Chapter 45

Rogue played dead, not moving, barely breathing, in a heap on the floor of… somewhere. The curious psychic weight that felt like a crushing inside her skull told her they were underground, which she hated. She wasn’t sure how they’d gotten there, because when she’d been pulled off of Mac’s porch, it had been like she’d been pulled through some sort of different world. Pravus, Mac had called the place where Khain lived. Kind of like Hell was how he’d described it, and that’s what she’d seen as she’d fought so hard that Rex had punched her in the side of the head until she’d gone fuzzy, then slumped her over his shoulder. A gray landscape. Barren. Lots of fire. Bad smells. Not a plant, drop of water, or slice of blue to be seen anywhere. But whatever that land had been, they weren’t there anymore. No, this place smelled like home. Like Earth. Like Chicago. Like… Soren’s place. She took a longer breath, and the slight movement hurt her broken wrist. Oh fucking hell shit damn. She sucked in a teeny tiny breath and tried like hell not to move again.

She took stock of her body. Head? Pounding and dizzy. Wrist? Broken, like really broken, bleeding and- shit, she didn’t want to even look at it, it looked so bad. Shoulder? Sore. Other than that, she felt ok. Her knife holsters were gone completely, but her pack was still around her waist.

She wasn’t sure if she had passed out or not, but thought chances were good that she had, at least a little. Who knew that you had dreams when you were passed out? She’d had one. One about Mac, promising he was coming to save her. I’m coming, Roe. She’d never had to be saved in her life, never had anyone willing to save her before, and she didn’t know how she felt about it. Scratch that. She did know. She hated it and loved it at the same time. Every day was a barrel of laughs inside Rogue’s head.

She opened her eyes just a slit, to see what there was to see. White five-gallon buckets stacked floor to ceiling against a gray wall, ‘Emergency Food Supply’ stamped on each bucket. Lovely. A fucking prepper’s paradise. How was Mac even going to begin to find her?

She tried to push to her feet but was stayed by a wave of nausea. The room spun and she slumped, trying to make it stop.

She opened her eyes again. The only other thing in her line of sight was a table covered with junk. But no, when she looked harder, slitting her eyes and concentrating, she saw wires, pieces of twisted metal, what looked like part of a discarded suitcase, some clock faces, and a shit-ton of tools. She’d watched enough primetime TV to know what she was looking at. Someone was working on a bomb. Or something they wanted to look like a bomb.

She heard a voice and knew at once it was the evil Jeff Bridges. That fucking fucker who’d punched her in the side of the head. He was gonna regret that shit. He was far from her, in another room, but coming closer.

“Believe me, brother, there’s something here that you're going to want to see. Something that’s going to change your mind. Just walk right past the cops. Once you’re inside, you’re fine. No, you don't have any choice. Your bloodline has decided for you. Yeah. See you in five. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He was coming closer, right up next to her. Rogue tried to curl her broken wrist underneath her body but too late, he was there. Very deliberately, he stomped on the open part, where the bone was showing. Rogue tried not to give him the satisfaction, but she screamed. She couldn’t help it.

He stepped back, grinning. “Just had to make sure you were awake.”

Mac’s gonna kill you for that, she thought savagely, if I don’t do it first. She sucked in huge lungfuls of air and hugged her broken limb to herself, knowing that she didn’t have a chance of killing him like this, unless she got awfully lucky. Mac was going to have to do it.

She sucked in a breath. “You were watching me.” She’d felt him, but he must have instinctually known she could. Him disappearing and made her unable to track his interest.

Rex didn’t respond. “You were in that cop's house for an awfully long time. Good thing you finally came outside. I almost gave up waiting for you. What were you doing in there?”

“Playing Scrabble. America’s favorite word game. We went into quintuple overtime.”

He laughed and his beer belly jiggled. Lovely. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Ok, you got me. We were really playing Dungeons and Dragons. I’m a level 20 bard. He’s a level 2 barbarian. Guess who won.”

Rex put his hands on his knees and bent down to stare right in her eyes, his expression nasty. He reached for her and Rogue hated that she flinched, but all he did was pull her shirt away from her “Those marks on your neck say different, Rogue.”

He said her name like it was stupid. She would really kill him for that.

“You were getting claimed, weren’t you? No wonder Soren liked you. He saw something in you I didn’t. You’re a promised, aren’t you?”

Yeah, promised to kick your ass, dickhead. Somehow.

His eyes narrowed as if he could hear her thoughts. Then he nodded. “That’s what you must be. One of the angel-born, created for the shiften? Soren’s a shiften, too, you know. I wonder what he could do with you.” He stood up straight and walked around a bit, picking a piece of metal up from the table, then placing it back down, deep in thought. Then he faced her again. “What I really should do is take you straight to The Father. If I needed his favor, you would be perfect, but luckily I don’t right now. I’ll hang on to you, use you for my own ends. The big show starts in a few hours.” He looked at his watch. “Your buddies over there at the SPD are all gonna have bigger things to deal with than trying to find one wayward promised.” His face tightened. “If there’s any of them left.”

Rogue squirmed, trying to think clearly, trying to reason her way past the fog the pain was placing over her mind. A searing, jarring knowing forced its way into her head, that she was missing something, something important, that she’d heard the first time she’d eavesdropped on Rex and Soren talking. SPD. Lombard! Oh no! The sick realization of what Rex had planned slammed into Rogue like a wrecking ball.

The sound of a door opening came to both of them and Rex scrambled to get closer to her, pulling one of her own knives out of his back pocket. He moved behind her, and she saw Soren come around a corner and into the room, his silver-white hair and oversized moustache perfect, as always. His face went ashen when he saw her. “Rex, no,” he said, his voice stricken.

“Don’t come any closer, Soren. She’s yours. I brought her for you. But you must go to The Father. You must join us.”

“Not like this, Rex, never like this.” He clenched his fists tight by his side and challenged his brother. “Why doesn’t The Father just come and take me, if he wants me?”

Rex’s voice was low. “Don’t you see? If he has to come and take you, he’s going to kill you. He’s planning something, something big, and he won’t stand for questioning anyone’s loyalty. He doesn’t need you.”

Soren shook his head. “So be it. I’d rather be killed by him, than join the fight on his side. I’ve told you that, Rex. Why can’t you accept it?”

A hand grabbed Rogue by the hair and jerked her neck back, causing her entire arm to scream in pain and her vision to swim.

“You’ve forced my hand,” Rex snarled. “But you’ll thank me for this someday. Go to him, say the words, or I kill her.”

Rogue tried not to show how much she was hurting. The weight of all of her choices fell on her at once, especially as her own knife met the skin of her neck, pressing there, slicing, exactly as she’d done to Mac, making her own blood flow in a new place. She was the villain in this story, and even though there were worse ones than her, she couldn’t excuse it anymore. If she lived through this, she was done. She wanted to be the hero from now on. No more stealing, no more coercing, no more dealing with bad guys like this shithead who had ahold of her hair. She was done with it all. She tried to look Soren in the eye, maybe telegraph a little bit of that to him. Maybe he could make a few different choices, too. “No, Soren, don’t do it, not for me.”

Soren gave her a weak smile. “I would do anything for you. Remember me like I was.” He tried to wink at her, but it fell flat.

“No!” she cried, holding out her good hand. “Especially if- Are you… going to be changed?”

Soren nodded, his voice grave, as he motioned at Rex. “I think so. My brother didn’t used to be like this. So completely and totally without a conscience.”

Rex laughed softly, pulling her hair as his body moved.

“Maybe not,” she whispered. “I know a foxen who has the mark on his chest, and he’s a good guy. A simple guy, not evil.”

Her head was yanked backwards and she let out a part scream, part sigh through gritted teeth. Rex looked at her upside down. “Boe, you’ve seen Boe? Where is he?”

She stared at him, willing him to believe her. Boe didn’t need to be found by the likes of him. “Dead. He aged twenty years in two weeks and died in front of me.”

Rex’s eyes narrowed, but he gave her hair some slack so she could face forward again. He addressed Soren. “Go in the other room. If The Father crosses over, you don’t want him seeing her, or she really will be dead. Hurry. He becomes more accepting of that wolfen with his crazy tales every day. You must become more important to The Father than he is.”

Rogue squeezed her eyes closed as Soren did as he was told. He spoke in the other room so softly she couldn’t hear his words, but the weight of them was heavy. The smell of dead smoke drifted in to her, and she knew he was gone.