Blay. It was Blay's arms around his chest.
They were both kneeling in Ruhn's blood.
"I can't hear anything," Saxton blurted. "Is anybody saying anything?"
"Shh," came Blay's soothing voice. "It's okay. They're just looking at him..."
"I can't...what's wrong with my ears." He hit himself in the side of the head a couple of times. "I can't...they're not working--"
Blay captured his hand and stilled him. "We need to find out if there's..."
"Is he dead?"
At that point, the floodgates threatened to open, but he had no time for the blindness that came with tears or any further lack of hearing. He simply sobbed without crying and tried to focus through his wretched sorrow.
When he had to turn to the side to try to throw up, Blay held his head while he dry-heaved, and he could vaguely recognize the male's voice speaking to him again. But God, he couldn't think.
And then Qhuinn was crouching down to him. The Brother's lips were moving and his mismatched stare was earnest, concerned, compassionate.
"I can't..." Saxton tapped his ear again. "I can't hear what you're saying..."
Qhuinn nodded and squeezed Saxton's shoulder. Then the male looked at Manny and Doc Jane, who were bending over Ruhn.
Chosen--a Chosen was here, Saxton realized.
Wait, they wouldn't have brought her if he was dead? Right?
"Someone talk to me!" Saxton shouted.
Everybody froze and looked over at him. And then Rhage was blocking the way and pointing to another room.
"No." Saxton shook his head. "No, I'm not--don't take me away from him--I'm not--"
Rhage's face got right in front of his own. "He has a pulse. They're going to feed him and they're going to close the knife wound. I'm taking you to the parlor and we're going to let them do their job--"
"No! No, don't make me leave him--"
"Do you want them distracted by you or working on Ruhn."
Saxton blinked. Put like that, the logic was enough to quiet him for the time being.
When he tried to stand up, his legs gave out and he caught himself by throwing out a hand. Blay and Qhuinn ended up pulling him to his feet and leading him out to the parlor. And as he fell down onto the sofa, he looked at his palms. His knees. His shirt.
There was blood all over him.
He glanced toward the door. And heard himself say, "There's a camera. Mounted in the corner of the eaves."
The Brother Vishous stepped forward from God only knew where. "Do you know what it feeds into?"
Saxton cleared his throat and spoke in a hoarse voice. "There's...downstairs, there's a laptop. The password is Minnie. It's there."
"I'm on it."
As the Brother stomped out of the room, like he was on a personal mission, Saxton put his head down...and wept.
How could his love have been taken away from him so soon?
--
Across town, Novo was pacing in her apartment. Which wasn't saying much: It took her about four strides to cover the distance to the bathroom. Four strides back to the futon.
Rinse and repeat, so to speak.
There was an intense restlessness in her, as if the universe were shattering somewhere in Caldwell, some kind of cosmic realignment happening that resonated in her world. Then again, maybe she was simply hallucinating from not having eaten in almost twenty-four hours.
She had been doing much better before Peyton had showed up just now.
Not really a newsflash.
It had been a shock to sense the echo of his blood up above her basement shithole, but all things considered, she couldn't really be surprised he had come. And she had been tempted to ignore his presence, except sooner or later, he would have figured out a way down to her level--and really, who needed to wait around for the other shoe to drop.
Seizing the bull by the horns, she had marched up there and given him what for.
So it was done. And he was the asshole and she was the victim who refused to be a victim.
Yada, yada, yada.
The trouble was, something wasn't sitting right. I refuse to keep paying for the sins of another.
"Just words, just fucking words," she muttered as she made another trip.
A quick check of the digital clock by her pillows and she added up how many hours before dawn: two. She had about one hundred and twenty minutes before she was stuck here all day.
There was only one place she could think of to go. And unfortunately, it was the last place in the world she wanted to be.
Something wouldn't keep her inside, though.
Like a bird seeking flight, she made a sudden rush to leave, sure as if she were afraid destiny's hand would close the door of her freedom of choice and lock it for good.
Out on the street, she walked fast, following in the footsteps of countless humans, and a few vampires, who had trod over the snowpack on the sidewalk. She went way farther than she had to to find a place to dematerialize, but she wanted to give herself as much of an opportunity to change her mind as she could.
The calling would not be denied, however.
Eventually, she ducked into a doorway that had no light above it...and after more than a few attempts, she traveled out and away from downtown, past the very outer ring of the suburbs, to a forest of trees and marshes.
When she re-materialized, she found herself in an unfamiliar familiar landscape.
The house she had once rented was abandoned now, its windows broken, a hole in its roof, the yard a tangle of vines, out-of-control bushes, and saplings that would soon be trees. In fact, the entire property seemed to have been returned to the wild, the six or seven acres overgrown such that the other houses in the area could not be seen at all.
The snow cover, undisturbed except for some deer prints, seemed to be the crowning glory on the home's death. Or more like the dirt on its coffin lid.
She must have been the last person to inhabit the place.
Maybe her tragedy had cursed the land and the little house.
Or...maybe its owner had simply forfeited the mortgage and the bank had repossessed the property and not been able to move it on to someone else...and then a season had passed and a winter had come and pipes had broken...and after more of the same, there you had it.
The real estate equivalent of cancer that metastasized.
Walking forward, she was in no rush to get around to the back...but as with all journeys, large and small, the end came when it did.
And then she was staring out at the marshes that seemed to go on forever. In reality, there was a good mile of them, and off in the distance, there were foothills that turned into the mountains that ultimately cupped Schroon Lake on the other side.
Even with everything so unkempt, she knew exactly the spot where she had buried the young. It was over there. Under that little bush she had planted that was now so much bigger and the pile of rocks she had made that had stayed the same height.
There was still a small mound, beneath the blanket of snow.
With each step she took, the heaviness in her heart grew...until she could not take a full breath anymore. And then she was crouching down and she was putting her bare hand out to the snow.
Turning her palm over, she remembered the blisters.
It had been as cold as it was now the night it had happened. But she had been determined to dig. She had used a kitchen knife to stab at the hard, frozen earth and then had clawed the loose dirt free with her bare hands. Three feet down, and then she could go no farther because her hands were too shot.
She had gone back into the house then.
The young she had wrapped in a dishtowel--a clean one that had no holes.
Back out by the grave, she had leaned down and placed the tiny bundle in the earth. Her tears had been the first thing that had filled what she had dug. And then that dirt, falling in chunks that she had had to press down, her blood mixing with the clay soil.
Concerned that predators would fi
nd the site, she had turned back to the house. Stones set aside for some kind of terrace project that had not come to fruition had been stacked by the back door. One by one, she had carried them over and made a cairn.
Then she had sat in the cold until she had shivered from hypothermia.
Much like she was doing now.
Only the blazing burn of the sun's earliest rays had motivated her to go back inside--and even then, she had retreated not because she wanted to live, but rather because she had been determined to clean up her blood on the kitchen floor.
And also because of that old wives' tale about not being welcomed in the Fade if you killed yourself.
At nightfall, she had dug up that bush and replanted it...and then she had left with no idea where she was going.
She had spent the first few days on the streets, keeping sheltered from the sun in alleys behind Dumpsters. She'd wanted to believe she could meet her young eventually.
She still wanted to believe that.
Oddly, she recalled how busy the city had been during the day. Having only known Caldwell at night, the amount of traffic on the city streets, and all the walking, talking humans, and the bustling activity had been a surprise.
Eventually, she had decided she had to do something with herself. She had found a job as a short-order cook at an all-night diner, taking the third shift that paid relatively well because most humans didn't want to do the late hours.
And then she'd seen that post on a closed Facebook group about the Brotherhood's training program.
Letting herself fall back onto her ass, she stared at the stones she had laid, one upon the other.
"Serenity," she said out loud. "I'm going to name you Serenity. Because I hope that is what you have found in the Fade..."
"You are my uncle's special friend."
At the sound of a small voice, Saxton turned away from the closed door of the operating room. Bitty was standing beside him in the training center's corridor, both of her parents behind her, a toy tiger dangling in her hand. The little girl was in a red dress, her dark hair curling at the ends, her eyes innocent, yet very old.
This one had known so much suffering. Thus, she was used to this sorrow, wasn't she, he thought sadly.
Clearing his throat, he eased down to her level so he could meet her eye to eye. "Yes, I am. How did you know?"
"My uncle told me all about you. When we were doing our puzzle the other night. He said you were his special friend and he loved you very much."
Saxton had thought that he was all cried out: After the trip in on the surgical van, with Ruhn coding twice, and then watching the door close as Doc Jane and Manny went in to put some kind of a tube or something in the male's throat, he'd assumed he was dry as a bone.
Nope.
His eyes started to water all over again. "I love your uncle very much, too. He is my special friend as well."
"Here." She held out her stuffed tiger. "This is Mastimon. He has always protected me. You can hold him now."
With hands that shook, he accepted the precious gift, and as he tucked it into his heart, he pulled the little girl close to his chest. Her arms did not fit very far around him, but he drew strength from her.
Rhage looked heartbroken as he spoke up. "Any news...?"
Saxton stood and was surprised as Bitty kept her arm around him. It seemed so easy to rest his hand on her small shoulder, the pair of them hurting together.
"Not yet," he told the Brother. "They've been in there forever."
"Do they know who did this?"
"Vishous is looking into it. I can't really even focus on that right now. All I want is for Ruhn to..." He stopped himself. "We're just going to pray for the best, aren't we, Bitty?"
"Yes." The little girl nodded.
"Can we bring you anything?" Mary asked.
"No. Thank you, though."
Other Brothers stopped by, asked for updates, chatted. Someone brought him a coffee, but when he tasted it, all he could think about was what Ruhn had made for him just twelve hours ago.
That coffee had been perfect. Everything else was ruined.
He was never going to be able to drink the stuff again.
God, it seemed impossible that life had been going at such a happy pace...only to have this brick wall of horror slam into him--
Down at the far end of the corridor, the office's glass door opened and Wrath came charging through. The King's face was cast in a dark fury, and his Queen, Beth, seemed to be holding him back--and getting nowhere.
As Wrath came down and stopped in front of him, Saxton had trouble meeting his ruler's eyes even though they were blind.
"Who did this," the King snarled. "Who fucking did this."
"I think it was the humans who..." Saxton took a deep breath. "Ruhn and I were staying at the house to help that homeowner who was getting harassed."
"Why the fuck didn't you call for more help!"
As that autocratic demand was barked out, Beth yanked at her hellren's arm. "Wrath! For crissakes, will you back off--"
"It's okay," Saxton said with exhaustion. "He is just upset this happened at all and it's coming out badly. We go through this on the job, he and I--"
The King's arm shot out and dragged him forward so hard and so fast, Saxton's head spun--at least until it banged into a chest of granite.
"I am so sorry," Wrath muttered. "I didn't know you two were together."
Abruptly, Saxton found himself clinging to the far-larger male, Wrath's undeniable physical and literal power exactly what he needed at that moment.
"I didn't know he was yours," Wrath said tightly. "I would never have sent him out with you if I had known."
"He wasn't mine then," Saxton choked out. "When we started...he wasn't yet mine."
At that moment, Manny and Doc Jane emerged from the operating room, sure as if they had been summoned by a royal decree. The two surgeons pulled their masks down in sync, and it was hard not to read into their tired expressions that things had not gone as they had hoped.
"So this is what we've got," Doc Jane said. "He's stable, but in critical condition. He's having a hard time finding a steady blood pressure and heart rate."
"He coded again," Manny added. "And since we can't give you all transfusions, it's just tough. His brain has gone without oxygen for a couple of minutes, a couple of times."
"I'm so sorry," Doc Jane concluded, "but we're not sure...whether he's going to wake up."
As Bitty ran to her parents, Saxton covered his mouth so he didn't start screaming again.
When he was able, he said, "Can I see him--can she and I see him?"
Doc Jane glanced at Rhage and Mary. When they nodded, the doctor did as well. "Okay, but only the two of you. Talk to him, tell him how much you want him to fight. We're not going to move him right now--and you can't stay in there long. He needs to rest."
"All right. Okay."
He took Bitty's hand and looked down at her. "You ready?"
When the little girl nodded, Manny opened the door for them.
It was cold inside the operating room, so much colder than he'd been prepared for. And there was a purpose to everything that was in the tiled space, from the medical equipment to the multi-light fixture overhead to the glass-front shelves with all their instruments and supplies.
His only thought as they approached the table was that he didn't want Ruhn to die in this horrible, clinical place. And not like this, with all these wires going in and out of him.
He was so pale, he was gray. And there were bandages all around his throat.
"What's the beeping?" Bitty asked as they stopped.
"His heartbeat."
Fates, maybe they shouldn't let the girl see this, he thought as the pair of them looked down at him. Ruhn's face was so hollow, and with that all-wrong color, his hair was so very dark in contrast. Further, his eyes were closed as if they were never opening again, and his breathing was unnaturally punchy--
Oh, right. He was on a ven
tilator thanks to a tube that went in through the base of his throat.
"Uncle, it's Bitty and Saxton. We love you."
The girl took her uncle's still hand in hers.
"My love," Saxton said as he bent over and kissed his male's forehead. "Come back to us. We need you."
There were so many things to be said, pleaded, begged--
Saxton recognized that his own mouth was moving and that he was continuing to speak. But that odd deafness had returned to him, his ability to hear evaporating.
When a hand landed on his shoulder, he jumped.
Doc Jane's forest-green eyes were grave. "I'm sorry," she said softly, "but we're going to ask you to leave for a little while."
It was like peeling his own flesh off in strips to turn away, but he allowed himself to be led out. And as he stepped from the operating room, he saw that Vishous, Blay, and Qhuinn had joined the crowd that had assembled.
The door closed on his lover.
In the silence, as everyone looked at him, something changed deep inside of Saxton. Gone was the nausea and the sorrow and the fear. All that was weak disappeared as if it had never been. In its place?
The rage of a bonded male.
In a voice that did not sound like his own, he heard himself say, "Will you all take Bitty for a moment?"
Rhage nodded immediately, the male recognizing exactly what was going on. "Hey, Bit, I'm hungry. Can you and Mary take me down to the break room for something to eat?"
The little girl stepped in front of Saxton. "Do you promise to come and get me if he wakes up?"
Saxton brushed her cheek. "I promise. With all that I am, dearest one."
She gave him a quick, fierce hug--that reminded him of her uncle--and then she was taking her father's hand and leading the Brother and Mary down the corridor.
Saxton waited until they were out of earshot to turn to Vishous. "Tell me you know who did this."
Vishous nodded. "I reviewed the security footage from the last couple of weeks. They were the same two human men who have showed up in a truck a number of times. One of them now has his arm in a sling. They came to the front door and they had weapons. Ruhn opened things up and they attacked him. The fight had to have been a brutal one because the total elapsed time was almost thirty minutes."
"They left in rough shape," Blay tacked on. "Ruhn hurt them."
"Bad," Qhuinn affirmed. "Like a true fighter."
In a voice that was all vengeance, Saxton said, "You find them. You bring them to me. I, and I alone, will take care of this."