Chapter Thirteen
D awn breaks and I blink gritty eyes, drawing in another breath. I haven’t slept since Dane’s early morning visit, listening as he switched watches with Rae a few hours ago.
When I lift my head, she’s sitting on a pew a few feet away, Autumn by her side. Rae gives me a humourless smile.
“Good night?”
I grunt in response. Her eyes linger a moment too long. She heard Dane, then, and she knows I have it handled. Will she have my back if I kill him?
I think so. She’s taken Autumn under her wing, and Dane threatened her directly. Rae might take Dane out before I do.
And considering Dane… He’s not in the church, and neither is Blake. I heard them moving around an hour or so ago, but I didn’t clock that they left the building.
The door that leads below the church swings open. A couple of people emerge—I don’t know either of their names—and shoot us suspicious looks but otherwise ignore us.
Both are carrying weapons. Part of me thinks that’s a good thing. Who’s to say how many zombies might be out there now?
I stretch and get to my feet. “Where are they?”
Rae jerks her head in the direction of the doors. Maybe they’ve gone down into the town already. I don’t really care. After last night, Dane can’t be trusted.
I understand his reaction to Otto. I look at the door in the vestibule again, wondering when he’ll show his face. My stomach twists at the thought of seeing him healthy and whole. If that had been all Dane had done last night, I still wouldn’t like him, but I wouldn’t want to kill him.
But he crossed a line. Bothering me is one thing, but the rest of the team should be safe from him.
Nia comes up before anyone I recognise. She sighs when she sees the three of us waiting there.
“I understand you might be upset about what happened yesterday—”
“We’re not upset,” Rae interrupts. Autumn looks terrified. “We just don’t get it.”
“I know.” Nia rolls her lips together, then shakes her head. “And I can’t really explain. I just want to assure you that Otto is safe and healed. He won’t turn. He can’t.”
“You can’t explain, or you won’t?” I ask.
Nia’s dark eyes meet mine. “Does it matter?”
I suppose not. Makes our job going back much more difficult, of course. It’s one thing to lie and say we came across no one here—if the Citadel sent us to clear the place out, then they intend to send people here at some point. It’s another entirely to lie about there being a potential cure.
“Otto is still resting,” Nia says. “I know you want to get back out there, but yesterday took a lot out of our people, too. We can get you set up this afternoon.”
I look at Rae. She nods. We can’t do anything else. Sure, we could try to head out on our own, but we have a few days here yet, and it’s much more dangerous to be on bad terms with all those who live here.
“All right,” Rae says. “We’ll wait.”
Nia nods and withdraws, and I go to clean myself up.
The shadows under my eyes are caverns now.
I stifle a yawn and pull a ratty T-shirt over my head.
There’s a tear just below the collar and I tug at it irritably before I tuck the hem into my trousers.
Better not to give the zombies anything to grab onto.
That all done, I grab a protein bar from my bag and head towards the entrance of the church. I won’t go into town without the others, but I need the fresh air, and something is drawing me out into the graveyard anyway.
Stones crunch beneath my boots as I step onto the path. The graves look the same as they have since we got here, all broken and covered in dirt, and I tear the bar’s wrapper open as I carefully walk between them.
It tastes like cardboard, but I take another bite, pleased to have something in my empty stomach. I pause by that same grave I did the first day. Hoar. I don’t want to ask Nia about the name.
Maybe Mason will tell me. I have plenty of questions to ask him anyway.
Protein bar eaten, I stuff the wrapper in my pocket and rest my bat on my right shoulder. When I turn my head, I spot Blake—alone—heading for the church. He stops when he sees me, expression darkening with a scowl.
“Where’s Dane?” I ask. Unusual to see one without the other, especially outside like this. Blake’s the one person I expect Dane to keep safe.
Blake comes stomping over, grip on his knife tight. I don’t retreat and he gets fully into my space, boots brushing mine.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, you fucking fairy.”
I square my shoulders, tightening my grip on my bat. “What the fuck ?”
“You think I don’t know what you’re up to?” He reaches out and shoves me, hand firm on the centre of my chest. I sway back but square my shoulders, not giving him as much space as he wants. “Trying to fuck Dane when it’s obvious you’re already fucking Otto.”
“ Otto ? We’re not—”
“You’re trying to, what? Turn them against the rest of us?”
I growl and take a step forward, satisfied when Blake has to step back or risk me bashing into him. “I don’t want Dane. He can go fuck himself, for all I care. And Otto’s straight. I’m just glad he’s alive.”
“He’s a fucking zombie, is what he is.”
“And you’re a narrow-minded little fuck,” I growl. I let my bat fall from my shoulder, readying my grip.
“You’re going to get us all killed.”
“You—”
He punches me. I’m honestly not expecting it, so I don’t see it coming at all. My head snaps to one side, pain exploding along my cheekbone.
I taste blood.
Someone shouts. Hands are on me, pulling me back in the breath before I launch myself at Blake, and Dane’s holding him back, too, so the person holding me can only be—
I turn my head and meet Mason’s eyes. They burn with a righteous fury that warms me down to my toes.
“Come on,” he says to me, voice clipped. The look he turns on Blake when Blake begins to protest is pure venom. Blake jerks back, almost burrowing into Dane’s arms. “We need to get that cleaned up.”
He takes me back into the church, ignoring Rae’s sounds of concern. I wave at her. I’m fine, really, just angry that he hit me first. Not that I wanted to hit him.
Not much, at least.
Mason leads me silently to his room, then ushers me inside and shuts the door. It cuts off what little noise exists under the church, and for a second, my ears ring with it.
“What did he say to you?” Mason asks.
I jerk my head up. I’ve been staring at the floor. My cheek throbs.
“Nothing I haven’t heard before.”
“Isaac.”
“Look, I’m fine, I should—”
“Come here.”
He takes my free hand. His fingers are cool, but I don’t know if that’s because I’m running too hot, blood boiling at the thought of Blake’s misplaced rage. When he leads me into the small room that serves as a bathroom, I let out a sigh.
“Mason…”
“Here.”
He stands behind me, positioning me in front of the mirror. When his fingers trip down my right arm, sliding over the hand holding my bat, I loosen my grip.
He takes the weapon gently and sets it on the table. The bowl of water is before us, like last time. It’s steaming.
Mason curls his body towards me, and in the mirror, I see it. I see how close his lips are to my ear.
“Did you speak to Otto about what happened?”
“No.” I huff. “I didn’t get the chance.”
“He won’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
His answer surprises me. “He thinks you won’t believe him.”
I blink at our reflections. “I’d believe him. I saw him get bitten. I saw—”
“What did you see?”
“There’s no wound. Even with a cure, there should be a wound.”
Mason hums. He rests his chin on my shoulder, then rolls his head so instead of looking at our reflections, he’s gazing up at my face. His other hand comes up and he presses his fingertips gently against the spot where Blake hit me.
It pulses under his fingers, and I gasp at the pain.
“Watch,” Mason breathes.
I don’t tear my eyes away from the mirror. Mason keeps his eyes on me. We stay like that as he presses his fingers to the forming bruise, as warmth spreads through my face and the pain begins to ebb.
“What—”
Mason shushes me gently. His left hand rests on my hip. I swallow hard and see the way his eyes fall to the movement of my throat. His touch never changes, but I have the sudden feeling I’m in the arms of a predator.
The feeling slides away. Mason lifts his fingers from my cheek, and I stare at my reflection, eyes wide. The pain is gone. The mark that was beginning to form is gone. I raise a trembling hand to my cheek.
It’s healed.
He healed it.
“How…?”
Mason’s eyes flick to mine in the mirror, then away again. He presses his face against my throat. My heart picks up at what appears to be an uncharacteristic bout of shyness.
I reach back, gripping Mason’s shirt with a trembling hand. My other hand explores my now-healed cheek. My mind spins. This shouldn’t be possible. How did he—
“I could kill him for you,” Mason offers. The words come out muffled, his lips pressed against my skin. I shiver at the soft tickle of each movement.
“Who? Blake?”
“Dane, too.”
I tear my gaze from the mirror and turn. When I catch Mason’s chin and tip his head back, he doesn’t fight me. I know he could. I know he’s allowing me to do this.
“No,” I say, but I can’t fight my smile. “No, I can handle it.”
“I never said you couldn’t.” Mason’s eyes sharpen. “Maybe I want to.”
“No.”
He huffs. “Fine,” he says, and I like this petulant side of him far more than I should. He’s reachable like this, even if I’m more confused by him than I’ve ever been.
“I saw you that first day we came here, didn’t I?”
“You chased me.” Mason sways forward, chest bumping against my side. “No one tries to hunt me.”
“Why were you there?”
“I wanted to get the measure of you all. Nia had us come to the church, but I came to have a look.”
“You knew about the hunters?”
“Yes,” Mason says. He slides a hand over my stomach. The touch might be dulled by my T-shirt, but it doesn’t matter. My breath catches all the same, muscles leaping beneath his palm. “We know about the hunters. But I wanted to see.”
His fingers dig in and I should push him away, should hate the bite of pain, but it makes my knees weak. “What did you see?”
“You.”
I hesitate before my next question and Mason watches, with growing hunger, as I swallow and lick my lips. “And when the zombies attacked us? You were there that night. I know I saw you.”
“You did.”
“Why were you there?”
Mason leans up so our mouths are almost touching. His hand slides from my stomach to my hip, and I loosen my grip on his shirt but don’t let go.
“I wanted to see what you would do.”
“The team—”
“No.” This close, all I can see are his eyes and the fire that burns within them. I want to burn, too. “ You , little lamb. I wanted to see what you would do.”
The moment draws taut. Mason holds perfectly still, even as a tremble works its way down my spine.
I move first. Our mouths crash together clumsily, too hard, but I lick the copper sting of blood from his lips and Mason opens for me instantly, a groan rumbling through his chest and escaping into my mouth.
Everything else falls away. There’s nothing else in this world but us.