Dead Of Winter (The Beautiful Dead Book 2) (11 page)

I nod slowly. “Alright. I don’t know—Gunner—but I don’t much like the sound of him.”

“Let’s not make enemies just yet. If I recall,” she goes on, “we do owe the Living for helping us rid our city of the Deathless. That includes mister Guns and his quick quiver, Miss Winter.”

I force a smile. “I’ll see if I can wake him up.” Helena winks, then turns to go and I shut the front door quietly. When I turn, John’s already standing in the hallway. His scalding brown eyes pour into mine from across the room and his shirt hangs halfway off his body.

“You’re not coming?” he asks.

I gaze at the floor, then shake my head. Apparently he heard the words between Helena and I, but failed to pay attention last night. “The Chief’s ordered me to stay, to help run the city. He’s sending Hel instead.”

“Oh.”

We stare at each other. I don’t know what else I can say. I have a sudden and hilarious urge to thank him for cuddling me all night.

“Get ready,” I tell him instead. “They’re expecting you in an hour.”

“I heard.” He hesitates, as if about to say something else, then staggers back into the bedroom and closes the door behind him.

Bye, John. I won’t say it. I’ll do best just thinking it.

Twenty minutes later, after John’s taken a shower and donned his last set of clean clothes, I accompany him through the city to the north gate. Jasmine and Helena are in the middle of a conversation when they both turn, noting our arrival. Helena’s dressed from head to toe in black—even her lips are black. Jasmine’s nearly the same, but in green, and she has two satchels and a basket attached to her back. Her hair has several streaks of green woven through it and it’s been twisted up into a pretty bun shape. Long grey strands hang down to her shoulders and a few over her left eye. She smiles kindly at me.

My first impression of Gunner is, he looks like a twelve-year-old boy trapped in a man’s body, his eyes alert and constantly seeking their next target. His short, slender, nimble figure is wrapped in black and grey close-fitting linens. He has smeared some kind of color on the tops of his cheeks and his hair is a spiky, tousled mess. A heavy-looking crossbow is slung over his shoulder, a quiver of arrows bound to his back.

“The journey there and back won’t take longer than two and a half days’ time,” explains Helena. “Three at the very most.”

“See you all soon,” I say politely.

John nods at me. Jasmine and Helena move through the gates where I notice a wagon of sorts that’s been loaded full of plenty of items that shimmer. Weapons, from the look of it. Gunner even gives me a nod and a short wave of his hand. I still don’t know what to make of him and I don’t have any time to study the kid further because all my attention is on John suddenly, watching as he moves through the gate. Its hinges scream. The four of them trek down the path, the wagon squeaking, its burden clinking, clanging, further and further they go, the band of them growing smaller, the wagon smaller, all of it, going and going … then gone.

I fight a horrible urge to run after them. It takes everything in me to simply put one foot in front of the other and carry myself back to the Square. The activity there is no less than it ever is, even this early in the morning; all the marketplaces are open for business and the tents and kiosks are set up for their day’s trades.

I pass a kiosk selling steel bracelets, and am reminded of a very serious situation I’d neglected to solve last night.

Recalling most of our conversation at the party, it just takes a minimal amount of asking around before figuring out where he lives. In the second quarter, east end, adjacent to the Human’s quarter, I approach the carved wooden door and give it three solid knocks. A voice within, muffled, tells me to let myself in.

I’m reminded of John and my own house, how he used to let me in. A pang wiggles through me. I should’ve gone after them … I should’ve defied the Chief’s orders.

I’m being so dumb. He’ll be back in a few days.

I step inside. A long table stretches across one end of the room, a couch with two recliners on the other end, and a giant shell of a TV sits in the middle of the room in the way of everything, decorating a very old and tired-looking nightstand. Curled up against the wall is the tiny shape of Benjamin, like a cat who’s found a napping spot.

“Uh, hi,” I greet him tentatively. “You … comfy?”

“No.”

“How long have you been like that?”

“Since last night.”

I come partway across the room, run a hand along the top of the couch. “You realize it’s morning, don’t you?”

“No.”

I crouch down next to him. I realize I’m keeping a bit more distance than a normal person ought to. It’s like I’m subconsciously afraid of him now and I can’t stand that. “You should get up, Benjamin. We need to talk.”

“I could barely let myself into my own house.” His voice is broken, dejected, miles away. “The doorknob. I was so afraid to touch it. I know it’s brass or whatever, but I’m … so afraid to touch anything. I’m not Deathless.”

“I know. Get up.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No.” He points. “I took extra measures.”

I glance down. He’s gone and nailed himself to the floor. A larger iron nail is impaling his abdomen, stapling it to the wall. The sight is ghastly, and I thank everything I know that we neither feel pain nor bleed.

“I’d call this a bit of an overreaction.”

“It’s not,” he retorts. “I’ve seen how Brains is.” He winces apologetically. “Sorry, didn’t mean that to offend. But I know what she’s like. Crazy, blood-hungry. They
eat people
, Winter. I don’t
trust
myself now.”

“Where’d you get the nails? Never mind, I’m freeing you.” I grab the one in his abdomen while looking the other way; I can’t watch what I’m about to do.

“But what if I, like, leap onto some poor, unsuspecting Human and, like, eat them?”

“I’ll eat
you
before that happens,” I promise him.

The huge iron nails come out so easy, I’m convinced they wouldn’t have held him anyway if he’d somehow inexplicably lost control. I coax him to a chair, since he insists on not being allowed outside yet. He lights a candle by the table and we both stare into the dancing rainbow light. He assures me it’s the only thing that can calm him right now—a trick his First Hand Brandon used to do, setting fire to a little twig in the woods, and they’d watch it burn to nothing, their worries burning away with it.

I’m reminded suddenly of a much larger spread of rainbow on the horizon that Ben might find as fascinating, except
that
particular fire never dies.

John’s heading near that fire. It was in the north.

Surely the Chief would’ve realized that. He’s aware of it, after all. What if it’s After’s Hold that’s burning? Hasn’t he considered these things? Ugh … just like that stupid fire, my own worries won’t die either.

I shut my thoughts up with some conjectures: “Do you think, maybe, something was done to you at the Necropolis? Something you don’t remember? Or, or maybe there’s, like, a possibility that …”

“I don’t know. I really just … I don’t know. They took my legs. They …” He sucks his lips up in thought, his eyes diving into the rainbow candlelight, distressed. “So much happened. I don’t know.”

“Listen. Calm down.” I reach for his hand. He pulls it away, shuddering. “Ben … Whatever it is, whatever it was, it can be undone. It has to be. If there’s anything I’ve learned,
nothing
in this world is permanent.” I carefully consider some other options. “Maybe Marigold can do something. She could … I don’t know. Open you up, maybe. Look at you from the inside, perhaps? See if there’s something that maybe shouldn’t be in there. It’s her expertise, after all, and she already knows, so—”

“Last resort.” He shudders. “I think I’ve been plenty cut up enough, after our time spent at the Necr—N-N-Necrop—Nec—” He clenches shut his eyes. He can’t even say the word.

I’m about to put a hand on his back, then realize I’m wearing John’s steel ring, so I pull it off first. Surely he doesn’t notice. “Last resort, then.”

“Will I still get my Waking Dream?” he asks, quietly, uneasily. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. To know what my life was. I heard the Deathless n-n-never get their Dream.”

I’ve no idea whether or not that’s true. But I feel like what he needs isn’t truth; he needs to be comforted.

“Of course you’ll get your Dream,” I tell him, pulling him in for a little hug.

I sometimes feel like Benjamin is the younger brother I never had, even if he’s been around as an Undead far longer than I. This little moment together, I console him the way I would my family. And in this new world, we
are
family. He and I. Jasmine. Helena …
all
of us.

One big dead family.

We watch the candlelight until it’s halfway gone, and I take that to mean half our worries ought to have burned away with it. But that’s far from true; my worries have all but tripled in the twisting flame. The more it burns, in fact, the more it reminds me of the rainbow in the sky, and how I just let John and my friends tumble toward it unknowingly.

I should’ve said something. The Burning Unknown … Emotions grapple within me like a storm and I can’t ignore them, not anymore. I can’t just sit back and wait. I’m so tired of waiting.

The Chief is expecting me at the Town Hall. I’m sure he can cope with a little disappointment.

“Do you want to get outta town, Ben?”

He stares at me, perplexed. “Huh?”

“I think … a little
adventure
would do us some good. You can’t say no to a little adventure, can you?”

Suddenly he looks eager. “When do we leave?”

“Now.”

In a fit of excitement, he gathers several items into a backpack, dons a shirt that hangs big as a curtain on his gangly frame, whips on a vest and some dirty jeans, then ties a so-called “lucky red bandana” across his brow. I tell him he looks ready to join a karate class, and he blinks at me and asks, “What’s karate?” before gently putting out the candle with a pinch of his fingers.

The little rainbow is gone. The big rainbow awaits.

We leave his house quietly. We’re also leaving behind his fears and mine, and no one can know. We’re deserting the memory of what transpired last night, of birthdays and cake and steel-forged cutlery.

To assure that no one knows of our departure, we sneak out the demolished quarter. There’s no city walls here, and the homes that were burned down long ago during the time of Mad Malory still remain like graves. Even the Undead won’t go near it, claiming it’s haunted.

I guess it sorta is.

As we trace the outer perimeter of Trenton, heading north, the only thing ahead of us is an Eternal Flame we cannot see from the ground … the Burning Unknown, the whatever-the-hell-that-fire-in-the-distance is. It’s a thing I only feel slightly guilty for not mentioning to Ben. There’s also a new Undead city that awaits us. And Helena, and Jasmine, and a Human called Gunner who tried to kill me once. And John.

“This is definitely what I needed,” murmurs Ben, his mouth twisted by this permanent smile that won’t leave him alone. “Where are we headed, exactly?”

I hear a snap behind us, a crack of branches. I glance behind, lifting a brow suspiciously, but find nothing there. “You hear that?”

Ben twists around, squints, shakes his head no.

It’s impossible to hide out here. With the lack of forest life, even the batting of eyelashes carry. “Alright,” I say finally, making sure I’m good and loud … and heard. “Nothing it is, then. Nothing at all. Let’s keep on.”

Two can play.

And in a matter of minutes, Trenton becomes just another thing in the horizon behind us. The Dead Wood and ruined terrain lies ahead. We both needed this. Yes, the Chief will be mad at me, but really, when have I ever been known to do what I’m told?

Ben gives me a smile. I wink back at him, and pretend not to notice the little Human following us.

C H A P T E R – S I X

A L L I A N C E

The old campsite of the Humans is eerie and silent. The tents were taken down and brought to Trenton in case the fabric was needed. The pots, the kettles, the weapons and even the clotheslines were taken too. All that remains is a ring of stones where their daily cooking fires blazed.

“Hungry?” asks Ben, poking a stick at the dirt. I realize there’s a plate and fork half-buried by ash and dead leaves.

“I’m surprised you can make a joke about it so soon.”

“Maybe I was a master of comedy when I was alive.” Ben dances around the circle of rocks, giggles loudly. “So should we stay here a while? Bake a cake?”

Having reached the old Human camp, I’m feeling a great sense of relief, because it means After’s Hold isn’t much farther on.

“We should keep going.” I wince at him. “Sorry, Ben, but I deceived you. We’re actually following John and Hel and Jazz—and some Living named Gunner. They’re heading to a city in the north called After’s Hold.”