Strange Trouble (2 page)

Just that morning she’d awakened in the berserker’s arms…

“Open the door, Rune. Let me in.”

She’d let him in. She’d let him in everywhere.

Even through a layer of grief thick enough to be visible,
Strad’s raging energy was evident.
And his fear.

Sometimes so much horror could overwhelm a person. She’d
been pulled down into the black depths often enough to know there really wasn’t
a hell of a lot you could do about it.

People had died, and the world was different.

He didn’t ask questions. He stepped inside the room, kicked
the door shut, and pulled her into his arms.

His embrace was unforgiving, angry, hurting. There was nothing
sweet about his kiss. He lifted her and strode to the bed, his mouth opening
over hers.

Some small part of her wanted to make a token show of
resistance, but she couldn’t figure out why so she ignored it and wound her
arms around his neck.

She clung to him, realizing that if she had sex with the
berserker, nothing would ever be the same between them. Always, there’d be…

Something.

She tore her lips from his, gasping beneath the weight of
his passion. “Strad—”

He’d been heading to the point of no return even before
she’d addicted him to her blood, and he was too far gone now to stop.

She didn’t want him to stop. That wasn’t the problem.

But as her lust and her passion for him spilled over, so did
her need to feed. There had been worry about what he might do to her.

She was worried about what
she
might do to
him.

He dropped her to the bed and fell on top of her. He held
her face between his big hands, deepening his kiss. Moans came from deep inside
him, floating into her mouth, into her brain.

“Strad,” she cried again, against his lips.

He dragged his mouth away, his eyes glittering as he stared
down at her. “I want to fuck you, Rune. Just shut up while I fuck you.”

She shivered at his words, at his need. “If I hurt you—”

He laughed.
“Honey.”
His voice was
tender, finally, as his heart caught up with his black, black despair. “You
can’t.”

He was tireless, and his passion was endless. Hot and hard
and ready, he fucked her with an almost terrifying, mindless hunger, his groans
becoming cries that became moans.

Then whispering as he held her, his hands roaming her body
with a desperation she knew was not only desire, but addiction.

Shhhh
.
Not yet. Don’t think about that yet.

She resisted running her fingers through the light sheen of
sweat covering his skin. Just as she resisted licking off the little beaded
line of blood sliding slowly down his neck. She closed her eyes, wishing she
could forget everything that made her and the berserker a bad fucking idea.

He turned on his side to face her, bending his elbow and
resting his head on his arm. “Are you hurt?”

She smiled. “I was wondering the same thing about you.”

His teeth gleamed in the semidarkness as he returned her
smile. “It’s a good, tired kind of pain.”

Yeah, it was. Not a bad, secret pain.
A
different kind.
Neither one of them was a normal person—they fought
hard, played hard, and fucked hard.

“Still,” she said, “you held back.”

He placed his hot palm on her stomach. “I know. And so did
you.”

“You can’t hurt me, you know. Not really.”

“And I want to keep it that way.”

I want all of you, Berserker.
Or none
of you.
“I have to think about this.”

“Don’t pull away from me.” His voice rumbled quietly into
the darkness.

“I’m in bed with the berserker.” She was suddenly and
slightly amazed.

She’d fed from him as she’d fucked him—fed her need and his
addiction and both their bodies.

It was small wonder the sheets and pillows were no longer on
the bed. She was surprised the bed still stood.
That the
floor remained intact.

For a little while, the shadows and darkness had hidden
beneath the onslaught of the berserker's passion.

Still...

Something other than the vision of him in bed with Tina kept
poking at her.
Something more than the terrible knowledge of
his addiction.

Maybe just the simple fact that she wasn’t
whole enough to be in a…
relationship.
Maybe that was the sad
truth of the matter.

She picked up a long strand of his black hair and twisted it
between her fingers. “I have to think about this,” she repeated.

“Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.”

But he'd just lost his wife and his child. How could he be
clear about anything?

He couldn't.

His biceps bunched as he pushed his hair out of his face.
The double bed looked tiny with him in it, but any bed would have. The
berserker was huge.

She sat up and swung her legs off the bed, grimacing at the
soreness between her thighs.

He shot a hand out and wrapped his fingers around her arm.
“Rune—”

She pulled away, not
ungently
, and
stood. “Go home, Strad. We both need some time to move on from everything.” She
clicked the light on, thinking it would be somehow easier to resist him without
the shadows making everything so…soft and forgiving.

But trickles of remorse became rivers of guilt inside her
and she dug her nails into her bare thighs. She’d addicted the berserker and
she’d addicted Lex, and she had no idea how to fix either one of them. No idea.

She really
was
a monster.

He stared at her for a moment longer, then left the bed and
began climbing into his clothes. At last, when he was dressed, he spoke. “Being
calm and happy scares the fuck out of you.” He leaned over and kissed her
forehead. “We're
all
fucked up.
Doesn't matter.
We're connected, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

She shook her head. “I don't know.”

“Whatever else happens, you have to feed, and I need your
bite.”

Gurgle, gurgle.
She clutched her stomach.

Yes, she had to feed.

She knew what happened when she
starved
her monster.

He hesitated at the door. “We’ll be okay, Rune.”

“Yeah.”

But really, she wasn’t sure they would be.

She wasn’t sure at all.

Was it some kind of demented love she and the berserker felt
for each other? Not the same love she had for her crew, but
love
love
. How the fuck would she
know
?
How would anyone know?

He closed the door behind him, leaving her to her thoughts.
But she didn't want to think. Not about the berserker and not about what
fucking him might mean. Or change.

She needed to work. She grabbed her phone and a long, silver
shiv, and headed to the bathroom.

Halfway through her shower, which consisted mainly of her
leaning her forehead against the tile and letting the water beat at her back,
her phone rang.

She got out of the stall and grabbed her cell, ignoring the
water pooling at her feet. It was a number she didn’t recognize.

“Hello.”

“Rune Alexander?”

“Who’s this?”

“Roger Wilson.” His voice was full of gravel, old, and
somehow weak. “People call me Mac.”

She frowned, not remembering the name. “I’m sorry, but—”

“Amy’s dad,” he said, and cleared his throat. “I’m Amy’s
daddy.”

Fuck me.
She leaned against the sink, her breath
suddenly gone. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t think of one thing to say.

“I saw you,” he went on, when she remained quiet. “I saw you
at the cemetery.”

“I wanted to speak with you,” she whispered, finally. “I’m
so sorry.”

“Sorry won’t bring her back.”

Sorry never did. “Can I do anything for you?”

Again, he cleared his throat. “I have a little box for you.
Amy told me if something happened to her, I should get this box to you. She
made me swear to keep it from the vampires, and I did that. I did that.” He was
silent for a second. “She meant it for you so you should have it.”

Rune nodded, though he couldn’t see her, and held a hand to
her stomach. “Do you want me to pick it up?”

“No, no,” he said, so hastily she was taken aback. “I don’t
want to see you. I might…”

Might hit me? Might shoot me? Might prove you can still
throw a knife? I’d deserve that and more.
“Sir?”

“Besides.
I haven’t been staying
home. I’ll mail it to your work. I have the address.”

“Are you in trouble? If I can help you—”

He gave a short laugh. “Help me. Yeah. You, Alexander, have
helped enough.”

And before she could say another word, he hung up.

Her hand trembled as she ran it through her wet hair. She
turned on the cold water tap and leaned over to drink, hoping to cool the fire
in her stomach.
God, Amy.

She decided right then she would read Amy’s emails as soon
as she had the box. She’d get a bottle of wine—maybe a bottle of gut-rotting
whiskey—and would look in the box and read the emails.

She wasn’t going to let herself hide from the pain. She owed
it to the little bite junkie.

Part of her hoped he’d forget to send the package and she’d
be off the hook.

Yeah, she was that afraid.

It wouldn’t take a whole hell of a lot more to send her
spiraling back down into the bad place.

Even full of the berserker’s blood, she could fall.

Because the relief that came after, that was…

Heaven.

And sometimes she just needed to take a break.
To restart.

Jeremy.

For a brief second a spark of desolation at his death lit up
her insides.

Who was going to make her feel better? Who the fuck was
going to make her
feel
better?

She pushed her fist against her lips and stared into the
mirror at her pale, stark face. Her eyes were full of terror and weakness, and
that brought her back from the edge.

She was better than that. She was stronger than that.

Fuck you.

And who that was directed at, she couldn’t have said.

But then Elizabeth had called. “I don't know what's going on
out there, but it's bad. Some trouble with the
Others
.
I couldn’t get anything else from anyone. It’s not just Darius Elliot asking
for help now. Call me with reports as soon as you can, and we'll take it from
there.”

And so the crew was off to Rock County.

To the zombies.

She wished, for a brief second, that she held her silver
shivs. She’d trained with blades long before she was even aware she possessed
claws, and holding a blade in each hand balanced her.

But her claws were extensions of her body and she wielded
them with a natural ease that even the deadly silver blades couldn’t match.

She shoved the claws of her left hand into a zombie’s chest
while she used her right claws to slice through his neck. She was splattered
with blood. Blood that was thick and viscous and fucking…

No, Rune.

Fucking
delicious.

Human blood.

These zombies had been busy eating some of the townspeople.

A zombie fell but latched himself onto her leg as he went
down. Because she caught a glimpse of Levi, seemingly unaware a monster was
about to take a bite out of him, she was slow to react.

The zombie chewed on her calf and she screamed with horror
as she bent over to rid him of his head—and just barely turned in time to
destroy another as he bit the air not a half inch from her face.

She was going to be a zombie’s dinner if she didn’t
concentrate.

Looking for and worrying about the crew was only going to
get them
killed.
She had to shut them out.

She had to become the monster.

She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding him back. Old
habits
died
hard.

Not him. Me.

I am my monster and my monster is me.

She smiled, acknowledging the not quite empty look in a
zombie’s eyes as he tried to bite her, and then she freed her monster.

It was as though another being, one which shared her body,
rose up and took over. Her monster wanted only blood.

Her claws lengthened even farther. Her fangs cut her lip and
she eagerly lapped up the blood, and then she lost herself in the zombie
battle.

There was nothing else.

She was invincible then, faster than ever, stronger, meaner,
hungrier. She blew through the monsters like an unstoppable tornado.

Blood flew at her from those enemy bodies and she took it
eagerly. She opened her mouth for it and drank it down.

It made her infinitely better.

Infinitely more…monstrous.

She tasted something different in the zombie blood—not all
the zombies, but the different zombies.
The new zombies.

They tasted of a strange, powerful magic.

When Jack arrived with his flamethrower, she was
disappointed. She wasn’t ready to give the bastards to the fire. But unless she
wanted to burn, she had to get out of the way.

The crew retreated, zigzagging past zombie bodies, trampling
those that lay still upon the ground, and only when they stood in the clear did
Jack let loose his fire.

And the zombies screamed.

Agonized and aware, they screamed, and she felt each one
like a knife in her brain. Bathed in fire, they tried to run, tried to escape
the second death, but the fiery tongues lashed them, cooked their naked bodies,
destroyed
them.

They screamed.

Rune put her fists to her ears, feeling their terror and
their torment, and screamed with them.

These were not normal zombies.

Or maybe she was not a normal monster.

The berserker snatched her off the ground and wrapped her in
his arms.

“Listen to my voice, Rune,” he murmured. “Hush now…”

“Make them stop, Strad,” she begged. “Oh
God,
make
them stop!”

She couldn’t have said what she wanted stopped.
The screams?
The fire?
The pain?
She did not know.

Then suddenly she did.

She’d filled herself with strange zombie blood. She’d been
bitten by the fucks.

She was connected now.
Connected to the
zombies.

Connected, even more than she’d been
before, to the dead.

Part of her needed to protect them.
To
protect the fucking
zombies.

She wanted to bury her face in the berserker’s warm neck and
wait for the waves of misery to recede.

But she was Shiv Crew captain and she would not hide and she
would not break.

“Put me down, Strad.”

The crew sent tense looks her way, and Lex put her palm
against Rune’s back. She might read Rune through the touch, but Rune didn’t
care. The touch comforted her as much as it comforted the little
blind
Other.

“Are you okay?” Strad asked, his expression worried, his
eyes solemn.

“I am.”
I am always okay. I am never okay
.

When her feet touched the ground she turned and with silent
determination, watched the field of destruction with her crew.

It seemed to her the fiery purge happened in slow motion.
Maybe just to torment her.
The zombies burned and fell, some
of them trying to rise and some of them succeeding.

“We have to go around,” Raze said, his voice grim. “A few
are escaping.”

“You go,” Strad answered. “I’ll stay here with Rune.”

She stiffened and once more shot out her claws. “No,” she
said. “You will not.”

She led them around the burning zombies to the edge of the
clearing, beyond which the surviving monsters were crawling and clawing their
way to freedom.

Bastards.

She did not hesitate to slaughter the remaining zombies,
though her heart was bleeding with almost paralyzing empathy. She would kill
them, and she would protect the living.

It was her job and she was not going to fail in it just
because she’d been bitten and her emotions were confused.

Her mind hadn’t lost its logic simply because her heart was
unsure.

Let me in, Rune.

At last it was over. The crew stood silently in the bloody,
burning field. They huddled in a tight knot of weariness, taking a moment to
catalog injuries.

Z gave a sudden grunt of pain, then half-smiled as Lex
grabbed his wrist.

“What’s wrong?” Rune asked.

Lex reached up and hooked a hand around Z’s neck. She pulled
him toward her so she could kiss his cheek. “You’re my favorite.”

Rune grinned as Z winked at her over Lex’s head.

“Am I
your
favorite too, Rune?” he asked. He smiled,
but his eyes were completely serious.

Owen watched her with an unreadable expression. “I don’t
think Rune does favorites,” he said.

“You don’t really know me, baby.”

He inclined his head. “Not yet.”

Strad said nothing but she could feel the tension radiating
from him.

Her entire body hurt from the bites she’d sustained, but she
could handle the pain. What scared her was becoming one of those rotting,
brainless undead whose only desire was to eat.

Raze helped Jack out of the flamethrower and Rune eyed her
crew, almost afraid to ask the question she had to ask.
“Everyone
okay?
I was the only one bitten?”

It didn’t seem possible.

It wasn’t.

“No,” Lex answered.

Z’s eyes were full of something close to shame. “I was
bitten, sweet thing.”

Levi gave a sharp nod and stepped forward. “I was bitten as
well.”

Lex fell to the ground, sobbing, her hair hanging in her
face, hiding her unseeing, crazy eyes. “Levi,” she cried. “Levi.” Maybe because
Z had stood so close to her, she’d known he was bitten. But Levi…she hadn’t
known.

The crew remained silent, helpless, letting Lex’s
heartbreaking sobs speak for all of them.

Finally Rune opened her arms and both men walked into her
embrace.

“Where?” she whispered.

“Back of my right arm,” Z replied.

She closed her eyes, realizing his left arm was around her,
but his right was unmoving between her and Levi.

“My thigh,” Levi said.

Fuck me.
Fuck
me.

Raze helped Lex to her feet and she walked unsteadily to
Rune and the injured men.

“Rune,” she
said,
her voice hoarse.
“You’ll have to feed them.”

But Z squeezed Rune gently. “No.” He leaned forward to kiss
Lex’s forehead, and then turned away.

“Z,”
Rune cried.

He stopped walking, his back straight, determination in
every line of his body. “No, Rune. I was bitten. Whatever happens…
”
Then he did turn toward her, quickly, and winked. “That’s
just how it’s supposed to go.”

It was his choice.

And he was choosing to die.