Lost, Page 6

  6

  Other Kevin

  Kevin regained consciousness to the sound of an argument.

  “He can’t climb up to any of the hunters’ blinds. We need to take him to the cave,” Anastasia was saying.

  “I’m not comfortable with that,” Dragon retorted. “If he knows we’re digging out a cave, then there’s a chance the Red Army will know it too.”

  “My love, the boy already knows the way here. He knows Tina is an ally. If he betrays us it will be like Keystone Park all over again, and we will never be able to return here,” said Anastasia.

  “Kevin will not betray you,” his grandma said. “Dragon Lankford, you can smell that he is not like the others. He does not act like the others. There is an explanation for what has happened to him, but that explanation will not matter if my grandson dies of the wound you inflicted upon him.”

  It took several tries, but eventually Kevin made his voice work and, even though he hardly spoke above a whisper, his face was near Dragon’s ear and the Swordmaster had no trouble hearing him. “Please put me down.”

  “Kevin? Are you back with us?” Grandma Redbird reached up to wipe Kevin’s sweat-filled hair from his eyes.

  “P-please. I’d rather bleed to death than be carried any farther.”

  “Bryan Lankford, carry that boy to the cave. Now.”

  Kevin felt Dragon’s sigh, but the powerful Warrior did as his mate commanded. He followed a narrow path from what Kevin could make out was a flat, grassy area at the top of the ridge, down and around several enormous sandstone boulders, finally coming to a narrow cliff-side opening. Wan, flickering light from within cast dancing shadows against the rocks as Dragon paused while Anastasia slipped inside. Moments later, three hooded figures scurried out. They didn’t look up or around, but kept their heads tucked down, hiding their faces as they eased past Dragon, Kevin, and Grandma Redbird.

  “Okay, bring the boy inside,” Anastasia’s voice drifted to them.

  Dragon turned sideways so that he and his burden could fit within. He unceremoniously dumped Kevin on the rocky floor of the small cave, and Kevin’s world went temporarily gray with bright spots.

  “You could have been gentler,” admonished Anastasia.

  “I could have killed him and saved all of us the trouble he’s going to bring,” retorted Dragon.

  “My grandson brings hope, not trouble, Dragon Lankford,” said Grandma Redbird firmly.

  “Sylvia, forgive me for saying this, but of course that is what you would think. He is your family. The great loyalty you show for him is admirable, whether it is justified or not,” said Dragon.

  As Kevin’s vision cleared he saw his grandma face down the Swordmaster. Hands on her slim hips, her wild silver-streaked hair flying around her shoulders, he’d never heard her sound so angry.

  “Kevin was Marked more than one year ago. He Changed shortly after that. Have I ever even mentioned him to you?”

  “No, but—”

  “No! I have not,” she interrupted. “And I have not because I would not, could not put the Resistance in danger, and yet here I am. Suddenly bringing my grandson to you—a grandson who is clearly a red vampyre, but who smells no different than you and who acts perfectly rational.”

  “Sylvia, since the murders of Lenobia and Travis, the safety of the Resistance is my job. There have been so many deaths, and if there is even a chance of your grandson compromising us, then we must take every precaution. Do you think it gives me pleasure to behead a boy? It is no fault of his that he was Marked red. I’m no monster, Sylvia Redbird.”

  “Of course you aren’t, my love.” Anastasia carried an oil lantern to Kevin and placed it in a niche in the rock near them before dropping a large leather satchel beside him. She opened it and began searching through it as she spoke. “But Sylvia does have a point. She has been working with us for many months and never once attempted to bring her grandson here.”

  “Because it wouldn’t have been safe to bring me here before it happened,” Kevin forced himself to speak. “No matter how hard I tried to hold on to my humanity.”

  “Don’t speak yet. Let me get this wound stitched,” Anastasia said as she unwound the makeshift bandages. “Sylvia, there are several bottles of clean water there in the rear of the cave. Would you bring them to me, please?”

  Sylvia hurried to the back of the little cave, returning with a couple liter bottles of fresh water, which she handed to Anastasia. “What can I do to help?”

  Anastasia passed her a wad of gauze. “Dab the blood away as I stitch so that I can see what I’m doing.” She held up a long, hooked needle that was threaded with dark suture material. “Kevin, I’m afraid this is going to be quite unpleasant for the both of us—though for you more than me.”

  “It’s okay. It’s not as bad as feeling my humanity slipping away from me.”

  “What happened to you? What changed you?” Dragon suddenly demanded.

  Anastasia’s eyes flashed as she looked up at her mate, who was standing near the entrance to the cave, arms folded, a dark expression shadowing his handsome face.

  “You may question him after I sew him up.”

  “I’d rather talk. It’ll take my mind off it,” Kevin said.

  “Very well. I’m going to begin. First I’ll pour alcohol over the wound. It will be very painful.”

  “I’m ready. Okay, so, what happened to me? Well, I—!” Kevin’s words broke off in a terrible gasp. It felt like Anastasia was pouring liquid fire on his back and he had to struggle to stay conscious.

  “Breathe, u-we-tsi. Breathe. Deeply, in and out, in and out. This will pass,” Grandma soothed as she blotted his back.

  Kevin fisted his hands and drew several long breaths with his g-ma.

  “And now I will begin the sewing. The good news is that this is a long, straight wound. You’ll have a scar, but it should heal well.”

  “It beats losing my head,” Kevin managed through gritted teeth.

  When she started sewing he thought he was going to pass out—wished he would pass out, but when he didn’t, Kevin turned his concentration to his story and tried to pretend he was outside his body, standing beside Dragon, looking out at the cold winter night as he spoke.

  “Three nights ago, I was part of a group of red vampyre soldiers and fledgling trainees who were pulled from our quarters in the tunnels under the depot and dropped into an alternative world.” Kevin had to pause and draw several breaths as the pain in his back threatened to overwhelm him.

  “What do you mean by alternative world?” Dragon said.

  “That world is just like this one, only Neferet isn’t in charge there. My sister is.”

  Anastasia’s busy hands paused. “Zoey?”

  “You knew my sister?”

  “I did. She was a lovely young woman. She was only in my Spells and Rituals class a few weeks before she was killed, but she already showed promise with spellwork. You remember her, do you not, Bryan?”

  “I remember that her death was the official beginning of Neferet’s war,” Dragon said.

  “Neferet killed her,” Kevin said.

  “How do you know that?” Dragon asked sharply.

  “Because in the other House of Night world, Neferet tried to start a war with humans the same way—by framing humans for vampyre deaths she was actually responsible for.”

  “And your dead sister told you that?” Dragon said.

  “No, my alive sister told me that—at the Tulsa House of Night where she is one of several powerful High Priestesses who run everything. Zo and her group defeated Neferet and stopped the war from happening.”

  “Boy, you just made your first mistake. Their number is few, but we do have spies in the Red Army camp. I can check with them about this disappearance yarn you’re spinning.”

  “Good,” Kevin said between
gritted teeth as Anastasia hooked the needle through another piece of his torn flesh. “I want you to. Have your people ask what happened to General Dominick and his soldiers.”

  “I will. You may count on that.”

  “Good,” Kevin repeated.

  “But until then, let’s say I believe you. How did being pulled into another version of our world restore your humanity?”

  “It was something Nyx did after she gifted Aphrodite with the ability to grant second chances.”

  “Aphrodite?” Dragon laced the name with sarcasm. “You mean the blue priestess who has death visions?”

  “That’s her. Only in that world she’s a Prophetess of Nyx who is as powerful as she is beautiful.”

  Dragon scoffed. “Well, in this world she’s practically useless, unless you’re so besotted by her beauty that you can overlook her selfish indulgences and petty greed.”

  “But even here she’s a Prophetess,” Kevin said.

  “She’s a Prophetess who has visions she can rarely interpret. Even before Anastasia and I fled to join the Resistance there were rumblings that Neferet was displeased with her.”

  “And why wouldn’t she be?” Anastasia said as she continued to sew sutures along Kevin’s back. “I loathe everything Neferet stands for, but Aphrodite is a terrible Prophetess. She uses her beauty and her Goddess-given gift to manipulate. I truly believe she withholds information from her visions unless she believes she can gain from them. I don’t understand why Neferet doesn’t rid herself of the creature.”

  “I do. Aphrodite is a master at knowing how far she can push Neferet. When she’s pushed too far, Aphrodite simply has a vision that is suddenly clear enough to interpret, and that coincidental vision is also of high value to Neferet,” Dragon said.

  “She’s different in the other world,” Kevin insisted. “She sacrificed her humanity to save the first red fledglings. And since then, in that world, every red fledgling and vampyre has the ability to maintain their humanity. All because of Aphrodite.”

  “And because of that difference, Kevin believes he can reach the Aphrodite who is in this world and convince her to make the same sacrifice,” Grandma Redbird added.

  There was a long silence during which Kevin tried to think through the blazing pain in his back for something more—something that would convince Dragon that he was telling the truth.

  When Dragon spoke again, Kevin heard the change in his voice. It was only slight, but some of the sarcasm and anger seemed to be missing. “What makes you think Aphrodite is reachable? The Prophetess you describe has little in common with the one in our world.”

  “Because even in another world, who we are at our core seems not to change too much. The only difference is that we have been through alternative life experiences, which have the power to change our personalities and our reactions,” Kevin said. “Zoey told me to find you and Anastasia in this world. She said you would help me defeat Neferet because you helped her in that world.”

  “Are Bryan and I mated in that world too?”

  Kevin considered not telling her, but he rejected that thought quickly. The truth was one of the few strengths he had, and he wasn’t about to start lying and messing that up.

  “You were,” he told Anastasia.

  “Were?” Dragon said.

  “You were killed. I’m not sure how. Zoey didn’t have time to tell me that. Only that you died bravely saving others.”

  “We both are dead?” Anastasia’s voice sounded shaky.

  “Yes. I’m sorry,” Kevin said.

  Anastasia’s bloody hand rested gently on his shoulder for a moment. “Don’t be. If my Bryan perished, I would not wish to live without him.”

  “And I would not draw breath in a world without you, my love,” Dragon said.

  From the corner of his eye, Kevin saw Anastasia turn and look up at her mate. “And it is your capacity to love that makes you more than your sword—more than a dragon. Think of it, Bryan. If it is true—if Kevin can reach Aphrodite and convince her to repeat whatever it was she did in that other world—Neferet’s war would be drastically changed.”

  “Yeah,” Kevin said. “She wouldn’t have an army of mindless weapons. She would only have the blue officers and the Sons of Erebus Warriors, and how many of them would stay faithful to her and fight for her if they realized Nyx didn’t bless this war?”

  “She would lose power, but perhaps not enough to stop the war,” Dragon said thoughtfully. “She has been careful to only put Warriors in key positions of power who seek more—more land, more riches, more of everything.”

  “But at least we’d have a fighting chance then,” Kevin insisted. “Dragon, I saw what happens when red vampyres and fledglings have their humanity restored, and I promise you, none of them will ever fight again.”

  “Where are they, these other changed red vampyres and fledglings?” Dragon asked.

  “Still in the other world. Zoey would have had to force them to come back here, and she refused to do that. It was a terrible shock when they returned to themselves and realized what they had done. Several of them committed suicide before we could stop them.”

  “And how about you? Why weren’t you devastated and suicidal?” the Swordmaster asked.

  “Because I was different from the moment I was Marked. I held on to more of my humanity than anyone knew, and because of that I made sure that I didn’t—”

  Suddenly from outside the cave came the warning cries of a raven, immediately followed by a flurry of activity. The bird flew frantically to Anastasia as Erik Night rushed to Dragon.

  “Danger! Danger! Danger!” the raven shrieked as he landed on Anastasia’s shoulder.

  “Tina’s lit a warning fire!” Erik told Dragon.

  Kevin was too busy staring at the raven and wondering if normal ravens could actually speak or if this one was magickal, when Dragon whirled around, staring at him.

  “You traitorous little bastard!” Dragon hurled the words at Kevin.

  “No! It’s not me! It couldn’t be me. I—I didn’t even go to the barracks yesterday. I went straight to Grandma Redbird’s farm when I got back.”

  Another blue vampyre rushed into the cave. Between panting breaths, he announced, “Soldiers of the Red Army are coming up the ridge!”

  Dragon Lankford strode to Kevin and grabbed his arm in a viselike grip, lifting him to his feet and dragging him to the mouth of the cave.

  “Before I kill you, you’re going to tell me how many soldiers you led here!”

  7

  Other Stark

  “Lieutenant Dallas, explain to me again why the hell we’re out here in the middle of nowhere on a cold-ass winter’s night when I could be in my quarters with a roaring fire, worshipping my current priestess flavor of the month?”

  The slight young vampyre rushed up to Stark. His adult blue Mark looked like lightning bolts, which made sense because of his weird affinity for electricity, but Stark thought it looked ridiculous on his ferret-like face.

  “Well, General, like I told Artus, today our security sweeps were in Sapulpa and Sand Springs. At the Reasor’s grocery at the corner of Taft and Hickory here in Sapulpa, the manager reported that he was sure he saw Erik Night in a group of blue vamps who were lurking around the parking lot.”

  “Well, Night did join the Resistance a few months ago, but why are we here if he was spotted in town?”

  “’Cause I did some digging with a lieutenant of the Red Army, and he was able to encourage,” Dallas enunciated the word with malicious glee, “some of the locals to admit that they’ve been noticin’ strange lights and such comin’ from this here ridge. Most of the local yokels think it’s haunted—talked some nonsense about it belonging to the Creek Tribe for generations. Said the ghosts even chased oil drillers out in the early nineteen hundreds, but I don’t believe that crap.” They were
standing on the side of a road named Lone Star that meandered along the ridge. Dallas pointed at eight strands of thick wire that seemed to frame the entire wild acreage that made up the area called Polecat Ridge. “So, I poked around and found this.”

  “A fence? There’s farmland all over here that’s fenced in. Why is this an issue?” Stark said.

  “’Cause this isn’t farmland. The ridge has gone wild. No one’s done anything with it since early last century. So why’s it protected by high-voltage wire?”

  “That’s hot?” Stark took a step closer to the wire and did pick up a faint hum and something that felt different in the air.

  “Very. I tried to talk to the old woman who owns the ridge, but she wasn’t very helpful—and she’s protected by Neferet’s directive because she also owns the best alfalfa fields in the entire state—so I couldn’t be as persuasive as I wanted to be.”

  “She had to give you an answer, though.”

  “Yes, sir. And she did. She told me that she breeds a special kind of deer—one that Neferet also loves.”

  “White-tail deer.” Stark nodded. “Neferet likes venison. A lot. I didn’t realize this was her supplier.”

  “Yeah, it’s that same old Tina woman who owns this ridge and the fields all around here. Anyway, she said she breeds special deer and lets ’em roam free on the ridge because they’re healthier that way, so their meat is better. That’s why she ran high-voltage wire all around her property—to keep the deer in and as many predators out as possible.”

  “I guess that makes sense. Did you ask her about activity on her ridge?”

  “Yes, sir. Got nothing from her. She said it’s quiet out here, which is why she lives here, away from people. She also said she polices her own ridge, keeping poachers out, and that she doesn’t need or want our help. Then she shut her gate in my face.”

  “Not surprising,” Stark muttered. And it wasn’t. Since Neferet’s war humans had suffered. Not that he was overly concerned with humans. The only thing Stark was overly concerned with was his own skin—life was easier that way—especially these days. But humans hiding behind closed doors and showing nothing but fear and/or loathing for vampyres didn’t help the fight against the damnable, pain-in-the-ass Resistance.