Midnight (33 page)

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Authors: Ellen Connor

Tags: #Science Fiction, #Romance, #Fantasy

BOOK: Midnight
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A bear lumbered slowly, menacingly, out from behind a shadowed dip in the rock. Chris’s heart jumped into overdrive.
Well, shit.
“I’m here to help,” he said, setting down the duffel. “I’m the town’s doctor. Thought I’d take a look, see if you or your family needed care.”
“Did she send you?” came the woman’s voice. Colleen.
“No, I can’t say that she did.”
“Why should we believe you?”
“No reason. But I think your husband would rip me to pieces if I were here to hurt you.”
Colleen stepped out of the cave, into the faint light of sunrise. “You’re not afraid?”
“Hell, yeah, I am.” He shrugged. “But do I fear all your kind? Not as a rule. I had a friend who shifts into a wolf. I’m just here to help.”
Indecision battled across Colleen’s features. She was young, maybe thirty. Even then Chris tried to put the pieces together. Their children would’ve been born before the Change reached California. Could they shift? Would it be their parents or the Change that gave them such abilities?
Long ago, however, he’d quit trying to make it all work. No equipment existed to prove any theory, one way or the other. And even if it did, he doubted science would ever provide a definitive answer. There was simply too much of the unexplained in the air.
“He’s not shifting back to human,” she said, resolute. “Not while you’re here.”
“Not a problem.”
“And I’m going to search you and your bag for weapons.”
He nodded, taking that as permission to approach. Jacob, fully three meters tall and massive with solid muscle, growled low in his throat. A sheen of sweat spread across Chris’s forehead.
Put your money where your mouth is, Welsh.
He let himself be subjected to Colleen’s search, noticing that she was both efficient and thorough. She’d done this before. They’d protected their children for nearly five years. He couldn’t even imagine the terror they lived with every day. As he knew firsthand, caring for someone else was a hell of a lot harder than just surviving.
“Good,” she said. “The children are sleeping. That meal really wore them out.”
“I didn’t have the chance to bring any more.”
Colleen waved a hand. “You’re doing more than we expected, frankly.”
Despite his disagreement with Rosa, he felt compelled to stand up for her. She still believed she was doing the right thing. “The town has survived a lot,” he said. “They’ve never seen anyone like you.”
“Peaceful?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s too bad. I understand their fear, even if it pisses me off. I mean, I’d have probably done the same thing.”
Chris hadn’t expected her to understand both sides so readily. “I’ve seen groups of shifters out in the world. Why not take up with any of them?”
“A lot of them are more content as animals. They like the power.” She shuddered. “That woman was right, back in town. Most can’t be trusted. They use their human guise as a lure.” Glancing over to the sleeping children, she said, “I have too much to protect to take that chance. So we live alone.”
“Can you shift?”
Colleen nodded. “But I don’t if I can help it. Bugs the crap out of me, having my brain stripped away. Besides,” she said with a slight smile, “Jacob’s far more imposing.”
“What are you?”
“Some kind of cat. We don’t know what. Maybe an ocelot?” Her laugh was tinged with a hint of mania, but Chris couldn’t hold that against her. “Isn’t that odd? Being something and not even knowing what it is?”
He shrugged, trying to keep the conversation light. “Think of it like your ancestry. You can only trace back so far before you don’t know where you came from. We all have something other in us, probably something surprising.”
“Does that work for you, Doc?”
“Whatever we can do to stay alive and sane. That’s the best medicine I can prescribe.”
He looked around the cave, eyeing the spare collection of rough possessions. Their backpacks were like those a college student would have used. Now their lodgings were a cave, and those meager items were all they owned in the world.
“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll make sure no one from town bothers you.
At least you’ll have shelter, and the town patrols will mean fewer potential enemies. It’s not much, but hopefully you can recuperate.” He paused, folding a strip of bandages that had been cut from old sheets. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do about the attitudes in Valle too.”
Colleen smiled. Although she still appeared exhausted, she carried fewer tense lines around her mouth. “You’ve already shown more kindness than we’ve known for years. Thank you.”
Suddenly uncomfortable with the role of lone savior, Chris fell into silence as he worked. He spent the next half hour doing what he could for their blistered, bloody feet. Even Jacob returned to the cave, human this time, and endured the cleaning and bandaging. Chris would’ve spent more time in their company, but the longer he stayed, the more disloyal he felt toward Rosa—even if that was irrational.
And if worse came to worst, he needed to know if they’d barred Valle to him for good. If they had, he needed to find shelter. The caves would do, of course, but food, warmth, security—all would be his to scrounge, on his own once again.
His heart hurt. God, he didn’t want to go.
When he’d done all he could for the family, he wished them well and left their rocky shelter. The boy had turned into a bird of prey, perched in a high crevice. Chris could only shake his head at the dizzying wonder of it. These kids probably didn’t even remember much about what life had been like in the pre-Change world.
He shouldered his satchel and eased back along the line of rock outcroppings, half delaying, half scouting the area for his means of survival—if it came to that. He was hungry and exhausted. Bruises he’d suffered at Falco’s hands had popped up along his ribs. The worst, on his back, where he’d been slammed against the counter, throbbed in a steady, painful rhythm. He stopped for a moment, easing a hand along the lump at the base of his spine. Already those moments seemed years past, as did his blissful hours with Rosa.
THIRTY-THREE
 
When the fires started, Rosa feared the worst. “How bad is it?”
Jameson bounced on the balls of his feet. “Bad. Six houses. How many do you want me to pull off patrols?”
Shit. This was a tough decision. She would regret whichever choice she made. “Half. We can’t let everything be destroyed.”
Not all the structures in town were built of fire-resistant adobe. Some were ancient, dating from the Old West, and built of whatever wood fell to hand. If the blaze spread to those buildings, it could constitute a catastrophe from which they wouldn’t recover. Building materials were few and far between. She wasn’t even sure if anyone in Valle would know what to do if they scavenged some. Making repairs differed widely from full-fledged construction.
“I’ll start teams running buckets from the well,” Jameson said.
“Are Tilly and Esperanza well away from the flames?”
He gave a terse nod, but before Rosa could join the fire brigade, violence exploded in the form of gunfire. She spat a curse.
I knew it.
Fucking dust pirates. That family was probably a distraction, spies reporting back on town weaknesses. And now the fires. That couldn’t be coincidence.
A matter of survival now. As she’d told Chris, she had learned that lesson well.
If it’s us or them, then it’s us. This ends now.
Rosa ran, rifle in hand, exchanging fire with the attacking force. Bullets sprayed the wall behind her. She dove into the general store, using the front wall as cover. Wicker was down behind the counter, shotgun in hand.
“How many?” he asked.
“Too many. No more feints. They’re trying to take the town.”
“How the hell did they get those fires started?”
“They must’ve sent somebody in while we were dealing with those skinwalkers.”
A raider in ragged denim pushed in through the doorway, perhaps figuring a woman and an old man couldn’t be much of a threat. It was obvious he hadn’t bathed in months, his skin caked with gritty red desert dirt. Rosa aimed high, Wicker shot low, and the bastard died four steps in from the door, still bringing up his weapon. Arterial blood sprayed as he fell, slicking the floor. She listened to his dying gurgles, trying to determine if he had a partner outside.
Her caution proved prudent when, a minute later, a low voice called out. “Gil? Where you at?”
She nudged Wicker, who managed a credible imitation of a wounded man. “Here. But I’m hit.”
“You don’t sound good.” The second stepped into her sights.
Rising just enough to target over the counter, Rosa took him through the chest. Her bullet barreled right through his heart. He fell back, a dark shape in the doorway. Clean kill, no wasted ammo. Copper scented the air, a sweet and awful smell that had become too familiar.
As angry as she’d been with Chris, as much as she disagreed with his ideas, she hoped he was somewhere safe and not among those bleeding on the wind. Fear gnawed at her; she didn’t want things to end like this between them, with only hurtful words in his ears.
“How do you think our boys are doing?” the old man asked.
She heard combat on the perimeter, staccato shots and whoops of triumph, but she couldn’t tell which side was winning.
One thing was sure. They’d have to kill her to take Valle.
“
No sé
. But our bravos will give it everything they’ve got.”
“You want me on the front lines?” Wicker stood with his shotgun in hand, salt-and-pepper hair, and stooped shoulders. The determination he wore as casually as his straw cowboy hat said he was willing to fight for his home, no matter his age.
It was the people who made Valle great. Not Rosa Cortez.
She dragged knuckles across her stinging eye sockets. “No. Pick them off from behind if they come to loot the store. But don’t be heroic. If you hear big numbers, go out the back and find a place to hide up on the ridge. Take the best of the town with you—medicines and seeds. They’re our future. I want you alive when I return.”
“Understood.”
The gunfire ranged farther away from the store, now with female screams mixed in.
Mierda.
They were going for the women.
Of course it made perfect sense. Out here in the wastelands, women were a commodity like bullets or weapons. Valle was rich in that sense, but her bravos treated the newcomers as if they had minds of their own. Dust pirates didn’t. These were men who had, by any definition, failed at life before the Change. This new Dark Age offered an endless playground for their perversions.
Wicker’s lined face was grave. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Shoot any stranger you see,” she said, vaulting over the counter.
Most of the new women preferred to stay at the town hall, even now. Allison was the only one who had bonded with anyone, so Rosa hoped she was hiding in Ex’s forge. But that left the others defenseless while the bravos fought a battle on two fronts—the hungry blaze of the flames and the vicious raider onslaught. A few of her men might hear their distress and come running, but only after they managed to kill the enemies they already fought.
Breathing hard, Rosa sprinted out the door. Her boots skidded in blood, but the dry dirt caught her. The early dawn was clear but marred by the unnatural noise, heat, and the garish orange of burning buildings.
A weighted rope twined around her ankles. She slammed down hard, chin smashing into the ground. Blood trickled from her broken lips.
Fuck me. They’re treating us like cattle.
Those tactics might work on an ordinary woman, one who’d freeze in the face of pain and an attacker. Before her captor could close on her, Rosa slid her knife out of her boot and cut the bond on her legs. With no time to get into a fighting stance, she lay still, hoping he wouldn’t realize that she’d freed herself.
She trusted her skills. She could take this
pendejo.
When the man stepped within kicking distance, she aimed a vicious swipe that popped his knee out of socket. The raider stumbled, crying out in pain. She flipped upright, striking his groin, hamstring, and instep in a flurry of brutal kicks. He swayed. Rosa aimed a final strike at the bridge of his nose and knew primal satisfaction at his crunching cartilage. She cut his throat.
In the distance, she heard the angry drone of bees—and then a raider’s scream as he succumbed to the stings. Even Bee was holding her own, which gave Rosa courage. If a mute old woman could fight, so could she.
Keeping to the shadows, she stole along toward the town hall. Such screaming. Abject terror. No woman should sound like that. On the way Rosa took down another raider, her arm around his throat and a simultaneous knife thrust to the heart. She was fast and quiet; it was her greatest asset.

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