Chapter 20
No way, no way, No! Fucking! Way! Jenny’s hands worked like a surgeon possessed. She refused to let those words be the last she heard from her mate. She knew she was barking orders like a damn drill Sergeant, but it couldn’t be helped. She couldn’t lose Bishop now, not like this.
RedKnife, King, and Ash were all working feverishly to stitch up different wounds on Bishop’s body while she worked on the most traumatic wounds. He’d been clawed, bitten, and stabbed repeatedly.
Stupid man! She sniffed and didn’t even realize she was crying until a sob tore from her.
“We can do this, Jen.” King offered soothingly. “Maybe you should step back.”
Fuck that! She was the damn surgeon. She was the best! And that’s what Bishop deserved.
“I’m fine,” she clipped out, swiping her cheek on her shoulder as her hands continued to work. The rain was still pelting down but was starting to slow. “We just need to get him back together. His beasts will take care of the rest.” She wondered if the Walkers around her heard the uncertainty in her tone. She’d never seen a Walker sustain this kind of damage before and survive. Sure, they were tough as shit, but this? She didn’t even want to think about Bishop not making it.
“We need to get him inside,” RedKnife growled, swiping mud off a wound at Bishop’s thigh before dipping a needle into his skin and starting to lace the skin back together.
He was right, but first, Jenny needed to finish suturing the last of the stab wounds. Her hands worked feverishly but stilled when Bishop made one last gasping sound. Jenny’s eyes slid to his chest.
“Shit! He’s not breathing.” Needles forgotten, she moved to his side and got up on her knees. One hand planted on top of the other, she started chest compressions, pushing as quickly and as hard as she could before yelling, “Don’t you do this to me, Bishop!” A sob wrenched from her, “Don’t you fucking do this to me!”
The Walkers who’d been helping eased back and the rest who’d been cleaning up the last of the Megalya slowly closed in.
Huddled on her knees in the mud, giving her blood-soaked mate chest compressions, Jenny felt like she was having an out-of-body experience.
This isn’t happening! Then she started begging, Please, don’t let this happen!
Alternating between chest compressions and breathing, her crying grew panicked when Bishop still hadn’t started breathing.
“Bishooooop!” she screamed, still forcing compressions. Tear soaked eyes jerked around the circle of Walkers until they landed on RedKnife. “What do I do?” She sounded desperate, and she knew it, but right now she was beyond caring. “RedKnife!” she shouted. “What the fuck do I do?”
His eyes dipped to her neck, and it took her a second to register what he was telling her. Afraid to stop compressions, she knew she had no choice. She had to trust RedKnife. As the lone indigenous Skin Walker, he had gifts the others didn’t have, and he knew things the others didn’t know.
Stopping compressions, Jenny lifted her hand and ripped her halo free. Thrusting it forward, it locked around Bishop’s neck where it wrapped silkily around his own, creating a rare double-helix as their halos twined. The halo locked in place, and ethereal light flashed from around Bishop’s neck. Suddenly, his body arched violently liked he’d been charged by a defibrillator before a high-pitched whine filled the air. It was matched by a second whine that was a note higher. As quickly as they’d come, the light and sound faded and Bishop’s body dropped back to the ground.
Silence hung in the air as all eyes locked on Bishop. Jenny was one mili-second from losing her shit when Bishop coughed, and his chest rose with one great inhalation.
Jenny didn’t celebrate. She couldn’t. She was still too close to losing him.
Shoving to her feet, she commanded, “Get him inside. Fast!”
The Walkers around her moved in an instant. Bishop was carried around the cabin, and Jenny rushed to follow.
***
Six hours. It had taken Jenny six whole hours to get all of Bishop’s wounds cleaned and properly sutured. Now, she lay against the wall in the cabin bedroom staring at where Bishop lay on the clean sheets she’d had the men put on after she’d finished her work. She was still coated in her mate’s blood. Hair still damp from the downpour, a shiver coursed through her and she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from the realization that she’d almost lost him.
A soft knock sounded on the door before RedKnife entered. He was carrying a mug of steaming something and a plate topped with a fat sandwich and a side of potato chips. Wordlessly, he crossed the room and dropped to his haunches in front of her before holding the mug and plate out to her. “You need to eat.”
He was right. She was famished and finally, fucking finally, she could actually eat. She’d collared her mate and they’d already consummated, but tonight every ounce of her had claimed him and that was the last step. Their affliction was over.
Pushing herself upright, she winced at the stiffness in her body.
“You were attacked too, Jenny. And, I know you’re one tough woman, but even you need to rest.”
She nodded, not wanting to argue. Setting the mug of coffee on the floor by her hip, eyes on her sandwich, she picked at it before finally asking, “How’d you know?”
RedKnife was good enough to not act confused. Instead, he immediately responded. “I could feel it in my system.” Still squatting, his eyes narrowed on her. “I’m not like other Skin Walkers.”
She nodded still not meeting his eyes. “I know.” And she did. As the lone Indigenous Walker, RedKnife KillsPrettyEnemy, had skills and abilities that were unrivaled even by their Dominant, Monroe StoneCrow.
“I’m sorry,” she offered quietly, peeling a strip of crust off the bread and dropping it onto the plate.
“What you’re doing, what you’ve created can be used to help. You’re just not doing that.”
Finally, she lifted her eyes to his.
“You’re trying to stall out the affliction to give Walkers a chance to meet each other and establish a mutual attraction before nature can force it. You’re trying to give them a choice.”
She nodded and swallowed hard, relieved that someone finally understood.
“You need to understand that most of us don’t want that option. We want the affliction.”
Her mouth fell open as she stared at him. “I…I don’t believe that.” She accused, “Most of you are terrified of finding your Angels!”
“Because we’re terrified of having them used against us. They are our only weakness, the only true weapon that can be used against us. And even knowing that we still want it. What if,” he continued. “What if you used your Intel to lead them to each other instead of trying to keep them apart? You could expedite what it is Monroe is trying to do at StoneCrow.”
“And what’s that?” she asked, eyes crinkling in the corners as suspicion mounted.
“Procreation. Numbers. An eventual army. And monsters with something to fight and die for.”
Jenny felt like she’d been rocked to her core. She’d been told—and had believed—that Monroe was creating a safe haven, a place where Walkers could quietly exist.
“You’re wrong,” she argued. “That’s not what’s happening.
RedKnife didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The idea was planted now, and it took root so damn fast and so damn fully that it blossomed into full-blown realization with dizzying speed.
Holy shit. Blinking rapidly at the comprehension that settled into her soul, Jenny breathed, “Even if it’s true, why in the hell would I want to help him with it? I don’t advocate war.”
RedKnife’s look turned severe. “You will.”
Jenny shook her head in denial.
“You will,” RedKnife repeated, his eye sliding to the side and landing on Bishop. “When the Megalya come back for him.” He turned and looked at her again. “And they will come back for him. They’ll want revenge. What will you do then? What will you be willing to do to keep him safe?”
Sliding her gaze to Bishop, Jenny clenched her jaw hard knowing the answer. She knew that RedKnife knew it too.
“And what will you be willing to do to keep your children safe?”
She looked at RedKnife, anger filling her.
He smirked and shoved to his knees. “That’s what I thought.” He paced to Bishop and stared down at him. “I get your dilemma. The whole do no harm mantra, right?” He grinned over his shoulder at her, “Kinda hard to stick to when demons are hunting what’s yours.” He turned back to Bishop, his grin slipping. “I didn’t want a war either.” He shrugged, “But how’s that saying go? Better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in war.” He shook his head. “I’ve always been a warrior, but for Cindy…”
Jenny saw his hands clench into white-knuckled fists.
“For my Angel, I’ll scour the ends of the earth to bring Monroe every single Walker in existence. They can’t run, they can’t hide from me. For Cindy, I’ll gladly become the wicked snitch of the west.” He chuffed a humorless laugh. “She deserves an army to keep her safe. Our unborn children deserve an army to protect them.”
“We can’t stay in hiding like that. There’ll be too many of us.”
RedKnife settled his hand on Bishop’s chest. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back. “I’m done hiding.”
A blast of power shot from his palm and struck Bishop’s chest, jarring his body.
Jenny sprang to her feet but held herself back. She knew RedKnife had healed his Angel. She didn’t know how it worked. Frankly, she didn’t care.
Lowering his head, RedKnife’s eyes slowly opened and landed on Bishop.
Even from where she was standing, Jenny could see the stitched edges of Bishop’s ragged wounds sealing.
“We’ve been hiding for thousands of years,” RedKnife spoke quietly. “What good has that done us?”
“So you’re going to help Monroe build an army and then go looking for trouble?” Jenny couldn’t help the ire that laced her tone.
“No,” RedKnife answered turning to face her fully. “Not gonna look for trouble. Just not running from it anymore.” He jerked his chin toward the plate still in her hands. “Eat,” he commanded. “I can scent your starvation. It’s unpleasant.” Without another word, he turned and left the room.
Alone, Jenny ignored the plate in her hand and approached Bishop. Her mouth fell open at how good he already looked. His color was back, his wounds healing before her eyes. A whimper left her as she lifted a shaky hand and flattened it on his chest over his heart.
Yeah, an army. Her mate deserved a fucking army.