Molly was taking too long. Flynn watched as the guards shot Nick’s legs out from under him and wrapped him in chains. He’d thought they’d go for the headshot, but Stark stood screaming from the porch telling them not to do any permanent damage.
Reapers were difficult to obtain, even for a man of Stark’s resources. A sentient Reaper would be impossible to replace.
There was nothing Flynn could do to help Nick. Not yet. So he skirted the edge of the crowd, working his way to the west side of the house, away from the landing pad and cliff face. A good open spot for Molly to drop down quickly and toss him a rope.
There was still a chance they might make it out of this alive. He and Molly had gotten out of tighter situations. If they could get away tonight, they could find a way to come back for Nick.
Stark stood on the porch, lit by a dozen gas lamps at full blaze. The house was a dark, solid shape behind him. The lawn was flooded with light. The crowd, which had scattered during Nick’s attack, began to gather into small clusters. For the most part, they looked on while the guards subdued the Reaper.
No one could doubt he was a Reaper now. Nick’s eyes were white. His lips were pulled back in a snarl. The guards had shot him full of lead, but he was still fighting.
The crowd was quiet, horrified and fascinated. Above the taut silence, Flynn heard the whine of a small engine and smiled grimly. The ship attached to that engine would be tiny and slow, but so long as it flew he wouldn’t complain.
Molly was coming for him.
The people he passed were nearly unrecognizable from the perfectly turned-out crowd of only an hour ago. They were glassy-eyed and slack-faced from spent adrenaline. Their gowns were torn and their boots spattered with muck. Occasionally a muffled sob or soft curse would come to his ears, and he did his best to block it out.
He had no love for these people, but they were people. They’d only come to attend a party. Unlike Molly, he didn’t think all Scrapers were evil. If he was honest, he was more Scraper than not. As much as he’d tried to shed his past, it stuck to him. There were some good people scattered in with the monsters, and they were terrified out of their wits. Molly would think them weak. He just thought they were isolated and overly sheltered from the real evils of the world. He’d been like that once.
Molly would never understand it. He should have known that she wouldn’t go meekly when he told her to leave. He should have known that she’d risk everything to get him out of Stark’s grasp, and to hell with everyone else. She didn’t care about a lot of people, but those she loved, she loved passionately. She would burn down the whole world to save someone she loved.
Molly had done this for his sake.
She loved him. She did love him. For the first time, looking at the faces of the terrified people around him, he had a sense of why she didn’t think that love would be enough. She thought that this chaos is what would inevitably happen when you combined Scraper and border.
But it was different for them. They already knew they worked together. They’d always worked together. People were more than their pasts. He wanted to build something better with her.
The whine of the engine died, and Flynn looked up at the sky. Molly had cut the engine in order to glide over the crowd. She’d draw less attention that way, and Molly was more than capable of controlling the ship by adjusting the lift flaps and sails. She was almost as good of a pilot as he was.
The stars were bright and unbroken.
He frowned, looking toward the landing pad. There was no movement there either, save for the gentle rocking of the anchored ships.
His gaze swept the skies and then the open area between the landing pad and the house. People filed back from the disabled tower. They moved slowly, furtively, uncertain whether it was safe to return to the house despite the assurance of the guards.
Where was Molly?
There was a flurry of movement on the gravel path. Two men in black formal suits walked quickly through the crowd. Scraper gentlemen and ladies stepped out of their way. The men carried a body between them. Perhaps someone had been injured in the crush. A cold knot twisted in Flynn’s gut.
The crowd parted slightly before re-forming, but in that second, Flynn had a clear view. Karl and Freddie. Each of them had a hand wrapped around one of Molly’s arms. She wasn’t struggling, but the expression on her face suggested she’d kill either of the men if given half a chance.
Flynn was moving before he considered the wisdom of it, cutting back through the crowd the way he’d come, heading back toward the porch. Heading toward Stark like an idiot running to his death. He reached the knot of people gathered around the porch just as Karl and Freddie pushed Molly forward. She stumbled over Nick’s chained body and landed hard on her hands and knees.
Stark, smiling, walked slowly down the wide stairs to greet her. Flynn couldn’t hear what he said, but he saw Molly’s reaction. She climbed to her feet, her face flushed and her hands curled into fists.
Molly needed to back down. She needed to give him a few seconds to reach her. Stark snapped something back. Molly advanced. Freddie looked at Karl as if for direction. Flynn’s cousin had always been a coward and a fool. Not a thought in his head was his own.
If Flynn had been in Freddie’s place, desperate to become Stark’s heir and without a conscience, he’d have injected his rival with a placebo. It would have been easy for Freddie to dispose of him. No imagination, his cousin. Instead, he’d unthinkingly obeyed every order Stark handed down like an automaton. And that was how Stark viewed him—a mindless tool. Stark would never have named Freddie as his heir.
Karl gave a slight shake of his head and both men fell back a step, letting Stark deal with the issue.
Stark was in his element, preening before a breathless audience. Flynn shouldered his way past a stocky young man to reach the front of the crowd. The sight before him—Molly defiant, Stark smug—made him sick. He couldn’t help but remember seeing his mother in that same position. He couldn’t help but remember what had happened to his mother every time she stood up to Stark.
Flynn had never been able to help her. In the beginning, he’d been too young. Later, he’d been too terrified, hiding in the corners like a whipped dog. Stark had never hesitated to discipline his stepson for interfering in an argument. By the time he’d been big enough to fight back, it’d been too late.
And Stark had once loved his wife. He despised Molly because of where she’d come from and because Flynn cared for her. Molly didn’t realize how much danger she was in.
Molly raised her voice. Before Stark responded, he turned his head to judge the mood of the crowd. His eyes fixed on Flynn, and his thin lips curved into a small, tight smile.
No.
Even before Stark raised his arm, Flynn knew what he meant to do.
“No!”
He started to run. Stark backhanded Molly, and Flynn choked on a curse. Molly staggered and dropped to a knee. She slowly straightened. Her leg buckled. She pressed her fingers to the ground and then stood up. She was shaking, even from twenty feet away Flynn could see that, but her back was straight and her chin was up.
He loved her.
God, he loved everything about her. But he wished—just for a second, just at this moment—he wished that she was someone quiet and meek, who would stay the fuck down instead of rising to challenge Stark.
“You have no right,” she shouted.
“As the head of House Stark, I have every right,” Stark said coldly. “I am responsible for your behavior. Your recklessness has endangered the lives of everyone present. You will apologize to our guests.”
Molly’s eyes flashed. “I will do no such thing.”
Flynn reached her before she could say anything else. He slid an arm around her waist and held her close to his side as he looked up at Stark. He didn’t dare look at Molly. He could feel her trembling. If he saw Stark’s handprint on her face, he’d lose it.
He couldn’t rip Stark apart when there were nearly a hundred witnesses staring at the unfolding drama with rapt attention. Stark would be condemned in drawing rooms across the seven cities for striking a woman, but no true harm would come to him. There were many who would commend him for disciplining the woman who’d started the stampede.
“You will pay for that,” Flynn said, struggling to remain calm. If he wanted Molly to survive this, he needed to stay in control.
Stark merely smiled before lifting his face to address the crowd. “Good people. I apologize for the interruption. I will see that you are all safely returned to your homes tonight if you wish. Those who prefer to remain here are, of course, welcome to the rooms which have been prepared.”
“You’ll send your men to open the tower,” one man shouted from the crowd.
“Of course.” Stark bowed slightly. “But after I’ve shown you proof that the vaccine works.”
Ignoring the restless murmurings from the crowd, Stark turned to Nick, who’d managed to twist his body into an upright position. He was bleeding from the temple. The wounds he’d taken to his legs had healed enough for him to move, but the gash on his head was still open.
The light from the house turned his pale gray eyes to silver discs. He was breathing in short, harsh pants. A growl rose from his throat as he knelt before Stark.
Flynn pulled Molly away from the Reaper, placing his body between her and Nick. Nick was still in control of himself, barely, but why take chances?
Stark appeared unconcerned. “The Reaper will bite you as planned.”
Flynn eyed Nick skeptically. “Will he?”
“He will, or I will make certain that he never sees the light of day for the remainder of his long, empty life. My scientists have requested permission to study his body. I have denied them so far, but with a successful vaccine in my hands, there’s nothing to stop me from rewarding them with a live, sentient Reaper to use in their experiments. In fact, Dr. Gunnar has an interesting theory about exploring the healing properties of Reaper blood. Think of it. Not only a vaccine, not only a cure. Within a few years, we may be capable of healing any wound or illness without succumbing to the parasite. Truly the fountain of youth.”
Molly’s hand wrapped around Flynn’s arm, pulling him back. She still wanted to fight, his Molly. Go out in an explosion of fire and glory.
“Flynn, you don’t have to play his game.”
But he did, didn’t he? He knew Stark better than she did. Stark was more than capable of feeding Molly to the Reaper instead of him. At least he would survive the bite. He pulled free of her hold and turned back his cuff, exposing his wrist and the fresh pink skin where Nick had bitten him only days ago. He wondered briefly if the vaccine ever failed with the second bite, but then pushed the thought from his mind and extended his arm.
Nick’s gaze met his. The eyes in Nick’s head looked in his direction, anyway. Flynn wasn’t entirely certain that Nick was in control anymore. He took a step closer to the Reaper, wanting it over with.
“Flynn…” Molly’s voice trailed off. She thought he and Nick had a plan, else she’d have tried wrestling him off the porch. He did have a plan, but it wasn’t one she was going to like.
“Do it,” he said to Nick.
Nick didn’t need to be told twice. He reared up, moving with the unnerving speed that always made Flynn’s heart thud against his chest. Flynn couldn’t have retreated fast enough to avoid the strike if he’d tried. But Nick pushed right past him, knocking aside Flynn’s outstretched arm.
He was still chained, heavy iron wrapped around his arms and torso. The guards hadn’t bothered to bind his legs, because at the time they’d restrained him, Nick’s legs had been a shattered, pulpy mess. They were working fine now.
The guards were too far away to pull him back. They raised their rifles, and Flynn crashed into Molly, driving her to the ground and rolling them both out of the line of fire. The stone stair cut into his back and Molly grunted as they hit the hard ground. He covered her with his body as best he could.
Stark shouted. There were three gunshots, fired in quick succession. Stark’s shout turned into a gurgling scream.
Flynn looked up to find Nick kneeling beside Stark’s body. The Reaper’s hands were raised in a posture of surrender. He’d broken free of the chains. Links of well-forged iron lay broken and twisted on the ground around him. The guards held their fire but kept their weapons pointed at the Reaper’s head.
How many times had Nick been shot today? Was there a limit to what he could survive?
Freddie rushed up the stairs toward Stark, staying out of Nick’s reach. He wasn’t safe from Nick, though. None of them were. If Nick decided he wanted someone dead, they didn’t stand a chance. Hadn’t he just proved that?
Freddie knelt beside Stark and then scrambled backward. “The bite broke the skin on his cheek. He’s infected.”
Flynn helped Molly to her feet. “You stay here.”
“The hell I will.”
“I don’t know if Stark injected himself with the vaccine. If he didn’t, he could turn at any minute. I’m immune and Nick is hurt. I need to take care of this.”
She frowned, still not quite believing him. He supposed if their positions had been reversed, he wouldn’t have wanted her to take the chance either. But he was still Stark’s heir. He needed to end this, get Stark inside and make sure the innocent people Stark had invited to his home stayed safe.
Flynn released Molly’s hand and stepped toward Stark. He’d imagined this day, prayed for it, feared it. Stark dead. He’d spent so much of his life opposing Stark that it felt strange to think that this might really be the end.
Stark’s body seized. He groaned and his hands fell from his bloody face. His heels kicked against the stone. Flynn remembered the sensation of being suffocated by a cold darkness, not the details of his physical reaction.
Flynn turned to Nick. “Get up.”
One of the guards flinched. “Do we shoot him? Stark said not to hit him in the head, but—”
“No,” Flynn said firmly. “Don’t shoot him. I still have a use for him.”
The guard backed down. Good. For the time being, at least, the guards seemed willing to take orders from him. Most would be unaware that the reconciliation Stark had staged tonight was a farce. He could use that to his advantage. He might be able to salvage this yet.
He gestured for Nick to rise. “Come on.”
Nick stood in an eerily smooth motion and closed the distance between them. Flynn pushed up his sleeve and held out his arm.
Nick searched his face. “You’re certain?”
“Do it.”
Nick’s fingers closed around Flynn’s wrist. Flynn felt the heat of his breath against his tender, barely healed flesh an instant before Nick bit down, his teeth ripping into his skin. The pain was sharp and instant. It tore up his arm and radiated the length of his body.
His pulse raced. His legs trembled and his lungs refused to draw air. Suffocating. He felt the cold touch of the parasite against his mind, slimy as a leech. He could feel the thing’s hunger and its desperation to survive. His vision grayed.
Nick released his arm. Flynn was barely aware of it. Molly wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him. He wanted to order her back. Stark might turn at any minute. He wouldn’t be able to help her. The Reaper who’d bitten him was standing only a few feet away.
Flynn touched her back. Her silky hair coiled around his fingers. “Molly, you should go.”
Her arm tightened. “I’m not going anywhere. We’re stronger together. Did you really think I’d let you fight this battle alone?”
She’d never failed him, not when he really needed her. Gradually, he felt the Reaper retreat. Flynn didn’t trust that at first. He waited for the creature to rise up again, but it didn’t. Eventually, Flynn could barely feel it there at all, and then there was nothing.
Sweat trickled down the side of his face. His heart rate gradually slowed and he drew a deep breath before opening his eyes.
Nick had been right. Whatever had happened to him after the first bite, this time around it wasn’t nearly as bad.
He held up his arm so the crowd could see the wound. It was a bloody gash, but whatever remnant of the parasite was still in him was already working to repair it.
His arm itched fiercely. Flynn turned it slightly and was reassured by the sight of his flesh beginning to knit back together. He’d never much liked the sight of blood. Seeing his own skin writhe and stretch like made him lightheaded.
“I was injected with Stark’s serum several days ago,” he said, raising his voice so it would carry. “The first time I was bitten by a Reaper was more traumatic, but survivable. As you can see, the recovery time is much faster with subsequent bites.”
The roar of conversation and questions rose up immediately. Flynn shook his head. “We are done for tonight. Later I will answer any questions you may have about the Reaper vaccine. Good night.”
Without waiting to see how Stark’s guards would handle the traumatized guests, Flynn took Molly’s hand and pulled her toward the house. They could get cleaned up here, change clothes, steal a ship after the guests had dispersed.
“Flynn,” Nick called out.
Flynn paused and glanced back. Nick stood over Stark, a questioning look on his face. “What do we do with him?”
Stark was still alive, unfortunately. It would be the easiest thing in the world to kill him now. Flynn was tempted. No one would even know it was murder. A cold whisper in his mind urged him to end it, to take his revenge, to win. The desire made him sick. It reminded him of the way the Reaper had felt slithering through his veins. But he couldn’t blame a parasite. The desire to kill his father belonged to him. He’d built his life around it. He wasn’t going to let that hatred own him any more.
He turned his back on Stark’s writhing body. “Throw him in the cell.”