Crisped + Sere (Immemorial Year Book 2) (11 page)

The knife slipped momentarily as Lucas’s eyes rolled back in his head. Cavalo thought it would fall to the floor, but Lucas brought it back up. He bared his teeth again as Cavalo leaned in. Kissed him, knife between them. Lucas sucked on his tongue. Pulled away. Trailed his lips along Cavalo’s jaw. Licked the small cut on his neck from the knife. Pulled his head back. Nodded.

Cavalo pulled back and pushed in. Lucas sighed, his warm breath on Cavalo’s face. As Cavalo fucked him, the bees flew in a great storm in his head. And when Lucas pressed his forehead against Cavalo’s as he picked up speed, little sharp intakes of breath the only sound he made, Cavalo thought he could hear Lucas’s bees too. He wondered then if they were the same. The thought did not disgust him as much as it might have. He didn’t know what that said of Lucas. Or himself.

Lucas bucked his hips in time with Cavalo’s thrusts. Finally, need overrode instinct, and the knife fell to the floor as Lucas reached down and jacked himself off. He only lasted a few strokes before he shot between them, his come hitting his neck and chin. The front of his coat.

Cavalo’s coat.

Cavalo’s clothes.

The darkening marks on the Dead Rabbit’s face from Cavalo’s fingers.

All of it was from Cavalo.

But then the coat rode up. A flash of black as Cavalo fucked him harder.

There were marks on him that did not belong to Cavalo.

They belonged to someone else.

And the anger grew.

He felt the pressure beginning to rise. That knowing pleasure-pain in his groin. He pulled out of Lucas, who exhaled sharply. Cavalo grabbed his cock to stave off the pressure, but it was close. “Down,” he said, his voice a growl. “Lift up the coat. Now.”

Lucas fell to his knees. Lifted up the coat. Revealed the marks that did not belong to Cavalo. The endless miles of tattoos that another had placed on him. Cavalo reached down and pushed Lucas’s head back, forcing Lucas to rock back on his heels, exposing his chest. Only then did Cavalo let the pressure go. He jacked himself once. Twice. The third time, he came on Lucas’s chest. White against the black. He grunted as it began to drip down between Lucas’s nipples and onto his stomach. Lucas stared up at him, a dazed look on his face. As Cavalo watched him, Lucas reached up and touched the wetness on his chest. He closed his eyes as he pulled his fingers through it, spreading it along the tattoos. The lines and equations. The schematic for power, covered in the seed of a haunted man.

Cavalo pulled himself up to his full height, trying to even out his breath. “That what you wanted?” he asked, unable to keep the anger at bay.

Lucas dropped the coat back over his chest and stomach. He opened his eyes and reached for the knife. He stood slowly until they were eye to eye. He reached over and put the handle of the knife in Cavalo’s hand. Brought it up to his throat.

You can do it now
, he said.
You want to. I can see that.

“Yes.”

Lucas dropped his hands. Bared his throat.
Do it, then
.

“You would die so easily?”

No
, Lucas said before saying the most damning thing of all.
But I trust you to know what choice to make
.

Cavalo felt a tremor roll through him as the bees rose. “What?” he croaked out.

Choice. Make your choice. Either trust me or kill me. It’s the only way.

Cavalo pressed his forehead to Lucas. Those dark eyes never left his. “People like… us. Who we are. We never live long. We’re not meant to.”

I know.

“You’ve done that before.”

Heat flared in Lucas’s eyes.
Yes.

He wanted to know with whom. But he didn’t. “You’re a monster.”

Yes
.

Cavalo took a deep breath and let it out. “And I don’t know that I’m any better.”

To this, Lucas said nothing. He didn’t have to.

“They’ll kill us. There are too many of them. And if not them, then someone else will come. It’s inevitable.”

Yes.

“I might even kill you myself. Or you’ll kill me.”

That feral grin.
Yes.

The final words were easier. They felt inevitable. “We’re the same.”

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Cavalo kissed him then. Could feel the desperation behind it. The sense of relief. The sense of loss. The sense that finally, after years of wandering through a haunted wasteland, he had come upon a door that would lead to an escape. It was covered in bees, yes, and the legend upon it was that of a smeared black mask that could only bring death, but the door offered no resistance as it opened, and the choice was made.

HE WOKE
near dawn. Bad Dog curled at his front, Lucas at his back. He could feel the knife pressed at his side. Cavalo was not at peace, but he was closer to it than he’d been in years. Maybe the last rubber band had finally broken. Maybe he’d finally gone numb to the pricks of the stinging bees.

He didn’t know that it mattered.

They had work to do.

Bad Dog watched him.

“How’s your head?” he asked.

Okay.
He bumped his nose against Cavalo’s chin. It was cold.
Huh.

“What?”

You smell different. Like Smells Different.

“Oh?” Cavalo didn’t know what else to say.

He smells like you too.
He sounded strangely elated.

“That so.”

Bad Dog rubbed his head against Cavalo’s chest.
Now you smell like me too. We all smell the same. Good smells. Not like yesterday. With the burning.

No. Not like yesterday at all. Funny how quickly things could change.

I had a funny dream last night.

“Oh?”

There was a rabbit.

“You like rabbits.”

Because they’re crunchy. And I bite them with my teeth.

“Is that what you dreamed?”

No. I was running for the rabbit. We were in the trees. In the forest. I was chasing the rabbit. It was really fast. There was a fire. It ran into the fire. I didn’t want to follow it, but I really wanted the rabbit.

“What did you do?”

Jumped into the fire. I thought I was going to get burned up! But it did not hurt me. And then you were there, and you told me I was a Good Dog, that I was a Good Bad Dog.

“Is that it?”

There were bees. On your eyes. They were really loud. I chased them away.

“Things are happening.”

Gonna be okay?

“I don’t know.”

Could we die?

He wanted to lie, but he couldn’t. Not to his friend. “Maybe. Probably. There will be death. But there doesn’t have to be. We could leave.”

We could?

“Yes.”

With SIRS? And Smells Different?

“Yes.”

And go where?

“Anywhere you want.”

Bad guys coming?

“Yes.”

For BigHank? AlmaLady?

“Yes. But they’ve done things. Bad things.”

They bad guys?

Cavalo hesitated. Then, “No. They did the only thing they could.”

Can’t leave.

“No?”

No. We’re MasterBossLord and Bad Dog. We get bad guys and make them pay! And no matter where you run, if bad guys are after you, they’ll find you. It doesn’t matter how far you get, they’ll find you. It’s better to turn and fight than get shot in the back with a boomstick.
He licked Cavalo’s chin.
And we don’t run.

“We don’t run.”

Never. Bad Dogs and MasterBossLords don’t run from bad guys.

Cavalo didn’t have the heart to tell him that all he’d ever done was run. “Okay,” he said simply.

We stay?

“We’ll stay.”

The bee-covered door with a dripping black mask closed behind them and disappeared.

everyone dies

THEY WERE
cautious as they approached Cottonwood. After what they’d seen, they took no chances.

It was midday, and the clouds above were growing fat and gray. The wind had started to pick up, pushing at their backs as if hurrying them back to Cottonwood. Not much was said between the three of them, but there didn’t have to be. Things were different now from when they’d left the day before.

“Stop!” a voice cried out from the wall.

They stopped.

“Cavalo?”

“Yes,” he called back.

“Bad Dog and the Dead Rabbit?”

“Yes.”

“You alone?”

“Looks like.”

Silence. Then, “They’re not coming, are they. Grangeville.”

Cavalo allowed his voice to harden. “Either shoot or let me in.”

For a moment Cavalo fully expected a bullet. Instead, the southern gate began to rise.

Lucas pulled his knife.

“Easy,” Cavalo said.

So you say.

Hank stood in front of a small group that gathered inside the gate. Aubrey stood at his side, a rifle slung up on her shoulder. Cavalo thought he saw Alma, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Put the knife away,” Cavalo said.

No.

“You’re making them nervous.”

They should be.

Hank reached him first. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” he asked.

Cavalo met his eyes. “No. Bill and them get off okay?”

“Yes. They’ll be back in a few days.”

“SIRS?”

“At the prison. Is it bad?”

“Yes.”

“They’re not willing to help? That doesn’t sound like Cordelia.” He frowned, and Cavalo could see he didn’t truly believe his words.

“They’re dead.”

He took a step back. “What?”

“We were too late.”

Hank looked shocked. “
All
of them?”

“As far as we could tell.”

“How?”

“Dead Rabbits.”

Cavalo did not miss the thunderous glance Hank gave Lucas. “How do you know?”

“I watched them. Patrick. His people. Cordelia was still alive. Mac. Another. They said….” He stopped. Looked up at Hank. Hank was right. They’d been friends. Once. Maybe they still were. Things had changed. “They killed them. Burned the bodies. All of them. I think they came at night.”

“But Grangeville had at least five hundred people in it!”

“And Patrick has an army.”

Hank shook his head. “Can we do this? Do we even have a chance?”

“You know what the alternative is,” Cavalo said.

A low cry went up behind Hank. A woman in the crowd had heard them. Another was running toward town. It would spread. Quickly.

“You’ll have to convince them,” Hank said, looking shell-shocked. “We’re alone now, and you’ll have to convince them.”

“No,” Cavalo said. “I’ll tell them the truth. There’s no one coming to help us. We’re in this on our own. It’ll be up to them to convince themselves.”

He saw Alma then. Standing in the growing crowd, hood pulled over her head. Their eyes met. He didn’t know what she saw, but whatever it was caused her to look away.

THEY GATHERED
in front of Hank’s house, all of them, as the snow began to fall again.

At first there were whispers:

How can they all be
dead
?

Dead Rabbits.

What do we do now?

My brother lived there!

Dead Rabbits
.

How did they die?

Were they burned?

Eaten?

Murdered?

Dead Rabbits.

Did they suffer?

Was there
suffering
?

The voices raised:

Dead Rabbits.

They did this!

How can we beat them?

They’re going to come for us next!

Dead Rabbits!

We’re all going to die!

We need to run!

We need to leave!

We need to fight back!

We can’t be scared anymore!

It’s
his
fault.

It’s that
Dead Rabbit.
That
Lucas
.

People began to shout. To scream:

DEAD RABBITS!

GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT!

HOW CAN YOU HAVE LET THIS HAPPEN?

WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?

WHAT ARE
YOU
GOING TO DO?

DEAD RABBITS!

IT’S HIM THEY WANT!

NOT US!

GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT!

THEY’LL LEAVE US ALONE!

THEY ALWAYS HAVE!

WE’VE SURVIVED THIS LONG!

WE DON’T CARE ABOUT POWER!

GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT!

GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT!

GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT!

Cavalo knew the power of the combined minds of men. He could see the fear in their eyes, saw them swarming like bees. The snow fell around them as they began to shout. Their fists raised into the air. Some waved guns. Some waved clubs. Some demanded they kill Lucas right then and there. Others watched with tears streaming down their faces. Children were held and hugged, unsure of what was going on. The crowd would surge forward at any moment, and when they did, Cavalo knew blood would be spilled.

But not his. Nor would it belong to Bad Dog or Lucas.

No
, the bees whispered.
It would be
them
. Anyone that dares attack any of you. Look at Lucas with his knife. Look at Bad Dog with his teeth. Look at you with your gun. They may get in a few good swings, but how many of them would fall before you would? And how many would you kill to stop them?

All of them. Cavalo would kill all of them.