The Liberator dw-2 Page 11

  Blue glares at Salem and Easton, then looks back at me. He breathes out through his nose like he doesn’t want to admit what he’s about to say. “They’ve been acting different since we got here.”

  “How so?” I ask as Annabelle takes pics with Charlie on her camera phone.

  Blue shrugs. “When we were back in Peachville, they acted normal. Like they were just some—”

  “Idiots?” I offer.

  He nods. “Yeah. Exactly. Even on the plane, they were harmless. Just a couple of fuckwads playing with the barf bags.”

  Aspen waves for us to hurry up and mimes that it’s freezing. I hold up a finger. “When they were acting normal, was Max there?”

  “Yeah,” Blue says. “So?”

  “So maybe they play chill while people are watching.”

  “Maybe.” Blue throws a light punch into my shoulder. The action is strange considering how turtle-like he was in life. “Look, collectors can’t walk the earth without a cuff. And we don’t sense anything, so that means we’re cool. Like I said before, Valery thinks it helps having Charlie surrounded by humans, so we watch them like we agreed. And the second they screw up” —Blue smacks his fist into his palm— “pop goes the weasel.”

  He’s got a point. There’s not really anything we can do now. We’re all on edge knowing I’m harboring Charlie’s soul inside my body, and that the collectors could return any moment to try and steal it back. The thing is, that may never happen. Lucille may decide to forget about Charlie’s soul and instead concentrate on how to disrupt Trelvator—the hundred years of peace her volunteer work will bring about—as soon as it begins. Makes sense. It’d be a lot more underhanded to lay low and spring up when Big Guy doesn’t expect it.

  So yeah, chances are Blue and I are letting our imaginations run away with us. Salem and Easton make me nervous, sure. But I can’t risk harming an innocent human and having my cuff removed. Because if I’m not here on earth, I can’t protect Charlie, should something happen.

  Turning back toward the enormous building, I see everyone has gone inside except for Charlie. Even Blue has stopped debating things and is headed toward the door.

  Charlie smiles at me, and my feet move toward her before I even know what I’m doing. She’s dressed in black tights, knee-high boots, and a short dress with long sleeves. She looks so good, it makes my body ache. I wonder when she got the outfit. I wonder why she got the outfit.

  She stretches her hand out to me, and her smile widens. For once, I don’t question what’s happening between us, I just accept her offer and go inside.

  The music inside hits me like a summer heat wave. It washes over my body and makes me feel heavier, like I’m rooted to the ground when I wasn’t before. Glancing down at Charlie, I realize she’s watching me closely. I run my thumb over her cheek.

  And she lets go of my hand.

  Frustration drowns every other thought I have. The only thing I can focus on now is Charlie moving toward Aspen, who’s already found a spot in the limelight. As red and purple lights slash across the dance floor, and a DJ slams tracks between the bouncing bodies, Aspen dances on a small table. Guys stop what they’re doing and stare. She doesn’t look back at them, just throws her hips back and forth and gives pieces of herself to anyone who asks. I’ve seen this before. It’s nothing new. What I haven’t seen is my own girlfriend climbing onto a table to join the spectacle. Aspen makes room but keeps a cautious eye on her.

  Every muscle in my body flexes as I watch Charlie, hair splashing around her, one arm punching the air, eyes closed as she matches the music’s tempo. Her birthday may not be for a few more days, but she’s certainly dancing and partying as if it’s tonight.

  When I see a guy in a white v-neck try and get her attention, I decide I’ve had enough. Nothing will stop me from getting Charlie off that table and away from all the surrounding testosterone.

  Nothing except Annabelle.

  She steps in front of me, a thin red straw between her lips. “Where you going, buster?”

  “To get Charlie off that stage,” I snarl, trying to step around her.

  Annabelle lays a hand on my chest. “Hold up, Romeo. I know you want to be all romantic and show her just how amazingly jealous and petty you are, but have you stopped to think about why she’s up there on that table?”

  “Yeah, it’s Salem and his twin taint. They’re changing her.”

  Annabelle frowns in confusion. Then her face relaxes into an expression of contempt. “Oh, man. You’re more full of yourself than I gave you credit for.” She takes another sip of her drink. After she swallows, she says, “I mean, you really think you can do no wrong.”

  I glance at Charlie. Easton’s moving toward her. He’s shorter than his brother but still built like a linebacker. He runs a hand through his dark hair, then steps closer to the table Charlie’s dancing on.

  “What are you talking about, Annabelle?” I ask. But I’m not really paying attention anymore, because I spy Salem lurking in the corner, watching his brother and talking into his cell phone. His eyes are wide, and each time a purple-red light flashes across him, I see his eyes grow larger, more excited.

  “Charlie is doing all of this because of you,” Annabelle says. “Because of what happened—”

  I don’t hear anything else she says.

  A storm explodes in my chest and crashes through the rest of my body. Because Easton just handed a drink up to Charlie. And when he did, I saw something peek out from the bottom of his shirtsleeve—a branded tattoo in the shape of an “A.”

  The same one I spotted on the guy who rammed into me with his car.

  The same one I saw on Gage when he straddled the Suzuki.

  They’re connected.

  All of them.

  My pulse pounds in my ears as I brush past Annabelle and crash toward Charlie like an avalanche.

  MONSTER

  “We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.”

  —Oscar Wilde

  16

  Knockout Charlie

  I don’t make eye contact with Easton, I just pull Charlie into my arms and race toward the back of the warehouse, searching wildly for Blue.

  Charlie takes one look at my face and seems to know something has happened. Her head whips side to side, searching for the cause of my panic. Blue sees me when I’m a few feet away, and his eyes widen. He rushes forward.

  Placing Charlie down, I nudge her toward Blue.

  “Take her,” I tell him. “Get her out of here now.” I ready myself to force Blue if I have to, but he doesn’t hesitate. Grabbing Charlie’s hand, he makes for the door, snaking between dancing bodies.

  Spinning around, I search for Aspen and Annabelle. If these flesh-tattooed guys are connected, I know they’re probably here for either me or Charlie, but I won’t leave the other two girls behind. One is Charlie’s best friend, who happens to be a friend of mine, too. And Aspen, well, the moment I saw that tattoo on Easton’s arm, I remembered the world I live in is divided by good and evil, and that you can’t hide from either. Aspen is my assignment, and if I want to play for Big Guy’s team, I have to liberate her soul. Plus, Aspen is…Aspen. I can’t leave her.

  But when I search for Aspen on the table, or Annabelle in the crowd, I find neither. Now I’m wondering if Blue’s made it to the car. Except I didn’t give him the keys.

  Damn it!

  Vowing to return for the girls, I sprint toward the door Blue and Charlie left through. As soon as I blast outside and into the winter night, I spot Blue shielding my girlfriend with his body. Easton and Salem creep toward him like hyenas, their eyes cold and calculating. I had hoped we would have time to slip away before the brothers knew I was onto them, but I guess I screwed that up when I sprinted away from Easton with Charlie in my arms. Watching them now, I expect them to sneer. I expect them to hurl insults and divulge their plan. But they don’t. They just skirt closer to Blue and analyze the situation.

  Two against one, t
hey seem to decide. Because there’s no way Charlie can defend herself.

  I slink along the edge of the wall, pulling on my shadow so I can’t be seen. Blue appears to gauge the distance between Easton and him, between Salem and him. If he waits too long, he won’t stand a chance. To fight, you need room. I hope he knows this. Remembering the way he was in life—a skinny, mumbling Eeyore—I can’t imagine he does.

  But he strikes out like a bolt of lightning, flashing toward Easton and hitting him once along his jaw. While Easton recovers, Blue charges toward Salem and slams into him like an eighteen-wheeler. My chest explodes with pride at how quickly he rebounds and fights the two brothers. Still, even though he’s blowing my freaking mind, I know he won’t be able to hold them off for long. Attacking without a fear of dying grants you a certain advantage, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be overtaken.

  I barrel toward Salem. He looks in my direction the moment before an invisible fist connects with his stomach. Down he drops. I shake off my shadow so Blue can see I’m here. Once he does, he concentrates his attention on Easton. The two kick and tear like dogs along the ground, while I drag Salem up and we battle on our feet.

  Salem gets two clean shots into my side and face after I turn to check if Charlie’s safe. I spin on the eldest brother and wrestle him to the wall.

  “Blue, wrap your hands around Easton’s throat,” I yell. “Squeeze until he stops fighting, but don’t kill him.”

  “Leave him alone,” Salem snarls, writhing against me. I manage to hold him in place and hope that behind me, Blue is overpowering Easton.

  He must be, because soon after I hear Blue say, “Having trouble breathing?”

  “Remember, Blue, not too much,” I say, taunting Salem. “Just make sure his brother here answers my questions.”

  “Got it.” His words sound strained, and I know I may only have so long before the brothers break free.

  “First question,” I say, leaning toward Salem. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Screw you.”

  “Blue, can you squeeze a little tighter?” I say.

  There’s a short pause before Blue answers with, “Ooh, he doesn’t like that one bit.”

  “Who are you?” I repeat to Salem.

  The elder brother glances over my shoulder, and his brow furrows. “You know my name, prick,” he says.

  “What does that tattoo on your brother’s arm mean?”

  Salem’s eyes snap to mine. I can see the surprise swimming in them.

  “Dante?” Charlie says.

  “It’s okay, angel,” I tell her. “We’re just getting to know these guys a little better.” I shove Salem harder into the wall. “What does the tattoo mean?”

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he growls.

  “Blue?” I say like a question.

  Salem thrashes around like a snared wolf. I grab his shirt and rip. Buttons plink off as I tear the material down.

  “What are you doing?” Salem yells.

  Finally, I see the flesh-colored tattoo—the brand—I knew I’d find. It’s a circle with an “A” in the middle, the sign of anarchy if memory serves. “This tattoo.” I yell, tired of not getting answers. “Tell me what it means!”

  Salem looks at his brother and grinds his teeth. “We all have them. It’s a brand. Means we’re part of the sirens.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  Salem shakes his head and glares at me. “I don’t know, man,” he says. “These guys came to us and said they’d fix us up if we did what they asked.”

  “Fix you up how?” I fire.

  “Money. Crap we need.” Salem presses his lips together and closes his eyes for a moment. “Money my family needs.”

  “Who asked you to do this? What were their names?” A chill spreads through my body anticipating his response.

  Salem opens his eyes and seems to think. “I don’t remember.”

  “Not good enough,” I say. “Blue?”

  “Stop hurting him, damn it.” Salem tries to land a knee into my groin, but I turn my body in time and slam him back against the wall.

  “Answer me or your brother gets buried.” I look him dead in the eyes, make him see I’m not playing.

  “I swear they didn’t give us their names. But there was this one guy. He stood near the back. Weird dude. He only talked a few times, but the way he spoke, it was like he was from the sixteen-hundreds or something, saying his words all proper and shit.” Salem pauses like he’s remembering something else. “He had on these ugly-ass red shoes.”

  I suck in air between my teeth, because now I know. Rector is back. The collectors are back, and they’re using humans to do their bidding. The hair on my arms prickles when I remember the way Rector transformed the night he kidnapped Charlie. The way his body and face warped into something closer to demon than human. It made me question how much humanity was left in him, if any. “What did they want you and your brother to do?”

  Salem glances at Charlie, and I’m pretty sure I’m seconds away from ripping his throat out. “They said to find her.” He nods toward Charlie. “And to…”

  “And to what?” I ask quietly, fighting the impulse to scream.

  Salem looks at me. “To get her to hurt herself.”

  I yank my fist back to break his jaw but hear a loud smack before my hand connects with his face. Glancing to my left, I see Charlie shaking her hand out, her face flushed with fury.

  I barely have time to process that my girlfriend punched Salem in the face before Blue calls out. I spot Easton backing away from Blue along the ground and getting to his feet. His eyes seek out Charlie, and like a rabid animal, he charges toward her.

  Cocking my arm, I rush forward and land a shot clean into Easton’s temple. Salem slams into my back at the same time that someone yells from beside us.

  Even from the ground, I can see it’s Aspen and Annabelle piled into Blue’s rental car. Aspen’s window is rolled down, and Annabelle is reaching behind her to throw open the back door. Though I’m laid out, I watch as Blue grabs Charlie’s hand and races toward the car. He gets her inside and turns back toward me. Salem yanks me to my feet, and a fully recovered Easton plows his fist into my stomach. I double over and groan, wondering how the hell I’m going to get out of here. Not really caring if I do as long as the others are safe.

  I plan to wave Aspen on, to tell them to get out of here now. But when I look up, I see Blue churning toward the brothers like a tsunami. He slams into Salem, who’s holding me upright, and it’s just enough time for me to lay into Easton. I only hit him once, then grab Blue’s shoulder and run for the sedan.

  “Start driving, start driving,” I yell to Aspen as we race toward her.

  She pushes down on the accelerator, just enough to get the car moving. Seconds later, I dive into the backseat and nearly land on top of Charlie. Blue smashes into me, and Aspen peels out of the parking lot, fishtailing on ice as Blue yanks the door shut behind him.

  When I feel the tires hit the road, I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Is anyone badly hurt?” I direct the question to everyone, but I’m looking at Charlie, wrapping my arms around her, touching each place I can to make sure she’s whole. She presses against me, and our eyes never waver.

  No one says anything for a moment.

  Finally, Blue exclaims, “Holy crap.”

  “Right? That mess was crazy,” I say, still looking at Charlie. A bubble of laughter builds in my chest, though I know it’s more from nerves than actual humor.

  “No, look,” Blue barks, pointing behind us. “Isn’t that your rental car?”

  I turn to look and catch sight of my lime-green Kia Rondo zipping toward us.

  “That damn car,” I mumble. The assholes must have gotten my keys during the scuffle. When I reach into my back pocket, I find that’s not the only thing I lost—my ivory horn is gone. “Aspen, you’re going to have to step on it.”

  Aspen glances in the rearview m
irror. “Believe it or not, that POS may be able to outrun us.”

  I jerk around to look at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That car couldn’t outrun a wheelchair.”

  “Actually, it has a similar engine as this car, and it’s lighter. So yeah, it could.”

  “Just drive, woman,” I snap, noticing how fast their headlights are gaining on us.

  Aspen doesn’t say anything. When I turn back around, I notice her gloved hands are gripping the wheel tighter than before.

  “What are we going to do?” Annabelle whispers.

  Aspen switches on the radio and flips the stations until she finds what she’s looking for.

  “What are you doing?” I yell. “Stop messing around.”

  Heavy, grinding rock blasts through the speakers as Aspen pushes the car faster. “We can’t outrun them. Not even with me driving. But we can keep pace for a while. Long enough.”

  “Long enough for what?” Charlie says. Her voice is even and controlled, and I can’t help staring at her, wondering how she can be so calm.

  “To get back to my house,” Aspen says.

  “The cabin? “ Blue asks.

  “No.” Aspen turns the volume up.

  “We’re going to drive all the way back to Denver?” I ask, watching the headlights behind us, steady in their pursuit. “That’ll take almost an hour.”

  “It won’t take near that long,” she says over the music. “And in the meantime, you guys can tell me what I’m running from.”

  17

  Gone

  The car rushes forward as Aspen awaits our response.

  Blue and I stare at each other, and finally, he shrugs. So I tell Aspen what we are. I tell her about Trelvator, and how these guys want to steal Charlie’s soul from me, and that I came to Denver on assignment to liberate her soul.

  I tell her everything.

  At first she doesn’t believe us. Then Blue shows her his shadow, and when his body vanishes, Aspen nearly runs off the road. In retrospect, it may not have been our most brilliant plan.

  “I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Aspen says when I finish talking.