CHAPTER 2
Lesion waited outside while Eveque dealt with The Seer, feeling like they needed privacy. He pulled his buzzing phone out and looked at the name. “Nitro,” he answered.
“Hey Medicine Man, what room you at. We’re here.”
“32. I’m outside.”
“Guard-dogging?”
He shook his head. “Letting Eveque deal with The Seer.”
“What’s up?”
“He’s had some troubling visions he can’t understand.”
“Must not be his business to know, then,” Nitro said.
Lesion held his tongue, not sure what to think or say about it yet.
“Headed to you now.”
“I hear you a mile off,”
“That’s Hurricane’s Fat Betty you hearing. 8-Bit followed us in his fancy pussy cage. Wants to try out some new toys.”
“Good. Think we’ll want everything we can get for this.”
“I see your crazy ass.”
Lesion hung up and slid his phone in the front pocket of his cut, walking out to meet them.
“Ayyye, look at this cooyon!” Hurricane boomed, coming with his arm traps open wide. There were only Twelve men he let touch him like that and Hurricane took full advantage. “Leezayon!” he said, wrapping him in five seconds of spine crushing tingles and warm humiliation as he hefted him off his feet. It was never just a hug with him. He set him down and Lesion took the shoulder shakes, back slaps and even beard tugs. “I hear you done got yourself some swamp swagger.” Lesion snatched the hand headed for his crotch and twisted till he howled. Lesion shoved his dumb, laughing ass back.
Nitro held out a fist and Lesion eyed his grin. “Hugs like his counts for two people.”
“More like fifty,” Lesion muttered, Nitro’s booming laugh matching Hurricane’s. He watched as they both put away gear, realizing what was different about Hurricane. He’d grown a bit of a beard. The two brothers were opposites in stature, but Hurricane’s short height was no disadvantage. He was a mean bull with the speed and power of a category five storm and he surely lived up to that name. Lesion still had phantom pains in his ass from his earlier days of sparring with him. Nitro wasn’t as fast as him but where he lacked speed, he made up for in power. One hit from the six-foot muscle-wall and you were visiting the stars. Another something Lesion had learned personally.
He’d only recently learned from Eveque that all the brothers were fond of him. Not because of his cures and medicinal curses, but his performance in the Gauntlet Trials and endurance in the training that followed with them after. He was glad to know all his mental and physical trauma had paid off. Failing was not a concept Lesion had ever learned in his upbringing with Madam Hag. There was no such thing. Only finding a way. Becoming one of The Twelve had been a childhood fantasy and he’d tried out for it every year. It took him seven years to finally graduate past Captain So Close. Lesion cherished every scar he got from it almost as much as the brothers who gave them.
Nitro tossed his head at the room door, crossing his arms with a wide-legged stance. “What’s up?”
Lesion waited for Hurricane who joined them with his war face on—eyes sharp, brows drawn, mouth tight.
“Something’s up with The Seer,” Lesion muttered. “He’s had visions that have him…” Lesion contemplated. “Like I’ve never seen him.”
Nitro’s brows rose. “What kind, you know?”
“About Cherie.”
“No shit,” Hurricane muttered, looking at Nitro then back at Lesion.
“From what I gather, he saw her leaving in a vision and he’s…” Again Lesion pondered. “He’s insane with devastation like he’s already lived it in the vision.”
“Fuuuuck, me, man,” Hurricane whispered, shaking his head. “Fate is being a fucking cunt with him. Spends his whole fuckin’ life serving the swamp, then just meets her.” His blue eyes were wide but still sharp. “The whole fuckin’ basin’s ringing with wedding bells, man.”
“Well it isn’t from just that,” Nitro reminded, quirking a brow. “We got Swamp Balls or parties being talked about if you can fucking believe it, and our balls are the party theme.”
“Not mine,” Lesion said in relief. “I have a Tully ticket out of that.”
“So you tappin’ that for real man?” Hurricane muttered, his brow doing a hard quirk.
“I’m…in a relationship,” he said, liking that loophole.
Nitro shot out a laugh. “In a relationship,” he muttered with knowing. “How convenient, Medicine Man. I’m in a relationship too, with peace and quiet. Tits and pussy twenty-four seven with that kind of climax,” he said, pointing at the hotel room, “that ain’t fixin’ nothin’ but his testicles. That dog won’t be huntin’ no more after this.”
“I agree,” Lesion said while repeating those crude words. Tits and pussy. They were his top fascination, but Tully’s emotional and mental counterparts fought to take preeminence on his charts. He slid his right hand in his pocket and touched the tips of each finger, canceling the obsessive distraction.
“So what about this compound,” Hurricane said, ready to change the subject.
“Yeah,” Nitro muttered, pulling out his phone and looking at the screen. “8-Bit is on the exit.” He regarded Lesion. “Tell us what you know about this job.”
Lesion went over everything The Seer had seen when his neuropathways were cleared and his brothers regarded each other.
“The fuck kinda swamp soup you cookin’ boy?” Hurricane wondered at him.
“No shit.”
“Nothing special. Mostly disinfectants.”
“Sounds like a real blast,” Nitro said with a grin. “Maybe you can bottle it and send me some.”
“I’ve got similar concoctions I’m testing if you want to volunteer.”
“Helllll, yeah,” Nitro mumbled, texting on his phone then sliding it in his back pocket. “I’m down for it. I trust you.”
Lesion glanced behind him when the door opened and Eveque came out alone.
Eveque gave the brothers rough, growling hugs before looking at each of them while shaking his head. “This ain’t good.”
“Fuck, now what?” Nitro wondered.
His head lowered, shaking it. “He’s fucked up. Trying to talk him into just going back and dealing with shit but he says he’s supposed to go, there’s no going around it.”
“Gah-day-dawn,” Hurricane muttered. “He’s hard-headed, yeah.”
“There’s 8-Bit.” Nitro nodded.
They turned as the old black Camaro pulled up. He tweaked his lights and they met him as he rolled down his window. “Evening Swamp Studs.”
“Evenin’ Giga god,” Nitro greeted, slapping his palm across his outstretched hand.
Eveque opened his door and 8-Bit got out, giving the brothers full-on hugs. Like Nitro, 8-Bit was a tower of muscle, but his greatest weapon was his data-driven-brain. Lesion enjoyed his six weeks of training with the guru even if he forgot half the technical things he’d taught him. But catalog he did while gleaning the parts he could use and take back to his side of the swamps.
“Show us what you got,” Eveque said. “I need feel-good somethings right about now.”
“A new toy,” 8-Bit said, hurrying to his trunk and opening it. He pulled out a small looking black bird-plane. “Meet the next generation drone. I call it the Swamp Oracle. 8-Bit modified, of course.”
Eveque angled his head at it. “What’s the bells and whistles?”
“Night vision, audio and video recording, a hundred-mile fly time and my favorite, auto-mapping.”
“And what’s that?”
“I created a program to have it send the images to my central intelligence map. Once I have it, I map it in, then send the drone to set up a beacon parameter.”
“For what?” Eveque wondered.
“Surveillance. The beacons are cameras.”
“You’ll be able to survey their compound?” Eveque asked, amazed.
He nodded. “Right from the Hack House.”
“Wow,” Lesion said, getting 8-Bit’s grin and nod.
“Boring as fuck,” Hurricane cried. “Next, you’ll be replacing us with them mechanicals! I will revolt,” he warned.
“Nah. Just trying to make the ground-work clean so you have less surprises. Less risk of casualties. By the way, your Belle Eveque advised me how to incorporate the map with the drone.”
“Did she,” Eveque muttered, sounding pissed.
“She’s amazing,” 8-Bit bragged, grinning at Bishop’s eyeroll.
“A little too amazing. She needs to be knocked back a notch before she finds her amazing ass in the wrong place at the wrong time. She’s amazing at doing that too, as you well know.”
“Very well,” 8-Bit said, all of them not hiding how funny that was.
The door opened and Revelator strolled toward them, blue eyes sharp and focused. “We ready? I am.” The words bit like a judgment bullet.
“How long will the recon take?” Eveque asked 8-Bit.
“From here, maybe thirty to forty minutes.”
“Good,” Revelator muttered. “You can load up while I make one more call to Cherie and see what I can see. Then I’ll call Maggie.”
His desperation for help was so potent it required Lesion to touch all his fingertips twice to quell the illogical urge to act first and think second. The Seer’s gifts were raging, calling out to Lesions. He really needed to study his abilities, maybe help him fine-tune them.
“Sounds like a plan,” Eveque muttered.
****
Revelator paced in the small bathroom, waiting for Cherie to answer. God, show me. Show me what I need to do.
It went to voice mail and he closed his eyes and redialed. Please answer the fucking phone, Cherie.
The voice mail came on. “Fuck!” he yelled, looking for Maggie’s number, ready to beg her for help. He got another voice mail. “Where the fuck is everybody,” he muttered, scrolling through his contacts. He selected Belle Eveque and sat on the tub, waiting as the phone rang.
“We’re sorry, the mailbox you’ve reached has not been set—”
“Please, God, please,” he whispered, dialing Bishop.
“What’s up?”
“Who did you say was with her?”
“Cherie?”
“Yes, which of our brothers?”
“Think Nitro got Bacon. Hey, Nitro,” he called. “Who’s with Cherie?”
“Bacon,” Revelator heard.
“You have his number?” Bishop asked Revelator.
“Yes.”
“We’re ready when you are.”
Revelator leaned against the sink. “I’ll be out in five.”
“Take your time.”
Revelator found Bacon’s number, his arm trembling as he pressed the phone to his ear.
“Welcome to heaven, this is Bacon speaking.”
“Can you please put Cherie on the phone?”
“Uhhh, I would but I’m not with her.”
“What? I thought you were.”
“Well I was then I was asked to fetch some feminine supplies. Maggie came because Ma-Ma had that party thing going on.”
“Maggie’s with her?” Revelator’s fears hitched at that news. He hung up without a word and called Bishop. “Bacon left and Maggie is with her. This is bad.” Revelator hung up and found Maggie’s number. The digitized voice mail filled his ear. “Fuck!”
“God, please,” Revelator gasped, ready to fall prostrate before Him. He’d been praying non-stop and felt like a door was shut in his face. He’d never felt more alone in his life. If he could just see what was coming, he could prepare. He was too close, too involved to see anything objectively, that’s all he knew. He couldn’t see because of himself. Something in him was blocking it.
He yanked the bathroom door open right as Bishop entered. “I sent Shank to check on things, he was the closest I could find. Told him to call both their numbers on the way and then us when he gets there. He’s taking my Swamp Dragon, won’t be twenty-minutes.”
Revelator wanted to hug the man. “I owe you.”
“Trust me, I’m keeping tabs.”
The dread in his bones allowed half a laugh at the ridiculous lie. “Thanks, brother.”
“Bullets and blood, my brother,” Bishops muttered, wrapping strong arms around him. “I’d take a hundred of the first and give all of the second.” He smacked his back roughly and pulled away, squeezing his right shoulder. “No matter what devils come… you’re not alone. The entire fucking swamp is at your back. But we also need you. I need you.”