No Love for the Wicked (30 page)

“No, Magnolia, fuck them. They are this close to finding out where we came from. They’ve tracked down those tools and are almost there. I’ve given Cordele all the information I have on where they’re going, but I can get more. Think about it. If they find where we came from—the source of our powers—they can figure out how to use it. They’ll be able to make themselves stronger than ever. They’ll be invincible. But if
we
find the source first…”

His eyes filled with that glassy, hopeful gleam you see in mental patients when they think they’ve found a sympathetic ear.

“We can do it if we work together, Magnolia. They’re looking for the maker of those tools, the man they believe will lead them to Grandfather. Our powers came from him. We always knew that. But now they are really going to find him. All we have to do is find him first. Neither of us is strong enough to kill them on our own. But if we work together, we can finally end this nightmare of our lives. Forever.”

For a moment, I almost fell for it. So many strange and incredible things had happened to me since my escape: becoming a real member of Thirteen’s Network team, my teammates accepting me—hell, even Marie had come to me for help. Most of all, Theo had happened. That the connection with him had turned into a real relationship made almost anything seem possible—even the idea of fighting alongside my brother to defeat Father and Uncle Max once and for all.

As we stood across from each other, the icy trees glistening under the peaking moonlight and my little farmhouse covered in the softly falling snow, so precious in the background, I could almost see it.

“We could keep Mallroy alive,” he said, finalizing the plans in his head. “He’s nothing but a retard anyway. And we could use him just like Father and Uncle Max have always used us: to fuel
our power with his proximity. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even care anyway, as long as we let him keep his stupid pets.”

As he spoke, he pictured it all in his mind. First he’d use Cordele’s Network team to find the toolmaker and Grandfather. Then he’d manipulate Grandfather into strengthening his power. I wouldn’t really need to have my power strengthened because, well, look at me. With those claws and eyes, I was already more powerful than anyone in the family knew. After that, he’d have me kill Grandfather. There was no chance of me dying, after all, and even with Grandfather’s powers to boost his own, Malcolm couldn’t be sure that his own immortality would be guaranteed. Then he’d turn on Uncle Max. Malcolm would rip out our uncle’s throat himself, just like Markus’s throat had been ripped out. God, the power I must have felt in that moment!

As his mind raced, he let out the barest of slips. As Theo had pointed out so many times, people can’t control their errant thoughts and reactions. And Malcolm, with all his power growing stronger by the minute, was still just a person like the rest of us.

For the briefest moment, his mind went to Father. Father and son, together. Conquering the world with their powers. Father would be so proud of him. Malcolm’s power, his initiative, his ability to finally destroy the one thing Father had never been able to destroy: me.

He met my eyes. The vision left his mind instantly, shifting to what he’d originally said about the two of us destroying Father and Uncle Max together. But it was too late. I saw. And he knew it.

We moved at the exact same moment. I lunged forward, claws out and mouth suddenly full of fangs. Just as fast, he pushed Cordele toward me. I swerved at the last second to keep my outstretched claws from digging into her. She fell to the ground, and I kept going.

Malcolm moved with lightning speed, retreating to the side yard. When I came around the house, he ambushed me. With a solid punch to the gut, he sent me flying into the nearby woods. Ice and limbs tore into me as I plowed into the thick woods. I was back on my feet instantly. Jaw open, claws ready, I flew into him. Arms around his waist, I dug my claws into his back. He screamed as we slammed into Cordele’s car. As we banged into the windshield, my grip was knocked loose, just enough for him to get both feet between us and kick me back into the air. I landed hard against the wall of the house, tearing into the siding and denting the brick underneath.

“That’s my house, you piece of shit!”

He stood glaring at me, fists tight at his sides. “It’s the house that’s a piece of shit.”

The night I’d fought Markus flashed in my mind. The crazed look on his scarred face, the maniacal tremor in his voice. Malcolm had none of that. His mind was just as calm and shrewd as ever.
Damn it.

I jumped to my feet and met his glare. In a move so fast I couldn’t track it, he picked up Cordele’s car and threw it at me. It slammed into the house, shattering the remaining windows on that side. I moved out of the way just in time for Malcolm to body slam me into the car. He pinned my arms to my side so I couldn’t use my claws. But his face was right in front of mine. I felt my jaw stretch as I leaned into him and clamped down hard. My fangs dug into his cheeks and chin. I felt the bones break as his blood filled my mouth. My already-red vision went dark with his screams; his blood slid thickly down my throat. God, it tasted so good. The bloody place inside me roared.

Pain bit into the side of my head. Once, twice, three times in quick bursts until I had no choice but to release Malcolm’s shredded and shattered face. I turned with a snarl to find Cordele no
more than ten feet away, gun in hand, aimed right at me. Malcolm dropped to the ground. Cordele shouted, but even this close I couldn’t understand her. She pulled the trigger. Pain sliced my throat. I stumbled back against the car and heard the pop of her gun explode again.

Heat washed over me. I was flying. High in the air for a long moment before crashing to the ground several feet into the woods. I shook myself, ears ringing, and blinked until I could see again. I turned on my back and winced at the raw, overwhelming pain. I was shot. And burned. Badly. Would have been nice to land in the snow rather than the hard, dirty woods floor.

Slowly I got to my feet. As I moved, I realized the entire back side of me—legs, back, shoulders—was completely scorched. As if I’d somehow been set on fire.

When a boom from my farmhouse shook the air, I realized that’s exactly what had happened.
Son of a bitch!
That piece of shit had set my house on fire! Markus had developed a type of pyrotechnic ability before he’d died; I should have suspected that Malcolm would grow a similar power.

Stumbling quickly through the trees, I got to the clearing just in time to see Cordele’s car shoot into the air as the fire that had encompassed my home hit the gas furnace inside.

I scanned the area, but through the smoke and soot I couldn’t see Malcolm anywhere. Movement by the trees near the back of the house caught my eye. Instantly I appeared across the lawn, ready to continue my fight. “You piece of shit! I’m going to tear you to shreds…”

But it wasn’t Malcolm.

“Oh my God! Cordele!”

Skin black and bleeding, hair singed to the scalp, she could barely lift her hand as I knelt down beside her. “Just keep breathing, Cordele. I can heal you, just keep breathing.” She grabbed my
wrist. A gurgle escaped her throat, but her injuries were too great. She couldn’t speak. “It’s OK. It’ll be OK.”

I put my hand against the charred flesh of her chest. Heat and smoke filled the air around us, making it hard to take a deep breath. I’d just started to concentrate my powers into the worst of her injuries when her thoughts stopped me.

I’m so sorry, Magnolia. I’m so sorry.

“Stop it. This isn’t your fault. Malcolm’s the one who tricked you into thinking you should trust him. He’s the one who destroyed my house.”

No, it was me. I—I couldn’t let you kill him. I couldn’t let you…I love him, Magnolia.

Then I saw how she’d shot me in the head while I bit down on Malcolm’s face. How she had continued shooting at me after I let go until one of the stray bullets had hit her car, exploding the wreckage against my house.

For a long moment I just stared at her. She’d helped Malcolm escape. After everything she’d heard between us—the things I’d accused him of that he hadn’t even bothered denying—she still chose to save him over me. She gurgled again.

I pushed my elongated palm to her chest again and started to send my power into her wounds.

You’re still going to heal me?
she asked.

“I’m a Network agent, Cordele. And I’m not answering to Thirteen or Heather or anyone else about why I let another agent die when I had the chance to save her. Even if that agent is a back-stabbing traitor like you.”

She stopped me again.

No, Magnolia. It’s too late.

“Not for me, it’s not.” I kept pushing. She winced as the heat of my energy seeped into her. I knew it was painful, but damn it, she deserved a little pain right now.

Magnolia, stop!
I paused.
I don’t want you to save me. It’s too late. You’ll tell Thirteen what I did. I’ll be kicked out of the Network.
She lifted her head, just barely, and darted her eyes about. They filled up, and her watery gaze met my eyes. The glistening anguish I saw there made my own chest ache.
He didn’t come back for me
, she thought.
I thought for sure he’d come back for me.

That’s when I realized it was more than being kicked out of the Network or labeled a traitor. She didn’t want to live, knowing that Malcolm would leave her there to die—that he didn’t really love her the way she loved him. In that instant, her heart was broken as badly as her body. But I didn’t have any powers to heal that.

Wincing, she took the hand I had on her chest and held it in her own. She looked at me as tears streamed down her blackened cheeks.
I’m so sorry.

With my precious home burning behind us, snow falling among the ash and smoke, Cordele died holding my hand.

The fire trucks arrived in a caravan with the police and ambulance. By the time Thirteen and my team showed up, nothing was left of my little farmhouse but the cement porch and charred fireplace.

I sat on the bumper of the ambulance, totally numb. I had healed my gunshot wounds—there was nothing left but some tender spots in my head and neck. I couldn’t explain to the EMTs why I didn’t need any treatment for the slow-healing burns on my back, so I accepted some topical ointment and bandages.

Thirteen jogged up to me with Shane, Heather, and Marie right on his heels. Charles went over to talk to the police, anxious to get as many details as possible. Apparently luck was on our side for the moment. Detective Pryor, a Network operative as well as a decorated member of the IPD, had been the first on the scene and knew exactly how to report the unexplainable to his superiors.

Thirteen waited until the medics were out of earshot. “What happened? Are you OK?”

“It was Malcolm. He was Cordele’s informant.”

Thirteen straightened. His mind, full of worry when he’d first arrived, slammed shut behind mental walls. “Your brother was here? He did this to your home?”

I shrugged. “Actually, Cordele started the fire when she tried to shoot me and hit her car’s gas tank instead.”

“Why would Cord try to shoot you?” Shane asked. The accusation in his voice made my fists curl. I winced and relaxed my hands again. Nice normal hands now, although the stretched-out skin was still painfully sore.

“She did shoot me, several times actually.” I brushed a finger over the tender spots at my temple. “And she was trying to shoot me again because I was about to kill Malcolm. He tricked her into thinking she loved him. She didn’t know what she was doing. I tried to heal her, but—”

“Or maybe she knew exactly what she was doing,” Shane interrupted. “Maybe she shot you because she realized just how much of a threat you really are. The only body the firemen found was Cordele’s. If your brother was here, why isn’t he burned to a crisp somewhere nearby? You always said you were the only one with the power to heal yourself. Was that a lie too, Magnolia?”

Power spiked under my skin. But before I could do anything, Thirteen had Shane by the collar and hauled him out of my line of sight.
Good.
I’d had enough of delusional team members for one night.