Page 101 of Skin Deep

I sighed and glanced down at the appointment card. While I’d been thinking about going back to work, I hadn’t meant quite so soon, or in this manner.Beggers can’t be choosers, I thought and pocketed the card to go get ready for work.

Ilookedupanddown the empty hospital hallway. Nothing but flickering lights and polished linoleum floor in either direction. My ID card slid through the scanner. A green light appeared and I let out a relieved breath.

I didn’t know why I expected it not to work. Everyone at Grant Medical Center had been pleasant and welcoming, ever since I stepped through the front doors. The moment people saw the white coat and the stethoscope, they couldn’t help me fast enough. It was the uniform. People trusted a man in uniform.

The automatic door slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing the hospital morgue beyond. Lights reflected off of stainless-steel tables, sinks, and the wall to the cooler where the bodies would be held. There was supposed to be a technician or an assistant on duty at all times, but no one was there when I arrived, no doubt the result of Shepherd’s meticulous planning.

My brother might not be the most brutal among us, or the strongest, or even the most devious, but he was the most meticulous. To the rest of us, it often looked like he didn’t do much, but I knew better. It might take Shepherd months or even years to set a plan in motion, but when the dominoes finally fell, it was with awe-inspiring and often bloody results.

I went to the sink to wash my hands before turning around to scan the room. My attention darted to the clock on the wall. Seventeen minutes, Shepherd had said, and four had already passed. Something out of place caught my eye and I frowned, walking over to one of the exam tables. There was a large black duffel bag sitting beneath it. I lifted it onto the table, unzipped it and smiled when I found the Shaska waiting for me inside.

I closed my fist around the smooth wooden handle and lifted the sword, testing the balance. It wasn’t the same sword Nikita had on his wall, which was probably only a reproduction. No, this was the real deal, and razor sharp too.

The door beeped and hissed, sliding open. I turned, my heart jumping at the sight of an orderly wheeling a hospital bed in that I knew contained Simeon the Immortal.

The bed creaked and a voice worn thin with age wheezed, “Where are we? This isn’t imaging. Answer me!”

The orderly said nothing, pushing Simeon to the middle of the room between the two exam tables. He nodded to me as he hit the brakes on the bed, locking it in place. “Thirteen minutes,” he said. “I’ll be right back with the other one.”

“Thanks…” I glanced at his nametag. “Gavin.”

“Who’s there?” Simeon demanded as the orderly retreated.

I slowly stalked around the table. “What’s the matter, Simeon? Your hearing going now too?”

His eyes widened when he saw me, and a slight flush colored his pale face. “You…” He reached for the nurse call button, tapping it repeatedly.

“That won’t do you any good,” I said, watching him panic. “You’ve been cut off. There’s no one coming to save you this time. No one left for you to hide behind.”

He sneered at me, showing crooked teeth yellowed with age. “After everything I’ve done for him, Nikita can’t even come to kill me himself? Instead, he sends a queer to do his dirty work. Fucking cowards, the lot of you.” Simeon cried out as I grabbed his chin, even though I barely used half my strength.

“This isn’t about Nikita. It isn’t about your mafia, or anyone’s bravery or cowardice.” I released him and took a step back. “You terrorized me. Haunted my nightmares for years. Hunted me, tried to twist me into your puppet, and when you couldn’t do that, you let a monster replace me at your side. You ordered the death of the first man I ever loved, and you threatened to do the same to Paxton.” I carefully lowered the sides of the bed before hitting the quick release to make the mattress lie flat.

“Stupid boy. I was trying to toughen you up. Make a man out of you!”

“Iama man.” I jerked the pillow away, letting his head fall against the mattress. “No amount of tough love, blood, or beatings was ever going to make me into what you wanted me to be.”

Simeon swallowed, his milky eyes hardening. “Killing me won’t make you a hero in anyone’s eyes, boy.”

The sword made a satisfying sound as I drew it. “You’re right. I’ll never be anyone’s hero, so I’ll settle for being your villain.”

“Wait!” he shouted as I lifted the sword. “What is it you want? Money? I have more than you could ever dream of. Power? You want to run things? The family’s yours. Think about it, Warrick. You could supplant your father, be a better leader than he’ll ever be. Whatever you want, spare me and it’s yours.”

My jaw clenched. “I want you dead,” I said and brought the sword down with all my strength.

He made a wet gurgling sound as the blade bit into the thin skin. It cut deep, but not all the way through with the first swing. On the second, I hit bone. It took three full swings to sever his head at the neck, and by then, there was a steady stream of blood pouring onto the floor and into the drain at the center of the room.

I stepped back, panting, my ears ringing in the silence that followed. It was done. Everyone who had tormented me or threatened the people I loved was gone. Pax and the girls were safe.

My lips twitched back. I couldn’t contain the laughter that bubbled out of me, the sound bouncing off the morgue walls.

“Jesus Christ.”

I turned at the sound of another voice, bringing the sword up only to relax when I saw it was Xion hobbling in. The nurse from before, Gavin, was with him.

“Fuck,” Gavin said, taking in the scene.

He had a point. I must’ve looked the sight, standing over a decapitated corpse with blood dripping from my sword, laughing my ass off. Actually, I probably looked like a madman. Maybe I was. I’d have to be to agree to help Xion escape. He’d been sentenced to the Twin Valley Behavioral Health Hospital in lieu of prison after he attacked Xander, to remain there until he was found fit for trial or until his twenty-first birthday. With that date hovering less than a year away, I had to wonder why Shepherd was so adamant about getting Xion out now. I wasn’t sure why Boone wanted him either. Whatever the reason, I didn’t have a choice. The deal had been made, and it was too late to go back now.

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