Crisped + Sere (Immemorial Year Book 2) (16 page)

“Here. With me.”

“Oh. Then where am I?”

“In my head.”

Jamie laughed again. “How did I get in there?”

“You’ve never left.”

Jamie hummed. “Mr. Fluff says there are monsters. Are there monsters, Daddy?”

“Yes, honey. There are. There were.”

“Oh. Are you scared of them?”

“Sometimes.”

“But not all the time?” He threw the rabbit in the air, trying to hit the bees that flew overhead.

“No, not all the time.”

“Why?”

Why?
When he was alive, Jamie had always asked
why
.
Why
was his response to everything. Cavalo had loved it, even when it’d irritated him.

“Because sometimes I’m the monster.”

Jamie stood up in front of him holding Mr. Fluff. He cocked his head at Cavalo, eyes searching his face. A bee landed on his cheek, but Jamie didn’t seem to notice.

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” Jamie said finally.

“No?”

“No. Can I tell you a secret, Daddy?”

“Yes.” Cavalo wanted nothing more.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

Jamie’s brow furrowed. “You have to promise.”

Cavalo promised his dead son.

Jamie beckoned him to lean forward.

Cavalo did. When Jamie whispered in his ear, his breath felt like the brush of insect wings.

Jamie Cavalo whispered, “He’s not who you think.”

“Who?” Cavalo asked.

“Daddy,” Jamie said. “Look up.”

Cavalo did.

The ceiling of the bedroom in the vacant house was covered in bees. Wasps. Hornets. They crawled over each other. The buzzing was a roar. Their stingers dripped with poison, and as Cavalo took hold of his son, to pull him in and protect him from the swarm above, Jamie said, “There are worse monsters than you know.”

“You need to—”

“Cavalo? Who are you talking to?”

Cavalo jerked and almost fell off the chair, pulling Jamie with him. Except his hands were empty. He looked up. There was a bare ceiling above.

It’s not real
, he thought.
None of this is real.

“No one,” he said to Alma as she stood in the doorway.

“Are you all right?”

“No.”

She hesitated but then seemed to make up her mind. She walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

“He was here.”

“Who?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Cavalo.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She looked around the room. Of course there was nothing there.

“He’s pacing outside,” she said finally. “Actually, they both are.”

“Who?”

“Bad Dog. The Dead Rabbit. I asked why they didn’t go in. Lucas buzzed his lips at me.”

“It’s the bees,” Cavalo said.

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“I told him I’d go in first.”

“And he let you?”

She sighed. “He pulled the knife again. He may be fast, but he’s stupid. To try that again.” She handed him the knife.

Cavalo choked out a laugh. It sounded like a sob.

“What is he to you?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s the only truth I can give.” Even though the truth was a lie.

“I see the way….” She stopped. Looked out the window as the sun began to set.

He reached up and gripped her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t.”

She ignored him. “I see the way you look at him when you think no one is watching.”

“It’s not—”

“It is, though. You get this… look in your eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at anyone like that before. It’s almost like you’re burning up from the inside.”

“It’s not like that.”

Her hand tightened on his shoulder. “Then what’s it like?”

“It’s….” Then, “I don’t know.”

“Cavalo.”

“What?”

“He’s a Dead Rabbit.”

“I know. But… he’s… he’s not like them.”

“He’s a murderer.”

“So am I.”

“Not like him. Not like they are.”

“I’m no better,” Cavalo said honestly.

“They’re cannibals.”

“He’s not.”

“Or so he says.”

“Why would he lie?”

Alma chuckled bitterly. “So many reasons.”

“I…”
trust him
was how he meant to finish that. Instead, he said, “I know he didn’t.” It almost meant the same thing.

“I know you.” A last chance. A plea.

“You think you do. But you don’t.”

“What’s happening here?” Alma whispered. “How did it get this far?”

Cavalo said nothing. No words he could offer would be of any comfort. She was realizing what he’d figured out days before.

“Warren would have….” A sigh. “We’re not going to survive this, are we?”

“No.”

“And even if we did, there’s no way we could take back the dam.”

“No.”

“And even if we gave him back….”

“They’re going to kill us anyway,” Cavalo finished for her. “It doesn’t matter anymore. They have Dworshak. The reservoir. Patrick is the lock. All they need is the key.”

She moved in front of him then. He let her. She brought her hands to the sides of his head, her palms against his ears, her fingers in his hair. He took a deep breath of her. She tilted his head up. Kissed him. He kissed her back. Because it was familiar. Because it held memory. Because she wanted him to.

But it was not Alma who Cavalo thought of.

She broke the kiss. Licked her lips. Said, “Don’t tell the others. Don’t tell the others that hope is gone.”

He nodded in her hands.

She left him in the darkening room in the vacant house. Before she disappeared through the doorway, she said, “I’ll take Bad Dog with me. I’ll send Lucas in. I hope you know what you’re doing, Cavalo.” Then she was gone.

The sun disappeared.

“I don’t,” Cavalo told the empty room.

Lose something, Charlie?
the bees asked.

He’s not who you think
, Jamie had said.

It was only a minute later he heard a door slam shut. The pounding of feet on the stairs. Cavalo held the knife in his hand.

He knew the moment Lucas entered the room. Could feel his eyes boring into the back of his head. Could feel the room grow heavy. Knew that if he could, Lucas would be growling. It was who he was. Light filled the room too, and Cavalo knew he carried a lantern. There was a thump of metal behind him as he set the lantern on the floor.

Cavalo stayed in the chair. He didn’t move.

In the periphery, he could see Lucas circling him slowly, teeth bared, hands like claws at his sides. His took sharp, quick breaths, exhaling through his nose in little bursts. His eyes were narrowed, and even without the mask, his fury would have struck fear into a sane person.

Cavalo was not sane. He hadn’t been for a very long time.

He felt no fear. There was something else there in its place.

He met Lucas’s eyes as he passed in front of him just out of reach. The steps Lucas took were slow and deliberate, his knees bent, his back slightly hunched. The shadows danced along the walls, making Lucas look bigger than he really was. Cavalo knew what this was for.

Lucas was hunting him.

The bees told him to end this, to throw the knife into one of those eyes. He could do it. It’d be very easy. A quick flip of his wrist and this would be over.

His hand twitched. That was all.

Lucas passed out of sight. And it was then that he took steps forward behind Cavalo. He could hear the footsteps coming closer. Could feel the anger radiating off Lucas. Felt the Dead Rabbit’s breaths on the back of his neck.

It wouldn’t take much, Cavalo knew. He’d recently seen what damage teeth could do to a throat.

Lucas crossed into his vision again. His nose scraped against Cavalo’s cheek. His lips pressed against his jawline. He stopped when he crouched in front of Cavalo, pressing their faces together. His nostrils flared.

He stood up. Took a step back.

And Cavalo could hear his accusation as if he’d spoken the words aloud.
I can smell her on you.

“Can you?”

I’ll kill her.

“You’ll leave her alone,” he said sharply.

Lucas snarled at him.
I fucking told you what would happen if she touched you! She’s already dead.

“Lucas.”

Fuck you. You did this.
He gripped the sides of his head.
You made the bees come out when you walked away from me. Why did you walk away?

And only then did Cavalo realize his own bees had boiled over the moment he’d left Lucas. So much so that they’d turned into Jamie. Jamie, who had come to him with a warning. “I didn’t mean to,” Cavalo said quietly.

You did! You did! You think I’m like them. You think like they do. Like sheep.
He paced back and forth, wincing, his hands shaking. He looked as if he was breaking apart.

But still Cavalo did not move. He thought it the wiser choice. “I’m like you,” he said instead, marveling out how easily the words came out now.

Her smell is on your skin. You stink of her.

“She’s gone now,” he said. This he knew. She’d left the night he’d heard her sing. Good-bye, good-bye, we all say good-bye. The kiss had been nothing more than a ghost.

Lucas stepped forward suddenly, a hand around Cavalo’s neck, fingers digging in. Cavalo did nothing to stop him. The knife stayed in his hand, unmoving.
You make promises with your mouth
, Lucas said, inches away.
You speak pretty words, you scrape a kiss against my lips, and then you smell of her. You walked away from me. You turned your back on me. You let them see what you thought of me. The people here. The ones you say we are trying to help.

“No.”

No?

“I didn’t leave you. I left them because of their sadness. Because of their anguish. Over the girl at the dam. Like they hadn’t agreed to sacrifice someone every time the Dead Rabbits came.”

I don’t believe you. I saw the look on your face. When you heard about her.

“Have you ever done that?”

Defensive.
What?

“Hurt someone like that. Like they did to her. Someone who didn’t deserve it.”

No.
There was a stutter in his eyes. He looked away. A lie, though maybe not a complete one.

“Have you been near them when the others did?”

There it was. The scowl returned. Lucas backed away from him warily.

“And you didn’t stop them.”

Lucas shuddered.

“No. That’s not right, is it?”

Lucas gripped the sides of his head.

“It’s not that you didn’t. It’s that you couldn’t.”

Lucas screamed. Covered his ears. Shook his head. All done in silence.

“They wouldn’t let you.”

Lucas fell to his knees. Pressed his forehead to the floor. Pounded the hard wood with a fist. Cavalo thought it hard enough that his hand should break. This was like the time before when Cavalo pushed. And he
had
to push, because it was the only way to break through.
Why
he felt the need to do this was not something Cavalo could focus on. He was dimly aware of how neatly he’d deflected Lucas. His jealousy. His anger over something as inconsequential as a kiss. Especially one that meant good-bye.

But to his surprise, Lucas stopped. He took in deep breaths and let them out slowly. He did not pound the floor. His mouth was not twisted open. His eyes were closed.

Like he was controlling himself. Controlling the bees.

He took another breath. And then stood. Opened his eyes. They were as clear as Cavalo had ever seen them.

He shook his head.
No, that’s not it.

“Then what?” Cavalo heard himself say.

Lucas pointed to his scar. Cavalo knew now who put it there, but never the why. And wasn’t it the
why
that mattered? Wasn’t it the
why
of it that was the most important. Most people are not born with bees. They’re put there because of hard life and unfair death. Because of things seen that cannot be unseen. Because of a father who slices the throat of his son because his son had tried to stop him from hurting another.

Cavalo could see that now. Could see it even though Lucas could not speak a single word aloud. He didn’t have to. They both had hives in their heads. It made it easier to talk to one another.

I tried to help her
, Lucas said, motioning with his hands, pacing back and forth.
I don’t know why. Things had happened before that I did nothing to stop. People that had come in, begging for my help. Saying they had families. Homes. That they just wanted to go home. They knew who we were. What we were. They knew what was going to happen to them.

And she did too. She knew. There was something in her eyes that didn’t allow her to beg. A spark. A flame. She knew she was already dead, and she did not beg for her life. She didn’t scream. And when she spoke, it was but a few words.

The shadows flickered behind him, and Cavalo could see them taking shape, becoming a clearing in the woods far into the Deadlands. The trees were black and stunted, almost as if burned by a forgotten fire. The ground was sparse, the earth beneath their feet dead. In the distance there was the outline of huts. Houses. Shacks. Homes. In the shadows on the wall of a vacant house in Cottonwood, Cavalo knew he was seeing the beating heart of the Dead Rabbits. Where they lived. What they did.

In the middle of the clearing, there was a fire. It rose high into the sky, fed by the dead wood that surrounded it. People moved around it, laughing and scowling, screaming and wrestling. He could not make out their words, but they wore the bands on their arms. The spikes around their necks. Knives at their sides. Rough tunics, splattered and dirty. Some of them were sick, blood leaking from their eyes and mouths. They leaned over and spat large red and brown globs to the ground that smelled of rot. Some had skin that looked eaten away. Teeth falling from their heads. Tumors growing on their skin, hanging low, heavy, and fat. He wondered what would happen if they just burst, if the black death that grew inside of them would pour onto the ground in a noxious pile.