26. Maria
Chapter twenty-six
Maria
At the next sunset I wake in the truck and still can’t believe we’re engaged.
Over the past few weeks, life with Chris has felt settled, like with my prior husbands.
No more yelling. No more harsh words. No more attempts to shirk his responsibilities.
But something about our engagement makes it feel more permanent.
I can’t stop admiring the ring during our drive home—thankfully, an uneventful ride.
Zinnia greets us, running down the hallway. After hugs and kisses, she rushes back to her schoolwork, and Ari brightens when he sees us. “It’s about time. Gaea left already, and I don’t need to go through preschool again.”
Chris reaches out his hand. “Thanks, dude. Much appreciated.”
They shake, then Ari turns to me. “Woah. What’s that sparkler on your finger? Did Chris raid it from the warehouse?”
Chris crosses his arms. “I scavenged it, fair and square.”
I grab both men by the arms and march them down the hall toward the warehouse. “Zinnia doesn’t know yet. I want to break it to her slowly. She’s lost two papas, and I don’t know how she’s going to feel”—I glance up at Chris—“about us getting married.”
Ari’s brow scrunches. “But she already calls him Daddy Christopher?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s all she knows. She calls you uncle, remember? She doesn’t have any reference for what those relationships mean. And I don’t know what this might do to her grief over her papas. If it’ll make the loss feel more final or…”
“And it’s really none of your business, Ari.” Chris wraps an arm around my shoulders. “It’s between us and Zinnia.”
Ari raises his hands in surrender. “Fair enough. I’ll let you kids figure it out.”
“Kids?” I prop my hands on my hips. Where does Ari get off calling us kids? He looks younger than me—and acts it. “We’re both adults.”
“I’m older than Chris.” He smirks. “By a lot. Anyway, don’t fret. I won’t spill the beans. And congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
Then he winks at Chris. “Better you than me—I’m not marrying anytime soon.”
“Ha!” Chris snorts. “That’s what I said.”
Ari harrumphs. “Don’t jinx me.”
He reaches for his watch and disappears.
Chris pulls me in for a hug. “When do you want to tell Zinnia?”
“Give me a few nights to raise the subject.”
“I trust you.” He kisses me. “We’ll tell her when you’re ready. And maybe Ms. Kalina might have an age-appropriate picture book that’ll help? I can ask her.”
“Thank you.”
A week later, we still haven’t told her. Ms. Kalina provided a picture book, which we’ve been trying to read to Zinnia, but she shrugs it off, uninterested. I don’t know why. But we’ll keep trying. She hasn’t asked about the ring.
The ring sparkles on my finger as we scavenge another residential area. Every time Chris catches me admiring it, I smile and a pleasant shiver runs through me—a cross between shyness and excitement.
By the time we reach the off-ramp for home, we have a truck full of high-value items, and no sign of renegades.
Chris turns onto the off-ramp leading to the tunnel, taking the curve rather fast, then comes to an abrupt stop, jerking us in our seats. “Fuck.”
My heart thuds in my chest. Someone has opened the tunnel door and propped it up with steel signposts. “Chris. You said Zinnia would be safe here.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
He keeps the invisibility crystals on and drives down the tunnel’s ramps. Ahead of us, the metal garage doors are shredded.
“How—”
“Someone used an advanced plasma cutter to do that kind of damage. Where the hell did they get one of those? What could they possibly trade with the domes to obtain one? Why didn’t it trigger the alarms?”
His questions come out rapid-fire as he parks the truck, panic in his voice, his skin paler than normal. He’s not really asking these questions—he’s trying to deny his own eyes.
I grow cold and cover my mouth to hold in my fear.
He clicks his tongue to activate the virtual screen and speaker. “Put me through to emergency services.”
The comm conferences me in and an unfamiliar voice comes online. “How can I help you, Chris?”
“Intruders have broken into my ark. Most likely renegades. Contact Tig and put a defense team together. Notify Ari. I’m going inside. There’s a mortal child living with us. We haven’t confirmed her well-being.”
“Copy that. Hold, please.” Static fills the line. “Tig says to wait for her. She’s contacting backup.”
“Fuck that. There’s no sign of motorcycles in the garage. They’ve probably fled already. We need to find Zinnia. We’re going in. Stay on the line.”
He whooshes out of the truck, an automatic rifle in his right hand, and a backup handgun in his shoulder holster.
I follow with my gun at my side. I clench my teeth, fighting the tears wetting my eyes.
He squeezes my arm and whispers, “We’re going in silently and invisibly. Use your comm on subvocal if you need to say something. Keep your left hand gripped on my belt.”
Once I’ve tucked my fingers between his jeans and the hard leather, he taps our bracelets.
“The intruders may now be armed with silver bullets—the ammo canister I keep on the workbench is missing.” He continues narrating subvocally what we see, and I assume it’s to describe the situation for emergency services.
“The intruders busted down the entry door between the garage and the hallway. Whoever went through that door has contaminated the living area.”
I step forward as quietly as I can, my knuckles pressed against his lower back as we move together. I can smell the scent of strangers—vampires—but if this is an ambush, they’re being eerily silent.
“Me-ow.”
The sound is weak. Pitiful. Filled with pain.
I take another few steps. Wolfie is stretched out against the wall on the hallway floor—a bloody, broken mess. Ripped flesh hangs off his claws.
He fought back.
Another feeble squeak emerges from his mouth.
Chris holds up a fist, signaling me to stop, and subvocalizes over the comm, “Can’t let him give away our position.”
He kneels and does something—mesmerizes Wolfie, I think. The cat’s eyes close, and he runs his hand over the bloody fur.
From the tension in Chris’s body, whoever did this will pay.
I tug on his belt. Zinnia. We have to find Zinnia.
We continue creeping down the hall. Zinnia’s bedroom door is open, the room empty. Chris checks the closet and bathroom, looks at me, and shakes his head. No one is there.
Then I see it—someone tore out a page from Zinnia’s notebook, and it rests on the bedspread. Strange handwriting I don’t recognize. I tug Chris over to the bed and point.
We have the child and your blood supply.
The man who drives the truck must bring two hundred blood bags to the visitors’ center at the old Kartchner Caverns.
Put them on the visitors’ center’s front porch and leave.
We might let her live if you deliver. Every second you delay we grow hungrier. She’s mighty tempting. Tick. Tock.
I choke back tears. My gut tightens, and my knees wobble. Zinnia. They have Zinnia.
Chris holds me up, pressing a finger to my lips, and subvocalizes, “We still don’t know if we’re alone.”
It doesn’t take long to check the sliding doors leading to the agricultural domes—they’re still locked. The master bedroom and bath are empty. As is the living area. They ransacked every cabinet, especially in the kitchen.
Chris taps our bracelets, making us visible again, and I release my grip on his belt.
He steadies me against the counter. “I have to check what else they took, what they might have.”
I nod, and he disappears into our bedroom.
A minute later he strides back to the kitchen, then opens the refrigerator. “They took all the donor bags. Along with all the refrigerated mortal food.” He opens the pantry. “The dry goods too.”
They took food for themselves and Zinnia.
He looks at me, then away. “Emergency services, are you still there?”
“Listening, Chris.”
“What’s Tig’s ETA? They’ve taken the mortal child. Left a ransom note. No renegades present.”
“She’s incoming shortly. I’ll notify.”
“And I need a vet. The renegades knifed my Maine Coon. Wolfie’s still alive—”
“We’ll flash him to surgery. It’ll be faster. Place a signal token by him, and we’ll transport him immediately.”
“He has blood evidence on his claws. Tig may need it to prove who broke in. They kidnapped Zinnia.”
“I’m sending a text to vet services now.”
Chris whooshes to the desk, grabs a token, and drops it by Wolfie. The cat immediately flashes away, and Chris returns to the living area, pacing back and forth. “How could they get in here?”
I glance around at the scattered picture books, the broken toys, and…
Sage pulled apart like they ripped the stuffed bunny from Zinnia’s arms. I throw a hand over my mouth to stop the sobs and pick up Sage.
He smells like Zinnia, and I fall to my knees, tears streaming down my face, hugging the stuffed bunny to me.
Chris strides over and strokes my back. “When we blew up the trucks, I thought over half of the renegades died. I can’t believe the survivors pulled this off.”
I grip my stomach and stare at him. There was no school today. “I shouldn’t have left her here alone.”
“They’ve never made it past the tunnel before. Ever.”
“This is all your fault. You said this place was safe.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it. Whatever he was going to say wouldn’t help.
Then I realize what I’ve said. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. I’m just…” I wipe away tears and blow my nose on my t-shirt. “We have to do something. I know the tubes connecting your agricultural domes don’t have security cameras, but what about the tunnel leading to the garage?”
“The Lux never thought it was necessary.” He rubs his forehead. “I never questioned it. I like having some privacy.”
“Even my silo had remote cameras to watch for nightcrawlers.” I struggle to stand. “What—what are we going to do?”
He aids me to my feet. “We have to wait for Tig.”
“There’s no time to lose. We have to do what they say. Take them the blood they demanded. We have to save her.”