Page 9 of Mistletoe (Monsters of the Nexus #3)

Chapter Eight

Hal

Sweetwater Point

Sheriff’s Office

Hal waited the entire day.

People came and went from the sheriff’s office. Not one of them was Emma. The older man she rode in the wagon with—likely her father—entered the building only to exit with a scowl on his face.

When night fell, he was done with waiting.

The overnight shift consisted of one deputy. Hal worried about how to neutralize the deputy, but the man solved that problem by falling asleep on the job.

Emma was in the basement. Hal could not say how he knew, but he knew. An invisible ribbon connected them, drawing him down the stairs. Each step down stoked his anger until he was a bubbling caldron of fury.

A basement in the winter? Dank and cold, the wood-burning stove failed to take the bitter chill out of the air. She had one blanket. One. Wrapped around her, it was barely adequate.

“You’re trouble, Hal,” she said, rising to her feet. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“ You shouldn’t be here.”

Clutching the blanket around her shoulders with one hand, she waved her free hand dismissively. “It’s not so bad.”

It was.

Concrete crumbled where the iron bars were embedded, either from age or poor construction. It would be nothing to tug on the bars?—

“What are you doing? Stop that.” Emma swatted at his hands.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeated. He intended to fix that.

“No, I mean in the sheriff’s office filled with deputies? That’s a great way to get yourself captured.”

“I won’t be caged,” he insisted. Not again. Not ever.

“Well, this situation seems ill-advised then.”

“There’s one deputy. He’s asleep.” He wrapped his hand around the bars, the palms of his hands tingling at the contact.

She swatted at his hands again. “Are you seriously trying to bust me out of jail?”

Obviously.

His expression must have conveyed his intentions because Emma said, “And how do you think that’s gonna turn out? The sheriff knows who I am. She knows where I live. I escape, then I’m a fugitive. She catches me because I do not have the innate ability or desire to live as a fugitive, and I wind up with worse charges. Right now, I hit a man who grabbed me in a room full of witnesses. It’s self-defense.”

Her words made him pause, yet he did not release his hold on the flimsy iron bars. Immediate release was his objective. He had not considered the complications of a jailbreak.

“This is my fault. I started a fight,” he said. He heard distress in Emma’s voice, and his ability to make rational choices vanished.

Emma reached for him through the bars, touching his hand.

Willingly.

With a smile on her face.

If Hal wasn’t already besotted, he was now completely and fully devoted to her. He’d spend the rest of his days brawling in bar fights and breaking her out of jail. Whatever she required, though he secretly yearned for something a bit duller.

“Hey, I smashed a mug into that guy’s head first. Don’t go stealing my glory,” she chided, good humor in her voice. “That was my fight, fair and square. You can start the next one.”

He turned his hand, allowing their fingers to brush together before withdrawing.

“You are a hazard to my good health,” he said.

She chuckled softly, keeping her voice quiet to avoid detection. “The reason I’m in here is because the sheriff thinks you’ll do something silly like try to rescue me. I’m bait. You really can’t be here.”

As far as bait went, it was top quality. Emma had a hold on him that he couldn’t explain.

“Besides, the sheriff can’t hold me forever,” she said, giving a reassuring smile. “She’s not a tyrant. If anything, she’s too law-abiding and won’t abuse her authority. I’ll be out by morning.”

He didn’t like it. Everything she said was logical. If she escaped the jail cell, she’d just be captured immediately and face harsher consequences. The sheriff wanted Hal captured and wasn’t above using Emma as bait. He should leave—now—but his feet would not obey.

“Go,” Emma said. “Head back to the farm if you want. Just don’t hang around town. It’s too small, and you’re conspicuous.”

“I do not like this,” he replied. Amazingly, he took a step back. Then another.

Once he reached the stairs, she called out to him. “Hey, I’m glad you’re here.”

Hal left without a word. If he replied, he’d never leave.

On the way out, the deputy snored relentlessly at the desk. Hal took his coat, though he doubted that would teach the man any sort of lesson.

A newspaper lay forgotten on the desk. The headline read: “Vampire Draven Surrenders.”

He shouldn’t be doing this.

He should have listened to Emma and left town.

He shouldn’t be here. Emma shouldn’t be in that jail cell.

He should be in a cozy prefabricated cabin on a plot of land, as promised in his employment contract. Emma should be in her own home.

Looks like no one got what they signed up for.

Hal hadn’t dreamed of a farmer’s life, but he had dreamed of a world where the rain did not burn his skin. Where he could breathe.

That much appeared to be true, at least. The air stank of animal waste and smoke, but taking a deep breath did not result in a coughing fit. No masks or air filters needed. The sky was gray but not from smog or grime, but snow.

Fluffy snow, clean enough for children to play in. He had never seen such a thing, not in his lifetime. Growing up, snow held a gray tinge even before it hit the street and melted into a filthy slush.

Regardless of contracts signed and promises made, he should not be here .

Inside a military base.

Prowling around as the pearly gray dawn chased away the dark.

Looking for his brother.

Draven. Ethan. Whatever he called himself. Hal did not owe him a thing.

Correction, he owed his brother several things, mostly punches. Possibly some broken bones. Definitely choice words. Hal had several things to say to his brother.

He absolutely was not searching for his brother out of familial love or obligation. He wanted to know if the newspaper article was true. If the vampire Lord Draven surrendered.

Hal couldn’t imagine his brother relinquishing control. Ever. It was not in his nature. The more events and people fought against his command, the more tightly he squeezed.

This was the height of foolishness. Hal should put as much distance between himself and his brother as possible. Instead, he scaled a wooden stockade. He might not understand everything about this new world, but he knew that he would not be welcomed. Best to stay in the shadows.

Inside the garrison, patrols were lax. There was a gap between the night shift’s last patrol and the day crew taking the post. Locating the vampire Draven did not require a huge feat of deduction. A high-profile captive would have the heaviest security, and an empty warehouse did not need so many guards.

As he scouted, a silver-haired officer barked out orders to scrambling soldiers. Something about the man, perhaps the very many medals or the air of importance, set Hal’s teeth on edge. He growled, not liking the man one bit.

The officer looked up, as if sensing Hal’s malice.

Hal froze, certain he had been discovered. No shouts came. No one raised the alarm.

He continued on, more cautious now. Perhaps it was a crew spread too thin or complacency in that since the vampire was captured, the job was done, but he found it alarmingly easy to navigate the compound without detection. Sloppy. He’d never allowed such carelessness when he was in charge of security.

The memory of screening passengers as they boarded the Endeavor came so naturally, so smoothly, that he almost failed to notice. A memory. His memory. Not cloudy. Not hazy. A memory of an entitled, wealthy passenger snapping her fingers at him arrived crystal clear. He could feel the weight of the security uniform with the too-tight collar at his throat. The temperatures had been unusually warm for that time of the year, and the winter-weight uniform jacket was soaked with sweat. Everyone’s tempers were frayed, so his reaction was understandable?—

As suddenly as it came, it vanished. Hal had no idea what happened next but he recognized the burning anger it evoked. Past Hal had a temper. So did Current Hal, but he also had a narrow window to climb through and could not afford to reminisce.

Windows were built high on the warehouse walls near the eaves to maximize natural light. No building Hal had encountered thus far had electricity. He didn’t imagine a warehouse would be an exception. Plus, the opportunity to humiliate an infamous vampire by threatening him with sunlight had to be irresistible.

The high window placement would discourage the casual burglar but not a determined orc. Hal climbed the brickwork, pulling himself up with his fingertips and digging his nails into the red brick. He listened carefully for voices, determining if the warehouse was empty.

Only one heartbeat. Slow. Sluggish.

Draven.

Humans were louder. Their hearts raced. Inhalations were a sucking, dragging noise. Exhalations were positively ostentatious.

Draven was none of those things. They had shared hours and hours together. Hal screamed and roared and fought and bit. Draven remained still the entire time, as cold as the snow on his mountain.

Hal peered through the window. The warehouse was empty. At the center, a steel cage held the vampire Draven, bound by silver handcuffs.

His brother.

With his elbow, Hal broke the glass. It shattered, falling to the ground below. Moving quickly, he climbed through and leaped down. Glass crunched under his boots.

Dawn glowed weakly through the winter clouds. For the moment, there were plenty of shadows for the vampire’s comfort.

“If you’ve come to kill me, now is your best chance,” Draven said. He was gaunt, his face hollowed out with exhaustion.

“I should, but that’s not why I’m here.” Hal’s voice was a rumble, rough from neglect.

Surprise flickered across Draven’s face. Frankly, Hal was surprised, too, at his complete lack of desire for revenge. He should take this opportunity for retaliation—hurt Draven the way he had hurt him. Draven would never be more vulnerable.

Revenge had spurred him to this moment, but it wasn’t what he needed. His current existence was a void. Inflicting pain on the vampire would satiate his hunger for vengeance, but it would not fill the void inside him. Hal had no sense of himself. No plan beyond the immediate need to survive, but survive for what? He had no aspirations for grander things. When he tried to summon what his previous self desired, he came up empty.

“I want answers,” Hal said.

“Free me, and you’ll get your answers.” Draven raised his cuffed hands. The exposed skin was red and swollen, like an allergic reaction.

“Answers first.”

Hal approached the cage. The lock appeared basic, almost rustic. It should take no effort to break or wrench open. Perhaps he could bend the bars to allow the slender Draven to slip through.

Or he could reach through the bars of the cage, grab the vampire by the throat, and squeeze. Simple. Easy. Emotional resolution achieved. Draven looked too weak to fight him off, but he knew from experience that his brother was stronger than his appearance suggested.

Never underestimate a cornered beast.

“What are you wearing? Did you rob a child?” Draven asked.

“How quickly did you get captured? I assume you just walked into this cage,” Hal retorted. He quite liked the wool coat he stole from the slumbering deputy. It was a deep brown wool, the kind of color that hid mud splatters, and fit him in the shoulders, even if it was a bit short. “This coat is better than anything you ever gave me.”

Draven looked away briefly, the only sign of remorse. “Clothing was not practical.”

“I’m sorry if respecting my dignity was an inconvenience for you,” Hal snapped.

“I was trying to save your life,” the vampire snapped back, fangs flashing. “What was left of it. Dignity was not my priority.”

“Save me? Is that what you call this?” Hal shrugged off the coat and pushed up the sleeve of his right arm. A thick surgical scar wrapped around his forearm. Pain clouded his memories. He did not know when the scar happened, only that something had happened to leave it.

Draven stepped forward, as if to examine his handiwork. “That is from a skin graft.”

“Why did I need a skin graft?”

“You were green.”

Hal resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the obtuse answer. Such an Ethan response. “You took green skin from my butt to replace the green skin on my arm? Sounds pointless. Sounds like you just wanted to cut me up.”

“It was from a donor and not green,” Draven said, ignoring Hal’s accusation.

“That’s a lot of skin to donate.” Hal had more stitches and more patches, leaving him unsure how much of himself was the original him?

“It was from a cadaver,” Draven said, which made everything infinitely worse. “Once your condition had stabilized and the mutations ceased, I hypothesized that you could reintegrate into society if your appearance was?—”

“Less green?”

“Commonplace.”

That was such a load of bullshit that Hal was amazed his brother could say it with a straight face. “You wanted to make me a people suit.”

“Don’t be crass.”

“Crass. You tore off my skin, stitched on the skin of the dead, and I’m the one who is being crass? You never wanted me to reintegrate. You wanted to see if the mutation would affect the new tissue.”

A smile, sharp and cold as a gust of wintry wind, flitted across Draven’s face. “Your mutation is very aggressive. Your body incorporated the new tissue in a matter of days.”

“What about your mutation? Did you sample different blood types to find out which had the most vitamins and minerals? How many people it took to make a complete breakfast?” Hal pushed his tangled hair away from his face. “Never mind. That’s not what I want to know.”

Draven dipped his head, waiting for Hal’s question, the image of patience.

“How long has it been?” Hal asked.

“How long has it been for what?”

“Since the ship landed. How long was I in that cryo chamber? How long did you keep me locked away?”

“Two hundred and eleven years, nearly twelve.”

Two hundred years.

“Two hundred years!” Hal slammed a fist against the cage, skin tingling on contact. The metal bars rattled.

“It’ll be two hundred and twelve in the spring. You’re one of the oldest beings on the planet.”

“Oldest,” Hal said immediately. “I’m older than you.”

“In theory. I have lived experience.”

And that was one haughty quip too much.

Hal reached through the bars, aiming for Draven’s throat. The vampire leaned back, avoiding the swipe.

Not to worry. Hal grabbed the handcuffs. The metal burned his palm, but he ignored the pain and yanked Draven forward. The vampire slammed into the bars.

“I sense you are upset?—”

Hal repeated the slamming. It was very satisfying. Blood dripped from Draven’s nose. Very satisfying.

Hal released his brother, shoving him away.

Draven stumbled back, falling to the cold ground. He wiped the back of his hand across his nose, smearing blood. “Careful, or you might rouse my guards.”

Hal glanced toward the doors. All was quiet.

“Two hundred years,” Hal said, his voice weary and his body exhausted. He sank to his knees. Everyone he knew was long dead. His coworkers. The passengers. The captain. While he never expected to see the friends he left behind on Earth, he took some comfort in knowing they were out there. Now they were gone.

The only one left was his brother, the monster.

“What—” He couldn’t even form the question.

“You must understand the chaos at the time,” Draven said. “We knew the planet had higher levels of radiation than an unaltered human could tolerate, so I altered the humans. Every single soul. What we did not anticipate was the surge of Nexus energy.”

Draven paused, expecting Hal might ask for an explanation.

Hal sighed dramatically. “What is Nexus energy?”

“Electromagnetic radiation. Scans indicated acceptable levels when we landed, but it fluctuates with the seasons. It’s a very interesting phenomenon. Those with a more poetic leaning say?—”

Hal gestured with his hand for Draven to skip this part of the story. “Not interested in poetry.”

“Yes, well, the result was the destruction of all of our electronic equipment.”

“Like an EMP blast?” EMP attacks had been common, but their scale had been limited. One or two city blocks, maybe a sector at the most. Hal had a memory of hanging blast-blocking curtains in his apartment, which offered very little real protection but made him feel better.

“Yes, but planetwide. Anything requiring a circuit was fried. The terraformers only completed a fraction of their work before they broke. Much of this planet is inhospitable. In addition to the loss of our equipment, we lost nearly all our data. Histories. Medical texts. Blueprints. The paper books that people brought were sentimental, not practical.”

“That explains the regression in technology.”

“Then there were mutations,” Draven said. “In retrospect, I could feel the change coming in the days prior. I was quick to anger. Hungry, but nothing would satisfy. On that first summer equinox, some people changed into beasts and slaughtered their families. The next day, they shifted back, only to find themselves covered in the blood of their loved ones.”

All of this was new information to Hal. “You’ve had two centuries to tell me this. As interesting as it is, I don’t care. I’m more concerned about my specific situation.”

Draven sighed, lifting his eyes to the ceiling as if asking for patience. “This is relevant. Listen. Some people changed and shifted back. For some, the change was permanent, like myself. You were still in the cryo chamber. Your metamorphosis was peculiar. Unstable. By the time I found you, your body was changing before my eyes. Still growing. Shifting. Mentally, you were absent.”

“Absent,” Hal repeated.

“You…couldn’t be reasoned with. You fought everything. Everyone. I had to sedate you for your safety.” Draven sighed. “And that’s how I kept you. Sedated. Drugged. I went to the mountains because I heard the military had built a bunker underground. With the surviving equipment, I worked on a cure for you.”

“You took a military base? By yourself?” That seemed improbable.

“You helped. Two monsters against a weakened force. Do you remember?”

Hal did not. It was unsettling to think he had contributed to his own torment and had no recollection.

“When I had access to a functioning cryo chamber, I?—”

“Locked me away in it,” Hal interrupted. That he remembered.

“Preserved you while I did research. Studied the effects of the mutation. Tried to find others.”

“And did you find others?”

“You are unique. There were other oddities but nothing like you. I,” Draven raised his cuffed hands and touched his chest, “was not unique. Vampires were an exceptionally common mutation, but our life spans were tragically short.”

“Not too short. You don’t look a day over one hundred and fifty-five.”

Draven’s lip curled at Hal’s quip, flashing a bit of fang. Hal reciprocated, displaying his own mouthful of pointy teeth.

“Vampires are easy targets. We must feed on people. We can never stray too far. The beasts can live as hermits, alone in the wilderness. No one will know unless they attack people. Witches were completely undetectable unless they chose to use their powers.” Draven spoke quickly, almost excitedly. “They could sense and manipulate the Nexus energies. The more powerful crafted weapons that used the Nexus. They were extraordinary things. Deadly, wicked things. They fancied themselves as monster slayers and drove themselves to extinction. Nearly. I haven’t seen or heard of a truly powerful witch in a century.”

Draven moved toward the bars again, back into Hal’s reach. The blood dried and flaked off his skin as he spoke. “You have your answer. The colony arrived and collapsed. Two centuries later, humanity adapted and survived. That’s what humans do best.”

Silence fell between the brothers. The noise of the base waking up and getting on with its day filtered into the building. Time was running short.

Hal slowly clapped, the noise echoing in the warehouse.

Very rousing. Very motivational. He wasn’t falling for it.

“If you want forgiveness, you’ll have to wait another two centuries,” Hal said.

Draven flashed his fangs, this time baring his teeth as a threat.

Hal circled the cage, inspecting its construction. The bars were thick and the welding smooth and even. “How did you wind up in that box?”

“I surrendered.”

“No. I don’t believe that.”

“I was betrayed,” Draven said. His voice darkened, hinting at emotion. “The gate was breached, and I could not hold the Aerie. Not without a substantial loss of life.”

“But why surrender? What’s a human life worth to you?”

“Considerably more now. Surrendering was the best way to distract the invaders and allow my people to escape.”

A sacrifice. How unexpected.

The Ethan he remembered would never have cared about the people he hurt if they got in his way. Hurts then were categorized as cutting jabs, insults, and generally rude behavior. Benign behavior in contrast to the ruthless Draven that Hal knew. Sentimentality was a weakness. No one stood in Draven’s way. Not his brother, not the people who worked for him, certainly not a love?—

Well, maybe.

“That woman. She’s the reason for this change of heart,” Hal said.

“Her name is Charlotte.”

“I remember.” She had spoken to Hal like he was a real person and not a monster chained up in the dungeon.

Weak sunlight now spilled across the warehouse floor, slicing through a corner of the cage. Draven moved to one side, avoiding the sun.

“Will that be a problem?” Hal asked, pointing to the puddle of light.

Draven looked up at the windows and then at the door. “No. The advantage of my advanced age is that sunlight is no longer a concern. My captors do not have this information, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“Are the myths true? Do you have a reflection?”

“Do you really need to know?”

“Curiosity.”

“Some. Silver, for reasons I do not understand, causes dermatitis. Simple, brief contact is tolerable, but prolonged exposure…well, you can see.” Draven held up his hands, displaying his swollen red wrists.

“Avoid silver.”

“Your skin is thicker. Perhaps you have a higher tolerance. I would avoid being stabbed with a silver dagger, though. I shouldn’t imagine it’d kill you, but it’d ruin that fetching coat.”

“Jokes. Really?” Hal said, not amused.

“One must raise morale when the situation is grim.”

Hal completed another circuit around the cage. His fingers brushed the bars, tingling at the touch. “Silver?”

“Ordinary iron. How interesting.” Draven’s hands, still bound, darted toward Hal. When he stepped back to avoid contact, he said, “Apologies. I act before thinking. Does the iron hurt? Are you developing hives?”

Hal displayed his hands, which had no evidence of a rash or burn. “A little tickle.”

“The fae were prohibited from touching cold iron,” Draven said, as if that were a fact everyone knew. “It also repelled ghosts and malevolent spirits. Horseshoes were nailed to doors, for example.”

“And you know this how?”

“I’ve had a lot of time to read. I’ve built quite the library.” His lips twitched, suggesting a smile.

The memory of Ethan carrying a stack of books so tall that he used his chin to keep them in place hit Hal. His younger brother had always been full of weird facts.

“As delightful as this reunion is, we need to move,” Hal said.

He grabbed two bars and pulled. The metal groaned under the strain as the gap between them widened. His palms tingled, then itched. The metal felt hot, as if it heated up to burn him. He’d injure himself if this continued.

“I’ll take this side.” Draven tapped Hal’s left hand, replacing it with his own.

Hal wrapped the red scarf around his hands and latched back onto the bar. The fabric blocked the burning, itching sensation. “For the record, this is for Charlotte. For reasons I don’t understand, she’s fond of you.”

“Reasons I myself do not understand,” Draven replied.

“I won’t let your death spoil her happiness.”

“Immanently practical. Now pull.”

The bars moved slowly under their combined efforts, but they moved. When the gap was large enough, Draven slipped through.

“Can you do something about these?” Draven held up his bound hands, displaying the raw and painful-looking skin from where the cuffs rubbed.

The metal snapped easily.

Now, to craft an escape. Hal pointed to the door. “How many guards do they usually keep posted? I hear two heartbeats.”

“That is correct. They’re laboring under the misapprehension that the sunlight weakens me. They believe I am trapped.” Draven looked up at the windows. “I can exit the way you entered if you create a distraction. General chaos should do. You’re rather good at that.”

“I can do chaos.” Hal cracked his knuckles. “Are you trying to avoid a fight? Hardly seems like the action of the great and feared Lord Draven.”

“I’m the cautious and shrewd Lord Draven. I’m not in peak condition, and I require a meal before I go tearing limbs, severing heads, or whatever it is you think I do.”

“Bite throats.”

Draven laughed.

Laughed.

Hal was stunned. The great and feared Lord Draven certainly never laughed. Ethan had never laughed. Not even when they were children.

“I’ll find a quick snack and be on my way.”

“Where will you go?”

“To Charlotte. I made her a promise.”

Hal nodded. He approved, but now was not the time to be sentimental. Without a farewell, he faced the door.

“What about you? Where will you go?” Draven asked.

Hal ignored him, focusing on the sounds on the other side of the door.

Two heartbeats. Easy.

Draven touched his arm, stopping him. “Two things. They’re important.”

“I’m listening.” Despite every instinct telling him to leave.

“The Nexus fluctuates with the seasons. You’ll be most affected at the solstice and the equinox. Isolate yourself,” Draven said. “Find your anchor. Your person. A soulmate. It helps.”

“Helps with what?”

“Keeping us human.”

Hal shook him off, anger flowing into him and filling the gaps in his soul. There was no time for sentimentality. He had chaos to orchestrate. “Go. If I see you again, I will kill you.”

He pushed open the door and rushed out, surprising the lax guards. He didn’t hit them hard, just hard enough to get their attention. The last thing Hal wanted was for them to be incapacitated.

The thing is, no one expects a man Hal’s size to be fast. He had years of experience dodging minions in tight quarters. The memory of dashing through a hall, ducking and dodging to avoid Draven’s guards, emerged with crystal clarity.

Centuries of experience.

A pair of sleepy guards who thought they had an easy assignment? Insultingly easy. A troop doing morning roll call in an open field with plenty of space to maneuver? Laughably easy. The cluster of officers who were on their way to breakfast? Highly satisfying, if not a challenge.

Being big and green made him hard to miss, but just in case, Hal took a flag. He even found his favorite silver-haired officer, who sputtered with rage as he ran by with a stolen flag.

In no time at all, Hal had the attention of the entire base. Now to make use of it.