#seth herse

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 18

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~2,300

Warnings: Canon typical violence, blood, mentions of death

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah took time to explore the rest of the house while Brasa was busy closing the finances for the month. The door at the end of the hallway was still locked, and she wished she’d snagged Seth’s lock pick set while she had the chance. After making a note to order one online, Lilah veered off to the far side of the house, behind the living room.

There was a stairwell that still smelled of freshly sawed wood, unvarnished, leading to an expansive loft. Like the rest of the house, the walls and ceiling were stone. Also like the rest of the house, it was bare.

Clearly, it was meant to be an office of some kind, bookshelves lining the walls. An adjoining half bath was tucked in the back, with a linen closet stocked with towels. Lilah stood in the middle of it, thinking that it was odd that there was no window. In any other building, there would be a lookout over the property. But, as with most things where Brasa was concerned, this was not like any other building.

Moving back downstairs, Lilah passed through the living room to a smaller office. Brasa was sitting at the desk, tapping away on a keyboard. He looked up in interest as she entered the room. Lilah waved to him, indicating that he should ignore her. His work seemed constant—a barrage of emails to answer when he woke, phone calls that seemed to take hours, text message updates from Javier. Running his business was somewhat more than a full time job.

There were times when Lilah spent almost all her waking hours alone. She’d taken to riding with him to the bar and parking herself in one of the booths as a mean of distraction. The bar manager had good taste in music, and Lilah found that she could actually take some time to relax.

Still, she missed her friends, and she missed the work. A couple times a day, she would get an email or a text—she was disappointed every time by the sender. Seth hadn’t so much as checked in, though Kate occasionally sent her an update. It looked to Lilah that she was going to have to find a new crew. The thought was not entirely palatable. To keep the feeling at bay, Lilah turned her attention back to the décor.

Like Brasa’s other office, this room was plush and touched here and there with soft, luxurious accents. It was the only room in the house that seemed to reflect the inhabitant. There were fewer books here, but the ones that were stacked on the shelves were old, most of them looking handmade. She didn’t dare touch them for fear of damaging the clearly valuable tomes, though every once in a while, her fingers itched to snag one and secret it away.

Like the room above, there was an adjoining bathroom. Simple. Stocked with supplies. Lilah made a circle around the room, touching the marble counter top, and then went back into the office. She clocked Brasa still on the phone, his expression thunderous. It was starting to become a pattern. He’d answer the phone, and bad news would come.

There was no soothing him when he found out that another shipment had gone missing or that Benny had gained a significant number of acolytes. His anger would blossom in a quiet way that left him pacing in thought. All she could do was wait for him to run out of steam, usually laying down next to her, pulling her into his body in comfort.

Leaning against a bookshelf, Lilah waited. He would do as he had done in the past, come to her when he was ready.

When he’d concluded that call, Brasa turned off his monitor and pushed to standing. He tugged on his leather gloves, looking lost in thought. The worry creasing his brow was deeper than it had ever been, and she could feel something like grief emanating through the bond. It pushed her to approach him first.

“What happened?” Lilah asked pointedly, provoked by the distress in his expression.

He glanced at her, saying, “Benny tried to open the portal.”

Aghast, Lilah spit out, “He didn’t.”

“He did,” Brasa replied, stepping around his desk, “He failed. But, it wasn’t without consequence.”

Lilah followed him out into the living room, “Was anyone hurt?”

He nodded, heading for the coat closet and shrugging on his preferred leather coat, “Yes.”

Lilah didn’t like the abrupt answers, the way he wouldn’t look at her. She didn’t know what it meant that he’d failed to open the portal—only that she was relieved by it.

“I’m coming with you,” she announced, stepping into a pair of boots and zipping up the sides.

Brasa hesitated, and she could tell he was about to tell her ‘no.’ Staring at her, he changed his mind, nodding once and reaching for her hand. He led her out to the hidden garage, helped her into the SUV. As they drove, he periodically checked his phone. No new information ever popped up onto the screen. Lilah touched his arm, squeezing it in what she hoped was comfort. He looked at her sidelong, then took her hand, holding it the whole way.

When they arrived at the bar, it was chaos. People milled about, some of them injured. Lilah covered her mouth to hide the gag as the smell hit her nose. Burned flesh. Blood. Fear. It mixed together into something that she couldn’t describe with any other word than ‘horror’. She’d seen war documentaries with less gore. The room was both quiet and loud, the silence interspersed regularly with the moans of those who hurt.

Some of the victims were missing limbs, almost all were burned in some way, shape, or form. Lilah took the crowd in, took in the ones that were trying to help. Crates of blood bags were being hauled out to where Javier stood. He directed traffic, issuing orders with authority that might have surprised her in any other situation. Here, he was shining with leadership that he normally eschewed.

Blood was being applied as a poultice, dripped over wounds and into open mouths. Lilah struggled to contain her reaction, struggled to understand the medicine for what it was. She thought that maybe she’d gotten used to how her world had turned, but what she was looking at was at least three or four steps in the wrong direction.

Brasa guided her to Javier, the hand at the small of her back a reassurance that she definitely appreciated. She felt lightheaded, dizzy, and overwhelmed. There was a very real possibility that she might pass out. Swallowing down what threatened to rise, Lilah forced her spine to straighten, carried herself with strength she did not have.

“How many?” Brasa asked, pulling off his glasses and observing the room with a clinical eye.

Javier scratched at the skin above his brow, his other hand holding onto a silver cane that matched the silver of his belt buckle. He was dressed in a black suit, black shirt, black tie, black shoes. Lilah noted that he wore a silver pinky ring that glinted in the light. Even in utter disaster, Javier was dressed for the occasion.

“Seventy five,” he answered, “I’ve already sent the least injured to our barracks. We will provide them with food and rest. The others…”

He gestured to the crowd strewn across the bar. Some of them were lying on the floor, being tended to by staff. Some were propped up against the walls or laying on the tables. Still others were sitting at the bar. All of them look shell shocked, their gazes in the middle distance. Almost none were talking. Absolutely none were smiling.

As she looked at them, Lilah had never felt more helpless. This was so far out of her wheelhouse that she couldn’t quite get herself anchored.  She didn’t know what to do with her hands, didn’t know if she should say something or remain quiet.

“I’ve talked with a few of them,” Javier continued, “He almost did it.”

That stopped Lilah cold. All of the pain in the room had nearly resulted in much worse. The ‘almost’ of his success made her chest hurt with unrelenting anxiety. If he had succeeded, if he attempted to do it again, there would be dire consequences no matter the outcome.

Brasa hissed, his lips curling, “I knew he would try.”

Javier dipped his head congenially, “They tell me that there are possibly a dozen that were taken, that Benny sacrificed to the portal before it collapsed.”

Brasa nodded, saying nothing and eyeing the victims. Lilah wanted to ask questions. She wanted to know what it meant that he’d been able to make a sacrifice, that he’d been able to contact Xibalba. She also wanted to know if the near success had created a rift in the portal, something for Benny to dig his fingers into so that he could rip it wide open.

“He’s getting too close.”

“I know that,” Brasa seethed, “We’ll have to kill him.”

Javier’s lips thinned, “He’s gone to ground.”

“Then we will root him out.”

There was fire underneath Brasa’s words. His voice was low, angry, ruthless. Lilah couldn’t blame him.  For Brasa, the people in this room were under his protection. Benny had infringed upon his territory, had done what Brasa had expressly forbidden. It was understandable that he would want to retaliate in kind.

What surprised Lilah was the guilt hiding stealthily behind her shock. If she had advocated to Benny to be killed sooner, if she had let Brasa do what he’d originally planned to do down in those caves...if she hadn’t interfered, a lot of people might have avoided suffering. And yet, Lilah knew that she could not have lived with herself if she hadn’t given Benny the opportunity to do what was right. If she had signed on wholesale to their slaughter, she would have counted herself as no better than him.

“As you wish.”

Knowing that she would be more in that way than able to provide any help, Lilah let Brasa pull her into his public office. The quiet, when they closed the door behind them, was a heavy thing. Lilah hadn’t even realized how loud the bar proper actually was, with the groans of the injured sounding almost constantly. She blinked back angry, impotent tears, wanting to be strong. Or, she wanted the appearance of strength, if only for Brasa’s sake.

Brasa sat at his desk, elbows landing atop it. His head sank into the cradle of his hands, a long, slow breath pushed through his nose. Lilah leaned a hip on the corner nearest to him, one hand soothing over his shoulder. She could think of no words of comfort, nothing that could right the immeasurable wrong that had been committed.

“We need to close that portal,” he murmured, sniffing as he leaned back to slouch in his chair.

Lilah’s hand dropped to her lap, “We do.”

He looked lost, bereft. Lilah wanted to gather him into her arms and rock side to side, wanted to ruffle the curls of his hair, wanted to take the heavy weight from him. And yet, there was nothing that could bring his people back, nothing that could heal the deep wound Benny’s attempt had made.

She said that only thing she could, “We still need the knife.”

Brasa ticked his head to the side, “Yes, we do.”

Lilah grabbed on to the opportunity to do something, “Tell me where to find the knife. I’ll get it and bring it back here while you see to the injured.”

Brasa was already shaking his head, “I can’t risk you. Not now.”

She knew he’d say that, knew it like she knew no one could get at the knife as fast or as efficiently as she could. Lilah may not be a politician, or a diplomat, but she could steal with the best of them. He could run point here while she took care of business out there.

“Its not a risk,” Lilah lied, “Benny will be in hiding until he tries again. He won’t even notice I’m gone.”

One leg kicked out and pulled the rolling chair forward so that Brasa could take her hand, “I’ll send someone to get the knife.”

Lilah thought for a moment about relenting. And then she thought about the people outside, she thought about how useless she felt. She needed this. Not because someone else couldn’t do it, but because she needed to feel like she was contributing. That need rode her hard, pushing past whatever fear she might have for her own life.

“You’ll send me,” she enunciated clearly, “You know I can get in and get out with no problem. I’ll be back in forty eight hours, tops.”

The beginnings of a plan had already started to form in her mind. Her bags were already packed, a possible partner already selected. She could do this.

His eyes narrowed, “Its in Iceland.”

The plan pivoted a little, but the main points remained the same. A change in locale was no true barrier to getting it done.

“Seventy two hours, tops,” Lilah countered.

He said nothing, but she could see the gears turning in his head as he worked around the problem. Lilah might not be able to help the injured just outside their door, but this she could do. She could get him the last item he needed to stop any further attempts on the portal.

“You know I can do it. Just show me where it is.”

Brasa stood and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, “You will take my plane. You will take a weapon. You will tell me the plan before you leave.”

“I can do that.”

[356mission]

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