CHAPTER 9
Studying the printout of the Hatches’ security data while Cat was sleeping was becoming an epic fail. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. The long walls in his celibate, clean mind were now seared with countless erotic images of her. It was like starting a million-piece puzzle and the massive empty space demanded to be filled for his complete Cat picture.
In the span of twelve hours, she’d become an addiction on a level he’d never experienced. She’d blasted through a fifteen-year celibacy firewall as if it never existed.
And the worry and alarm over that amounted to a distant hum, drowned out by the relentless cock-hammering need in his blood.
He sighed and set the data sheet on the desk. “AL?”
He waited in the silence, counting the seconds to measure how angry his virtual brother still was.
“Yes?”
Five seconds pissed still. Fuck, he was tired of fighting with him. From the day the marriage stuff came up in The Twelve, they had gone round and round. AL had hard logic defending his stance and 8-Bit had to play the trump card--TheEvequewantsit. And there wasn’t enough data on the planet to justify not obliging him after he’d saved his life and soul all those years ago. Not by just providing a safe outlet for all his talents, even the darkest ones, but he gave him a home, the very same one he now lived in. Education, food, every kind of support, and whatever supplies he needed to pursue his gifts. That was all The Bishops. If they hadn’t stepped in to help after his parents abandoned him at thirteen, where would he be? He didn’t need a complex algorithm to know, and neither should AL.
And yet his conclusions were as cold as the people that were supposed to be his parents, his arguments iron clad, his reasoning unhinged from his bond with The Twelve. But seeing his Eveque—who’d been burned like he had—find a woman as amazing as the Belle Eveque put a big dent in his theory about all women. Even while it was common sense that not all women were xyz, his experience refused him any hope in that department.
It all opened a crack in the door, and he was ready to try while setting up parameters to guard the things he couldn’t afford to lose. Namely his fucking mind if he went through another hell like the first.
“I’m sorry,” Ethan mumbled finally, knowing every bit of AL’s perfect passion and anger existed because of him. He was being what he was designed to be. A loyal friend. Somebody who never left and was always there when you needed them. That’s what a sixteen-year-old does when the people who save you by day can do nothing about the bone-deep loneliness that devours you every night. You endure that by creating your own family. AL and Big G were as much his brothers as The Twelve, as much his family as The Bishops.
He knew forming a bond with an artificial anything was as fucked up as forming one with a stuffed animal. He’d always known that. But stuffed animals couldn’t be trained to talk back. AL and Big G were programmed to remember all their interactions, which was a blessing and a curse some days. But Ethan hid his secret family from the world, even today. They all understood it had nothing to do with them but everything to do with people. They couldn’t be trusted. Their family wasn’t just a secret, it was a protected secret. A cherished secret.
Guilt snaked through Ethan at recalling the thing that finally shut AL up in their last fight the night before. He’d been prefacing all his arguments with ‘as your brother,’ and Ethan had finally snapped with, ‘And as your creator.’ He took it like a threat and went radio silent.
“You know words can mean different things, AL. When I said them, I…”
“I don’t know what words you mean.”
Fuck, he was going to play dumb and pretend it never happened. Another trick Ethan had taught him. “You want to help me with this mess?”
“Which one?”
“The mole one. What am I missing? We have anomalies everywhere.”
“If the answers are not in the pattern, then maybe they’re hiding between them.”
Fuck, right. And it wasn’t a maybe, that was AL’s way of giving him the answer while letting him think he thought of it. A habit he never got out of even though Ethan told him he wasn’t a child needing to be coddled with data-points.
“Would you like a shortcut?” AL suggested after a minute.
Ethan paused, wanting all short cuts but not about to let the “Cat” out of the bag as to why. “I would, yes.”
“The short cut iiiiissss…” he began in mock dramatics before deadpanning, “Katrina.”
****
“Holy fuck,” Bishop muttered, shaking his head as fury boiled his blood. “You’re sure?”
“I am,” 8-Bit said. “And I don’t think she’s working alone, somebody is on the other side of this, moving the pieces.”
“Agreed. Fuck!” he yelled, ready to kill. “Why the mother of my fuckingdaughter?”
“I’m sorry, Eveque,” 8-Bit said.
“Keep digging. Find the other end of this snake or I swear to God, I’ll carve the answers out of that face of hers.”
“I’ll stay in touch.”
“You okay?” Bishop remembered to ask.
“Yeah, why?”
“Just checking, that’s all. Remember I have your back, you understand? I have always had your back.”
“I know that,” 8-Bit said, his indebted tone pissing him off.
“I didn’t tell you that as some fucking debt reminder, Ethan, I’m telling you because I need you to know I will always have it. You’re my brother. Remember that. No matter what happens, you have family. I believe in you. We all fucking do.”
The phone was silent before he got a low, “Thank you, brother.”
Bishop released a breath at hearing he understood it exactly the way he needed him to. “Before you go, I have to know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“How are you faring with Cat?” Bishop paced in the garage through another span of silence.
“The same fucking way you fared with our Belle Eveque.”
That news made him come to a full stop. Holy fuck he sounded terrified. “She’s good people, brother. Go easy and take your fucking time.”
His dry chuckle was very familiar. Too late to go slow. “I know she’s good. I’m actually not worried about that.”
Bishop turned and stopped again. “What are you worried about?”
He took a deep breath. “What I feel right now… makes porn addiction look like child’s play.”
Oh shit. Bishop leaned against the Black Bastard. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I share a similar psychotic obsession with my Petite. No, no,” he assured at his doubtful sigh. “I’m a fucking animal with her in sex. How I don’t break her is some miracle I’m still trying to work out.”
“What does she think about that?”
It was Bishop’s turn with the dramatic breaths. “She fucking loves it,” he said, back to pissed.
“Wow,” 8-Bit muttered, sounding like he smiled. “I guess that should give me a byte of hope.”
“It should, yes.” But already Bishop could tell he’d exempted himself from such a thing. He knew all too well that suffocating darkness he was under.
“I’ll call you,” he said.
A familiar image of the young, broken Ethan filled Bishop’s mind, making him need to hug the fuck out of him again. “Alright, brother.”
He dialed Seer and paced.
“Eveque.”
He took a deep breath and told him the Katrina news, then got his, “What else are you calling about?”
“You can feel it, can’t you,” he said, nodding. “When you’re done with the Raphael business, I need you to go put your hands all over 8-Bit and see what the fuck is going on with him. I do not like the vibes I’m getting.
“Yes sir.”
Bishop heard something odd in his tone. “What about you? How are you doing?”
“Just preparing to form a circle with people I’m terrified to touch.”
He paused his steps. “You can call it off if you think you need to.”
“Nope,” he said easily. “I have a meeting with Destiny. And it’s time I find out what she’s been whispering in my ear about particular things.”
“Can you elaborate?” he asked, not liking the sound of that.
“I can. As soon as I know. My Father’s calling me. It’s time.”
Those words put an extra beat in his pulse. “I’m praying with you, Brother.”
“Thank you. See you on the other side.”
He hung up and Bishop stared at his phone, not at all liking what the hell that might mean. It suddenly rang and Lesion’s name appeared. He answered, “What’s up?”
Heavy breathing on the line put Bishop on immediate high alert. “Seth and I have Nitro,” Lesion said. “He had a reaction to a compound I’d prepared for him, and Patches is getting a bed ready for him at the hospital. With restraints.”
“Restraints!?”
“Took two sleep darts to take him down. When I got to Felix’s place, he was in the process of… forcing sex with her on the floating dock in her pond. He bit her during orgasm and drank her blood.”
“Are you fucking kidding? I’m on my way.”
****
Lesion spotted Eveque at the entrance and hurried to meet him. “Where is he?”
“We put him in the basement for now till I run more tests. I don’t want to alarm anybody. Felix is also here being looked at.” He nodded at a passing nurse, stepping closer to Eveque. “I gave her a sedative. She was nearly hysterical with worry about Nitro. But she seems to be physically fine, other than the bite on her shoulder.”
Bishop’s wind left him as he shook his head. “What the fuck happened?”
Lesion acknowledged yet another nurse with a nod, this one smiling. “Let’s talk somewhere else.” He hurried to the stairwell leading to the basement, having to work hard to contain his excitement over everything. Inside the secluded hall, he stopped at the first landing and faced Eveque. “Felix doesn’t know it yet, but she gave him ten times the dose she was supposed to. That’s my fault, I failed to label the vial with instructions, and she went off of memory. I also made it in a bit of a hurry which is why I made the dosages so low.”
“What the hell was it?”
Lesion took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “The concoction was an experimental formula intended to enhance Nitro”s senses and establish a stronger connection between him and the bats. I synthesized it from a specific compound found in bat saliva, neurotransmitters, and hormonal regulators. The correct dosage would have made him more receptive to the bats—improved communication, if you will.”
Eveque”s eyes widened, visibly disturbed. “And the overdose? What”s will that do to him?”
“Physiologically speaking, an overdose could result in heightened aggression, extreme sensitivity to sensory stimuli, and possibly even altered states of consciousness,” Lesion explained quietly. “In layman’s terms, we might be dealing with an exceptionally volatile and unpredictable Nitro until I formulate an antidote or at least something to counteract the most severe side effects.”
Eveque scrubbed his face with a groan of exasperation. “When it fucking rains,” he muttered before regarding him with a shake of his head and pointing at him. “Don’t for a second think I don’t see how much you’re enjoying this. We all remember your childhood obsession with Batman and bats.”
Damn, he was busted, and he had to chuckle. “I never outgrew it,” he admitted, grinning at Eveque’s very knowing nods. “But as risky as this situation has become, it’s proven that the formula works as intended, albeit in an intensified manner due to the overdose. With the right balance, Nitro”s abilities with the bats could reach an unprecedented level, not to mention Seth said he was inhumanely strong.”
Bishop’s eyes widened. “He fucked her! Forced her! In front of others,” he added in strained disbelief. “Like he was on fuckingbat Viagra!”
Lesion nodded in full agreement, his alchemistic brain snatching up the Bat Viagra to ponder later. “I’m handling the psychotic effects immediately. But you should know,” Lesion said, his pulse leaping at the memory. “The bats came.”
Bishop’s brows pulled together. “And?”
“They swarmed, ten feet above them. An army of beautiful, dreadful fury. But they didn’t attack. Not even when he bit her and she screamed.”
He appreciated the look of awe that entered Eveque’s gaze as he seemed to visualize it in his mind. His eyes cleared and leveled on him. “What’s your plan?”
“Run a battery of tests and fully understand the impact of the overdose. Then create the perfect antidote or counter-serum to neutralize the effects of the overdose while retaining the benefits.”
“How long will this take?”
Lesion was sure about that part at least. “I can manage a formula within a few days.” He remembered his woman. “Maybe you can get your Belle Eveque here to deal with Felix?” It was the one arena Lesion wasn’t comfortable with. Now that he had Tully, his aversion to women had tripled.
“Mon fucking Dieu,” he muttered, pacing on the stairwell landing. “I’ll call her. After I see Nitro.” He leveled a harsh gaze on Lesion, and he braced for whatever brought it. “Thank you. You’ve saved our asses many times. Don’t think I’ll ever forget that and don’t think for a second that I hold any of this against you.” He grabbed his shoulder and gripped it hard. “There’s no quacky cajun doctor anywhere on this planet that I trust more than you, Alchemy. Besides Patches,” he remembered with a light toss of his head before getting severe again. “Take care of our brother.”
****
Seer excused himself to the bathroom at Spook’s place, needing to clear Bishop out of his system before locking hands with his father and Maggie. He splashed water on his face for a full minute, the blood visions trying to return. Ever since it was decided they would go find the boy and this woman, he’d been seeing that vision he’d had before, with the death and blood. Was he seeing something that would happen or something that could happen? If it would happen, there was nothing he could do to stop it. If it could happen, he could prevent it.
The fact that he wasn’t getting any direction made him surer than ever that the vision fell under would happen. And in that case, there was no point in mentioning it. But there was a huge chance it would be seen by his father and Maggie when they touched. He’d decided if they saw, they were supposed to see and leave the things that weren’t for him, to God.
“I’m ready,” Seer said. He’d requested they do this without Cherie just in case Lazarus was somehow using her. Bad enough he had some kind of influence with him being attached to her, he didn’t want to give him a bigger doorway.
He eyed his father now standing, looking like he’d prepared for war with a legion of demons. Maybe that’s what they’d find when they joined hands.
Without looking, Maggie’s gifts were billowing above her, nearly filling the entire room. If they didn’t get anywhere, he’d request Beth to join hands with them. He was beginning to hear what his father was meaning about her gifts affecting Maggie’s. But how exactly, was the concern. It was like disarming a spiritual bomb. They all had different powers wrapped in the same colored wires. Which ones should be crossed? Which ones should never touch? What was the consequences of either or?
If Spook or Eveque knew the risks, they wouldn’t be standing there. It was only his faith in God and their trust in him that had him stand before them and reach both his hands out, one to his father and one to Maggie. “It’s time.” He then reminded them. “We’re just seeing what we can see between the three of us then we’ll go from there.”
They nodded and his father looked at his hand with trepidation, as though he feared the same things he did. Maggie slowly reached for both of them, her eyes closed with shallow breaths.
She was already seeing, he realized.
She snatched their hands as if a force repelled her and she had to break through to reach them. The instant the triad formed, Seer’s wind blasted out as if a bolt of lightening struck all of them. Their energies surged and fought for a path, slamming into each other and bouncing off. Their grunts and gasps told of the brutal boxing match within their blood and bones as his plea to God blasted from his tight lips, “Direct us!”
A maelstrom of images, visions, and intangible sensations cut through his spirit like claws. It yanked him right then left, before plunging him down, down through a river of scenes. Dark forests, moonlit rituals, symbols written in blood with snapshots of humanity—crying children, men and women bound.
“I see them!”
Seer had yelled the words in unison with his father and Maggie. He turned his inner eyes toward Maggie and saw she’d tethered them to her. She released their hands in this vision and knelt next to the boy and the woman they searched for while Seer and his father held on for dear life, the power vortex fighting to rip their spirits from their bodies.
His grip on his father’s hand began to slip.
Hurry Maggie, hurry.
The evil felt like shards of glass ripping at his face and lips, gouging his eyes. It wanted to devour him. A roar tore from his mouth as he resisted and his father mirrored it, the sound filling him with terror. Something held him down and it brought a rage. Seer managed to turn his head, searching for his father in the madness. “Mon Pier!” he roared. “Mon Pier!”
Seer’s body jolted twice, then a third time.
Weightless now, he turned and called, “Maggie.”
She turned from where she drew quickly on her knees, her brows coming together as she stared at him. Her eyes widened with terror and she reached for him. She took in a huge breath and let go a scream of pure power, blasting Seer onto his back.
He blinked rapidly, his breaths ragged and loud in his ears as a ceiling came into view above him.
“Samuel!” somebody wailed. “Saaaamuel!”
Seer sat up, hurrying to Spook now crouched next to Maggie, trying to shake her from the clutches of whatever vision held her.
“Maggie!” Seer called next to her.
She sucked in a huge breath and her eyes popped open right on him. She strangled him in a hug, back to wailing right in his ear. “You died! There was blood and you died, so much blood, it was all over, all over me!” she screamed, her fingers clawing at him. “I couldn’t save you!”
“Shit, your dad,” Spook shot out, rushing to him on the floor.
Samuel raced over on his knees at seeing his father unmoving, his tan skin pale and covered in sweat. The fear from his vision turned his breaths rabid as he shook his still body. “Mon Pier!” God, please. Please, help me. He searched for a pulse in his neck, dread strangling him as he gasped, “Mon Pier!”
Spook touched his neck then pressed his ear to his chest. “No, fuck.”
Blood dripped from his father’s nose and Seer grabbed tight hold of his hand, fighting back the terror clawing in his chest.
“I need to do CPR,” Spook gushed, opening his father’s mouth and blowing air into his lungs then hurrying to his chest. “One…two…three…” he gasped, pressing with his palms. “Call Patches!” he yelled.
But Seer couldn’t move, he couldn’t let him go. He held his hand against his shattered heart as Maggie fought with the phone, crying like a confused child.
“I have to hold on to him!” Seer forced through the agony. “I can’t let him go.” He sucked in a breath and begged him with all his might, “Mon Pier! Please!”
Maggie’s arms went around him as Spook yelled at Patches on the phone.
Seer’s sobs cut loose. “God, please, I’m begging you! Help me, help Mon Pier! Don’t let him leave, don’t let him leave me again.”