Infamous

CHAPTER 10

Nick felt his life force draining out of him. Then, just before the darkness took him under completely, he fell back into nothing. Desperate, he tried to grab on to something to stop his rapid descent. Anything.

Still, he fell.

Until he hit a sharp object that stabbed him so deeply, he was surprised it wasn’t protruding through his chest. He waited for …

He didn’t know. Disoriented and sick, he only wanted to wake up at home and have everything back to normal.

But that was easier said than done.

I have to face whatever it is.

Opening his eyes, he went rigid, unable to believe his sight. For once, it wasn’t something from a horror movie. Instead, he stared into the face of heaven and it was smiling brightly at him. “Kody?”

She clutched his hand. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“So did I.” He tried to move, then groaned as absolute misery pierced him. “Did you beat me?”

“I didn’t, but someone did.”

Bristol.

How could he have forgotten? The worm had jumped him on his way to Liza’s.

All of a sudden, Caleb appeared in human form on the opposite side of the bed. Thank goodness, he lived, but the peeved light in his eyes said he wanted to finish what Bristol had started.

Then, he glared at Kody. “Could you have cut that any closer?”

She gestured to Nick. “Talk to your friend here. He was the one who wouldn’t wake up.”

“Yeah,” Caleb breathed, turning his vicious glare back to Nick. “What was that you did?”

He scowled. “What do you mean?”

“Do you recall the Nether Realm?”

Duh. Not exactly something you’d forget without massive amounts of electroshock therapy. “Of course I do, and I never want to go there again.”

“That makes two of us.”

Kody glanced back and forth between them. “So what happened?”

Caleb jerked his chin toward Nick. “Your boyfriend turned into a human torch and annihilated a number of demons before you yanked him out of there.”

She appeared impressed by his description. “A torch? Really?”

Caleb nodded. “So what happened, Gautier? What’d you do?”

Shrugging, he tried to remember. “What always seems to happen when I’m under attack. I was trying to summon my sword and then something from deep inside me grabbed ahold of me. Next thing I know, you’re yelling at me to not use those powers. I kill a bunch of stuff and then you yell at me again for not listening to you.”

Caleb didn’t appear nearly as amused by his explanation as Kody did. “You need someone to yell at you.”

Nick snorted. “Got plenty of volunteers for that job. Really don’t need any more.”

Caleb made a sound of supreme annoyance.

“Is he awake?”

Kody stepped back so that his mother could run to the bed and throw herself over him.

Nick grunted as his mother struck one of his sore ribs. “Ma, you’re killing me.”

She lifted her head to glare at him. “Good, I want to kill you. I swear, Nick, you’re going to be the death of me.”

A stab of pain lacerated his heart at her words. It was a bad reminder of why Ambrose was doing this.

To keep his mother alive from whatever he’d done that had gotten her killed.

Guilt gnawed at him. Not just over what he’d done in the past to hurt her, but over whatever future stupidity he was going to commit. He’d put her through enough. He didn’t want to do anything else to make her cry. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“No, baby. I’m the one who’s sorry. When I told you not to fight, I didn’t mean for you to not protect yourself. I never, ever meant for that.”

Her words confused him even more. “But Mom, all my fights are me defending myself. I never throw the first punch.”

She grimaced at him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

His indignant anger begged him to lash out at her for that comment. But he held it back. “I’ve tried, repeatedly, and all you do is ‘don’t but Mom, me, Nick’ and then you refuse to hear anything I say.”

Sniffing, she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about that, Boo. I’m going to try and do better. I promise. And you can fight anytime you want, okay? Just don’t let them hurt you like this ever again. I’d much rather bail you out of jail than put you in a cemetery.”

“Better to be judged by twelve than carried by six,” Dr. Burdette said from behind her. “That’s always been my motto. And it’s the one I raised Michael on. I told him that I would never get on to him for defending himself, but if I found out he backed down from someone out of fear, his back porch was gonna be pink.”

“Michael?” his mom asked.

Nick snickered. “Bubba.”

Dr. Burdette made a painful moan. “Please, don’t call him that. I cringe every time I hear it.”

His mom frowned. “Why do you hate it so? I’ve known a lot of good Bubbas.”

Dr. Burdette made an irritated sound in the back of her throat. “Lucky you, Cherise. My animosity goes all the way back to my first day of school. Bubba Clark, may he roast his tenderloins in the devil’s hottest pit. There I was, all pristine in my white handmade dress my mama had worked so hard on. I felt like a fairy tale princess. Had my little pale yellow hat, and a matching patent leather purse. I thought I was the cat’s meow and felt all pretty and girly. Next thing I know, I get shoved from behind and fall, scuffing my purse, my shoes, and putting dirt on my dress. Even worse, that little rat refused to apologize for it. Being the child I was, I laid into him with everything I had. And I might have been a little girl in a frilly pinafore dress, but I had three older brothers who taught me how to lay a man low, and sister, that day I did. I had him on the ground, crying like a baby after milk. Therein started a rivalry that goes on to this day. Bubba Clark has made me miserable any time he can, right down to pretending to be a policeman when I was on dates with Michael’s father. Anytime we kissed, he’d shine his light in our windows—until the day Bruce beat the tar out of him for it. So I cringe whenever I hear the name, and the fact that Michael would use it … I’m going to start calling him Mickey again just to watch him make the faces. That’ll learn him.”

Nick laughed, then groaned as a stabbing stitch went through his middle.

“You all right, hon?” Dr. Burdette asked before placing her hand over his abdomen.

“Yeah. I got kicked pretty good a few times.”

“Yes, you did. Do you know who did this?”

Instead of answering that question, Nick found a new fascination with the ceiling.

“Baby,” his mom said, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Answer Dr. Burdette’s question so that we can file a police report.”

While he wasn’t happy with what Bristol had done, he didn’t want him to go to jail over it, either. Bad things happened whenever kids from his school got locked up. Besides, he could handle this on his own. Had he not been so sore from his mother’s reaming, this wouldn’t have happened anyway. He and Bristol would have tossed words, maybe a few punches. In the end, they both would have walked home. So no, he didn’t want to see Bristol in jail for this.

“I don’t remember.” Gah, how he hated lying, especially to his mom.

“Nick…”

He cringed at her tone, which said she knew he wasn’t being honest. “I just can’t, Mom.”

She narrowed her gaze at him before she sighed. “Fine. I can’t force it out of you. But I think you’re making a mistake. You let someone get away with this and they’ll keep hurting people until someone stops them.”

And normally, that someone would be he.

Squeezing his hand, his mother stepped back. “By the way, I’ve been told that you’re the most popular patient on the floor.”

“How so?”

“There’s a herd of folks outside, wanting to see you. And all of them worried about you. The nurses said that they get calls day and night asking about you and that if you think this—” She pointed to the all-out florist in his room. “—is a lot of flowers, you haven’t seen anything. They had to store some of them in the staff offices.”

Wow. It was a lot of flowers. “You sure they’re not thinking I’m dead and sending them to the funeral home?”

She scoffed. “You’re so bad.”

Yeah well, he hated to see all of the flowers go to waste. Just what was against one wall would fill up their apartment. “Seriously though, would you make sure that the nurses take the ones they want?”

“I knew you’d feel that way. I have the cards collected so that we can send out thank-you notes to everyone.” That was the thing about his mother, hard times might have caused her to live on the streets for awhile, but she was always polite.

And always a lady.

He realized she hadn’t been exaggerating about the number of people asking about him once she started letting his visitors in. Dang, it was impressive. He’d never known before how many people cared about him. Funny, huh? Most of the time he felt like an outsider, sometimes even in his own home. But mostly at school and around other people. Looking at the visiting crowd coming in, maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

Even Kyl Poitiers and his dad came for a visit, as well as Casey Woods, and Amber Cassidy, who’d been one of Brynna’s best friends since kindergarten. And then the half of the football team that wasn’t in Stone’s pocket. It really stunned him. Especially since they hadn’t visited him in the hospital after he’d been shot. But then, he’d interacted with them a lot more over this last year. Strange how much could change in only a few months.

After they were all gone, Aimee, Dev, Alex, Kara, and Mama and Papa Bear Peltier all came in together and brought him a chocolate chip cookie basket. Yeah, not to be rude, but folks could keep the flowers. Choco-chip … Now we’re talking.

Load me up till I burst. Then bury me behind the Chips Ahoy factory.

Dev tsked at him. “Next time you want to play ping-pong, I suggest you use a ball and not your head. Slim, you look awful.”

“Thanks, Dev. That was just the look I was going for. Got up this morning, glanced in the mirror, and said, ‘Nick, you’re just too dang handsome. You need to find us someone to kick the crap out of you and bruise you all over. That’ll make you feel all better.’”

Aimee laughed, then popped Dev in the stomach with her hand. “Holy cow, I think we may have found the one person in existence who can give you a run for your sarcasm. Go, Nick.”

He didn’t know why, but there was something about Aimee that drew him to her, and it wasn’t just because the blonde waitress was exquisitely gorgeous. For that matter, he didn’t think of her like that at all. She was more like a big sister. One who could be really raw with people. He’d seen her take the heads off anyone who was rude to her or any of the wait staff at Sanctuary. But when she wasn’t riled, it felt good just to be in her presence.

“I have bad news for you,” Papa Bear said in a serious tone.

Dread rushed through him. Standing at a cool seven foot three and weighing in probably around three hundred well-muscled pounds, Papa Bear Peltier was not someone you wanted to upset.

“Sir?” Nick asked, scared of the answer.

Papa Bear tsked. “Quinn unplugged the Galaga machine. Your nine-hundred-thousand score was erased.”

Nick scrunched his face up. “Oh the humanity! I’ll never score that high again.” He groaned in miserable agony.

“Papa,” Dev teased. “Tell him the truth.” He grinned at Nick. “He had Quinn unplug it because he couldn’t beat your score.”

Papa Bear flashed an evil smile. “All right, I’ll own that. But it’ll teach you to get hurt and leave your successes unguarded, won’t it?”

Nick shook his head, grateful that was what had upset the bear.

They all traded jokes with him for a while, then left.

After they were gone, Wren came in alone. He hesitated in the doorway. Something that probably sprang from the animal part of him. It was as if he respected other creatures’ territory and didn’t want to enter into it unless he planned to kill them. Not that he’d ever killed anyone to Nick’s knowledge, but the day wasn’t over yet.

“How you feel?” Wren asked.

“I’ll live.”

“Good.” Wren pulled the bills out of his pocket that Nick had given him and held them out for him to take.

Nick frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I appreciate the thought, Gautier, but I don’t need the money.”

“Dude,” he chided, “you’re a busboy.”

“Yeah?” He said that like he didn’t get what Nick was saying.

Nick didn’t want him to feel bad about what he did to earn a living, but Wren was probably not much older than he was and he didn’t seem to have any ambition to make more money. He would assume then that Wren needed every cent he made for whatever it was Wren did when he wasn’t working, which wasn’t often, but still … “I know the Peltiers pay well, but…”

Wren’s face twisted into a pained expression before it settled into a wry grin. “Nick, I don’t work at Sanctuary for money. I don’t have to.”

“What? You secretly loaded?” Nick laughed. “Or you won the lottery?”

With his head bowed low, Wren sheepishly rubbed his thumb down his cheek. “Um, Nick, my last name is Tigarian. As in Tigarian Industries, Electronics, and a dozen other corporations that fall under our heading. I’m the sole heir to all of it.”

Nick gaped. Oh yeah if that was true, Wren was insane. “Why in the world would you work as a busboy if you have all that money?”

“Money doesn’t buy everything.”

“Then you ain’t shopping in the right stores. Sorry, but having been poor most of my life, I stringently disagree. Because you swim in it, money may not work for you. For me, hellooo Versace, Armani, and all those other highfalutin’ names I have to consult a dictionary to pronounce.”

Wren snorted. “I’ve never been poor, so I can’t argue.”

“I’m sorry. My mind is so boggled right now. I can’t imagine working if I had access to your inheritance. I just don’t get it.”

Wren shrugged nonchalantly. “You could if you’d walked in my tracks. As my father used to say, everyone loves a self-made man. But they passionately resent his spoiled, rich son … even when the son was never spoiled. When you have a lot of money, you don’t have a lot of friends. Only people wanting a loan, or scheming some way to take it from you, rather than work to get it themselves. Especially if you’ve inherited it. Then they feel justified plotting against you. After all, you didn’t earn it, so you owe it to them.”

He’d never thought about it that way. But Wren was right. He’d known his share of people who thought that very thing—kids at school who would tell other students they should pay for their lunch because their parents had more money. You’re rich, man. You can afford it.

His mom had never been that way. And she’d hammered her beliefs into him.

You’ll never be able to hold your head up with dignity so long as you hold your hand out for charity.

Wren held the money out again. “So please, take this back. While I deeply appreciate the gesture, I really can’t keep it when I know you need it more than I do.”

Nick took it and inclined his head respectfully at the gruff billionaire. What had life done to Wren that with all of his wealth, he’d rather live in a room at Peltier house, cleaning up after people, hauling around a monkey in his apron pocket, than travel the world and enjoy his money?

You really couldn’t look at anyone and tell much about them. Where they’d come from or what demons rode their souls with spurs on.

And he remembered what Thorn had told him. Everyone is in pain. No matter where they come from or what you think of them. Sorrow spares no one, and scars respect no person. He also thought of Grim’s lesson. People put up shields in an attempt to protect themselves from harm, but one trigger word could breach those defenses and leave them bleeding on the floor.

Nick knew for himself that words were far more damaging than any weapon. The body healed and the scars faded, but the internal damage was eternal. It echoed anytime you let your defenses fall. Even with the money he had access to now, he still felt like a hobo, begging for handouts. Whenever he went to Brynna’s house or Kyrian’s, he kept waiting for them to call the police to put the trash out on the street where it belonged.

He had no way of knowing if that feeling would ever leave him. But he was learning not to gut himself over it like he used to. Every day, things got better. If anyone had told him a year ago that this would be his life in just a few short months … That his mother would have a job with people, or rather shapeshifters, who treated her like a lady, that he’d be hooked up with one of the prettiest girls in school, and that he’d have an apartment on Bourbon Street, he’d have laughed in their face.

Yet that had become his life. All of it.

Wren hesitated at the door. “You know, Nick, you’re a real decent man, and there aren’t many of them in this world. So do us a favor and don’t get killed. There are too many jerks we need to off. We can’t afford to lose someone who actually has manners.”

“You sound like Caleb.”

“Maybe we both have a little demon in us.” And with that, Wren left.

After the next round of friends, which included Brynna, who appeared a lot better mentally than she had the last time he’d seen her, Nick was ready to sleep.

Until Bubba and Mark came in.

Mark sighed as he scanned the room. “Gah, dang, Bubba. Look at this place. Have you ever?”

“Nope. It’s totally unprotected.” He handed a satchel to Mark. “Let’s get started.”

Nick frowned. “What are you two up to?”

“Pay us no nevers.” Bubba pulled the doctor’s stool over to the window so that they could stand on it and start painting symbols with holy water on the wall above it.

“Hey, did you remember to get more salt?” Mark asked.

“Of course I did. What kind of demon/zombie kit would it be if it didn’t have salt in it?”

“Just checking. What with your mom coming in and it being this time of year and all, you haven’t been as sharp as normal.”

“Tell me about it. But I ain’t totally dumb neither. I still have a modicum of intelligence. You wanna grab the thistle and take care of the door?”

Bubba might have his intelligence, but his sanity was still under debate.

But then, after what they’d gone through over the last year, Nick wasn’t about to chance it. If their seal could keep some of the things out he’d met in the Nether Realm, they could wrap him in tinfoil, shave his head, and call him Sue.

Mark opened a bottle of something that smelled worse than his usual duck urine cologne.

Even Bubba groaned. “Mark, take a bath, son. You’re stinking up the place.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Mark mocked. “It’s the sulfur stinking.”

“Uh-huh, sure it is.” Bubba snatched it from him and smelled it. Shaking his head and grimacing, he quickly put the cap back on. “Wha-aa-dude,” he sputtered. “Dog, this stuff smells like you after three days at Comic Con. Are you trying to get us thrown out?”

Yeah, ’cause standing on the doctor’s stool and painting holy water all over the walls would make them so happy. They might even offer them a job.

After they got out on probation.

Nick whimpered as he continued to laugh over their antics and it made his bruised sides ache. The two of them were priceless. He didn’t know what was funnier. What they said or what they did.

Unfortunately, just as Mark set fire to the thistle, the nurse came in. She let out a war cry before running to call security.

Bubba and Mark started putting their things away. Given Bubba’s height and muscled body, it always amazed Nick how fast he could move. Mark, on the other hand, was ripped, but lean and wiry. You expected speed out of him.

“We got you covered, brother,” Bubba said. “That should keep out almost anything. Now, we’re gonna haul before we get hauled out by security. My mama is just ornery enough to make me spend the night in lockup if I get caught again.”

Nick laughed at the idea of a man the size of Bubba being so scared of someone as tiny as Dr. Burdette.

Until he remembered the fact that he was taller and thicker than his mother, too. And she scared the crap out of him. Yeah, okay, so he couldn’t legitimately harass Bubba for Mamaphobia. Whoever had said that the hand that rocked the cradle ruled the world must have had a Southern, born and bred, mother.

Sobering, he inclined his head to them. “Thanks, guys. I’ll see you later.”

They ducked out the door like two spies avoiding camera relays.

Nick was still smiling when the nurse came back.

“Where’d they go?”

When unsure of how to respond, the best tactic?

Stupid. “Who are we talking about?”

She huffed at him. “You know? The men who were burning things in here. Where are they?”

“I didn’t see anyone burn anything.”

She glared and he could swear he saw the promise of a painful shot in his future. “We’ll find them. With or without you.”

He wished her luck. One thing about those two, they were slipperier than a greased gator on the hunt in the bayou.

Although, the worst thing she could do was catch them.

It’d be like trying to keep a cobra in a shoebox. Not a good idea.

Grinning, Nick leaned back and closed his eyes. He turned his thoughts to something even better than two lunatics outrunning the authorities.

Nekoda.

Instead of sending her off with Caleb to get some eats, he should have kept her here. He didn’t know why, but just the sight of her soothed him. No matter his beaux-beaux, she always made it better.

At times, he thought he was in love with her. At others …

How did anyone know for sure? Were there bells or whistles, or …

What?

Life really needed to come with cartoon bubbles over everyone to explain what was really going on inside their head.

The saddest part, he didn’t know anyone to ask about it. His mother had never been in love. Aside from him and his father, she refused to have any man near her. I ain’t bringing no man around while I got a baby at home. Anyone hits my Boo and I’ll gut him. For the longest time, he’d felt guilty about that.

But after what Kody told him, he knew the real reason why she didn’t date or see men. And that broke his heart.

Menyara would only give the standard, There are some things in the universe that defy explanation. But trust me, when it strikes, you will know.

Kyrian didn’t want to talk about his wife. Ever. Acheron scoffed at the idea of love as the ultimate stupidity. You know what love is, Nick? It’s a woman’s way of controlling the relationship and controlling you. In the wrong hands, it’s the worst, most painful weapon imaginable. So when you give your heart away, make sure it’s a mutual exchange. ’Cause once you let them in, cutting them out again is like being gutted with a dull spoon.

He didn’t want to know what had happened to Acheron to make him so jaded, especially given the fact that Ash had died at age twenty-one. To have that kind of hatred eleven thousand years later.…

Yeah, someone had hurt Ash badly.

The Were-Hunter shapeshifters had their mates chosen for them by the Fates, so they didn’t really date like humans, and they definitely didn’t have a choice or say in who their spouses were.

The only people he knew who were married, he didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask. Or they were divorced, which didn’t bode well since they’d obviously made a mistake when they picked someone.

But Kody … she made him feel things no one else did. He could be having the absolute worst day and with one smile, she could make him forget all about it.

“Did you enjoy your time in Azmodea?”

Nick curled his lip at the familiar voice. Why would Ambrose bug him now? Couldn’t he have five seconds to decompress before his insane older self came in to rough him up?

Yawning, Nick answered without looking. “It certainly wasn’t Disney World—unless Mickey sold his soul to Satan. Not that I’ve ever been to Disney World. Heck, I haven’t even been to Six Flags and it’s just over the bridge.”

The power from Ambrose made the hair on his arms stand on end.

Ambrose’s aura practically sizzled with its lethal capabilities. “I can’t believe you got out of there in one piece. I had to betray the closest thing I’ve ever had to a friend to escape it.”

A bad feeling went through Nick. While the voice was definitely Ambrose’s, the story wasn’t.

No …

It couldn’t be.

Opening his eyes, he saw a man who bore a frightening resemblance to Ambrose. Except this one had short, military-cut jet-black hair, and he stood about two inches taller. Even more telling, he was covered with prison tattoos.

Definitely not Ambrose.

This was his father.

Soc au lait!