Stone Cold

Chapter 21

SHAME

I smelled bubble gum and cigarette smoke.

Opened my eyes. My lashes scraped across fabric. Blindfold. I tried moving my hands. Bound at the wrists with . . . I wiggled my hands . . . silk? Something that felt like a woman’s scarf.

This wasn’t right. I lifted my hands, ran into metal above me. Dragged my fingers across it, then out to one side, then the other. I was in a box. A metal box. Tied and blindfolded. The vibration of an engine transferred through the box along with the smoky bubble gum smell. Where the hell was I?

“Morning, sunshine,” a woman’s voice called out. “Are you awake?”

I knew that voice. Beatrice. One of Allie’s, well, Sunny’s Hounds. Which explained the bubble gum. And the smoke probably belonged to Jack, her partner.

I licked my lips. At least I wasn’t gagged. I couldn’t tell if Eleanor and Sunny were shoved in here with me. I couldn’t feel them. Didn’t hear them.

“Why am I in a box?”

There was some rustling around and then Bea’s voice was just on the other side of the metal.

“We’re taking you to St. Johns,” she said, slowly and carefully as if I had a concussion.

“In a box?”

“Void stone box. You’re pretty toxic right now, so we’re taking precautions.”

“Who are you working for, Bea?”

She laughed. “Come on, Shame. How long have you known me? Do you really think I’d take a job on the dark side?”

“If the money was right?”

“Okay, true. But there was no money. Dash called. Told us to track your ass down, hog-tie you, and lock you up. Also, to take you back to Portland. You’ve been a bad boy, Shamus. A lot of people aren’t very happy with you.”

“How did you find me?” I asked.

“Not hard to find an unmarked cop car driven off into the gully. Thanks for making it supereasy for us.”

Hell. “Open the lid.”

“Sorry. I can’t. Just hold tight and think happy thoughts.”

“Just because I’m locked up doesn’t mean I don’t have magic. You don’t want to be in my way when I break out of this.”

“Knock yourself out, babe,” she said. “If you can break that box, I’ll give you a standing ovation.”

Death magic pooled in me, cold and sluggish as an icy stream. Bea wasn’t kidding when she said the box was made of Void stones. I could reach the magic, could even bring it to the tips of my fingers. But it stopped there, like flame under water. Canceled, void.

I couldn’t use magic to break out. I was tied up, bruised and banged up enough I couldn’t tear my way out of the thing either.

“Eleanor?” I said quietly. “Sunny?”

No answer. I didn’t know if that was good or bad.

So I closed my eyes and thought happy thoughts of Eli’s head on a platter.

After maybe half an hour, the car stopped.

“Hold tight, sugar,” Bea said. “We’ll just be a minute.” Doors opened, closed. I couldn’t hear people moving or talking, but they weren’t gone for long.

Another door opened. Sounded like a hatchback.

“Ready?” Jack said.

“You going to open this thing?” I asked.

The box slid, and I heard hands grabbing at the side of it, a couple of grunts as I was lifted, like a corpse in a coffin, out of the car, then carried.

“Really?” I yelled.

No answer.

I was pretty sure I was taken up some stairs, then maybe an elevator. When I finally came to rest, it sounded as though it was on something padded.

Footsteps backed away. Wooden floor. Silence. Another set of footsteps came near. Then a latch was popped on each side of the coffin and the lid was drawn away.

The rush of air told me two things: One, I was at the Den, the Hounds’ headquarters in Portland. Two, I hadn’t been sold out.

“Sorry for the ride,” Cody said. “But you were down-hilling crazy, Shame.”

“You think that was crazy? If you don’t get this blindfold off me, I’ll show you crazy.”

He grabbed my arm, hauled back, and helped me sit, but he didn’t help me out of the box yet.

He did, however, untie the blindfold.

I blinked, glad that they’d pulled the curtains on all the windows of the place. They’d done a little remodeling since the last time I had been here, put up some walls in the loft space to create a bedroom of sorts. A couple of bunk beds lined the walls, and a few cots scattered in the center. That’s where they’d set the Void stone box—on top of a cot.

Only Cody was in the room with me. Well, Cody and Eleanor and Sunny, who stood on either side of the box. The black rope that tied me to the two ghosts remained intact.

Eleanor waved her fingers at me.

“What in the hell are you thinking?” I asked.

Cody drew out a knife and cut the scarf—it was pink and silk, probably Bea’s—off my wrists.

“You were out of control. We needed your attention. Luckily, you drove off into a ditch and made it easy for us to find you and box you up.”

“Where are Zay and Allie? Are they okay? Have you found Eli? Did he send the drones after them?”

Cody turned to one of the nightstands while I worked on removing myself from the box. I stood, and then thought better of it, took a step, and sat on a different cot.

He handed me a glass of water. “Drink.”

I took it. Drained the glass. God, I was thirsty. And I hurt. Everywhere.

“I’m under strict orders to make you shower,” he said. “I’ll answer questions while you scrape some of the blood and grime off, okay?”

“Whose orders?”

“Dash’s.” He pointed to the door at the far end of the room. “Just shower, Flynn. You look like hell and smell worse.”

“Allie and Zay?”

“Still having the baby. Still okay. Dash has people there. They know about Eli. Shower and we’ll do another round of Q and A.”

He pointed again.

I pushed off the cot and headed to the shower on sore feet and sore muscles. It even hurt to breathe in too deep.

I heard voices out in the main loft area, men and women, but didn’t bother trying to track them. Now that I was moving, I knew Cody was right. I was filthy, wounded, and exhausted. Fighting Death magic constantly, and letting it take over my body and do whatever it wanted with me did not appear to be a path toward health and happiness.

Who knew?

The bathroom was set up like a locker room, without the lockers. No-frills tile floor and walls, three shower stalls and changing areas to the left, bench down the middle, shelves for towels and supplies above mirrors, and sinks to the right, toilet stalls to the back.

I pushed my way into the first shower, tugged off my T-shirt, which hurt, then my jeans and socks.

Left it all on the floor in the corner, turned on the water, and got in.

Holy fuck, it hurt. Every nick, every cut, every bullet hole—and I had an impressive collection in various sizes—burned.

I braced my arm against the wall and let the water pour over me. When that pain became familiar, I looked around for soap, found a bottle that said BodyWash, and poured some of that fresh hell into my hands and over my skin.

“Son of a bitch.” I clenched my teeth, scrubbed as hard as I could bear, digging fingers and soap into my wounds. “Goddamn.”

“You okay in there?” Cody asked.

“I’m friggin’ perfect, thanks.”

I washed my hair, did one last sluice, then got out. I wiped my hair back and rubbed my face, then shook water off my hands. I’d forgotten a towel.

Opened the door. Cody was sitting on the bench. He looked up as I got out, his gaze taking in my wounds.

“Holy shit, Flynn. You need a doctor, you know.”

“A towel,” I said. “I need a towel.”

He pointed to the shelf I was already walking toward. They were perfectly nice towels. I’m sure they were relatively soft. But it felt as if I were sandpapering off a couple layers of skin along with water and blood.

“Where are we at on the clothing situation?” I asked.

He lifted a plastic bag out to me. “We asked one of the Hounds to stop by your place and bring you something. Of course, he found your dresser had been turned into a pile of ash, so he did a little thrift-shopping for you. You owe him twenty bucks.”

I took the bag, opened it. Pulled out a yellow T-shirt with a picture on it. “A monkey in a space suit?”

Cody leaned my way to get a look at it. “Curious George. He’s such a naughty monkey.”

“Which Hound picked this up?”

“Sid. I can see why he got it for you. The resemblance is uncanny.”

“Oh, for the love of—” I shrugged into the shirt, put on the boxers, which were thankfully new, not used, and then got into the faded, hole-riddled old blue jeans that were a lot softer than I’d expected.

“Do we have eyes on Eli?” I asked.

“Not yet. Hounds are looking, though.”

“I can find him,” I said as I walked out of the bathroom.

“There’s something you need to know first. Before you do that. Before you do anything else, Shame.”

“Before I put on these socks? Because my feet are killing me.”

“Even before socks.”

We were almost to the bunk room. “Do not make me play twenty questions with you, because I will use my fists. Out with it.”

“It’s just, well, right there in front of you.”

I stepped into the bedroom area.

Right in front of me, about halfway across the room, stood a man. A little taller than me, good-looking with white hair pulled back in a band at the nape of his neck, he wore a plain white T-shirt, jeans and a smile.

“Terric?” I breathed.

He held his hands out to the side, and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.

For an aching moment, I wondered if I was seeing things. Seeing what I wanted, who I wanted. He could be a ghost—I certainly saw ghosts. He could be a hallucination—I certainly saw my share of those too.

But the way he held himself, his left shoulder hitched just a little higher than the right, his head tilted, was one hundred percent Terric.

One hundred percent real.

One hundred percent my brother, my Soul Complement standing there.

My heart kicked so hard I couldn’t breathe fast enough to keep up with it. My vision went a little dark at the edges.

“Hey, Shame,” he said, words I thought I’d never hear again, a voice I thought I’d never hear again. “Sorry for the box—”

He didn’t get a chance to say anything more. I strode across the room, grabbed him by the T-shirt, and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Jesus, Ter. You were dead,” I said, my arms locked around his shoulders, my heart thumping with a new kind of pain. I didn’t want this to be a dream or hallucination. I wanted, with everything I had, for this to be real.

He returned the embrace, leaning into me a bit as if surprised but grateful for the contact.

“So I’ve been told,” he said.

“I felt you die, Ter.” He was solid, warm, and real in my arms. I could smell the soap and medicine that clung to his skin. “You’re alive, right? Really alive?”

“I’m alive, Shame,” he said. “Right here. Real.”

“And you’re okay?” I unlocked my arms, moved back, the sleeve of his T-shirt still gripped in my fist. “Do you need a doctor? A hospital? Are you hungry?”

He knit his eyebrows, his glacier blue gaze searching my face. “I don’t need a doctor. I’m feeling fine. Considering what I heard happened to me.”

“You don’t remember?” I couldn’t let go of him. Not yet. I didn’t want him to disappear. His hand was still resting on my shoulder too.

“I remember some of it,” he said. “Of . . . us. Not the dying part.”

“Good,” I said. “Good. It’s better you don’t remember that. It was just blood and pain, you know, like you’d expect. Pain and dying. Bloody way to go. But boring.”

“And now you’re babbling,” he said. “Are you okay?”

The knife sliced his throat. There was blood, his blood, everywhere as he fell to the floor, Eli above him . . .

I pushed that memory away. Terric was standing here, smiling, in front of me. I was going to hold on to that for all I was worth.

“Me? Yes. Of course. I’m good, mate. Good. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Dash.” He glanced over at Cody as if checking to see if he’d gotten the name right for the man we’d worked with for years.

Cody nodded.

That was my first clue that everything was not okay with Terric.

“Dash told me I was taken and tortured.”

This was Terric. Real, alive Terric. Felt like Terric. Sounded like him, smelled like him. I knew he was real.

But there was something about him, a sort of guarded pain he was carrying.

“You don’t remember that. That’s okay. What do you remember?”

“Not much,” he said, finally letting go of my shoulder. “They think I was Closed.”

Son of a bitch.

I glanced at Cody. “Think?”

“We haven’t had a lot of time to deal with it yet,” he said. “We thought it was important to get you two together as soon as possible. If he was Closed, it was a botched job.”

“It’s like Swiss cheese in here,” Terric said, pointing at his head. “I do remember some things. My parents. You. Victor.” He smiled. “I thought maybe we could talk to him about how I was Closed. He might have some idea how to deal with it.”

He didn’t even remember Victor was dead. That Eli had killed him. That we hadn’t been able to save him before Eli tore him apart with his bare hands.

“I don’t think,” I said before the memory of Victor, and the still-fresh grief of losing him cut off my breath. “No,” I finished. “I don’t think we can talk to him about this. Are you . . .” I looked away to Cody again. “. . . is he all right?”

“He’s standing right here,” Terric said. He patted my shoulder just in case I hadn’t heard him. “Do you want to sit down maybe?”

I realized I was still holding on to his shirt like a little kid who was afraid to get lost in a crowd. “Sorry,” I said, unwadding my grip and letting my hand fall to my side.

“It’s okay.” He tipped his head down just a bit to catch my gaze. “It’s nice to be missed.”

Ah, Terric, I thought. You don’t know the half of it.

“You were,” I said. “Missed. Place went to hell without you.”

“I can see that. You’re wearing a monkey shirt. A very yellow monkey shirt.”

“I’ll be killing Sid for that later,” I said.

“See,” Cody said, “I told you it would work, Shame.”

“What would work?” Terric asked.

I threw Cody a dirty look, but he hadn’t been intimidated by me since . . . well, never.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “You know how Cody is.”

“Shame killed you,” Cody said.

I tipped my head back and closed my eyes, exhaled the flash of anger. “Goddamn it, Miller.”

“Killed me,” Terric said. “Shame?”

He thought it was a joke. Probably because Cody was the one who had said it and Cody hadn’t always been the most reliable guy back in the day.

I lowered my gaze until I was looking Terric straight in the eye. “Cody’s telling the truth. You were barely alive. He thought the Life magic in you wouldn’t let you go, but wasn’t strong enough to bring you back either. Maybe coma, maybe just years of dying, suffering . . .”

I cleared my throat. “So I did. I . . . killed you. I let Death take you down.”

“You killed me,” he said flatly.

“Yes.”

“And that’s what brought you back,” Cody said. “Death triggered Life magic to put you back together, to raise you from the ashes. You crazy Soul Complement kids can break all the magic rules.”

“All right,” Terric said slowly. “Fine. I’m alive. But if you killed me, then you owe me. Big-time, Flynn.”

“Anything,” I said.

He took a couple of steps back and ran his hand over his hair, dislodging tendrils that fell over his eyes. “That”—he pointed at me—“officially freaks me out.”

“What?” I said.

“Not that you look like a skeleton, have bruises and burns and cuts . . . everywhere and you don’t seem to feel them. Not that I’ve never seen you look so burned out, raw, on the edge.”

“Then what?” I asked again.

“How long have I been dead?”

“Not long.”

“Really? You’ve never given in so quickly on anything, Shame. Anything. You always put up a fight over every last damn detail of every last damn thing. And . . . and now you instantly promise me anything I want to make up for something you did, no questions asked? How long have I been dead?”

“Too. Damn. Long,” I whispered.

I didn’t think I’d ever surprised him into silence before.

Maybe because I rarely told him the truth. Maybe because he could feel my pain.

“Okay,” he finally said. “It’s okay.”

“So, are we good here?” Cody asked. “Because I am starving.” He motioned for us to follow him out of the room.

“Why are we at the Den?” Terric asked.

“Well, there was a madman killing innocent people we needed to stop,” Cody said.

I knew he wasn’t talking about Eli; he was talking about me. I would have flipped him off, but he was right. I had been out of control, out of my mind.

But now that Terric was alive, the Death magic that twisted and turned inside me was easier to control.

“Madman,” Terric said. “He means you, doesn’t he?”

“Shut up,” I said, then, “Yes.”

“Who did you kill?” Terric asked.

“A lot of people,” I said. “But that isn’t what matters.”

We left the bunk room and made our way out into the main area.

Dash leaned against the back of one of the couches, arms crossed over his chest, looking our way.

Jack and Bea were on the other side of the room, also on their feet, Jack’s arm around Bea’s shoulders.

“It matters,” Dash said. “Tell us, Shame. If we’re going to deal with the fallout, we need to know where it’s coming from.”

“Food?” Cody said to Terric.

Terric looked at me, then at Cody and Dash. “I’m good.” Then: “This won’t be the first time I’ve heard Shame catch hell for some idiot thing he’s done. Go ahead.”

“Standing right here,” I said.

“All right,” Dash said. “Tell us.”

All eyes on me. “I killed the people in the warehouse, gunmen,” I said, “the six drones at the door.” I took a breath, then, “I killed Mina and Sunny.”

“Sunny?” Terric said. “Shit, Shame.”

“Was it an accident?” Dash asked. He sounded hopeful.

“Not really. Death wanted them dead.” I could tell them I’d tried to stop it, tried not to hurt them, but nothing I would say could excuse what I’d done.

“And where were you while Death was getting what it wanted?” Terric asked.

I looked over at him. Didn’t know how to say I was there, but broken. Didn’t know how to tell him that his death had been more than I could shoulder, and I had fucked everything up without him. Didn’t know how to say coming back to life might have been the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

I didn’t have to tell him any of that. Damaged memory or not, he knew me. Knew the guilt and other crap that crowded all my corners.

Jack, who lingered with Bea near the windows, whistled low. “Always knew you’d go Hannibal Lecter one of these days, Flynn. Sorry I’m here to see it.”

“Then don’t be here,” I suggested.

He easily had a decade on me but was smoked down to a tough, leathery finish. Not the kind of man any sane person would pick a fight with. He gave me a steady look, sizing up a target he’d be shooting at soon.

Yeah, good luck with that.

“Is there anything else we need to know?” Terric asked.

“Eli’s in town,” I said. “Eli Collins. He wants us dead. Zay and Allie too.”

“Zay and . . . who?” Terric said.

“Wow,” Cody muttered. “You really did get your noggin scrambled.”

“First,” Dash said, “the current emergency. That’s you, Shame. How out of control are you?”

“As compared to what?”

“Full-tilt serial killer.”

“Pretty sure I can keep a lid on that.”

“Pretty sure?” Jack said.

“I’m good right now. Better,” I said. “It’s all you’re going to get from me, Dash. I’ll do what I can.”

“We can’t just take your word for it,” he said. “I’m sorry, but our friends died while you were doing what you could to stay in control.”

“I’ll watch him,” a new voice said.

Davy Silvers paced into the room. He wore clean jeans and a T-shirt, his hair cut short and damp from a shower. The blue light that had been leaking out of him back at the house was gone. From how the T-shirt caught at his ribs and stomach, he was wrapped in a lot of cotton and gauze.

There used to be a time I’d describe him as a laid-back surfer dude. Not now. The words that better fit him were simmering violence and maybe psychotic break.

“I don’t think that’s a working solution,” Dash said.

“I’ll be working.” Davy’s gaze was locked on me even though he was talking to Dash. “Watching him. I’ll stop him if he kills. Or anything.”

“We’re all on the same side here,” Dash said in a calm tone.

“Right,” Davy said. “Sunny’s dead. How did that happen, Shame?”

“Davy,” Dash said.

“It’s okay,” I said to Dash. “He’s right. You watch me, Davy. You take your shot anytime you think you have it.”

“Shame,” Terric said. “This isn’t how we handle this.”

“There’s a way we handle this?” I said. “We’ve never even dealt with this before. I’m walking death. You’ve been half Closed and killed. And Davy here, he’s . . .”

“He’s what?” Davy asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But you’ve been under Eli’s knife, just like Terric. That worries me. What do you think he did to you for his gain? What loopholes do you think he carved into you? It should worry you.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Davy said. “I’m the problem here.”

“No,” I said.

“The problem,” Cody interrupted, “is we’re standing around talking when we should be getting lunch. Or breakfast.”

“Our problems are Eli,” I said, “and Krogher and his drones.”

Davy swallowed hard, his hands curling up into fists. He gave me a very short nod.

Well, at least the guy who wanted to kill me agreed we both wanted to kill other people first.

I saw what Sunny saw in the guy.