Night Betrayed (40 page)

Remy was dimly aware of other figures coming into view, but she couldn’t see much other than pairs of legs and feet. The man helping her had to bend down half beneath the truck to reach the metal thing to which she was cuffed, and the sucked-in, sharp intake of breath bespoke his disgust and fury for her predicament.

At last, the cuff was freed, though still around her wrist, and he was helping her to her feet. Remy’s knees wouldn’t hold her, and she sagged, lightheaded and trembling, as he pulled her out and helped her upright. Her vision darkened and spun, and she couldn’t focus. She felt cool air on her skin where it shouldn’t be, and dampness and pain. . . . everywhere.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, his voice tense and urgent. “Elliott!”

Remy tried to stand, but she found herself clutching her rescuer and the metal edge of the truck door as another figure separated from the wavering shadows and approached quickly. Her back ached from being dragged only that short bit across the ground, scraped and cut and battered from the other assaults. Her jeans sagged from where Seattle had left them loose, and left her hips bare and scraped. Her stomach rebelled and she grabbed at someone’s warm arm as she puked nothing but bile, retching painfully from the depths of her belly.

When she opened her eyes and raised her head, she found herself looking at a familiar face—the man she’d thrown a snake at in order to escape him. “You,” she gasped, her knees all weak again. “Dick . . .” She tried to form coherent thoughts, but everything fled except the man with the stony face who kept her from falling.

“Good God, it’s you,” he said, his lips flat and his face blank as he focused on her face. “Christ, Elliott,” he said, “look at her.” She faded in and out, still clutching the solid arm of the man she’d dubbed Dick Head.

The night spun and she could hardly move her mouth; her lips were cracked and busted and she felt damp spreading from somewhere on her back. Gentle hands touched her, and she tried not to flinch, tried to relax as they eased her onto a softish surface inside the truck.

She heard things like “shock” and “assault” and realized they were referring to her. There was a lot of short, sharp cursing, and firm, capable hands as they examined her without making her feel violated or frightened.

“Dan . . . tès,” she whispered.

“He’s here,” said Dick, who was near her head, looming large in the closeness of the truck. “He took care of Seattle.”

Seattle. She tensed, a wave of nausea flooding her as the memories came like the pounding of fists. She realized she was trembling and shuddering, and then someone—his name is Elliott?—was leaning over her to look into her eyes.

“Listen to me. Listen. Seattle is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. He’s dead,” he said.

Remy tried to smile, tried to believe him. She shifted, attempting to nod her head, but the world wavered and the next thing she knew, she slid into wobbly darkness.

By the time Selena caught up to the rest of her companions, everything was over. Theo met her as she approached and said, “Don’t look over there.”

Of course, she tried to, and he firmly turned her away. “Don’t you ever listen? There’s a dead man over there, and it’s not pretty.”

“Zombies?” she asked, still trying to look.

Theo shook his head, lips tight. “No, dog. It’s—was—Seattle. Dantès got him. Turns out he took exception to the guy beating the shit out of his mistress.”

All at once, something clicked in her mind. “Where is she?” But she already knew, and started toward the truck where Elliott stood.

Despite her grimy, busted-up face and the fact that she was almost twenty years older, Selena was sure the woman was the same girl she remembered. A flash of something whipped through her mind, and she paused, trying to catch it . . . but she couldn’t.

She just knew it was ugly and dark, and it had to do with the girl’s grandfather. And perhaps she didn’t want to remember anyway.

“Is she going to be all right?” she asked, looking at Elliott.

He nodded soberly. “Yes. But she’ll need time to heal.”

“We’ll drive her back to Vonnie and Lou now,” Wyatt said. “We can fix the other truck later.” He glanced over at the heap of bloody skin and bones that was, apparently, Seattle. “Where the hell’s a zombie when you fucking need one?”

“So,” Theo said as he helped Selena climb onto the Ferris wheel. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s about Lou.”

They’d returned with the woman named Remington Truth late last night, and much of today had been spent seeing to her comfort and filling Lou in on the events of the day. Theo had been in the arcade, working on his idea with the pinball machines and helping his brother update Sage via electronic messaging. Theo hadn’t had a chance to talk to Selena alone—or to do anything else—since returning.

But after dinner tonight, Selena had suggested a walk. The night was perfect for an amusement park ride: the moon was showing a large chunk of herself, the stars—as they always were now, fifty years after the factory and vehicular emissions were eliminated—sparkled bright and plentiful.

Yet, despite the romantic atmosphere, and the hot-eyed looks Selena had been giving him at dinner, Theo wondered how this conversation would go, on many levels. After all, if Lou hadn’t come looking for Theo and been surprised by the zombies, would Sam have been safe? It wouldn’t surprise him if Lou’s very presence represented nothing more than a dark, terrible time to Selena.

“He seems like a really nice guy. I don’t think Vonnie likes him too much,” she said with a little laugh, patting the seat next to her. “But I like him.”

That made Theo feel a little better, and he slid in next to her.

“I’m not sure what happened between the two of them,” he said. “All of a sudden, he started calling her ‘that Vonnie lady’ and she started practically slamming his plate down in front of him at dinner.”

“I suspect it has to do with her role as matriarch being challenged,” Selena said. “She’s always been the motherly sort, and everyone lets her. Even Frank. He allows her to mother him, then he does whatever he wants anyway. But Lou doesn’t let her fuss over him; and, in fact, I heard him telling her how to cook something a while ago, before you left. She didn’t take too kindly to that.”

Theo chuckled. “No, the kitchen is her domain. They must just rub each other the wrong way.” He reached over and caught Selena’s hand, smoothing his thumb over her knuckles as he started up the ride. How was he going to explain this?

“So how do you know Lou? How did he find you here, anyway?”

Theo felt the little lift as the wheel shifted into motion. “So, well, that’s what I needed to tell you. I’ve been saying all along that I’m older than I look, right? And I told you about the little metal circuit that got embedded in my skin, and changed me. Well, the thing is,” he said, then paused, trying to remember when or if he’d ever told anyone this before.

In fifty years, he didn’t think he ever had.

“The thing is, that underground explosion happened during the Change.” The last words came out in a rush.

He waited a beat, waited for her comprehension to dawn. “So . . .” she said uncertainly.

“So, the thing is . . . Lou is my brother. My twin brother.”

Her face went through a series of expressions: disbelief, shock, confusion, and back around again. “So you’re saying you’re . . .” She shook her head.

“I was born in nineteen eighty-four. I’m actually seventy-eight years old. And something happened that severely slowed my aging process down—practically stopped it for decades, in fact.” He waited.

She nodded, slowly, very slowly. “That’s crazy.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But that would explain a lot of things,” she said.

“I hoped it would.”

“So I’ve been sleeping with a man who’s thirty years older than I am?”

Theo nodded.

She was gaping at him. “So you’re saying that, all that time I thought you were pity kissing me because you felt sorry for this old lady, I was really doing the pity kissing? Making an old man feel young again?”

“Um, yeah. I guess you could look at it that way.” He wasn’t certain if she was dead serious or if a little bit of humor had crept into her voice. He was pretty sure it was the latter . . . “But I have to say, those pity kisses of yours . . . they were the best any kind of kisses I’ve ever had. You’re pretty good at it, for a youngster.”

She was eyeballing him from her corner on the Ferris wheel car, the gentle breeze of descent lifting delicate wisps of her hair . . . and tickling the inside of his belly.

“You let me worry about that for all that time and you never told me?”

He lifted her foot and settled it on his lap, sliding his hands over the smooth—such smooth—soft skin. “I told you I was older than I looked. More than once.”

She let her head tilt back as he began to use the pad of his thumb to make firm circles on the bottom of her foot. The soft little moan of pleasure had all sorts of interest spiking through him, but he kept his hands on that silky skin over the top, massaging and stroking gently.

“I knew there was something different about you,” she said, lifting her head so she could look at him. “But, wow.”

He’d need to tell her about the Resistance, and the role he and Lou played with the plans to build a network—both electronic as well as of people—to stand up against the Elite . . .

. . . But there’d be time for that later. Right now, he had other thoughts on his mind.

And, from the way she was looking at him, so did she. “I think I’m getting the better end of the deal,” she said contemplatively, sliding her foot from his grip and letting it slip along the hair of his bare leg to rest on the floor. “You’ve got a bang body and stamina like you’re thirty, but you’ve got the experience and patience of a seventy-year-old man. That can only be good for me.” Her smile was wicked and sly.

He shifted closer, his hands finding their way beneath her shirt. “I certainly intend for it to be the case.” He covered her mouth with a kiss, long and sleek and hungry. Finally.

“I love you,” Selena said, moments later as his feet settled on the pile of clothes on the floor of the Ferris wheel car. “You’re such a perfect fit for me, Theo.”

The waft of night breeze brushed his bare skin, and he took a moment to admire the way the light from that chunk of moon silvered her golden body, outlining pert, tight nipples and perfect teardrop breasts. She stood boldly in front of him there in the small box, and he skimmed his hands along from breast to waist to hips, then tugged her forward and down.

Settling her on his lap, straddling her onto his hips, Theo eased her down to join with him. The car tipped a little, rocking and adding to the pleasure as he directed her up and down with those long, patient strokes that she tended to like. The car around them swung harder, too, echoing the rhythm of their movements.

“Well,” she said a little while later, when their warm, damp bodies separated and the rhythmic rocking had eased. The ride slowed back into the slow, easy sway of the rise and fall, and she continued, “That’s one thing I’m not going to ask why about. You and how you came to be here, and how you came to be just who you are . . . and why I got so damned lucky.”

He shrugged and smoothed back the hair that had plastered to her face. “I could ask the same question. It’s taken me almost eighty years to find a woman who can understand that things are not always what they seem. That all the layers of life aren’t simple or neat.” The breeze brushed over their naked skin and he gently cupped her bare breast, just because he could.

Right here, on a damned Ferris wheel. Under the moon.

“I guess,” she said, coming closer to his mouth again, “there’s never any answer to why. No matter how often or how desperately you ask, there’s no answer—there’s only what you do with it.” And she reached her hand between them to curl around his already refilling erection, smiling against his lips. “And I know exactly what I’m going to do with this.”

“I think we should be able to try out our idea tonight,” Lou said, settling at the counter in the kitchen. It was the morning after the fairies’ wheel ride when Theo had told Selena about their relationship.

She found herself searching for resemblance in the wildly different countenances of the twin brothers, separated by decades of aging. Nevertheless, it was definitely there: in the hooded, Asian eyes, and the mannerisms, and even the way they cocked their heads when they were thinking. Not to mention the way they seemed to read each other’s mind.

Selena winced as Vonnie slammed a plate down in front of Lou with a little more force than necessary. Scrambled eggs bounced off onto the counter. She caught Theo’s eye and raised her brows, then returned to the conversation. “Which idea is that?”

“Damn, that looks good,” said Wyatt, greedily eyeing the plate of scrambled eggs and sliced tomatoes that Vonnie rested gently in front of him.

“Needs more salt,” Lou announced.

Selena bolted up to get the jar of sea salt before Vonnie could throw it at him. What the hell is wrong with them?

“We’ve been working on reprogramming some of those pinball machines and video games so that the lights will hypnotize the zombies . . . sort of slow them down and confuse them so we can manage them better,” Theo said, also trying to keep the peace. “Make things easier for you. We’ll be moving them down to a corner of the grounds tonight to give it a try.”

“I want to know who’s going to tell Zoë that she can’t hunt zombies anymore,” Elliott said, buttering toast. “Or at least, not the way she’s been doing it.”

Lou chuckled. “Quent’s going to put the kibosh on that for a different reason as soon as he finds out she’s pregnant.”

The physician’s eyes widened. “Well, that’s going to be interesting.”

Selena didn’t understand why everyone laughed, but she figured Theo would fill her in later. In the meantime, she said, “And how’s Remy?”

“She’s going to be all right. That bastard—” Elliott shook his head, his voice low and tight. “If Dantès hadn’t taken care of him, I would have done the honors.”