Octavia's War Page 11

  “Get her back!” Ángel cried. The pain in his chest was agonizing. He had never felt anything like it.

  “I didn’t send her,” Remmy said. His tone was agonized. “She jumped there herself.”

  His fear spiraled. “Tell her to jump back! They’ll kill her!”

  Remmy shook his head. His eyes were glittering. “I can’t. That’s not my role.”

  Then the firing stopped. The silence was much, much worse.

  Ángel tried to get his chest to unlock, so he could breathe. He suspected the only reason he was still on his feet was because of his grip on Remmy’s arm. “I’m the hunter,” he muttered.

  “She is the fighter. Let us hope she is fighting,” Remmy whispered.

  * * * * *

  Octavia used the gun as a blunt instrument. It was heavy enough it could bring down one of the fuckers if she hit it square on the side of the head. Only, they were a hell of a lot taller than her, so she had to wait until they leaned toward her.

  There was a small wall of bodies all around her that they had to step over to get her and that was what finally made them pause and gave her a chance to think.

  How had she got here? She had been thinking about this place. Leaning toward it in her mind. Mental transference?

  She shoved aside all the silent voices laughing at the preposterous idea. It was no stranger than pixies and vampires and creatures not of this earth trying to take it over for themselves.

  She had leaned toward this canyon, yearning to get her hands around their necks.

  So did the reverse work? If she leaned toward Remmy and Ángel, would she—

  —she did.

  Octavia gasped as the cooler breeze at the top of the bluff bathed her face.

  “Octavia!” Ángel cried.

  She dropped the gun, that was layered in black ooze and threw herself at Ángel and Remmy even before they could get their arms around her.

  Remmy was supposed to be the strongest, yet Ángel’s grip on her was just as tight. He was murmuring, his lips against her cheek, his hand in her hair.

  Remmy turned her chin, lifting it. He kissed her and it was a deep, long pause in time before he let her go once more. “I would sooner pluck my own heart out than lose you. Please do not do that again.”

  She realized she was trembling. “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”

  “You’re the jumper,” Ángel said. He kissed her hard.

  Remmy wrapped his hand around the back of Ángel’s neck, then stroked her cheek. “It’s time. We must seal this now, before the Grimoré sense where we are.”

  “Are you sure, Remmy? This isn’t your war,” Octavia reminded him.

  “It isn’t yours either.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said flatly. “Those people down there…they’re as vulnerable to the Grimoré as they are to the cartels. They’re still innocents trying to live their lives in peace. I forgot that, until just now. This is my war. The Grimoré, the cartel, every evil, twisted asshole in the world, that’s the enemy. So let’s do this and let me go carve them a new one.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Alex had lived in desert lands for a long time so when he first saw them, he thought he was seeing fireflies.

  “Pixies!” Diego cried. “They’ve come to help us find them.” He looked up at the little creatures, delighted.

  Sera held up her hand and one of them landed on her palm and folded its wings away with a tiny snap. Then he bent and looked down into Sera’s face.

  She nodded. “Yes of course we’ll come,” she said. “Show me where.”

  The pixie looked at her for a moment, then launched himself into the air, leaving a sparkling trail.

  Diego caught her arm. “Call to Seaveth. Tell her to bring everyone.”

  Sera nodded and held out her arm. “Alex, first,” she told Diego apologetically. “This is his trinity. And Wyatt.” She lifted her other arm. “I’ll come back for you.”

  Alexander stepped into the circle of her arm gratefully and pulled out the silvered machete. “Ready.”

  * * * * *

  Remmy licked Octavia’s wrist as she sat, dazed. Her body was heavy with lust, her mind roiling with insanely erotic images. She just wanted to fuck someone. She didn’t really care who, as long as it was now.

  “It will pass,” Remmy told her, his voice low. He chuckled. “I do like that look on your face, though.”

  He kissed Ángel briefing and patted his cheek. “Still awake, my lover?”

  Ángel cleared his throat. “That’s it? We drink each other’s blood and it’s done?”

  “It is the formal closure on a process that had been changing us all along,” Remmy told him. “If you think about it, you’ll know what has changed in you, just as you can tell what has changed in Octavia and me. We are forever linked, now.”

  Octavia shook her head, trying to clear the thickness and the arousal. She forced herself to her feet and moved to the edge of the bluff and looked down. Ángel came and stood by her side.

  “Jumpers can carry other people,” Ángel pointed out.

  “One on each arm, in fact,” Remmy said, stepping to her other side. He held up one of the long knives from the collection he had stashed in his bag at the farmhouse. “Your gun is useless now. I suspect you’ll be better with this.”

  She gripped the blade. It felt almost alive in her hand, yet not quite right. When this was over, she knew she would have to find the knife that was the right fit. There would be one out there, somewhere.

  For now, this would do. It was sharp.

  “When we get down there,” Remmy said, “I will open up a corridor through the vampeen. I can move faster than either of you, so it must be me. You two will need to convince the people to use the opening I create to head back to the town as fast as they can go. They will be scared and they will instinctively not believe me because of what I am. That is also the reason it must be you to tell them. Ángel, they know you.”

  Ángel frowned. “Not like this, they do not, yet it might be enough that they know who I am.”

  Octavia put her arms around their waists. It was a stretch and she couldn’t grip Ángel’s properly because of the knife in her hand. “Hold my wrist,” she told him, “and my shoulder.”

  Both of them held her.

  Octavia looked down at the canyon floor, at the little stream meandering through it and the circling, milling people clinging to each other.

  Their screams and their hysterical voices were suddenly all around them. Octavia felt Remmy take off so fast that the wind of his passage lifted the corner of her jacket, making it flap.

  Ángel spun, pulling out his knife, sighting the nearest vampeen and meeting its eyes. The vampeen hesitated.

  Octavia grabbed the nearest person, a middle-aged woman with grey in her black hair and tear-stained cheeks. “Can you hear me?” Octavia said.

  “Yes, yes, oh Mother Mary save us!”

  “You’ll have to settle for saving yourself tonight,” Octavia told her and gave her a little shake.

  “Octavia!” Ángel warned.

  Octavia turned to face the threat. Two vampeen were loping toward them, making everyone behind them shuffle backward, screaming.

  Ángel took the head off the first, by swaying sideways as it tried to take him out, then bringing the knife blade down in a scything movement.

  The body dropped flat, with an impact that jarred the ground.

  The other kept going, its red eyes fixed on Octavia.

  She waited until it leapt, then ducked underneath it. As it sailed over her, she yanked the point of the knife along its exposed belly.

  It fell at the foot of the woman she had been speaking to and lay motionless. Black blood spread out around it.

  The woman clapped both hands over her mouth, her screams abruptly cutting off. Her eyes were huge as she looked from the vampeen to Octavia.

  “Yes, we can deal with them,” Octavia told her. She pointed to where Remmy was standing, tw
o hundred yards to the south. He dropped a vampeen to the ground as she pointed. “Go that way. The way is clear now. Go back home and lock yourselves in.”

  “It is safe, now? Home is safe?”

  “Safer than here,” Ángel told her. “I will protect you from my brother’s excesses. These things are more dangerous, anyway.” He kicked the body at his feet.

  “Go,” Octavia told the woman. “All of you,” she added, lifting her voice. “Go now.”

  The woman moved hesitantly, heading for where Remmy was standing by the stream. Octavia waved the rest of them forward, encouraging them to follow her. Suddenly, they were all moving. They were hurrying, stumbling in the dark, shepherding the children and the old ones, helping each other along.

  The vampeen began to howl.

  Octavia eyed the nearest one, hefting her knife. The vampeen glared at her with baleful eyes, the teeth snapping wetly.

  “Oh, please try,” she crooned.

  Before it could leap, there was a fluttering sound in the air all around them and shapes obscured her view of the thing. Many shapes, many figures, most of them wearing dark cloaks and hoods so that nothing except their big eyes and pale flesh showed.

  Among the cloaks were people. A woman with very long red hair that curled and bounced around her waist pointed toward the narrow slot where the Grimoré were hiding. “Trinities, to the Grimoré. Everyone else, take care of the vampeen.” She was speaking English.

  Abruptly, everyone scattered, heading for their assignments.

  “Amrod, would you be so kind as to make sure the people are returned to their homes?” the redhead said.

  One of the tallest among the cloaked ones lowered his hood, turning back to face her.

  Octavia blinked. The man’s ears had points on them.

  Elves. Remmy had mentioned elves. This, then, must be one of them and from the way the redheaded leader was dealing with him, one of the higher-ups.

  “If you do not mind us exposing ourselves in this way, we will be pleased to see them safely home,” Amrod said. His accent was odd, but slight.

  “The time has come when such considerations are a hindrance, Amrod,” the redhead said. “By the time anyone with authority takes notice, this will all be over, you can return to your world and be bothered no more by Terran media.”

  Amrod bowed. It was a short lowering of his head, yet it was definitely an acknowledgement to a leader. He called out something in a language Octavia did not know.

  Half the elves disappeared. Because she was looking in that direction, she saw them reappear down by the creek where Remmy was guarding the townspeople as they filed by. Each elf stepped forward, swept two or more people up inside their cloaks and disappeared again.

  There was no one left, except for Remmy.

  “They make logistics so much easier to deal with,” the redhead said with a smile. She thrust her hand out toward Octavia. “My name is Seaveth.”

  Octavia swapped the bloody knife over to her left hand and took Seaveth’s. “Remmy spoke of you. You’re their queen.”

  “I’m quite human,” Seaveth said. “Although some smart alec thought putting me in charge was a good idea. I’m just trying to live up to expectations.”

  Octavia suspected that Seaveth did far more than just live up to expectations. She kept her mouth shut, anyway.

  “Has your trinity been bonded, Octavia?” Seaveth asked.

  Octavia jumped. “You know who I am?”

  “Alexander knows his way around a computer and the government has many public records to delve into. Alex figured you were the one who Remmy came in search of. Ángel Garcia is the other one, no?”

  “I am Ángel. Garcia is not a name I want anymore,” Ángel said. His English was thickly accented, yet clear. He gave Seaveth a short nod of his head, just as Amrod had done. “Thank you for coming to help us.”

  “That’s what we all do, these days. Fight and help each other out. It’s our greatest strength.”

  “The helping?” Octavia clarified.

  “The bonds that bind us, that make us want to help each other, despite the odds against us.” Seaveth smiled. “And I’m not just talking about the sealing of the trinity, although that helps.”

  “You’re talking about love,” Ángel said. He picked up Octavia’s hand and squeezed it.

  Seaveth smiled again. It was a warm expression that seemed to seep right through to Octavia’s bones. “I see you’ve learned that for yourselves.” She looked over their shoulders. “You are Remmy, then?”

  “Ma’am,” Remmy said.

  “Alexander has much to say about you, most of it good.”

  “Most?” Remmy sounded affronted.

  “Your reluctance to help with our cause, to even acknowledge the trinity troubled me.”

  Remmy glanced at Ángel and Octavia. “I didn’t understand. I do now,” he said quietly. His English was richly Southern.

  “You’ve sealed your trinity, Remmy?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Very well. We have a parcel of Grimoré to deal with. Would you, the last trinity, care to help us with that?” Seaveth stepped back and waved toward the slotted wall. Everyone who was not wearing a cloak was gathered there, except for a tall man, another redhead. His hair was more coppery than Seaveth’s. The man came up to them and nodded at Seaveth. “I see you’ve met my three, Beth.”

  “Alexander,” she acknowledged. “They really can’t be traced?”

  “Virtually invisible to every sense,” he said. He looked at the three of them. “I’ve been chasing my tail across the desert looking for you, when I should have been able to find you by just closing my eyes and listening with my mind. I think that’s the reason the Grimoré did not find you out here, either, despite one of the largest gatherings of vampeen and Grimoré I’ve seen during this entire war.” He waved around the canyon floor.

  Everywhere, there were vampeen bodies, most of them with one or more elves in cloaks standing over them. There were hundreds of them.

  Octavia shivered. “If they had found us…”

  Remmy put his arm around her waist and tucked her up against him. He pressed his lips to her temple.

  Seaveth considered them for a moment. “You might be a key to the strategy that gives us our final victory,” she said softly. “The end is coming. The Grimoré know that, too. The fighting will be very bitter, now.” Then she shook herself and straightened up. “First, let’s deal with this little skirmish. Then, the three of you have a lot of catch-up to do and many people to meet. So when you’re ready, come and join us.”

  She gave them one last smile, then turned and strode over the rocky ground to where the other people were waiting.

  Alexander lifted his hand. “We’ll have to do the formal introductions and all that later. Beth will flay us if we don’t hurry up and finish this. Take a moment to catch your breath. Everyone is waiting on you.” He smiled. “No pressure, or anything.” He turned and headed for the group as well.

  Octavia realized that the non-elves in the group were all members of other trinities. They would have gone through what she and Ángel and Remmy had just experienced and now they were fighting a war that had not been theirs to begin with, either.

  Octavia looked up at Remmy and Ángel. “We’re not alone at all,” she said, marveling. “We never were, not even out here.”

  Ángel blew out a heavy breath. “Much to think about…” Then he shook his head and switched to Spanish. “Even in a city full of relatives, I have always been alone. This is…weird.”

  “It is,” Remmy said. He sounded as uneasy as Ángel. “I have always had friends. This, though, is different.” Then he stirred and looked at them both. “What am I saying? We all knew things would change because of this. If there is one thing I have learned in two hundred years it is that change is the only constant. So now we’re going to have to learn how to deal with dozens of people who are closer to us than family could ever get.”

  “Y
ou sound happy about that,” Ángel said.

  Remmy considered that. “I am,” he said, sounding surprised.

  Chapter Twelve

  Octavia had never realized how blissful and perspective-altering a simple hot shower could be. She lingered under the hot water, letting more than just dirt drain away, while she thought about the powerful sense of satisfaction and peace that had settled into her when they had dealt with the Grimoré in the canyon. It felt as if she had done more good in one day than she had achieved in five years of looking for justice for Mandy.

  It had all happened because she had stopped gripping so tightly, forcing the world to her way of thinking and doing things.

  It was a powerful lesson.

  She had no clothes other than the ones she had been wearing for the last three days, so she wrapped the big hotel towel around her and stepped out into the bedroom.

  Remmy and Ángel were both on the king-sized bed. Remmy raised a long finger to his lips.

  Ángel was lying next to him, deeply asleep, still in his grimy jeans, although he had removed the stained shirt. Remmy settled his hand on Ángel’s shoulder as Octavia slid carefully onto the bed next to Ángel.

  Remmy touched her face softly. “Sleep. You need it.”

  “Soon,” she said. “Remmy, I…” She cleared her throat. “None of us has said it because it doesn’t feel as if we need to. I just don’t want to make that assumption and then find out I was wrong.”

  “Of course he knows,” Ángel said, his voice foggy with sleep.

  Octavia looked at him startled. His eyes were narrow slits, the black that showed glittering in the light from the bedside lamp.

  “You know?” she breathed.

  “It feels as if I have loved you all my life,” he said, his voice low. “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t, yet I know that can’t be right. That’s what it feels like, though.”

  Octavia nodded. “I love you both, equally and yet differently and it is the strongest thing I’ve ever felt. I am so certain of how I feel that it is almost….”

  “A relief.” Remmy said softly. “To be so sure of yourself and how you feel.”