Wolfen (49 page)

Bryce growled, hackles rising, claws itching for release.

“Hey, if the cherry bothers you that much, just ask him to
pop it. I’ll bet he’d be on it like
that
.” She snapped her fingers.

Bryce’s hand shot out and grabbed hers, while his other drew
the knife. He slammed her hand flat onto the table and stabbed, deciding at the
last instant to vary his aim by an inch, burying the blade a hair’s breadth from
her wrist instead of severing it.

The music stopped. People gasped, and fell quiet. Subtle
notes of fear perfumed the air, mixed with smoke, and Bryce sensed the guards
sobering up in a hurry.

Helena raised her free hand to keep them at bay. Her eyes
paled, the first sign of a mindless rage Bryce knew all too well.

He leaned in close to make damned sure she heard him. “Next
time you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, I’m going to cut it off.”

“Helena!” Matron stepped forward.

“It’s all right, Mother.” She bared her teeth at Bryce. “You
wanna talk body parts? Which one are you least attached to?” With a light tap,
Helena made her own blade’s presence known. “Apocalypse Barbie here would be
real sad to see this one go, don’t you think?”

“That’s it. I’m done.” Sinna stood, pushed past the
audience, brushing away David’s hand when he reached out to her as if she
couldn’t bear to be touched. “Don’t!” The break in her voice stabbed Bryce
through the chest. Helena could have cut him down ten times over while he
watched Sinna’s mad flight, and he wouldn’t have cared. Couldn’t tear his gaze
from her.

At the outer edge, the guards barred her way, and Bryce
growled when one grabbed her arm. His back started to bow, claws digging into
the table around Helena’s hand.

“Let her go,” Helena ordered, voice loud and clear, and
devoid of any fear.

Matron nodded, and the guards stepped aside. Sinna escaped
at a run.

“Now you,” Matron said. “Do be so kind as to release my
daughter.” The sweet tones of authority were undercut by apprehension.

With Sinna gone, Bryce sought out Matron’s subtly trembling
form. “If I ever find her again, I will.
That
I can promise you.”

Matron paled.

Bryce pried his blade loose and shoved away from the
table—shoved the
table
away, so far, it knocked Helena off of her stool.
It took all of his control not to go for her throat.

“Nice talking to you, too,” she called after him, laughing,
as if it were a big joke.

Bryce followed Sinna’s trail and calmed down a bit when it led
him back to their little cottage. She’d left the door open, so he let himself
in and found her curled up on the farthest pallet, facing the wall.

“I hate her,” she said wetly, and Bryce’s chest squeezed
tight. She was crying. “How could she just blurt it out like that? What kind of
person does that?” She sniffled.

Bryce searched for a handkerchief of some kind, but there
was nothing. Except for the blue dress. He ripped one sleeve to shreds. “Here,”
he said, handing her a piece. When she took it, he laid down a respectable
distance behind her. “Don’t cry.”

Sinna blew her nose, then tossed the sullied fabric aside.
“It’s not like I was hiding it or anything, you know? It’s just not something
you talk about. I mean, you and Aiden were so…and I wasn’t sure if…and then
Aiden stayed behind and… It just never came up! And why would it? Right? We
barely know each other.”

Bryce turned onto his side. “Easy.” He patted her shoulder.
How long would this go on? “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing to me! She made it sound like I should be
ashamed or something.”

Bryce frowned. “No, she didn’t.”

“Just because she’ll spread her legs for anyone, doesn’t
mean I have to do the same—”

“Agreed.”

“I’m not like that. And who would I have slept with,
anyway?”

“Uh…”

“You see? It’s awkward, right?” Sinna blew her nose hard.
“You don’t wanna talk about this any more than I do. People don’t go around
talking about this stuff!”

Enough. “Sinna?”

“Yeah?”

Bryce wrapped his arm around her waist. “Shut up.” He snaked
the other beneath her head and up around her torso, and settled his leg over
hers.

“Okay.”

Much better. He tucked his nose into the crook of her neck
and sighed, utterly content. Then he closed his eyes and waited for her to fall
asleep.

People don’t often know their minds. They talk, and talk,
without giving any thought to where the words come from or what they mean. I’ve
never been like that, and spending years shut away from the outside world has
only made me more aware of my consciousness.

I know the labyrinth of my own mind, every twist and
turn, every hidden nook and dead end; I can navigate it with ease.

I know the vast minefield that is my dreamscape. I know
when I close my eyes at night, something horrible is always waiting for me just
around the corner. I take step after cautious step, but the treachery of those
horrors, memories twisted into a living, breathing embodiment of my deepest
fears, lies in the fact that I can never escape them.

No matter how fast I run, or how well I hide, they always
find me.

Not this time.

When my tears dry and the weight of exhaustion pulls me
under, I don’t see monsters lurking in the darkness, don’t feel their rancid
breath on the nape of my neck. I have an ally at my back, keeping watch,
keeping my demons away. With his arms around me like a shield, I float down a
lazy river, watching puffy white clouds overhead. I bask in the sun denied me
for so long, and soak up its warmth and comfort.

The water is so clear, I can see straight to the bottom.
Treasures lie there, twinkling and beautiful. I take a breath and dive under,
reaching for a golden necklace. It’s farther than I thought, but I don’t mind.
When I run out of breath, I inhale water like a fish and keep going.

I reach the bottom and hold the necklace up to the light.
The water buoys me in place, for once not sucking me down or shoving me back
up. It’s part of me, and I’m part of it. I close my eyes and feel myself
dissolve until I am everywhere, see everything, and feel every single molecule
of my body spread out to encompass the whole world.

I am no longer separate.

I am everything.

I belong.

~

A feeling of being watched dragged Sinna out of sleep. She
pried open one eye to get her bearings, and found herself draped over Bryce, her
cheek to his chest, and his hand tangled in her hair. It was daytime, and she
had no idea how long they’d been out, but Sinna had never slept so well in all
her life.

“You know, when I told you to sleep together, this isn’t
what I meant.”

Sinna groaned. Not her again!

Helena perched in the window, one foot braced on the sill,
the other dangling inside the cottage.

With a sigh that lifted Sinna several inches, Bryce pulled a
knife.

Helena chuckled. “Easy, tiger. I come in peace.”

“Ever heard of knocking?” Sinna groused and sat up, making a
valiant effort to corral her hair before she gave up and let it fall where it
wanted.

Bryce’s mouth twitched watching her.

“We need to talk,” Helena said, more serious than Sinna had
ever heard her. “What you said last night, did you mean it?”

Bryce sat up, rubbed his face. “About cutting off your nose?
Yeah, I meant that very much.”

“No. About my sister.”

Both of them stilled, and Sinna looked at Bryce for some
kind of explanation. “What’s she talking about?”

“He said if he ever found her again, he would release her.”

What did that mean?

Bryce said nothing.

“You’ve met my sister,” Helena said. It wasn’t a question.

“I met Matron’s daughter,” Bryce returned.

Helena flinched, a gesture so small Sinna almost missed it. The
blonde swallowed hard. “She’s alive?”

“She was, last time I saw her.”

“How…how is she?”

Bryce sighed. “She’s with Klaus. How do you think she is?”

Helena shook her head. “I mean, how did she look?” First
time Sinna had seen the girl so vulnerable. Whatever Matron felt or didn’t feel
for her daughter, Helena was different. There was a sort of hopeful anxiety in
the way she leaned inward, eager to hear about her sister, but her hand was
curled tightly around the sill as if she didn’t want to let go of her
detachment. She looked so conflicted, so…human.

Bryce saw it, too, and his brow furrowed in thought.
“Frail,” he said. “I wasn’t…all there when we met, but I remember that. She’s
short, very thin, and she walks with a limp.”

Helena’s shoulders sagged. “I… We thought she was dead.”

“She was the one in the lab, wasn’t she?” Sinna said.

Bryce nodded.

Helena huffed, hopped down from the window, and straddled
one of the chairs, making herself at home. “You’re like me,” she told Bryce,
“more than her. We have the same temperament, same traits.”

“Not the same memories,” Bryce said.

Helena nodded. “How far back do you remember?”

From the look on his face, Sinna guessed it was pretty far,
and it wasn’t pleasant. “Should I leave you two alone?”

“No,” they said in unison.

“Stay,” Bryce added, twining his fingers with Sinna’s.

Helena hadn’t come empty handed. She laid out a bundle of
food on the table for them. Well, set it down, untied the bundle, and told them
to eat. A hostess she was not, but Sinna appreciated the thought, nonetheless.

They sat around the table to a simple meal of bread and
eggs, and it was so different from last night, Sinna didn’t know what to do
with herself. Still raw from Helena’s interference, she didn’t trust her any
more than yesterday, but sitting with her in the late morning light, the girl
looked older, more mature, and calm, at least for the moment. And sad, so very
sad.

Bryce broke the silence. “I was two,” he said, “maybe
younger. I was building block towers with Aiden. And then the white coats came,
and he got so scared, but he went with them anyway. When he came back, he was
bruised all over and wouldn’t look at me.” Bryce frowned. “He didn’t cry. Not
one tear.”

“What did they do to him?” Helena asked.

Bryce shrugged. “What they did to all of us. They called it
‘regeneration testing.’ They hurt us, and timed how long it took us to heal.”

Sinna rubbed the scar she’d always had but never knew why.
“I remember, I think.” She rewound her memories, past the pitch-black shaft,
past the monsters and the man dying below her, back to a long hallway with
flashing red lights. To a lab with computers and equipment, and a gurney with
restraints. The memory was hazy with snatches of conversation and jumbled words
she hadn’t understood, but she remembered Gerry standing over her. She
remembered the slice of a scalpel. It’d been like a tickle at first, but when
the pain had come, it had been agonizing. “They cut me, but I didn’t heal.”

“You were too young,” Bryce said.

“I was too human.”

“I remember Desiree.” Helena stared at the table, unseeing.
“I must have been a baby, but I remember her. She’d come to my room and rock me
to sleep. And I remember how Klaus would scream at her when he found her there,
and I remember crying when she cried.

“I remember the night we left; Mother took me ran, and for
part of the way, Desiree was right there with us. Then suddenly, she wasn’t
and…I hurt, and I couldn’t stop crying. Mother tried to rock me to sleep, but
it felt so wrong, I just cried harder. I didn’t want her; I didn’t know her. I
wanted Desiree. And she was gone.

“When I was old enough to understand, Mother told me Desiree
had been sick so she had to stay behind, but probably hadn’t lasted long enough
to miss us. Somehow, I never believed her.” Helena looked up, gaze sharp with
intent. “Understand, I
will
get my sister back if she’s alive.”

Bryce opened his mouth to reply, but Sinna beat him to it.
“We’ll help you,” she said, “if you help us.”

Helena leaned back and crossed her arms. “I’m listening.”

Sinna and Bryce took turns explaining about Aiden and the
Haven situation, told her about the defenses, the guards and the weapons, and
Helena nodded every once in a while, absorbing it without concern. Then Bryce
told her about the converts.

“They’re different. Whatever Klaus was doing changed them.
They don’t recognize our scent as a deterrent anymore.”

“More like a lure,” Sinna chimed in. “The way they came
after us, it was like we were the tastiest meal they ever smelled.”

“How many?”

“Too many,” Bryce replied. “Could have been over a hundred.
And they hunt together.”

Helena whistled. “That, my friends, is what we call a
pickle. Well.” She slapped her knees and stood. “We’re gonna need a hell of a
lot more than a few blades and some food, that’s for sure. I’ll go talk to the
smithy and see what he can spare. You two hang tight. Our departure just got
postponed.”

After Helena had left, Sinna absently twirled a hardboiled
egg on the table. Suddenly being alone with Bryce felt different; the silence
was strained, and they couldn’t seem to find anything to talk about, as if all
of the important things had already been laid out while Helena was there. Now
that she was gone, there was nothing left to say.

“I’m going to go practice my archery,” she said. Yes, good
plan. It would give her something else to focus on, and she’d need it for what
lay ahead of them, anyway. If she was busy shooting arrows into bales of hay,
she wouldn’t have time to feel awkward around the man she’d slept with—in the
most literal sense.

Bryce nodded. “Good. You should. I’ll go see about
transportation. We might need something to carry extra weapons to the mule.”

“You don’t think we should bring it here to load up?”

“It’s pretty beat up. I don’t want to risk adding extra
miles to it. Who knows if it’ll even last us back to Haven?”

“Oh. Right. You’re right, of course.” She smiled, but it
felt strange.

What was wrong with her? This was Bryce!

Nope. The Bryce she’d met two weeks ago wasn’t the same one
sitting across from her now.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go.” She should probably get out of
this dress, too; it made her feel naked, and based on the reactions last night,
women didn’t wear things like this anymore. Practical trumped pretty, every
time. A shame, though. Sinna kind of liked the pretty.

When she stood, Bryce shoved to his feet. “Before you go, I
want to say something.”

Sinna blinked. “Okay. What is it?”

Bryce stepped forward and reached for her. Sinna gasped when
he caught her face in his hands, and then his mouth was on hers, and he was
kissing her. Sinna froze. His tongue licking along her mouth ripped a small
sound from her, and her hands drifted up to his chest and stayed there, unsure
whether she wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

Bryce stopped and pulled back a fraction, just enough to
separate, but his breath seared her, made her dizzy with want. Her fingers
curled into his shirt and clutched tightly, knees locked to stay upright. He
eased his hold on her, caressing her cheek with his thumb as he shifted to
cradle the back of her head. When his lips found hers again, it was slower,
gentler. He coaxed her to trust him, drew her into his frame and took her
weight, teased her mouth to open and didn’t go further until she met him
halfway.

Sinna drank in the sensation of being held so close, of
being kissed this way, like having a silent promise branded into her lips.
Bryce was holding her together, and somehow it felt like he needed it just as
much.

When he finally pulled away, it was with lingering touches,
nuzzling against her cheek to whisper at her ear, “Just so we’re clear.”

Sinna nodded, lacking breath enough to speak.

Bryce smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners, and she
realized she’d never seen him do that before. It was like seeing the sun rise
for the very first time, and it did something funny to her insides.

Then he gently set her away and walked out of the cottage.