Crisped + Sere (Immemorial Year Book 2) (15 page)

And yet….

Lucas must have known. Must have heard the bees in Cavalo’s head and heart. He looked up, directly at Cavalo. As their eyes met, the scowl on Lucas’s face disappeared. He didn’t exactly smile, but Cavalo knew what it meant. He knew Lucas’s facial expressions now. He didn’t know when that had happened.

Hank had asked him days before if it’d be easier if Lucas had something to write with, that he could express himself better. Or why didn’t he just mouth the words he was trying to say?

Cavalo had told him it wasn’t necessary, that Cavalo knew what he was trying to say. He could translate. He didn’t go as far to say he could hear the Dead Rabbit’s voice in his head, a hoarse and gravelly thing that caused Cavalo’s skin to itch. He didn’t want to scare them, the people of Cottonwood, any more than he had to. They already thought him an oddity, a murderer. Something to be feared in reverence. They spoke of him in hushed whispers and told stories that probably only held partial truths.

He was already too far gone to be saved. The bees made sure of that.

Which is why as Lucas watched him, he wondered at their silence. They said nothing as Lucas grinned that feral grin and jerked his head to the left. Cavalo shook his head. Lucas ignored him and turned to the Patrol, motioning for them to pick up the bows and resume practicing. Then he turned and walked away.

Cavalo resumed digging.

He lasted a minute. He stopped. Sighed.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered to Bad Dog, who lay on the snow near the trench, gnawing on a stick he’d found. “Keep an eye on things.”

Bad Dog immediately stood and paced in front of the workers in the trench.
I’m in charge now
, he barked.
Work faster!

He followed Lucas, telling himself to turn around.

Weak sunlight filtered through small breaks in the clouds above. He could see his breath coming from his mouth. Lucas never looked back, as if trusting that Cavalo would have no choice but to follow.

This meant nothing. It couldn’t. Cavalo was broken beyond repair. Lucas was a psycho fucking bulldog. A pet. Patrick’s son, something they hadn’t told a soul. His heart was dark. He had murder in his eyes and death on his lips. He said he’d never eaten another human. That could very well be a lie. All of this could be a lie.

The bees tried to whisper in his head, sounding like Hank, saying words about
trust
and
truth
and
what if? What if this is nothing more than farce? A way to get inside your head until you spill all your secrets that can then be used against you?

Lucas disappeared around the corner of a house.

Cavalo followed him. There were shadows here, the sun blocked by a barn behind the house. He could hear people moving around Cottonwood. Their voices as they laughed. As they cried. As they worried through their day. But they were far away. Cavalo and Lucas were hidden.

Cavalo found Lucas in the shadows, leaning against the barn.

“What?” Cavalo asked, though he already knew.

Lucas said nothing, just stared at him. He wasn’t wearing his mask today. His skin was smooth, the bruises on his face turning a sickly green. There was a freckle on the right side of his jaw. Another one right above it. Cavalo had to stop himself from reaching out to touch them.

Lucas pointed to him, his finger grazing Cavalo’s chest, then pointing back at his own eyes.
I see you
, he said.
Watching me.

Cavalo thought about lying. He thought about turning and walking away. Instead he said, “Yeah. I know.” He stepped closer, crowding Lucas against the wall.

So many teeth in that knowing smile.
You want me.

“I shouldn’t. It’s not….”

An arched eyebrow.
It’s not?

Cavalo didn’t stop himself this time. He reached up and traced a line between the freckles on Lucas’s jaw. Lucas leaned into the touch.

“Why do you do this to me?” Cavalo asked.

Lucas’s smile faded. For once, he looked unsure. It made him appear impossibly young. Their faces were inches apart, and the uncertainty on Lucas’s face tore at Cavalo. He curled his hands into fists to keep from taking what he wanted. This was not the time, nor was it the place.

I don’t do anything
, Lucas said. Cavalo could hear the hesitation in the voice that wasn’t there.

“You’re in my head. All the time.”

Like the bees?

Cavalo felt his nails cutting into his palms. “Sometimes, I think you
are
the bees.”

You think I’m a monster. You said that once. After we….

“Yes.”

Am I?

“Yes.”

Are you?

“Yes.”

Lucas kissed him, hard enough to press Cavalo’s lips back over his teeth. There was heat behind it, but there was also anger, buried deep. Cavalo grabbed the sides of Lucas’s face and slammed him back against the wall, pressing his body flush against Lucas’s. Lucas licked at his jaw, biting into the skin. Cavalo wondered what marks would be left. He wondered what others would think. He wondered if he cared.

Lucas fumbled with Cavalo’s belt. He leaned back and licked his hand before reaching into Cavalo’s pants and gripping his cock. His fingers were cold. His spit-slicked palm was hot. Cavalo swallowed down the groan in his throat. Lucas’s breath was quick and light as Cavalo kissed the skin near his ear.

“Cavalo?” a voice called from behind them.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling away. He tucked his dick back into his pants. Lucas looked feral again, his lips wet and swollen.
You want me
, he said again. He grabbed Cavalo’s hand and pressed it against his own cock. Cavalo gripped his hardness. Lucas rolled his hips against his hand. Cavalo stepped away, struggling to breathe normally.

“This isn’t over,” he said darkly.

That shark’s grin was the only response.

“Cavalo?”

He turned as Hank rounded the corner.

“There you are,” he said. He paused, glancing over Cavalo’s shoulder at Lucas. “Interrupting anything?”

“No. Nothing important.”

“Ah. Are you sure? It looks—”

“What do you want, Hank?”

“They’re back. Bill. Richie. Deke. Coming in through the gates.”

Cavalo felt a bit of relief. At least they were alive. He nodded. Hank turned and headed back around the house.

Cavalo glanced back at Lucas, still leaning against the barn. He was frowning.

“What?”

Lucas shook his head. Sniffed the air. Shrugged.
Do you feel that?

“What?”

I don’t know. Something’s off.

“Do you know what?”

No. Just a feeling.

“Great. That’s just great.”

Lucas scowled.
Fuck off.

“I can still kill you, you know.” And he turned and walked away. He wasn’t surprised when Lucas followed. He was surprised, however, when Lucas gripped his hand, squeezed once, then let it go.

It was nothing. It meant nothing.

A crowd had gathered at the southern gate. Cavalo pushed his way through, Lucas following behind him. People parted rather quickly when they saw who it was. They may not have known what to make of Cavalo, but they sure as hell knew a Dead Rabbit when they saw one. He no longer dressed like one and he wasn’t wearing his mask, but there was that shark’s grin and the eyes that weren’t quite right.

Hank was standing at the front of the crowd along with Alma and Aubrey. Bill, his son Richie, and Deke stood next to them. All three looked road-weary, eyes wide and blown out. Cavalo hoped the distance traveled was all that was wrong, but he thought it more. Bad Dog moved around their feet, sniffing their shoes and clothes.

Bad guys
, he muttered to himself.
Bad guys. So many bad guys.

Not good.

“Cavalo,” Bill said tiredly. “There you are.”

He shook Bill’s hand, nodding at Richie. Deke wouldn’t look at him, eyes cast toward the ground.

“Okay?” Cavalo asked.

“One piece, ain’t we?” Bill asked with a shrug. “Suppose that’s more than can be said about Grangeville. Or so Hank says. It true?”

“Yes. They’re… gone.”

Bill sighed. “Cordelia?”

“One of the last. Went down fighting.”

“Sounds like her,” Bill said. “Tough old broad, ain’t she?”

“The toughest.”

“And this… all of this. It’s because of the boy? What he is to them. The schematics.”

They all looked at Lucas. Lucas scowled, hand going to knife.

The people of Cottonwood sighed angrily.

Cavalo stepped in front of Lucas. “No,” he said, aware of what he was doing. “Not all. It’s not just him.” Cavalo could feel a knife at his back, near the base of his spine. Lucas’s other hand gripped the back of his coat. It was almost as if he were holding Cavalo hostage. But then Cavalo felt Lucas lean his forehead against the back of his neck for just a moment, and he knew it was more than that. “It would have come to this sooner or later.”

“How can you know that?” Hank asked.

“Because of what they found at Dworshak,” Cavalo said. “Isn’t that right?”

Bill hesitated. Richie looked away. It was Deke who spoke. “He’s right. We were too late.”

“No,” Alma whispered.

“Dozens of them,” Deke said. “We were quiet. They didn’t see us. We were on a ridge a quarter of a mile away, hidden in the trees. Used the binocs. We thought….” He looked miserably at his father.

“We thought they were… normal,” Bill said. “At first. Maybe they were a trade caravan. Or a little town. Or just people who had stumbled upon the dam and reservoir and decided to try and make it work as a home.”

“But?” Hank asked quietly.

Bill and Richie exchanged dark looks. Deke stared at the ground.

“There was a woman,” Richie finally said, sounding far older than he was. “She was screaming. We couldn’t hear her, but she was screaming. I could… her face.”

Cavalo closed his eyes.

“We couldn’t stop them,” Richie continued. “There was too many of them. We wouldn’t have been—” He stopped, choking on his words. His father put a hand on his shoulder and looked at Hank with steel in his eyes.

“They brutalized her,” he said angrily. “Tore into her. There was blood. So much blood. And they laughed. They laughed as she bled onto the concrete, and they laughed when she reached out her hand to hold them back. And they hurt her. Again and again until she didn’t move. And then they….” He stopped, shaking his head. He didn’t need to finish. They all know what the Dead Rabbits did. Instead, he said, “They have the dam. The Dead Rabbits have Dworshak.”

People in the crowd behind them began to cry. They began to moan. They began to shout. And beg. And scream. But all their words were the same. Cavalo heard them speaking as one, and the bees in his head exploded furiously and mocked the people of Cottonwood.

What do we do now?

He thought about pulling his gun again. It worked days before. Maybe he would actually shoot someone this time. Deke or Aubrey. Lucas. Someone. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know he’d been hoping that Dworshak had been undiscovered, that the Dead Rabbits hadn’t made it that far north. Not just hoping. Expecting. He had expected it. Even if he thought they weren’t going to survive what lay twelve days ahead, he had
expected
it.

“You don’t get to do this,” he said.

The people fell silent.

Bad Dog bumped his head against Cavalo’s knee. Hank and Alma watched him closely, as did the rest of the town. They feared him, but they still listened. Cavalo wouldn’t look at Lucas. He wondered who the woman had been. The one who had been torn apart. He wondered her name. Where she’d come from. Her family. If she was old enough to have been married. If she had received her first kiss. If she’d held hands with her son as he carried Mr. Fluff and laughed and laughed and laughed.

He almost did it. Almost pulled his gun. Almost shot the person closest to him. He would have kept firing until the clip was spent, and then he’d use his hands. To tear at them. Their flesh and bones. Because he was no better than any of them.

“You don’t get to feel sorry for her,” he said, his voice harsh and grating. “You don’t get to cry over her. Not after what you’ve all done.”

He could see fear in their eyes but also anger. If he pushed, it would boil over.

“We keep on going,” he said. “We have twelve days until they arrive. We stick with the plan. We work until our hands are cracked and callused, and we fight until we’re broken and bleeding. It’s the only way. It’s the only choice.”

He left them.

No one followed.

HE SAT
in the vacant house in a chair in the middle of an empty room, watching the sun and clouds move. The bees crawled over the inside of his skull, and he was unable to think. That old familiar rage burned in his head and chest, that oily thing that allowed him to kill as he’d done so indiscriminately in the past. He’d left all of his weapons downstairs to avoid temptation.

He was a hypocrite, he knew. And it was not his job to dispense justice.

But the looks in their eyes. The looks that said
Save us, but don’t judge us.
The looks that said
Help us, though we don’t deserve it.
The looks that said,
Protect us from the monsters, though we are monsters ourselves. Do this for us, because you are the lesser of two evils, and we have no other choice.

He tightened his hands on his thighs.

As the shadows stretched outside, he looked down toward the floor. Jamie played there. With Mr. Fluff.

“Mr. Fluff!” Jamie cried. He bounced the rabbit along the floor, as if it were hopping.

“Mr. Fluff,” Cavalo said hoarsely.

Jamie laughed, his mouth stretching wide. Bees flew out, their abdomens fat and hanging low. Jamie tried to catch them, but they flew away from his fingers. Eventually he frowned and went back to Mr. Fluff.

“You’re not here,” Cavalo said.

“Not where, Daddy?”