Page 30 of Concluded
“Vampires?” Dee looked to the sky, as if Dracula might suddenly flap down through the open ceiling despite the sunshine.
“Gnomes.Dragons.Demons.Merpeople.Harpies.Sasquatches.And hundreds more, most of whom you’ve never heard of.”
“And your job is to kill them.”
“No,” Achilles said with more strength than Dee would have thought he could muster.“My job is to protect everyone from monsters—human and otherwise.I’m not doing too great at it right now, though.”
“Well… you’re not dead.And you didn’t give in to Ashley.”As pep talks went, it wasn’t great.But Dee had never given one before and it was the best he could do.
Achilles laughed again, coughed, and sighed.“I guess that’s something.”Then he went quiet, his breathing uneven.Dee wasn’t sure whether to continue talking or let the guy rest.Hell, he wasn’t sure ofanything.
That wasn’t true.Hewassure that freeing Achilles had been the right thing to do, even if it got both of them killed.At least if he ever got a chance to face himself in a mirror again, Dee wouldn’t turn away.He was weird at best and had more than his share of flaws, but he wasn’t the kind of person who would help torture someone else.
That was good to know.
CHAPTER13
Anumbness had settled over Achilles.He should have been relieved, because it meant the pain no longer ate at him, but instead he found it unsettling.Before, he’d been hollow, and now he felt barely connected at all.He imagined his spirit—his soul, his anima, whatever it was—as a bit of gray fluff, attached to his corporeal self by nothing more than a slender strand of silk.The only thing keeping him together was the warm body behind him and the strong encircling arms.
Achilles hadn’t expected Dee to release him from those chains.And he certainly hadn’t expected him to get Achilles to safety and keep him as comfortable as possible.Honestly, Achilles had spent much of his life assuming the worst of people, so it came as a huge surprise to discover that someone was better than his initial behaviors implied.
When all of this was over—assuming Achilles survived—he’d see a shrink.Maybe a therapist could help him work through his low expectations.
He was still thinking about this when a coyote trotted into the building with a backpack held in its teeth.It dropped the pack, shivered, and became a grinning man.Boone, of course, and he looked pleased with himself.
“No phone.Sorry.But there’s water bottles, food, and some stuff to keep you warm.It’s too bad you can’t grow fur.”
As Achilles licked his parched lips, Martell—no, Dee—helped him sit up and lean back against the stone wall.Then Dee attacked the backpack, pulling out the promised bottles along with an assortment of packaged protein bars, trail mix, snack chips, and candy.There was also clothing: a pair of olive-green sweatpants, a matching sweatshirt, a knitted cap, and a pair of thick socks.Dee helped Achilles dress.It was maddening to be so weak, but warm clothing certainly made him feel better.
“Where did you find all of this?”Dee asked.
Boone, who apparently didn’t care about his own nudity—shifters rarely did—plopped down to sit cross-legged.“Visitors’ center.We’re inside a national monument because of the adobe ruins.”
“Why didn’t you just have the rangers call for help?”Dee demanded.
“They closed the monument to the public a few days ago and fired all the rangers.”
Achilles paused before taking a sip from a water bottle.“Why?”
“Feds, man.They’re doing all sorts of crazy stuff.Our clan leader heard they want to lease out the land for mineral rights.”Boone scowled.“We run on these lands.Hunt on them.We always have.If men come in with machinery, clawing away at the earth….”
“I understand.I’ll speak with my boss about it, although I can’t guarantee anything.A lot’s going down right now.”
Although Boone remained man-shaped, for a moment he didn’t look at all human.Maybe it was something about his eyes.But he nodded gravely.“I understand.I can smell it in the wind.It’s bad.”
Well, lovely—a confirmation that Achilles didn’t especially welcome.But he continued to sip the water and nibble at the snacks.He was ravenous and wanted to gobble all of it, but he knew better.The last thing any of them needed was him puking his guts out.Or worse.Anyway, although he was still in sorry shape, he felt a lot better now that he was hydrated, had a little food in his belly, and felt warmed by the soft clothing.
“The Bureau owes you a debt for your help,” Achilles told Boone.“And I owe you a debt as well.”
Boone’s expression softened and he looked pleased.
After Achilles decided he’d eaten enough, he lay back down, using the now-empty backpack as a pillow.He pretended he didn’t miss the comfort of Dee’s embrace.The sun was high overhead now, although there was still a chill in the air, and the sky was a clear blue.Dee and Boone quietly rustled some of the snack bags, but the only other sounds were bird calls.Achilles could imagine the roars of excavators and backhoes, the stink of diesel exhaust, the gaping holes in the ground like wounds that would never heal.Countless plants and animals killed instantly or withering away through loss of habitat.And a thousand years of human history carelessly wiped out.Not the biggest atrocity the world was facing right now, but also not negligible.
“Where are all your scars from?”Boone asked through a mouthful of Doritos.
During a training session, Agent Becker had mentioned that coyote shifters respected scars as marks of having survived something dangerous.Becker himself was disfigured from his encounter with aliens, but he always wore his scars with pride.
“They’re from a lot of things,” Achilles said.“I think my first happened when I was eight, messing around with a pocket knife.My most recent ones came from a bear shifter.”
