Smolder Road (Scorch Series Romance Thriller Book 6) Page 13

  The warm thrust of Shadow’s muzzle into my hand as he rejoins me brings a prickle to my eyes. “Thank you, boy.”

  Shadow meets my eyes with his yellow ones, only for a second, submitting to my leadership. But he didn’t have to come. He could have stayed at the Haven, been a part of the pack of dogs there, a beloved member of the family.

  And so could I.

  I bat the thought away. No one loves me. No one ever has. Lucy’s just infatuated. The girl never had anyone say no to her before. Not that I really said no, in the end…

  I stroke Shadow’s solid skull, his fur silky under my fingertips—but not as silky as Lucy’s skin.

  Her skin is imprinted all over me, a tattooed memory. Her touch still lights up my body every time my mind goes back to that humble pallet. Her scent is on me, in every sense of the word. Her taste fills my mouth, my nose—ah, God—strawberries.

  I can only pray that her hold on me will fade with time and distance. I need to get space between me and the Haven, and once my head’s clear, I can figure out what’s next.

  We travel north on deer trails all that afternoon and into the dusk, camping that night under a sheltering pine. Not bothering with a fire, I lie awake, grinding my teeth. Unable to sleep, I pull the eagle feather from my hair. The white down is dark with dried blood—the light hidden, leaving only the dark.

  I slide off my belt and notch it twelve times with my knife, one slash mark for each man of Kane’s that I killed, and finally I can sleep, the satisfaction of ending those men relaxing me.

  The clang of something metal, an alien sound in the dark forest, jars me out of a dream. I am sweating and afraid, unsure of what happened, but knowing that there is a war going on inside of me. Good and evil are waging a battle, and I don’t care who wins.

  Shadow goes tense and his ruff rises as a growl rumbles in his chest. I stand, holding up a hand for him to wait, and ghost like fog through the trees to investigate, drawing my weapons as I prowl toward the sound.

  Three men are clustered around a campfire. I note the swastikas marking their allegiance on their skin and clothing with vicious satisfaction.

  Darkness unfurls inside of me, stifling the white-hot pain of Lucy’s love, and I move into the firelight.

  “Friends of Dwight Kane?”

  My voice brings three heads snapping around, three pairs of eyes bulging in surprise that I appeared undetected out of the darkness, three hands fumbling for weapons that aren’t ready.

  “Yeah. Who’s asking?” The largest of the three snarls, lifting his pistol toward my chest.

  “Just making sure.” I fire from my waist.

  Three shots in the quiet night. Three souls set free. Three more notches for my belt.

  I don’t bury the bodies, but I do take their best horse, a sturdy gray gelding.

  This is something to do for the rest of my miserable life: I’ll go skinhead hunting, until one of them finally brings me down.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Lucy

  Nani’s pregnant belly rests on the bed as she leans over me, bandaging my hand. “It’s amazing that there is hardly any infection here. You got really lucky.”

  I can’t help the bubble of laugher that escapes despite the pain radiating from my wound. Nani’s dark eyes narrow and she shakes her head. “I guess lucky is the wrong word.”

  I take a deep breath. “No, you’re right. All I lost was a finger, and none of our family got hurt during the raid.” I nod my head. “We are lucky.”

  But Roan abandoned me.

  He loves me, and left me anyway. Maybe he is broken. Which means I’m broken. Because we became one last night…

  Tears push at the back of my eyes and sorrow grips my throat.

  Mama sits on the other side of my bed, holding my good hand. She pats it for the thousandth time. Her lip trembles. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

  Mama’s concern is bone-deep. The fear my kidnapping caused has left what I’m afraid is a permanent scar on her. She’s already lost Nando, the son she was closest too, and if she lost me as well, especially at the hands of sadistic killers…it would turn the rest of her hair silver, at least.

  The first white streak showed up after my father’s murder, over twenty years ago. Did it feel like he abandoned her? But my father didn’t choose to walk away. That must have brought her some comfort.

  Still, being left alone with seven kids—my father’s love couldn’t have provided much solace for his loss. Sympathy wells in me. Mama has been through so much.

  Nani straightens up with a groan, putting her hand to her lower back. She looks just about ready to burst, and it’s a good look on her: skin glowing, her stomach a perfect globe, an aura of peace and abundance wafting from her. I love the bright colors of her emotions, and of the little one within her—but already my weird psychic sense is dampening. With such a smaller number of people around me it’s easy to let the pulsing, swirling emotions of life fade into the background.

  They were always there, I just didn’t notice them before.

  “You should rest,” I say.

  She laughs. “That’s supposed to be my line.” But I can feel the relief in her—she needs to lie down.

  “Now that I’m cleaned up and bandaged I want to meet the babies.” Dolf and Avital’s twins were born two days ago…right about the time I was losing a finger, I was gaining two identical little nephews.

  A spark of happiness in the gray of my personal landscape, the babies are just down the hall—but everyone agreed I needed to rest and recoup a bit before meeting them. I had a full meltdown by the back hatch—crying so hard that I thought it might kill me, sobs racking my body, struggling to breathe and almost wishing to die. Luca’s huge frame looming over me, his rough voice calling my name, the concern etched on his brow as he lifted me up, carrying me toward the Haven’s sick bay, made me finally recognize how selfish I was being.

  My whole family risked their lives to save me and instead of running back to them, I lay on the floor crying about a man. No more.

  “I’m not going to just lie here in my bed when my new family is only a five-minute walk away.” I announce, to keep the tears from constricting my windpipe.

  Nani nods. “That’s a good attitude, Lucy.”

  “It’s beautiful, the way life goes on despite everything. I’m anxious to meet the little guys and begin this next phase—post finger, post Roan, new aunt.” I smile, but it hurts my lips.

  “I guess something happened between you two. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” Nani says. My mother grimaces, clutching her own hand and beginning to cry again, still hung up on my finger.

  Her pain is grinding on me. “You know what, Ma? I would just love something to eat.”

  Her eyebrows raise as a thrill of happiness blooms bright in her. There’s nothing my mother loves more than feeding me. “I’ve got some eggplant parm made.”

  I need to keep her busy a little longer than that. “What about your special lasagna? I think that would really help bring me back to life.”

  Her chest swells and the tears that fill her eyes are happy ones. There is something she can do to help me. “With the meat gravy and the bechamel sauce? I have fresh spinach in the garden.”

  “That’d be so awesome. I love you.”

  She leans over and kisses my forehead. “I love you so much, baby.” Her distress vibrates in the room. Even with me safely back in the family compound, she can’t let it go.

  But that is so my mother. She hasn’t had a date since Pops died. Clearly, she’s not great at moving on.

  I don’t want to be like that, hung up on Roan forever.

  A knock at the door brings our attention around as JT steps in. “I got some pain pills,” he says, walking into my bedroom. There’s a fresh cut on his cheek from the battle, but other than that he came through unscathed. He holds up the meds, and I shudder.

  “No thanks. I’d love to see my nephews though.”

  JT cock
s his head, frowning. “You’re not in pain?”

  Not in pain? Ha! I’m in excruciating pain, but no pill is going to dull the hurt, fill the void, or bring Roan back to me. My physical ailments, the stub where my finger used to be, the swelling in my face, they’re nothing compared to the gaping wound where my heart was.

  I kept my love for Roan in a box where I could play with it, turn it around, admire it, and slip into fantasies of our future as we flirted around all these months—but our lovemaking unleashed it. Now that love stalks around inside me, clawing at my guts, a caged animal demanding release—but Roan is gone.

  I swallow fresh grief as Mama excuses herself to start cooking and Nani leaves with her. JT helps me off the bed and we link arms as we walk through the underground bunker towards Avital and Dolf’s quarters. He pats my arm like an old lady.

  “You missed me?” I tease, but terror shocks through him at the memory of my kidnapping. His hand tightens on me, and my own heart picks up its pace in sympathy. “I’m sorry.” My voice comes out tiny.

  “Nothing for you to be sorry about.” JT’s deep baritone is gruff. I look up at him and my big bro, the tallest member of the family, has tears in his eyes. His jaw tightens and he pushes his chin-length curls behind his ears, clearing his throat.

  I squeeze his arm. “But you must’ve known that I’d be okay. Because of the Sight.”

  His eyes catch mine and he raises his brows. We’ve never talked about the Sight—it’s this strange thing in our family, a twist of fate we don’t discuss but know is there.

  “It doesn’t work like that. I couldn’t tell what was going to happen.”

  “How does it work for you?” I ask.

  JT stops walking and turns fully to me, his hazel eyes boring into mine. “How does it work?” he swallows, his throat working. “It’s…hard to explain. I don’t get to choose what I see coming. I have no control over it.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Do you?”

  I bite my lip and pain greets me. The tang of blood fills my mouth as I probe the newly opened wound with my tongue. JT will understand. “When I was there, they…” I probably shouldn’t mention the waterboarding, it will upset him. Better to keep it vague. “When they held me prisoner I had this experience.” I look down at my feet, twisting my good hand around my bandaged one. “And now, I can feel people’s emotions.”

  JT’s eyebrows are practically in his hairline. “Feel people?”

  “Yeah, it’s almost like they’re balls of color. I can sense things like anger and hate and love.” My throat closes on that last one.

  “That’s amazing.” JT’s voice is so low it’s almost a whisper. “And you never had anything like this before?”

  I take his arm and begin walking, wanting to get to those nephews and feeling more capable of talking if I’m in motion. “I think…you know how I’ve always been good at reading people? And good at arguing?”

  JT laughs, the sound bouncing around the cement underground hallway. “Yeah, I know about that.”

  I slant him a look. “Well, I think that maybe this is like that, except much more extreme.”

  “It must be hard for you. Even the little bits that I get, the prickling at the back of my neck, the sense of foreboding or joy or whatever… It’s difficult and I’ve been dealing with it my whole life.”

  A brief flash of JT being held underwater makes me wonder what kind of powers a near-death experience might grant him. I shake my head, clearing the morbid yet fascinating thought. “Yeah, it’s hard. But it saved my life too.”

  “What do you mean?” he asks as we reach Avital and Dolf’s rooms.

  “I used the…knowing, to navigate through the tunnels, to avoid getting recaptured, and basically to find our way out. I could tell where the men were, and I could sense the forest, all the life out there…” my sentence hangs in the air. There is no way to describe something so arcane.

  But JT nods his head. “I get it.”

  “Does it get easier?” I ask, looking up at him. Not just the strange knowing but also the ache of losing the one you love.

  JT’s smile is tight as deep sadness infuses him—he lost his wife and newborn baby almost a decade ago. The wound is still there, but healing at last. I can feel that—and it’s thanks to Elizabeth. “You’ll think about it less. And in time, if you’re lucky, someone else will come along.” He pulls me into a hug and I close my eyes, resting against his strong chest.

  JT is happy now. Maybe one day I can be again, too.

  We knock on Dolf and Avital’s door. The joy emanating from the apartment is a balm that helps to soothe the ragged wound Roan left behind. Dolf’s voice calls to come in, and we step into a small living room with a couch and two rocking chairs.

  I recognize the wooden furniture as a JT and Roan collaboration, and a twinge of grief washes through me, quickly soothed by the look on Dolf’s face as he rocks one of his sons.

  Usually so tailored, his hair immaculate, my hard brother Dolf is smiling down at the bundle in his arms. Rumpled, loose curls fall over his forehead and his face is soft with sleep and tiredness.

  Avital sits in the other rocking chair, holding another baby with a shock of black hair showing above his blanket. Shadows are dark under her green eyes, but it’s a well-earned exhaustion.

  They both smile at me, giant grins on their usually serious faces. “Thank God you’re back safe, Lucy Loo,” Dolf says. Only he and Nando called me that pet name. I cross the room and lean over, kissing both of Dolf’s cheeks, and then look down at the infant in his arms.

  The tiny boy’s eyes are closed, and one fist is curled around his father’s finger. His skin is pale as milk, his hair thick.

  “Nando, this is your aunt Lucy.”

  “Oh, he’s just perfect.” I lean over and kiss my nephew’s forehead, breathing in his scent: pure goodness. Nando squirms and then settles back into his father’s arms with a little grunt.

  “And this,” Dolf gestures to the boy in Avital’s arms…“is Joseph.” I walk to Avital’s side and look down into Joseph’s sweet little face. Exactly the same as his brother’s, but there’s a difference between them that I can feel. Like his namesake, baby Nando is filled with peace and love, while little Joseph is sensitive and intense. The poor little guy…he’s just like Dolf.

  I can’t help the laugh of joy that bubbles out of my chest, and I kiss Avital on both cheeks. “Congratulations, mama. You did real good. These boys are beautiful.”

  Avital laughs. “As their mother, I can’t help but agree.”

  “You want to hold him?” Dolf lifts Nando toward me.

  I take the infant in my arms. He’s tiny, warm and so precious.

  The happiness in this room is the perfect recipe for getting over Roan Winters.

  Roan’s gone. I know that. He cut me off, cut me out of his soul—and he is never coming back.

  But I still have so much. I’m an aunt. A sister and a daughter. And I can help the family. Holding Nando close, feeling the beat of his tiny heart through his fragile ribs, I’m suffused with gratitude and love.

  The hole inside me may never fully heal, just as my finger will never grow back.

  But I will survive.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Elizabeth

  The hardest thing about making a vaccine is the final test: trying it out on a human host. And when it’s a deadly virus, that test subject is going to risk his or her life.

  I take off my glasses and lower my head into my hands, massaging my temples, staring down at the petri dish with the healthy human cells in it—cells that have successfully fought off the secondary strain of Scorch Flu. I’m looking at saving lives right here.

  We did it.

  While Nani has not physically worked on the vaccine due to her pregnancy, each day we conferred on a plan of action and I executed our plan—so this is her accomplishment too.

  For months we’ve labored, and she’s now in actual labor, wo
rking to bring forth her and Luca’s child. I’m excited for them, and hopeful it won’t be as grueling a physical ordeal as delivering twins was for Avital—and I’m grateful that, with Avital back on her feet and Melody available to help, I’m not needed.

  Being present at the birth of Dolf and Avital’s twins thrilled and terrified me. It’s a challenge I’m one step closer to now.

  And this moment, here and now in my quiet lab, is the fruition of all I’ve worked on for months.

  I should be more excited.

  Not only did the cells win their battle with the broken strain of flu I exposed them to, the live pig trial also went well. A secondary and cruder test, a mix of Jolene’s and a pig’s infected blood, was injected into a test animal. Pigs don’t die from Scorch Flu like humans, but they do get a minor respiratory infection. The control pigs did—and the vaccinated pig didn’t.

  Yes, I’m ready for that final step: testing on a human host. It is time for the final push.

  The level of clinical trials that would traditionally be done is impossible here at the Haven, and every day without a vaccine costs more lives. Nani and I knew this problem would arise, but who or how can we ask someone to take this risk? We shelved the topic to deal with once we had a viable specimen.

  And we have one, today.

  There is no way for me to know if the neutralized virus we’ve managed to reverse engineer from Jolene’s body actually works except by testing the vaccine. I have done all of the due diligence that Nani and I set up and every indication is that we’ve got an effective intervention. I wish I could watch the antibodies do their job in a test situation, but viruses and their activity are too small to be seen under anything but an electron microscope the size of a building—leaving good old-fashioned human experimentation.

  I adjust my personal protection equipment, pulling the mask down off of my face as I rub my tired eyes with ungloved hands. I’ve been down here all night.

  Working in the lab gives me something to do rather than worry about how Nani’s labor is going. JT would keep me company, but I sneaked out of the bedroom, unwilling to wake him. He works so hard, too.