Reaper (14 page)

Weary and frustrated, Wendy stood up. “Carry him to my room,” she told Lily and Elle, as Wendy headed for her climbing tree. “Eddie can lead you there and I'll sneak in my usual way.”

Once they were all safely in her room, Wendy closed the window and began pulling down the blinds. It was a good thing she hadn't come in through the front door; already she could hear Chel downstairs, starting up the treadmill in the living room.

“Every Lost skipped town weeks ago,” Elle said as Wendy finished
drawing the blinds shut. “We sent ’em on their merry way ourselves.”

“Sad as it is, death is a part of life. Many children die every day,” Lily said grimly. “We need only find one of them.”

When Eddie made a disbelieving sound, Lily narrowed her eyes and jerked up her chin. “You have been living, and are still living, yes? Then you cannot hope to understand our ways. With the Riders a Lost is always protected and in return they heal us, give us the energy to keep on in this bleak hell that is the afterlife. It is our pact. One such as you, not even yet dead, can have no idea how the wheels of the Never work. Hush your ignorant mouth.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said, chagrined. “It just seems so…mercenary.”

“Welcome to the Never,” Elle snorted. “Leave your scruples at whatever nasty bit'o'business dropped you off in this hellhole to begin with.”

She hugged herself loosely, arms crossed across her stomach, and shivered, eying Piotr's lolling body with resigned sadness. The wounds caused by Wendy's kiss were rapidly healing but the hole in his side was still seeping and raw.

“After I crossed over, Petey here was the first one to find me; he gave me purpose, introducing me to the other Riders, explaining about the Lost. If it weren't for him…I owe him one. More than one, if I'm bein’ honest. So let's do this thing.”

“He is in good hands with you,” Lily told Wendy, tenderly lifting Piotr's head from her knapsack and settling it back on the floor. “When he wakes, wrap his wounds—ankle, side—and apply a salve to his burns if one can be found.”

“I've got supplies we can use on him, but I can't fix him up myself,” Wendy protested weakly. “Even for a second. I'll hurt him.”

“Then your friend must do it,” Lily said gravely. She turned to Eddie. “Can I trust you to take care Piotr, of my friend, even though he threatened you earlier? It was clearly not him talking, but this sickness, this poison's madness. You have my word on that.”

“Yeah,” Elle agreed. “Petey can be a bit of a bluenose every now and then, but overall he's good stock.”

“Oh geeze, of course I'll help,” Eddie grumbled. “I'll fix him up if for no other reason than a guy can't stand the three of you looking all mopey at him. One of you, maybe, but all three is just overkill.”

“I thank you,” Lily said, nodding once at Eddie and then stepping through the bedroom door.

“You're pretty keen, you know that?” Elle said and, leaning up, bussed Eddie on the jaw, letting her lips linger in the hollow of his cheek. Behind the cover of their bodies, Elle pressed a dagger into Eddie's hand. “This is for you. Take good care of it.”

Eddie nervously slid the sheath into a belt loop. “Um, thanks, I guess?”

“No thanks needed, handsome,” Elle said, winking at Wendy as she drew away but still addressing Eddie. “If you end up staying here in the Never, you and me can have a bit of a talk later. And if you're really lucky maybe the bank'll be open.”

“I'm sorry—and I mean this sincerely—but I haven't the faintest idea what on earth you're talking about. There're banks for the dead?” Eddie asked.

“Okay, thanks, everything's peachy, we'll take good care of him, bye now!” Wendy said sharply, scowling at Elle as she none-too-gently guided the smirking ghost through the door. She waited until she saw the two girls walking across the lawn below to shake her head in amused annoyance. “Elle's…a character. I'll give her that.”

“Jealous?” Eddie asked slyly.

“Over you? Pshaw.” Wendy tossed her head. “You can handle a short-skirted blonde any day of the week.”

“Oh yeah? Well what about him?” Eddie looked pointedly down to Piotr. “What're we going to do if he wakes up and he's still all ‘grrr’?”

“I am awake,” Piotr said groggily, opening his eyes. “And I can assure you, I am not all, uh, ‘grrr.’ In fact my head feels like…
like…” he laughed weakly. “Forgive me, my friends, I can't think of anything witty to say. My head, it aches greatly.”

Frowning around the room, he waved Eddie over and offered his hand. “Edward, I wish to apologize for earlier. I'd never attack a man for no reason, but I am not exactly feeling myself right now. I am in great pain.” He touched his side gingerly and frowned. “As you can see.”

“Yeah, if I had a hole that size in me, I'd be testy too,” Eddie said, kneeling down. “Lucky for you, I've got a little bit of experience patching people up. Not much, just basic first aid, but it'll be enough for now until we can get a kid out here.”

“A kid?” Piotr looked to Wendy.

“Lily and Elle went to find a Lost,” she explained, opening her desk drawer and pulling out a box of scavenged medical supplies she'd picked up during her rounds in the Never.
Always be prepared for anything
, her mother's voice echoed in her mind.
Always watch your back
.

“They're fools,” he said, not unkindly. “Sweet and misguided fools.”

“They care about you,” Wendy replied simply, leaving the makeshift first aid kit on the desk for Eddie. “I say let ’em try.”

“And you?” Piotr purposefully didn't look at Eddie, though he could feel Eddie stiffen at the question. “Do you care about me?”

“That depends.” Parting the blackout shades, Wendy glanced out the window. Despite the obscenely early hour, a car was driving very slowly down her street. “You apologized to Eddie for threatening him, but I didn't hear an apology for swiping at me.”

Piotr frowned. “I…I attacked you?”

“Let me guess. You don't remember.” Wendy sighed and shook her head, watching as the car paused at every house.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I came to find you, to warn you, and I found you with—”

Flushing, Piotr broke off and tried again. “I was angry—too angry for reason, for logic—I literally saw red, and then…
nothing.” He winced as Eddie used his stillness as an excuse to begin treating his wounds with the ethereal supplies Wendy had scavenged. Piotr jumped and writhed as the first splashes of the rubbing alcohol hit the open wound.

Hissing under his breath and forcing himself to talk through the pain, Piotr continued, “If I tried to hurt you, Wendy, I am truly sorry. I would never—”

“You did,” Eddie said sharply. Then he sighed. “But I don't think anyone is blaming you, not anymore, at least. Or, maybe they are, but I'm not.”

“You are a very confusing man,” Piotr said.

“Yeah, don't I know it. Look Pete, this stuff, whatever this gunk is, it is
tres
nasty, okay? I don't think
I'd
keep my cool if this junk were inside me eating away, and considering this crap, I'm not blaming you for being a dick. Watch. Okay, I pour this here,” Eddie poured another swig into Piotr's wound and Piotr hissed sharply, “I pour this here and the alcohol is doing nothing to clean out any of this black grit.” He pointed into the wound, at a section that looked as if it had been gnawed at by wild animals.

“Whatever this is, I can't fix it. Maybe if I had better—what d'you all call it?—better salvage? Hydrogen peroxide, saline, a blowtorch…you know, something way stronger. Maybe then.”

“But for now?” Piotr asked plaintively, half amused and half aggravated at how easily Eddie was taking his pain. “What now?”

“For now we'll have to wait for this kid, this Lost or whatever, to get here. It's all I can do, man. I'm sorry.”

“I think Chel's still got a couple bottles of peroxide in the bathroom,” Wendy suggested. “She's so attached to them I wouldn't be surprised if there isn't a Never version sitting on a back shelf.”

Frowning, Eddie stepped away from Piotr and gestured to Wendy. When she joined him, he pitched his voice low and said, “Have you looked—I mean really
looked
—at that hole he's sporting?”

“Of course not,” Wendy replied wrinkling her nose. “That seemed…rude.”

“Forget rude, this is important. Go look in that hole. Hold your breath if you have to, but take a glance.” Eddie sighed and approached her door. “I'm gonna check the bathroom and see if you're right about that peroxide. Maybe it'll work. Be right back.”

Shaking her head, Wendy tentatively approached Piotr and knelt down as Eddie passed through the far wall. “Do you mind if I—”

“Do your worst,” Piotr said softly. “For you, Wendy, I give you anything you ever want.” He smiled. “Though, if you don't mind, I'd like a kiss as a reward for being so very, very brave.” He winked and Wendy laughed.

“I thought we were broken up?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” he said, pitching his voice low and eyeing the wall Eddie had vanished through. “But even if so, would you deny a man in pain such a little thing? I have not seen you in many days, after all, and I missed the sight of your face.”

“Goofball,” she said and glancing at the wall, pecked Piotr quickly on his lips. He hissed in pain and she nodded. “See? Not such a spiffy idea right now, is it?”

“Indeed,” he agreed morosely. “This is new and unexpected. Unpleasantly so.”

“I have to say that I agree,” Wendy said, carefully peeling back his tattered shirt so she could see the hole. Eddie returned, a bottle in hand. Gently laying the shirt back down, she rose and rejoined Eddie at the window.

“It's swelling like some sort of boil,” she whispered, troubled. “Almost like there's something growing in there. What in the heck happened to him?”

“I don't know,” Eddie whispered back. “But whatever it is—and yeah, understatement of the year, I know—it isn't good.”

Just then, the car wandering the streets below pulled into
Wendy's driveway and a familiar figure stepped out of the driver's side, jogging lightly across the lawn to the front door.

“Oh no, Eddie,” Wendy said sharply, hurrying across the room and flinging open her closet door. “Help Piotr into the closet and hide. Finish tending to…that…stuff in there.” Downstairs the doorbell rang. Wendy heard Chel move to answer it.

Eddie resisted her shoving hands. “What are you—” There were muffled words from below.

“I'm not playing, Eds! Do it now!”

“I'm not—we're not—going anywhere until you explain what's going on,” Eddie protested, though Piotr, noting Wendy's frantic expression, had moved into the closet without question.

“Just trust me, okay?” Wendy pleaded as, behind her, her bedroom door opened.

Chel stuck her head in. “Wendy? You up?” She paused for a moment, frowned, and then added woodenly, “Oh. You're up. And dressed already. In the same stuff from yesterday.”

“Yep, just raring to go for the day!” Wendy said as brightly as she dared, glad yet again that Chel couldn't see into the Never. Eddie, half in and half out of the closet, waved weakly at Chel while Piotr, hand pressed to his side, sagged against the door.

“Right. You have a guest. Downstairs. Waiting on the couch. At six a.m.,” Chel said and then turned on her heel, slamming the door shut. Next door, Wendy heard Jon shout in surprise and fall out of bed.
Great
, she thought to herself,
now everybody's up
.

“Huh,” Eddie drawled. “The buffy's a little testy today. Will wonders never cease.”

“Her cardio is probably ruined for the day or something,” Wendy said darkly. “I wish she didn't have to wake Jon with her theatrics.”

But something about Chel's shuttered expression bothered Wendy—and then there was the fact that normally Chel wasn't big on slamming doors that didn't belong to her. Her door was fair
game—it got slammed all the time—but Wendy's door stuck and Jon's had softener hinges, so they were no fun to slam at all. Chel forgot only when she was truly angry or upset.

“I should go talk to her,” Wendy muttered, but then remembered her visitor downstairs. “Damn it, I don't think I'm going to have time, though.”

Eddie perked up. “So, do we still have to go in the closet?”

“Just to be safe,” Wendy said. “Just until I go.”

“Okay, crazy lady,” Eddie said, waving the bottle goodbye in her general direction. “But you owe us.”

“Uh huh. Owe you ice cream in December. Bye now.” Wendy closed the closet door behind them and, grabbing her purse, hurried downstairs. Emma sat waiting for her on the couch.

“I
thought you were going to text or something first?” Wendy asked, eyeing Chel who, in addition to the rap pumping from her phone headphones, was pounding on the treadmill so fast there was no way she'd be able to make out their conversation.

“And I thought you would sleep,” Emma replied coolly, standing as Wendy approached. Despite the early hour and the fact that she was dressed in grey yoga pants and a plain black hoodie, Emma somehow made the whole ensemble seem as elegant as a pinstriped suit. “You're no use to me slow. I need you on your toes.”

“I can handle myself.” Yawning, Wendy glanced down at herself. She was still wearing her grimy, mud-splattered clothing from yesterday; a fact she knew hadn't escaped Emma's attention. She wondered if she should go change; she knew that she had to stink like day-old sweat and wet dog, and wherever they were going there was no guarantee a miniskirt would be the best choice of attire.

Screw it, she decided, after spying Emma's lip curl. She'd wear anything to get under this hoity-toity shrew's skin.

“HEY!” Wendy turned to Chel and waved wildly. “I'M LEAVING!”

“WHATEVER!” Chel shouted over her headphones, making a shooing gesture. “BYE!”

“Where are we going, again?” Wendy asked, leading Emma to the front door. There, she grabbed her grubbiest sneakers, glad that she'd left them downstairs the day before. Jon was just coming down the stairs but Emma nudged Wendy out the door before she could stop and introduce the two of them.

“That is for me to know and you to find out.” As they approached Emma's BMW, Wendy realized that Jane was lounging in the passenger seat. When Jane slid out of the convertible to let Wendy in, she winked. Nervously, Wendy glanced back at her house and was dismayed to realize that Eddie and Piotr were peeking out the window. Idiots! Wendy nearly flung herself into the backseat, praying that neither Jane nor Emma would look up, as Jane settled into the shotgun seat. Piotr and Eddie were lucky; thankfully, neither of the two Reapers glanced around.

“Long time no see,” Wendy said brightly as Emma slid behind the wheel. If the M6 had been Wendy's car, she would have spent several minutes caressing that buttery-soft leather interior; Emma started the car, which purred to life immediately, and backed onto the street without glancing behind to make sure the way was clear.

“No kidding. You've been busy, huh?” Jane asked, popping a bubble, lightly touching the thin silver lines of ink that crawled over her exposed collarbone and twisted in circles just above her breasts. “Get comfy, tater tot, we've got us some drivin’ to do.”

Having Jane along made the ride with Emma easier. Wendy sat in the middle of the back and Jane reclined the passenger side seat as far as it would go so they could talk. Wendy politely kept her eyes trained on Jane's face so she wouldn't have to notice the way every shift made Jane's hardly-there shirt shimmy further and further down.

“Ugh, why must the day-star be so bright?” Covering her eyes with her forearm, Jane popped another bubble, and a wave of faux-grape scent permeated the air between them. She dug in her pocket and pulled out a dented tin, popping it open to expose several purple-colored pellets. “Hey, Wendy, want some?”

“Um, no thanks,” Wendy said, sitting back and breathing through her mouth. “I haven't brushed my teeth yet. They're feeling a little too scummy for gum.” Her stomach growled. “Food and tired don't mix for me.”

“Yeah, you don't look like you got a whole lotta shut-eye,” Jane said, peeping out from beneath her arm and grinning. “Very meth chic, actually. That Walker attack still bugging you?”

“Walker attack?” Emma asked.

“Already over, don't worry your pretty little head over it,” Jane said breezily. “We mopped ’em up.”

“I'm fine,” Wendy said, wondering why Jane hadn't let Emma in on how they'd met. “What about you? Did you sleep?”

“I never sleep,” Jane chuckled. “It's my superpower.”

“She stays up all night screwing around on the ’net,” Emma supplied, swerving into another lane without signaling. “Instead of studying for her practicals.” The car behind them laid on the horn, but Emma was already switching lanes again.

“Hey now, I study,” Jane protested mildly. “I just don't feel the need to cram all the known knowledge in the world up my butt the way you do.” She casually reached under her shirt and scratched the underside of her ribs, exposing more of the intricate filigree of ink etched into her skin.

“And Wendy, if you ever want to drive Emma nutso, misuse ‘lie’ and ‘lay’ in a sentence. Or, if you really want to get Emmaline's panties in a twist, mix up ‘I’ and ‘me.’” Jane giggled and adopted a valley-girl tone. “So, like, me and my friends went to the mall—”

“I will get through this day,” Emma said abruptly. “I will get through this day. I will get through this day without killing them both even if it gives me an aneurism, I swear on the names of the Good Ones.”

“I haven't done anything wrong,” Wendy protested.

“You will,” Emma ground out. “You didn't sleep and you can't help yourself. And Jane isn't helping.” She punched her cousin on the thigh. “Your breast is exposed and you're scandalizing Wendy. Cover it. She's got a tough road ahead of her today, she doesn't need you flashing her.”

“Oh yeah, hey, I heard it through the grapevine that you were some sort of natural!” Jane said, rolling her eyes at Emma and shifting so that her shirt was back in its proper place. “Is that really true?”

“Yeah,” Wendy said, not missing Emma's grimace in the rearview mirror. “Apparently I am. Why?”

“Just curious. I've never met one. I always thought they were, you know, like Bigfoot or something. High five!” Jane stuck her hand out and Wendy, feeling as if she'd inadvertently stumbled into some Alice in Wonderland offshoot with ghosts, tentatively high-fived her back.

“Ssss,” Jane hissed, holding her hand limp and waving it frantically, pretending to cool it off, “Hot!”

“Haha,” Wendy said, trying not to imagine the natural Nana Moses had told her about, unable to reap and burning to a crisp from the inside out. How hot had she gotten at the end? Had her flesh really burned up or had that just been poetic license?

“So you're probably wondering why I'm tagging along, huh?” Jane tweaked an earring and stretched languorously, so that her spine crackled. The pointy heels of her shoes scraped the dash.

“My car is more expensive than your skin,” Emma snapped, shoving Jane's feet off the interior. “Watch it!”

“Bite me,” Jane replied coolly.

“The thought had passed my mind, yeah,” Wendy said.

“We're getting you marked up supa’ soon, none of this pansy protection-only crap your momma laid down on you,” Jane said, crossing her left leg over her right. “Great G'ma wants me to survey what I gotta work with as pertaining to that pert flesh o'yours, cuz, since I do most of the ink for the fam, don'tcha know.”

“Hey now, I never agreed to that. I don't want any more tattoos,” Wendy said, irritated that this strange family was already issuing edicts. “Mine work just fine.”

“No. Your skin has to be redone,” Emma said. “Your current tattoos hardly protect you from Shades, much less anything serious. If you're worried about future employment, Jane will keep them to your torso and upper thighs. She's quite good at concealing the ink.”

“Only way, sorry, I know it sucks.” Jane traced a pattern on what appeared to be a bare patch of skin on her shoulder but as Wendy looked more closely she realized that there were fine lines etched there as well. White ink.

“Maybe,” Wendy hedged, marveling how closely she had to stare at the ink to see it, “white ink like yours might be okay.”

“Awesome blossom. We'll do your measurements this morning before the main event, and after I see how you move I'll have a good idea how to tat you up,” Jane said approvingly, tapping her shoulder and winking. “Aaand, we're here.”

“Here” turned out to be Fort Funston. They parked near the beach, and Jane bounded out of the car, leaving Wendy to struggle out of the narrow backseat on her own. Emma popped the trunk and disappeared for a moment, returning with a large beach towel, a threadbare Army duffel bag, and a handful of scrunchies. She handed a scrunchie to Wendy and gathered up her long hair as she disappeared down the closest dune, heading toward the water.

“Okay, girly-girl, time to get this party started.” Spinning around and around, Jane laughed as the wind picked up strands of her gleaming blue hair, and she flung her arms out, embracing the sunrise before she nudged Wendy in the direction Emma had gone. “Let's do this thing!”

“But this is Fort Funston,” Wendy protested, glancing around the parking lot. It was bare of people, but several cars suggested that others were about. “People hike and walk their dogs and hang-glide just over that hill; we can't do this here!”

“You just have to know the right places in the park,” Emma's voice echoed from near the water. “The bunker is this way.”

“Bunker?”

Hesitating, Wendy sank as deep into the shadows as she could, nervous fingers splayed across her chest and gut. If she'd known this was part of the training, she wasn't sure she'd have been so gung-ho about doing it. Did her mother have to do something like this? It hardly seemed like the sort of nonsense Mary would put up with.

“Come on, sunshine,” Jane said, not unkindly, pausing at the top of the hill. “Emma's not pulling your leg about the bunkers.”

“Aren't the bunkers abandoned?” Wendy asked, following as slowly as she dared. “And locked?”

“We're Reapers,” Jane said simply, guiding Wendy toward a rusted bunker door set close to the sea. It was layered thickly with bright graffiti, each colorful design outdoing the last. “You think something simple like a lock is gonna keep us out?”

“I'm not an idiot,” Wendy said testily. “Even a beginner can see that the Never is strong here.” She jerked her thumb toward a nearby sagging, rickety pier in the living world that was still strong and straight in the Never.

“Good eye,” Jane said approvingly. “But no, I meant these.” She rifled in her pocket and pulled out a key ring. Most of the keys on the ring were old and rusted, but one shone like new. “It's all legit.”

“Keys? Actual keys to the bunkers?” Wendy had to forcibly close her mouth to keep it from gaping. “Do I want to even know how you got those?”

“With this family? Hah, probably not.” Jane tossed the key ring to Emma, waiting at the doorway to the bunker. Emma caught it one-handed.

“Every time I think I have you guys figured out you go and throw me for another loop,“ Wendy muttered. She had a bad feeling about the rusting hulk and the ease with which Emma and Jane were treating this entire excursion. Part of her wanted to turn around and hike to the closest bus stop; another part, however, was desperately curious what the inside of the bunker looked like. She glanced over her shoulder at their footprints leading down the hill, noting that they'd walked in a single line, obscuring who'd gone before.
If this were one of those CSI shows
, she quietly mused,
no one would be able to tell how many of us there were by our footprints alone
.

“Come on, sunshine,” Jane said, grabbing Wendy just above the elbow and forcefully steering her away from the light and sand to the rusted metal doorway. “We've adventuring to do. Here's the hidey-hole, Alice. Let's go visit Wonderland. Or Neverland. I get the two confused sometimes. Some kinda land, it don't matter much, at least not to you, not now. Ready?”

With Jane's fingers splayed against her back, Wendy grudgingly descended the creaking steps into the bowels of the bunker. It didn't look like much on the outside, just a garish, largish metal hut near the seashore, sand and scrub all around. Once you got underground, however, there was so much more. The bunker stretched in a long row of rooms for as far as Wendy could make out, dimly lit by flickering incandescent bulbs screwed loosely into wires and dangling dangerously overhead. The first room was large, larger than the first floor of Wendy's house, and empty save for a huge faded circle in old yellow paint. There were brown splotches and white streaks all over the room, but mainly in the circle.

“Is that bird poop?” Wendy asked, stepping off the last step and kneeling down to get a closer look at the streaks. Whatever creature made the mess, it certainly looked like it didn't belong underground. “How did birds get down here?”

“Mystery of mysteries,” Jane said breezily. “Hey, Emma, look, I don't want one of those ancient bulbs popping and dropping glass on my head. You got the lantern ready?”

Emma, setting down a military-grade camping lantern beside the far curve of the circle, knelt beside it a moment, and then flicked a thumbs-up toward Jane. “Go.”

Jerking to her feet, Wendy found herself shivering as Jane slapped a switch near the door with one hand.

The room, hardly lit to begin with, dropped into sullen darkness. Suddenly a disembodied hand squeezed her left hip and Wendy yelped, jumping aside.

“Honestly, Jane,” Emma said coolly, stepping to the left of Wendy and laying down the beach towel, settling the duffel bag on top. “Must you be so vulgar? Can't you see she's embarrassed enough as it is? Must you paw at her like she's one of your little sororstitute sluts? It's hardly humorous or endearing.”