The Burning City (33 page)

“He’s still alive,” Occam said. “A fighter, isn’t he?”

June and Sam slowly approached the tables from the other side. The overhead light shone on Occam, his skin flushed, the blood continuing to drip from his lower lip. Despite the obvious psychic hysteria on Robbie’s part, he didn’t stir in Occam’s arms.

Occam tossed Robbie’s limp body on the table in front of him. Blood splattered across the blueprints. June jerked back. Robbie’s eyes were open a slit, his mouth slack.

Occam licked his bottom lip. “You’re right. What would I want with this fucking city?”

“What are you doing?” June finally managed to speak. “I thought you were going to turn him.”

Occam slammed his hands on the table. His eyes were glazed, like he was drunk.

“I never betrayed you,” he said to June. “But I sure as hell couldn’t tell you my plan, now could I, seeing as this asshole here is a mind reader. It had to seem legit. You had to be scared. You had to think I was going to sell you out.”

The numbness encasing her broke. “You…never meant to give us to him?” Tears of relief spilled from her eyes.

“Does it appear that way?” Occam looked at Sam. “Could you please put down the goddamn bomb?”

Sam placed the detonator carefully on the table.

“But why?” June choked on her words. “You actually care about stopping Robbie from destroying the city?”

Occam rolled his eyes. He wiped a hand across his chin, smearing blood. “No, I don’t. I’ve told you that a million times. Destroy it. It’ll be easier for us to pick through the wreckage and take what we want instead of trying to wrestle it from you nattering, incompetent shitheads.”

“Then why?” Sam asked. “Why are you doing this?”

“Not that you’re complaining, right?” Occam smacked his lips. “I don’t care about Robbie. I only have one thing I care about. I told you this.”

June could finally pull in a deep breath. “You wanted to keep me alive.”

“Correct. The only thing I give a shit about is getting you out of here, in one piece, for me. And this moron”—he waved at Sam, flinging droplets of blood— “decides to run into the arms of certain death, and you follow him. So what do I gotta do?” He opened his arms, indicating Robbie. “This. And let me tell you, he tastes like shit.” He spat a bloody wad of saliva on Robbie’s chest. “His blood is diseased. Like you, Little Red. Oh, I remember the taste of your blood.”

He’d tasted June’s blood on the porch of his house and claimed he could tell she was dying.

Another meter broke, the glass shattering. June flinched.

“So this was a double cross,” Sam said. “You convinced him to let you drain him.”

Occam made a tah-dah gesture.

The relief shining in Sam’s eyes matched her own, but something else shone in his eyes too—grief, bitterness. His nemesis was defeated, but not by him.

Occam watched a tool box scoot haltingly across the table. “He’s still trying to lash out. But he won’t live long. Even an ultra-telekinetic, mind-reading psycho can’t live without his blood.”

Robbie appeared so deceptively fragile lying there limp, pale, oozing away his life. June’s gun was suddenly yanked out of her hand and skittered away under the table. She didn’t need it now, anyway.

“So before that happens.” Occam delved into his pants pocket. He pulled out one of the closed razors and held it out to Sam. “Do the honors. He’s aware of what’s going on. He’ll feel it.”

Sam stared at the razor.

Occam pointed at June. “And then she comes with me.”

June looked between them.

Slowly, hesitantly, Sam reached out and took the razor.

June stepped back. Her side ached. Her vision swam.

The razor shook in Sam’s hand. Not because his hand shook—because Robbie was trying to pull it away. If he just faded out, the worst monster she’d ever known, it would be an anticlimactic, fizzled end to a terrible life. He didn’t deserve to get off so easy. He didn’t deserve to die peacefully. If Sam didn’t kill him, she would grab the razor and do it herself.

“Do it, Sam,” she said. “Before he bleeds out.”

Fear shone in Sam’s eyes, and pain, the kind she’d seen the night Muse died.

“I’ve never harmed another paranormal person.” His voice was strained. “This isn’t who I am. This is the opposite of what I built the Paranormal Alliance on.”

“This man killed your friends,” June said. “He killed your brother. He deserves this. You’re saving the people you want to protect.”

“I helped,” Occam muttered.

A few tools fell off the table, but fewer things were moving. Robbie’s chest hitched with shallow breaths. His skin had gone gray. The blood pooling around him had reached the edge of the table and trickled over the side, next to Occam’s feet.

“Do it,” June said. “Do it now, while he still knows it’s you who did it.”

“Time’s running out, chump.” Occam drummed his fingers on the table. “He’s about to draw his last breath. Are you telling me you don’t have the balls to kill a man who’s already dying? I knew you were weak, Sam, but this is a whole new low.”

Sam’s face hardened. June stayed at his side, silently encouraging him.

Sam was still for a moment, but then he reached out and grabbed the top of Robbie’s hair.

June had already seen so much death she didn’t flinch. Part of her, some part that had gotten severely twisted, surged with excitement.

Sam yanked Robbie’s head off the table and brought his face close to his. Robbie’s eyelids fluttered, a hint of white peeking out.

“Can you hear me?” Sam’s voice had gone dark. “Do you know who has you right now, Robbie?” He flicked the blade open.

Robbie let out a gust of breath, his lips, mottled dark, opening slightly. His eyelashes fluttered harder. The blade vibrated.

“It’s me, Robbie,” Sam said. “The one you tried to destroy. I hope it was worth it. I hope you got everything you wanted, you fucking monster.”

June clenched her fists.

Sam looked at the blade. “You’re too weak to fight me now. Too weak to hurt those who aren’t you. Is this how you wanted to go down? In the end, you were the shortsighted one. Never trust a vampire, Robbie.”

Occam snorted.

Robbie let out a weak cough. The blade shook, but Sam kept a grip on it.

Sam jerked Robbie’s head. “Tell my brother I said hello. And he’s welcome.”

Sam sank the blade into the side of Robbie’s throat, into his jugular, and dragged it across his neck.

Robbie’s head thumped back on the table as Sam let go of his hair. He made a wet strangled sound, the narrow bright red slit across his throat bubbling out blood. More spurted from the side of his throat, a meager pulse. He’d already lost so much.

Sam took a few steps back and dropped the blade on the floor. June gripped his arm.

Robbie’s limbs twitched. The blood spurting from his jugular grew less and less, and he slowly stilled. A rattling breath wheezed from between his lips, and his chest didn’t rise again. His eyes, half-lidded, stared blankly at the ceiling.

June pressed against Sam’s side, gripping his shirt. A raw coppery scent hung on the air.

“It’s over,” she whispered. “It’s over.” She gripped Sam tighter and buried her face against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her and drew a shaking breath. “It is.”

Occam clapped. “Congratulations.”

June lifted her head and looked fearfully at him. Occam extended an arm, holding a hand out to her.

“Come, darling.”

Sam tightened his arms around her.

“You’re mine now,” Occam said. “That was the deal. You don’t want to betray me, do you? I have a way of dealing with people.”

She untangled herself from Sam. She was resigned to this. She was ready.

Sam clutched her shoulder. “June…”

“It’s all right,” she said. “This has to happen. It’ll be all right.”

She pulled away and walked slowly around the table toward Occam.

Robbie’s blood dripped on the floor, the only sound in the room apart from the hum of the massive machines around them.

“What’s going to happen?” June asked. “How does it work?”

“It’s easy.” Occam beckoned her closer. “I’m a bit full right now.” He patted his stomach. “But it doesn’t matter, you don’t need to drain someone first; that’s where Robbie was ignorant. I do like a bit of ceremony, though. I like at least a taste before I turn someone—especially you, Little Red. Something to remember through the many, many long years we’re going to spend together.”

June stopped in front of him.

“And then I’ll give you a drink of my blood.” He touched his chest. “That’s all it takes. Within the hour you’ll start to feel the change. It’ll be a bit uncomfortable, but not painful. You’ll see the world in a whole new way. I think you’ll like it.”

She swallowed. “And then what? What happens after I change? What will you do with me?”

“Whatever you like.” He moved closer. “We’ll take a little trip. Get away from all the stress.” He looked over at Sam. “You won’t need these people anymore. You won’t even think about them in time. Your new life will be so enriching compared to this.”

“I can’t leave behind everyone I love. You have to let me see them.”

His eyes darkened. “That wasn’t the deal. I do this for you, and you come away with me, forever. You become mine.”

“Occam,” Sam said.

“And I let them live.” Occam pointed at Sam, still looking at her. “I don’t let any harm come to the people you love.”

June blinked back tears and looked at Sam. “I’m sorry. I love you. Tell Jason and Diego I’m sorry and I love them too. And my mother. Tell Jason to take care of her.”

“June.” Sam gazed desperately at her.

She turned back to Occam, tears escaping down her cheeks. “You did what you promised. Even more. I won’t fight it.”

Occam gripped her arm. “I’ll let you watch, Sam. It’s not going to hurt her. Just you.”

Sam started around the table. She held a hand out and he stopped. Occam would kill him if he interfered.

“Just let it happen,” she said. “It’s all right, Sam.”

It wasn’t all right, but it didn’t matter. She’d made her sacrifice.

Occam slipped the other razor out of his pocket and flicked it open. She hissed as he slashed the blade across her forearm.

He’d made only a small slit—enough for blood to ooze out and streak down to her wrist.

“Don’t worry, darling.” Occam lifted her arm. “That’s the last time I’ll hurt you.”

He locked his mouth over the wound. She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side. The sensation of his lips pressed to her skin, wet and warm and slimy, repulsed her. After a thankfully brief taste, he drew back.

She looked back at him, gritting her teeth.

He licked his lips, as though savoring her taste. Hopefully he was right and her mind changed once she transformed, because the idea of spending eternity with him right now was unbearable.

He furrowed his brow.

“What?” she asked.

He tightened his grip on her arm and she winced. He smacked his lips. “Your blood…tastes different.”

He leaned forward and licked up her arm, lapping up the trail of blood. The hot caress of his tongue made her shudder.

His confusion appeared to deepen. He worked his tongue around in his mouth.

She didn’t understand.

Then, his confusion turned to anger. “You’re not dying.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I could taste it before—the way it was eating you. The disease. Just like him.” He jerked his head at Robbie. “It’s gone.”

He tightened his grip painfully and she yelped.

“How am I not dying?” She tried to pull away. “I’ve been sick. I’ve been throwing up every day!”

His crazy, furious gaze frightened her. He locked his mouth over the wound again.

She pushed at his shoulder with her other hand, but couldn’t budge him. “Get off me!”

“Occam!” Sam barked.

Occam jerked up, blood smeared around his mouth. His face sagged. “Oh my God.” He gritted his bloodstained teeth. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

She tried to yank her arm out of his grasp.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He jerked her toward him. “Are you fucking kidding me!”

She struggled. Sam approached them, but stopped a few feet away. “Occam, let her go!”

Occam snarled. “Did you do it on purpose? Did you think it would save you from me?”

She squealed in pain. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Let her go.” Sam had the other razor in his hand.

Occam yanked her against him. He stared into her eyes, his face a few inches away. “Did you do this to stop me? Did you think it would work?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” June tried to pry his fingers off, on the verge of sobbing.

“Does he know?”

She stilled, staring into his eyes. Her arm throbbed in his grip.

Occam tilted his head. “Do you even know?”

She couldn’t process what he was saying for a moment, and then the pieces horrifyingly clicked together. The nausea, mainly in the morning. Putting weight back on. The way her eyes were fading. Her period hadn’t started yet. She flashed back to the news program, the day they’d kidnapped Trina. How the woman had a baby and her powers disappeared.

He let go of her arm, and she stumbled back, gaping, and placed a hand on her stomach.

Occam started laughing, loud and cruel. She gripped the cut on her arm and looked over at Sam, eyes wide. He gaped back at her, his expression mirroring her shock.

“Your powers are what make you beautiful.” Occam continued chuckling, wiping at his eyes with his forearm, the blade still in his hand. “Do you think I like you for your personality?”

She clenched her arm across her stomach, backing toward the tables.

“And now they’re fading!” Occam snarled. He stalked toward her, blade raised.

She screamed, stumbling back.

“Leave her alone!” Sam shouted.

Occam jerked the blade at him. “I will put you on that table with Robbie. I can do it faster than you can do anything to me, mark my words.”

June hit the corner of the table, her ankle catching on the leg, and tumbled to the floor, next to the dead man.