled in front of a single-story house in a relatively quiet Fey-sucking neighborhood. A group of Fey-boys dressed in basketball shorts and Fey High t-shirts played a pick up game in the yard next door.

“I’ve gotta go,” I said.

“Don’t do this, Indeara.” He paused, the buzz of static crawled through the phone. “I don’t have time to explain, but I need you here. The HOA—”

“Jake?” I shook the phone. “Can you hear me?”

Stupid Mutant T & T. Largest wireless network, my ass. I should’ve switched to Murizon when I’d had the chance. I redialed Jake’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. Damn. I shrugged, pocketed the phone, and climbed from the cab. I scanned the street. Nothing appeared too dangerous. A Fey-sucking mom with rollers in her hair pushed a baby-stroller while the tiny Fey infant sucked on a bottle of fresh blood.

Typical day in suburbia.

“Wait here.” I pointed at the cabbie. He nodded, his eyes darting back and forth. With a deep breath I headed up the long driveway. Cab tires squealed behind me as the cabbie took off down the street.

Bastard.

I knocked on the front door of 237 Sucker Lane, running my finger down the reddish paint covering the archway. At least I hoped it was paint.

A man answered my knock, fey wings buzzing, fangs gleaming. The Fey-sucker wore a pair of boxer shorts and nothing else. Not a pretty sight. “Indeara, is that you, sweetheart?” The Fey-sucker squinted at me, his eyes tiny, pinpricked, and bloodshot. Mutant-rock, I thought, keeping my distance. You never knew what a mutant-rock addict would do. And a Fey-sucker addict was ten times worse. He’d either suck your blood or pick your pocket. Sometimes both at the same time.

“Hey Tony.” I took another step back to avoid his flapping wings. “Been a while.”

Three years in fact. My mind flashed back to a grubby motel room, and Quinn standing over my bleeding body.

“What the fuck, Quinn?” Tony grabbed at the gun in Quinn’s hand. A gun pointed at my head. “Why’d you do that, man?”

Through my rapidly graying vision, I watched Quinn’s face pale. “No other way,” he said, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, Indeara…”

Tony’s voice brought me back to the present. “I figured you’d be around any day now.” Tony flapped his arms in beat with his wings. “With the Quinn thing and all.”

I rubbed at my chest, easing the ache from Quinn’s bullets and betrayal. “What Quinn thing?”

“Um…” Tony’s eyes darted back and forth. I wasn’t sure if it was from the mutant-rock or fear. “We can’t talk here.” He motioned for me to enter his house. “The HOA is everywhere.”

Right.

Taking a deep breath and holding it, I stepped inside the house. Even without breathing the stench inside filtered through my nostrils, stinging the lining of my throat. The house consisted of one room with no interior walls, furniture, or maid service. Empty six packs of bottled blood, swarming with fly-beetles, lay scattered around. A female Fey-sucker crawled on the dirty concrete floor, a glass pipe clutched in her blackened hands.