Page 37 of Deep Within Me

Surprise flooded his handsome face. “No. They’d never do anything to hurt you. They’re not like your people.”

That should have stung but didn’t. So many misconceptions and bad feelings had flowed between their clans for so long, everyone’s distrust had hardened into stubborn hate. “Not all of my people are bad.”I’m not. Neither is my father.

He pushed his fingers through his hair, pulling it off his shoulder. “No one’s going to bother you here. We voted, remember?”

Liz recalled the ones that had wanted her and her father gone. Isabel in particular.

“Is my father in the dining room?” she asked. “Is he all right?”

Jacob huffed out a sigh. “God, you ask a lot of questions.”

“That’s what Zeke said. You two really are alike, you know that?”

Clearly uneasy, he muttered, “No, we’re not. You love him.”

He regarded her more fully than he had before, defeat in his expression. Without waiting for her response, which he didn’t seem to want to hear, he went down the stairs toward the dining area.

Zeke tried to ignore the personal touches in Bartholomew’s room, knowing they’d resurrect his anguish at losing such a good friend. Despite his struggle, he moved closer to the photographs, somehow pulled by them.

In one, a much younger Bartholomew wore a maroon cap and gown. He clutched his high school diploma in his left hand,his smile broad and relieved. He’d made it through all the academic shit he hated and the state required. In those days, the clan lived outside the stronghold just like normal folk. Carreon’s father had been in charge, and even though he was no pussycat, he’d honored a truce between their people.

In the next photo, taken several years later, Bartholomew had his foot propped on the sparkling grill of a 1957 Chevy that he’d painted in its original colors. Aqua and white. He was heavier than he’d been in the graduation picture, his grin one of pure pleasure. If Carreon hadn’t taken over and renewed the fighting between their people—if Bartholomew hadn’t given his life to save the rest of the clan—he would have made a real success of his auto restoration business.

He might have married and had kids. A future everyone else in this country expected as their God-given right.

Agonizing sorrow gripped Zeke at all the interrupted dreams, the senseless and continuing murders. He understood his clan’s fury, them not wanting Liz and her father here. They’d lost a good man and for what? So their leader could have the woman he desired?

Heartsick, Zeke ran his hand down his face and turned from the photos to the bed.

Dr. Munez lay on the narrow mattress, no longer asleep. He seemed more curious than alarmed that Zeke was in the room. No surprise. Carreon had imprisoned Munez for so long, surely very little shocked the old man.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Zeke said. He pulled a chair next to the bed.

Munez pushed to a sitting position and swung his naked legs over the side of the mattress. He’d washed off last night’s gore and grime and wore one of Bartholomew’s T-shirts that was several sizes too large for him. The rounded neck sagged beneath Munez’s thin throat.

Zeke sank into his chair. “How’s your ankle?”

“Fine.” He lifted his leg to show it wasn’t bruised or swollen any longer. Liz’s healing touch had taken care of it…after he’d reanimated her.

A wave of nausea hit so hard, Zeke had to swallow repeatedly to force it down. Taking a full breath wasn’t something he figured he could do right now. Although he had meant to broach the subject carefully, the words spilled from him. “Liz isn’t fully back, is she?”

Munez’s hands stalled on his head, not all of his hair smoothed back. A tuft on the left side stuck out defiantly. He didn’t bother combing his fingers through it.

When the man didn’t comment, Zeke added, “You noticed it too, in the Jeep. That’s why you touched her shoulder. You brought her back again.”

His hands dropped to his lap. They shook so badly, he clasped them together. “No.” His tone said he refused to believe such a thing. “I gave her a boost, that’s all.”

“Same difference,” Zeke argued. He leaned forward, ready to face what had been eating him for too many hours…the only explanation of what was happening to Liz. “You brought her back, and she was fine until she healed your ankle. When she poured her gift—her life force into you—that drained it from her, didn’t it?”

“I don’t know.”

Zeke shook his head, not believing this. “How can you say that? You’ve known from the beginning that those with the gift could go beyond healing. They could also reanimate. You kept that secret from Liz until last night. How many others have you brought back from the dead? What happened to them? Tell me. I’m worried about Liz.”

Munez drew in his narrow shoulders and spoke with reluctance, obviously disturbed by the subject. “Liz is only the second person I’ve brought back.”

Zeke stared, unable to comprehend such a thing. “How is that possible? You’re talking about not reanimating Carreon’s lieutenants, correct? Surely, with the rest of your people, the ones who aren’t a part of his inner circle, you—”

“I didn’t want to use my gift on them either. If they had known what I discovered by accident, I was afraid Carreon and his men would find out. The fighting would have escalated beyond anything we could have imagined, becoming impossible to stop. Why would he restrain the carnage at all if he knew I could bring his men back from the dead?”

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