More Than Flesh & Bone

Chapter 29

ASSHOLERY

"Where is it?" I asked for the hundredth time.

Zayne grinned maniacally up at me. You'd think after a week of being mine and Missy's prisoner that he might have snapped. Told us something. Anything.

But no.

He was just as much of a smartass as he was the first time he woke up in the basement.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he mused, looking at the ceiling. He acted like he was on some sort of vacation stay instead of tied up to yet another chair, with his hands behind his back and feet secured to the legs. His hair was greasy and unwashed. It stayed lank against his sweaty forehead. While we allowed bathroom breaks on occasion, showering wasn't a necessity and, frankly, too dangerous to attempt, even if he did smell like BO.

"Yes, I would," I sputtered, throwing my hand wide. "That's why I keep asking you."

"Booo!" a ghost exclaimed from beside us. She was a new visitor, and very pretty looking for a dead teenage girl. She sat on a sofa- that wasn't real but somehow she'd summoned with her- eating popcorn that also wasn't real. "You should kick his ass," she said, tossing a piece of ghostly popcorn at him. It dissolved midair.

"I can't beat his ass," I groaned. "Zed would be pissed."

"And?" she prompted, lifting a blonde eyebrow.

"And… I just can't. At least, not yet," I snapped, growing frustrated.

"Gretel," she called out, kicking up her feet to use Zayne like a footstool.

The creepy twelve-year-old materialized beside me.

"You rang?" she said, inspecting her black painted nails and then flashing us a devious grin.

"Tell her she should just beat his ass," the blonde insisted.

I rolled my eyes, looking at Gretel. "She's been at this for an hour."

Gretel sighed. "This one," she started, gesturing toward Zayne, "doesn't have a good reputation with us on this side of the veil. He's sent supernaturals here unjustly, and they want him to pay for his crimes."

"Yeah, well. I'm working on it. I need to find out about the werewolf he's been using as an errand boy, but since you lot won't tell me," I said with emphasis, "I'm forced to have patience. Believe me, you're not the only one disappointed in this turn of events."

"We can't interfere in the matters of the living," Gretel said, same as always.

"What do you call this, then?" I motioned to the blonde teenager dressed in some sort of medieval nightgown.

Gretel shrugged. "Not my problem?"

"Oh, come on! You can't tell me you don't interfere with the living, but have blondie here egg me on to beat his ass for the past hour." I motioned at Zayne, who was looking between me and, from his perspective, the empty air I was talking to.

"Aurora's just having her fun. If you don't like it, you can make her leave."

And with that, Gretel disappeared in a puff of smoke.

I put my head in my hands and took a deep breath.

"Does my brother know you talk to ghosts?" Zayne asked me. I looked up, narrowing my eyes.

"How do you know I'm talking to ghosts?" I asked suspiciously.

His lips parted. "I'm not an idiot."

"No, you're a murderer. That's a lot worse."

Zayne shrugged as best as he could in his bindings. "It's either ghosts or voices in your head. Out of the two options, the first explains why you were so attached to that sweet little sheep."

My temper spiked, and I sent my fist flying into Zayne's face. "Don't you dare talk about my brother!"

"Yeah!" Aurora cheered, sending a shower of spectral popcorn flying. "That's more like it."

Zayne's head snapped back, and fresh blood spurted out of his rebroken nose. Or was it still broken? I waved the absurd thought away as Zayne spat a bloody tooth onto the floor. "Ah ah ah," he tutted. "You remember what Zed said. I'm not to be harmed."

"Yeah, well, Zed isn't here, and you're a flaming piece of shit."

"I thought it was your brother who was flam…"

I didn't let him finish getting the insult out before I backhanded him. "Keep giving me excuses… I can do this all day." My voice was light and taunting, but inside I was fuming. It wasn't the first time he'd make little digs about Trace, and it was getting harder to ignore them as the days passed without any information about the Were. For a sniveling assclown, he was oddly great at keeping secrets.

"You're sending me mixed messages here, Wells. Do you want me to talk or not?"

"The only thing I'm interested in is where you're keeping your dog, and how the hell you convinced him to work with you. It must have cost you a pretty penny to convince him." I let out a dry laugh. "I mean, how else could you find a partner? I highly doubt anyone would join you out of the kindness of their heart. Blackmail maybe…"

Zayne glowered at me, ruby-red blood still gushing from his nose. Finally, I struck a nerve.

The door opened, and Missy poked her head in. "Addie, you've got a visitor."

"Not a good time," I said, never taking my eyes off of Zayne.

It was the only reason I caught the infinitesimal shift in his expression. I was on him before I realized it, tackling him in my attempt to cover his mouth. He howled against my hand as I muffled his scream and thwarted his plan. I could feel his teeth as he tried to bite into my palm. But we were still moving, my superhuman momentum propelling us both toward the floor. I landed on top of him as the chair became little more than a pile of toothpicks.

"Fuck," I muttered, eyeing the debris. "Not another one."

Missy was chuckling at the top of the stairs. "I'll go grab you a fresh chair."

Aurora had left her perch to give us a one-ghost standing ovation. "Bravo! Bravo!" she cried enthusiastically. "Encore."

I pushed off of Zayne, who was unconscious beneath me. If I cared about his well-being at all, I might have been concerned about how many knocks to the head he'd taken recently and the potential for permanent brain damage. But that required more empathy than I had to give. Especially to my brother's murderer.

"Addie, what the fuck?"

My eyes closed as I groaned. "Hey, Zed. You're late."

"We talked about this," he said, coming down the stairs. "You're too strong to be losing your temper, and at this rate, he's going to bleed out from all the broken noses you keep giving him."

I bit back a curse. I knew that Zed had a point. I knew that he was trying to help me find the werewolf. After a week of dealing with Zayne's bullshit, a week of patrolling every night from sundown to sunup, a week of people dying from a werewolf on the loose… I was at my wit's end. We needed answers and Zayne clearly wasn't going to just give them to us.

"I wouldn't have to hit him if he'd just give us what we want so we can finally put him out of his miserable excuse for an existence," I snapped.

Zed paused mid-check on his brother.

"We haven't talked about what's going to happen to him after we catch the wolf," Zed said. His voice was soft, but it was lacking that warmth he'd grown to have with me.

"He's crazy. You know this. If we let him go, he's just going to keep killing people. We can't give him to the Council, and we also can't hold him down here forever. I want justice for Trace and my dad, Zed."

The muscle in his haw ticked. I'd pissed him off.

"Killing him doesn't bring them back," Zed said.

"No, it doesn't," I said. "But it will stop other people from joining them."

Zed looked away. He didn't have anything to say to that because he knew I was right. We couldn't keep doing this forever. There had to be a solution, and we needed to find it soon.

"Can you get me a knife and some more rope?" Zed said, still not looking at me. "I need to redo his bindings now that you broke the chair… again. At this point, it's probably better if he stays on the floor."

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration and anger and resentment swirling inside me. They weren't meant for Zed. It wasn't fair to take it out on him, but he was standing between me and the person I did want to take it out on. The one person who honestly deserved every punch, every hit, every kick, every slap. Zayne more than deserved it.

He might have had an unhappy childhood. He might have been a disappointment to his dad and always in Zed's shadow, but that wasn't an excuse.

"Sure," I said, turning on my heel. Being down here with both of them wasn't going to make me feel any better about this right now. Maybe some air would help.

My stomach grumbled.

And food. Food would definitely help.

I marched up the stairs and closed the basement door behind me. In the kitchen, Missy was sharpening her machete with a whetstone. Both her feet were kicked up on the antique dining table that had been in the Wells family for generations. She looked up at me, and half her mouth quirked up.

"You know, you're in a rough spot. What, with the boy you have tied up down there and his brother who you've been shagging the past few weeks," she started.

"Missy, for crying out loud. Zed and I aren't fucking."

She set the blade and her stone down on the table and held up both hands in surrender. "All I'm saying is, it might not be the worst thing in the world if the kid were to disappear, you know what I mean? I'm a grown woman, Addison. I can get the job done." She lifted both her eyebrows, silently asking me what I wanted.

The truth was, I'd love for her to take him away and deal with it. Zayne being around here was just making me angry and pissed off all the time. Dealing with him only turned those emotions into this endless rage that was a thousand times worse. Handling all of that and Zed?

I wanted nothing more than to say yes to her offer.

But I told Zed I wouldn't, and I wasn't a liar, even if my resolve was weakening.

"Not yet," I said, turning away from her and moving toward the pantry.

"Alright, kiddo. But you let me know when it gets to be too much."

It was already too much, but I swallowed back the words as I began tossing stuff on the counter. I was done talking. It was time to eat my feelings.

I was eating salsa straight out of the jar when Zed found me a while later.

"Don't," I said around a mouthful as he started eyeing the empty containers discarded on the counter.

"I didn't say anything."

"Didn't have to. Your judgmental face said it all."

Zed crossed his arms and leaned against the pantry door. "My judgmental face?"

"Uh-huh. It's a cross between constipation and assholery."

"What does assholery even look like? You know what, never mind. I don't care. You going to tell me what happened down there?" he asked.

I shrugged, taking another massive bite. "I mean, you saw it for yourself."

His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. "No, I saw the aftermath."

"What's the difference?" I asked, scraping the jar for the last of the spicy goodness.

Zed sighed. "What is going on with you? You're hotheaded on your best day, but you aren't a naturally violent person. But these last couple of days…" Zed trailed off, shaking his head like he couldn't find the answer to a riddle. "I don't know. It just seems like my brother got way under your skin."

"Ya think? You were paying attention when he killed us, right? You don't think that's enough of a reason for me to take it personally?"

"No… that's not it." Zed's voice was considering, like he was voicing his thoughts out loud instead of actually speaking directly to me. "Every time you talk about your issues with him, you hardly ever mention his coming after you. It's always about your dad… or Trace. He's using them to provoke you, isn't he? Saying something about Tracey?"

"What if he did?" I asked, tossing the empty salsa jar with more force than necessary, sending it skidding past the trash can I was aiming for and shattering against the wall.

"You know, for someone who purposely skipped out on his funeral, you're oddly protective of him."

"He was my twin," I said, using my dirty spoon as an excuse to turn away so Zed couldn't see my face.

"A twin you barely spoke to for the better part of four years."

"So?" The spoon clattered into the sink as I gripped the edge of the counter until my knuckles went white. I really didn't want to have this conversation. I'd been actively avoiding it. What happened between Trace and me was nobody else's business.

"So, you ever going to tell me what happened between you two? You went all Dr. Phil on me about my relationship with my brother. Seems only fair I get to return the favor."

I grimaced. He had me there. "You were his best friend. I'm sure he told you."

"No," Zed said, his voice a little warmer than it had been since he got here. "Trace was oddly protective of you too."

My eyes squeezed shut, and my throat got tight. For years anger had been my armor, a way to avoid feeling the grief cultivated by a constant stream of tragedy. Anger was easier. Familiar. Feeling the pain though? It was impossible.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself.

Lock it down, I always told myself. Put it in a box. Hide the box. Don't look at it. If you don't see it, maybe it's not there.

I was good at that. Separating myself from my grief.

"Our mom died when we were ten. Car accident. She worked two jobs to make ends meet for us. Two full-time jobs. They left her exhausted and one time she fell asleep at the wheel." I snapped my fingers, wheeling around. "She was gone like that. Tracey was devastated. We both were, but I handled it better than him because I had to."

"Addie, I…"

"No, you opened the door. Now you have to see what's inside," I said bitterly. "A week later, those two scared and broken kids moved across the country. We found out we had a dad and he had money. A lot of it. He wasn't a bad man like my mom had claimed. He was actually pretty fucking good. It took me a few years to see that, though. The summer I turned eighteen tragedy struck again. This time my dad died. A hunting accident." I looked at the ceiling, a callous, somewhat manic laugh bubbling up. "My dad never hunted a day in his life, and I didn't know what I know now. All I knew was that a week later, my brother wanted to follow in his footsteps and join the same stupid fraternity that our dad had been in. My brother who was the only person I had left."

"You have Missy," Zed pointed out gently.

"You're right," I said, somewhat detached. "But that's not the point. I told Trace something was up with Zeta Omicron Mu. I told him that the excuse they gave for Dad's death was bullshit, and the thing is, I knew he believed me. He still joined, though, and I didn't know why. I couldn't fathom why he was being such a fucking idiot. Did he have a death wish? Did he want to leave me too?"

I looked away, my breath stuttering. Emotion clogged my chest. The muscle around my heart squeezed tight.

"Addie…" Zed said softly, moving to come around the counter.

"No," I snapped, moving away. "You asked what happened. Trace and I got into a fight. A massive fight where I told him that if he was so hell-bent on killing himself then go right ahead, but I refused to stick around and watch him die too. It was me or ZOM. You know what he chose…"

I couldn't stand the way Zed was looking at me. I hated the pity on his face.

"I didn't know," he said.

"He's dead now," I said, ignoring his statement. "And that piece of shit downstairs is the reason. He killed my brother, and probably my father too. He's probably killed a lot of other people we don't even know about, and he's going to keep killing people until someone puts him down. So yes, I'm angry. I'm a little violent. A little stabby." I spat the word at him. "He's down there taunting me day in and day out. Threatening to take Missy. Gloating about how Tracey died. Of course, I'm angry. You want me to treat him like this is the fucking Ritz Carlton. He's a killer, Zed. A psychopath. Yet I'm the one you're talking to about being 'violent.'" I shook my head.

"I didn't mean it that way. I know what Zayne is, but you're…"

"What?" I asked him, throwing up my hands. "I'm what exactly?"

"Different," he said, moving around the counter again. His eyes warmed like melted chocolate. "You're better than that. Better than him."

"Are you sure?" I found myself asking. "Because I'm not so sure I am some days."

He came to stand before me. Our breaths mingled.

"Addison…" he said my name softly, like a prayer. His lips loomed dangerously close. Calloused fingers brushed a lock of hair from my face.

I wanted to give in. I wanted to lose myself in him. In what he offered.

I wanted to forget, and that's exactly what Zed was offering.

Except… I couldn't.

"No." The words were out of my mouth before I could register it. His lips brushed against mine, but I pulled away, turning from him. "No," I repeated, harder this time. "Zed, I…" my voice broke off as I tried to find the words. "I want you, but not like this. As long as he's down there, we... need to keep our distance."

His hands rested on my shoulders, lightly holding me in place when all I wanted to do was bolt. It was my MO after all.

"Don't run. Not from me." His lips tickled my neck as he whispered the words just behind my ear. "You want to take this slow, fine." He trailed his hands down my arms. "I can go as slow as you want. Just don't run."

"S-slow?" I stuttered as goosebumps broke out along my arms and neck. "What part of 'I'm holding your psychopath brother hostage in my basement and it's a real fucking turnoff' translated into 'let's slow this down' to you? A little Barry White and some wine isn't going to change things, Zed. There's no slowing down. This is a full, hard stop." My heart was beating fast in my chest, and I was all too aware of every place we were touching. I couldn't recall a time my mind and body had been so divided. "Until Zayne is dealt with, this…" I broke his gentle hold and gestured between us. "… isn't happening."

Zed was staring at me intently, a small smile ghosting his full, kissable lips.

"Are you even listening to me? Why are you smiling? I just shot you down."

He ran his knuckle along my cheek. "I'm sorry I dredged up painful memories. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"W-what?" I stammered, my anger and resolve ebbing as I slowly lost the battle against my body.

"I said I'm sorry. I pushed you too far. I was really starting to believe you are as unaffected by everything as you act. But that's all it is. An act. You feel things, Addie. I'd bet more deeply than most. You're just an expert at hiding it." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my parted lips.

The kiss lasted barely more than a second, but I was completely shaken. His eyes bore into mine, and I had no doubt that his words were true. How had this conversation gotten so totally turned around? We were arguing and then… and then he was systematically dismantling my anger and turning my body into a goddamn traitor. It must be some kind of voodoo magic. Maybe he was part incubus…

Before I could react, Zed was stepping away.

"Wait, where are you going?"

He shot me a grin over his shoulder. "I have some errands to run before we patrol tonight. I'll swing back and pick you up at seven."

"Yeah… right… patrol." I watched him walk out of the kitchen, more than a little confused about what just happened.

"See you later."

I lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave and then just stood there staring at the place he'd just been standing.

"You should probably lock that down," Gretel said, appearing beside me.

"Are you spying on me now? And what does a tween vampire know about locking anything down?"

Gretel snorted. "Apparently more than you. You're the one watching him walk away."

As much as I wished my powers extended to punching ghosts in the face, I couldn't argue with her.