Crisped + Sere (Immemorial Year Book 2) (13 page)

And between dog and monster, the man named Cavalo closed his eyes and slept again.

know thy enemy

THERE WERE
fifteen days remaining when Cavalo left Cottonwood, Lucas and Bad Dog at his side. The town bustled behind him. People moved with purpose. Determination. It would most likely not be enough, but they didn’t know that. And it would do them no good if Cavalo told them.

“Bill should be back with Richie and Deke in a few days,” Hank told him at the gate.

If they’re not already dead
,
the bees laughed.
Strung up above a fire as their skin blackens and cracks.

“I’ll be back before then,” Cavalo said, shouldering his pack. It was weird between them. It probably always would be. It was a small price to pay. “Have your people ready to move. The ones that need to. It’ll be done quickly.”

“They’ll be ready. And they’ll be safe? In the tunnels?”

Cavalo nodded. “SIRS will see to it.” He felt the twinge in his broken fingers and ignored it. “Make sure the walls are fortified. Double up the Patrol. And make sure they actually have bullets in their guns.”

“Never going to hear the end of that one, am I?”

“Probably not.”

Cavalo turned to leave. He could hear Lucas and Bad Dog behind him. He stopped when Hank said his name.

“What?”

Hank hesitated. Looked over Cavalo’s shoulder at Lucas and the dog. Back at Cavalo. “Last night. After Aubrey promised to never speak to me again.”

“That well, huh?”

“Understatement. I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t know if I blame her.”

“You did what you thought you had to do,” Cavalo allowed.

“Maybe. But….”

Cavalo waited.

Hank steeled himself. “The boy. The Dead Rabbit. Lucas.”

Cavalo’s defenses went up. “What about him?”

“Do you trust him?”

Of all the things Hank could have said, Cavalo expected that the least. And it was a question he did not know how to answer. “It’s complicated,” he said.

“Is it? How complicated can it be?”

“More than you know.”

“What if…? Cavalo, what if he
let
himself be caught?”

The bees laughed as their stingers scraped behind Cavalo’s eyes. “Why?”

“Know thy enemy.”

“What?”

“There was a general,” Hank said. “From Before. Long Before. His name was Sun Tzu. He said ‘know thy enemy and know yourself; in a hundred battles, you will never be defeated.’”

Something twitched in the back of Cavalo’s mind. “SIRS said….” Hadn’t SIRS said something about Sun Tzu once while in the grip of his insanity? The more Cavalo pushed to find the memory, the more the bees swarmed.

“SIRS?” Hank asked.

“Never mind.”

“Cavalo, how sure of him can you be? Have you thought of that? That maybe he
wanted
to get caught? That it was part of their plan. He’s seen things. He knows the layout of the town. He knows what we’re planning. He knows… well. He knows
you
, Cavalo. He knows that you’re the only chance we’ve got.”

“It’s not—” Cavalo started before he stopped himself. He remembered the look on Lucas’s face as he fucked him. The greed. The pain. The anguish and the pleasure. The scrape of the knife against his throat. The scrape of a kiss against his lips. “He’s had plenty of chances.”

“To what? Kill you?”

“Yes.”

“And he hasn’t.”

“No.”

“Know thy enemy, Cavalo. If you think about it, it’s smart. Send someone in to work their way out.”

“Why all the theatrics, then? With Patrick. He took what he wanted from Grangeville. And if Lucas is the key, then why send him? If anything, he would’ve have wanted him close.”

“Variables,” Hank said. “Too many unknown variables, and I hate that.”

“He killed them. His own kind. To protect me.”

“Is that what happened to his face? Those marks. Look like fingers.”

Cavalo remembered the pleasure burn of his cock sliding into Lucas. “Yes.”

Hank shrugged. “Maybe they were expendable. Maybe they wronged him and he held a grudge. Maybe it was part of a plan.”

Cavalo thought of the way Lucas tasted. The way his knife felt against Cavalo’s stomach. “He’s not like that. He’s not with them.”

“So you trust him.”

“At least I knew he was working with the Dead Rabbits from the start,” Cavalo said before he could stop himself.

Hank winced. “I suppose I’ve earned that.”

Cavalo said nothing.

“Just… keep an eye out, okay? I don’t want to find you with a knife in your stomach.”

Cavalo couldn’t help the sharp bark of laughter that came then. If only Hank knew. He could only imagine the look of horror on his face. On all their faces. Not that Cavalo cared what they thought of him. It was none of their business, this thing with Lucas. Or anything he did. He did not belong to them.

Hank must have sensed he pushed too far. “Be safe,” he said, taking a step back.

Cavalo nodded and turned toward the mountains. Lucas and Bad Dog waited on the road ahead, watching him.

What did he want?
Lucas asked when he reached them.

“To tell us to watch our backs,” Cavalo said.

Lucas didn’t look like he believed him.

Home?
Bad Dog asked.

“Home.”

And so they went.

THEY WERE
nearing the remains of the ski resort, and Cavalo was wishing Hank had never opened his fucking mouth. Bad Dog ran on ahead, bouncing around in the snow, chasing sounds and smells. Lucas watched him with a foreign look on his face, and it took Cavalo a moment to recognize it for what it was: amusement. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Lucas at ease like this. It made him wary.

“He forgets sometimes,” Cavalo said, wondering why he was saying anything at all. Hank’s words were haunting him, and he couldn’t get them to stop.

What?
Lucas asked him.

“That he’s not a puppy. Like when I found him.”

When you killed those men.

“Those Dead Rabbits. Yes.” A challenge in his voice.

Lucas did not rise to meet it. Instead, he looked off into the forest, the trees heavy with snow.

They walked on.

And Cavalo could not stop thinking about Hank’s words.

Okay?
Bad Dog asked him once, his nose covered in powder.

“Yeah,” he said.

But he wasn’t.

He was distracted by the smell of him. Like dirt. Like earth. Like spice. Sweat. He remembered how it looked to have his come on the tattoos, the muscles in his chest and stomach constricting as he panted for air. Cavalo’s marks on his skin. The stuttering look in his eyes as Cavalo fucked into him. The way he looked on his knees.

“Did you know them?” Cavalo asked him.

Lucas looked at him, a question in his eyes.

“The men I killed.”

How am I supposed to know that?

“It wasn’t that long ago.”

No.

“Surely you notice when people disappear. Someone does.”

Lucas shrugged.
I don’t.

“Those people you killed?”

Which ones?

Curious, Cavalo asked, “How many?”

Does it matter?

“Does it?”

Many.

“Did they deserve it?”

Lucas’s eyes flashed.
Did yours?

“No. Not all.”

Lucas cocked his head at him.
You mean that, don’t you?

“I know what I am.”

Then you know what
I
am. You said we’re the same.

“If I asked you to take me to Patrick, would you?”

Cavalo saw the fear again. It was a rarity that it struck him in the chest each time he saw it.
No
, Lucas said.
No.

“Why?”

Because he is Death. He is the dark. He is the king of monsters, and he will break you.

“He doesn’t scare me.” Bravado, that. Hollow bravado.

He should. He will.

“It’s on him, isn’t it? His skin. Like you.”

Lucas searched his face, but Cavalo didn’t know what he was looking for. He must have found it, because eventually, he nodded slowly.

“We need more.”

More?

“Anything. The more we know, the better chance we have.”

Lucas looked away, the scowl returning. His hand twitched at the knife at his side.

They moved on.

It wasn’t until they were nearing the prison that Lucas reached out and grabbed his arm. Cavalo looked back him. Lucas had a look on his face Cavalo couldn’t quite figure out. There was anger, yes. That was perpetual. But there was something more, almost like Lucas was… unsure.

“What is it?” Cavalo asked, looking around sharply. He didn’t hear anything, but for all he knew they’d been surrounded in the woods. Bad Dog had run ahead. SIRS must have seen them approaching on the cameras as the gate opened. Cavalo started to unshoulder his rifle.

Lucas pointed back down the way they’d come. Back toward Cottonwood. Puffed out his chest. Bowed out his arms.

“Hank?” Cavalo asked, allowing himself to feel amused. He didn’t know what it said about them that the impression was awful but Cavalo knew it anyway.

Lucas nodded. Pointed back at Cavalo.
What did he say?

Those dark eyes never left his. “Does it matter?”

Does it?

“Lose something, Charlie?” Cavalo asked before he could stop himself. The bees were slipping out of him easier these days. It felt strangely like relief.

But Lucas didn’t look at him oddly. He didn’t stare like Cavalo was losing his mind, though surely he was. No, he watched Cavalo like he knew exactly what he meant. Lucas nodded.
I’ve lost many things.

Cavalo had never been of a curious sort. It wasn’t who he was. Not anymore. So he was surprised when he said, “Your throat.”

Lucas’s eyes narrowed, and he started to bare his teeth. But it slipped away quickly, as if Lucas changed his mind. Cavalo wondered at the war within him. If it was anything like the one within himself. He didn’t know if he’d won or lost when Lucas looked backed at him and said,
It hurt. When it happened.

Cavalo closed his eyes. Took a breath in. Let it out.

He opened his eyes when he felt a hand on his own. Lucas pulled his hand up to his neck. Cavalo’s fingers shook slightly. He told himself it was because he was cold. He hadn’t worn his gloves. Hadn’t thought to.

The scar was hot under his fingers, almost like it was burning. Lucas held his hand by the palm, and Cavalo moved his fingers lightly over the puckered skin. He thought, not for the first time, on how Lucas could have survived such a devastating injury. Or how he could have been cornered enough to let it happen. But there was a bigger question that he needed the answer to.

He spread his fingers farther until his hand was around Lucas’s throat. Lucas did nothing to stop him.

“Who?” he asked.

He could see the war now in his eyes. It flashed by, filled with smoke and murder, rage and death. There was something else mixed in too, though Cavalo couldn’t quite name it. It flitted amongst the fury before it was swallowed into the dark.

It had almost looked like fear.

But he didn’t look away.

“Was it Patrick?” Cavalo asked.

And just when he thought he wouldn’t get an answer, Lucas nodded, the scar rubbing against Cavalo’s hand.

“Are you with him?”

Lucas looked confused.
I’m with you.

“No.” Cavalo’s fingers tightened around his throat. Not by much, but enough. “Are you with him? Are you here because he told you to be?”

The slightest of hesitations. It could mean nothing. It could mean everything. Then,
No.

“Then why are you here?”

You took me.

“You let yourself be taken.”

His smile took on a nasty curve.
Not that I heard you complain.
He stepped forward, invading Cavalo’s space. Cavalo did not back away.

“That’s not what I meant.”

That’s not the real question you want to ask. None of these have been.

“No,” Cavalo croaked.

Then ask it!

There were some questions that shouldn’t be asked, even in the dark times After the End. But for all the memories of the scrape of knife and kiss, there was a question that led to the burning mountains of the dead. To Warren’s head left on the southern road, his face twisted into a horrible scream from a death that had gone on for days. “Are you… like them?”

I thought you said I was like you.

“Have you eaten anyone?”

A sharp breath. A silent sight. A step back.

Clever monster. Clever cannibal.

No
, he said finally. But he wasn’t really saying anything at all, was he? He wasn’t really speaking to Cavalo because he
couldn’t
speak. He had never been able to. Any voice Cavalo heard was that of the bees in his head. For all he knew, none of this was real and he was trapped in a snow globe somewhere deep in a prison that screamed of the things Charlie had lost and how DEFCON 1 would always be.

But he said no. Cavalo heard it. He heard it.

“Why you? Out of all of them? Why you?”

There would be a lie here, Cavalo knew. Some sort of lie that Lucas would spin. He was the psycho fucking bulldog. The babe found sucking on his dead momma’s titties in the forest. He was a pet to Patrick. Fucked and beaten and made into a psychopathic killer who preferred a knife to slice the skin of those that rose against him. Cavalo wondered briefly if there was ever a point when Lucas enjoyed Patrick’s cock sliding into him, the grunts above him, sweat dripping down on his body. Surely before Patrick slit his throat. Surely after it would have meant nothing. It would have—

There was anger in Cavalo. A dangerous thing. A petty thing. He almost opened his mouth to demand that Lucas take him into the Deadlands. To take him to the heart of the Dead Rabbits so he could cut it out and feel its last dying beats in his hands.