Harem Apocalypse: My Seed is the Cure?!

After telling Kunta to stay put and wait inside, and getting a sharp, offended, "I’m not a kid. I know what to do," in return, I left feeling more relieved than I probably should have. Daisy stayed behind with her, and Rebecca too, which at least meant Kunta would have people around during our absence.

The hours until evening went by faster than I expected.

For most of it, I stayed with the others. We talked, rested, killed time.

Nobody said it out loud, but all of us were doing the same thing. Stretching out the last calm hours before midnight turned them into something else.

We had more to talk about than usual too.

A whole week had passed with me staying around the Boardwalk, and that meant a week of things I hadn’t told them properly yet. Small things. Useful things. Things about Marlon, Summer, Shannon, Carmen, the way the place worked, the way people moved around there, the tension that always sat under everything even when nobody mentioned Callighan’s name.

The bigger things, though, I kept to myself.

Like Maribel.

That was staying buried.

There was no way I was bringing that up to Sydney or Christopher or anyone else. It wasn’t mine to tell, and more than that, it was too personal. I’d done the same with Rachel and Elena before, back when what happened with them was still private and not something meant to be thrown into the middle of a room for everybody to look at. I only spoke once they were ready for other people to know. Until then, it stayed between me and them.

Maribel would get the same.

Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if she wanted it hidden forever.

She was already awkward enough about it now, and that was me being generous. Truth was, she probably hated every part of the situation. Rachel, Elena, and Cindy had at least had each other. They were close, already tied together, already able to look at one another and understand parts of what none of us could explain cleanly. Maribel didn’t have that. She came from another group, another set of loyalties, another kind of pride.

And she was proud.

That was the biggest problem.

She was the kind of woman who liked standing on her own feet and making it obvious she didn’t need anyone to hold her up. Now she had Dullahan inside her, and whether she liked it or not, that meant dependence. On me, specifically. That would’ve been bad enough on its own.

The worst part was what came next.

She would need stabilization again if she wanted to assimilate Dullahan properly.

That was the part that kept circling in my head all afternoon.

I really hoped she wouldn’t decide to avoid me out of pride and just let the thing grow more unstable inside her. Dullahan wasn’t the kind of symbiote you ignored and hoped would sort itself out. If she tried that, it could get ugly fast.

"You okay, man?"

Christopher’s voice pulled me out of it noticing how lost I was in my thoughts.

I looked up.

We were in my room at the Whitesun Hotel, getting changed for the night. The mood had shifted by then. Less lounging around, less casual talking, more checking straps, sorting ammunition, making sure nothing important got forgotten because somebody’s brain was elsewhere.

And well, Christopher just brought up fitting clothes for me as well and we just started changing there.

Christopher was halfway dressed already, tugging on a pair of dark cargo pants with enough pockets to hide a small armory.

I glanced down at them and smirked despite myself. "You’ve got a ridiculous amount of pockets."

He laughed softly. "Not enough."

That tracked.

I was changing into something darker too, though I’d picked lighter clothes than him. Less bulk. Fewer places for something to catch or drag. I wanted room to move more than I wanted storage.

Christopher noticed that right away.

"You’re not taking a bag?" he asked, reaching for his belt. "Or something for ammo?"

I looked over the gear spread on the bed and shrugged once. "I don’t know if I’ll need one."

Christopher rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I get it. You’re a superhuman symbiote freak and all that. Still, come on. Be ready for anything. A bag helps. Ammo, supplies, tools, whatever. Hell, depending on what’s in it, it can even take some of the impact if somebody shoots you from a bad angle."

"I know," I said, pulling on the shirt and adjusting it. "But I need speed more than anything tonight. Speed and freedom to move. A bag slows me down. Makes my silhouette bigger too."

Christopher nodded slowly, like he hated that I had a point but couldn’t really argue with it.

"Fair enough," he said. Then he gave me a sideways look. "So what’s the plan? Get in, grab Zakthar, and disappear as quietly as possible?"

"Honestly?" I picked up the axe and tested the weight in my hand. "That would be the best-case scenario."

He snorted. "Best-case scenario sounds nice. I don’t trust it."

"Neither do I."

That was the problem.

In theory, the hotel raid had a clear shape. Marlon’s people would push hard from the front and sides, hit fast enough to break Callighan’s outer guard, then force the rest inward before they could organize. In that chaos, I wanted to get eyes on Zakthar, get him out if I could, and use the confusion to my advantage.

In practice, plans like that always turned ugly the second real people started shooting.

Christopher finished fastening his belt and started checking his magazines one by one. "If you do spot him, don’t get stupid."

I looked at him. "That sounds like it came from someone who expects me to get stupid."

"I expect everyone tonight to get stupid at some point," he said. "I’m just trying to reduce the damage in advance."

That got a breath out of me that almost counted as a laugh.

He glanced over again. "You’re really fixed on him, huh?"

"Zakthar?"

"Yeah."

I rested the axe back against the wall and reached for the pistol instead. "He matters."

Christopher waited.

So I gave him more than that.

"He’s tied to too much," I said. "Jackson Township. Wanda. The stuff Callighan’s side has been working on. Maybe that weapon too. If we get him, we get answers. Maybe more than that."

"Not going easy on him, right?" Christopher asked with a faint smile as he finished checking his gear.

"Definitely not," I replied, and there was nothing light in my voice.

Just remembering that Zakthar came here for Dullahan, for Emily, was enough to sour my mood again.

He might have come pretending to help humans, but that didn’t change the truth.

He had also come here to kill us.

To kill Symbiote Hosts.

That alone was reason enough.

Christopher let out a quiet chuckle as he adjusted the strap of his rifle. "Yeah, I figured as much. With how you were acting toward Kunta at first, I doubt you’ll be any kinder to that guy."

I glanced at him. "You against that?"

"Nah." He shook his head. "I’m with you on this one. The guy clearly came here with a mission, and people like you, Cindy, Rachel, Sydney... all of you are part of that mission whether he says it out loud or not." He paused, then added more seriously, "And if he and Kunta ever find out you’re actually Dullahan’s King Host, who knows how they’ll react."

"Yeah," I muttered. "So let’s keep that secret as long as possible."

"You got this," he said, nodding once.

We finished preparing after that.

There wasn’t much left to do except check our weapons again.

I took my Beretta, while Christopher, being fully human and with no Symbiote to rely on, had to carry more. He had a handgun, spare ammunition, and an AK-47 slung ready for the worst of it.

Even now, seeing him hold that rifle still felt strange in a way I couldn’t fully describe.

But that was just the world now.

Christopher looked down at the gun in his hands for a moment and exhaled slowly.

"Damn," he muttered. "We’re really going out to kill people tonight."

It sounded like the thought had only just settled properly in him.

I looked at him carefully. "Don’t hesitate, Chris."

He raised his eyes to me.

"Because they won’t," I said.

That was the truth of it.

One second of hesitation, one bad decision, one moment too soft at the wrong time, and it would be over.

Christopher held my gaze for a second, then nodded.

"Yeah. Don’t worry." He looked back at the rifle, his expression hardening a little. "After everything that’s happened, we have to put ourselves first."

I nodded back.

About ten minutes later, we finally stepped out.

By then, we had everything we might need for the raid, guns, spare ammo, knives, a few simple blades, and torchlights since we’d be moving through the dark. No one was pretending we could improvise our way through a place like the Golden Nugget without being ready.

From what Marlon’s last scouts had reported, the Golden Nugget had electricity.

That alone told me a lot.

I had stolen the previous Nexon Battery, so if the hotel was still lit, then they had to be using the new one Romero had taken from the Atlantic Theatre. And if that was true, then Zakthar was almost certainly still there. He was the only one who could make Starakian tech like that work cleanly enough to power a normal human building.

So in a way, the lights in that hotel were proof.

Proof that the Starakian was still inside.

Of course, that also meant security had probably gotten tighter.

Especially now that Lucy, who had been in charge there, was gone from their side and with us instead.

It was going to be rough.

But we already knew that.

The second Christopher and I stepped out into the corridor, we found Cindy and Sydney waiting outside.

They were both fully dressed for the raid, dark clothes, fitted layers, everything practical and close to the body for ease of movement. No loose fabric, nothing bright, nothing that would catch easily or stand out in the dark.

Sydney looked us over and smirked. "Look at them. Don’t they both look good?"

Christopher gave her a look, then pointed lightly. "You two don’t look bad either. What’s with the hats though?"

Both of them were wearing wool hats, dark enough to blend in.

Cindy reached up and tugged lightly at hers. "To fit in better. We have long hair, remember? It helps keep it out of the way."

Yeah.

That made sense.

Hair was the kind of detail you ignored until it got grabbed in a fight or got in your eyes at the wrong time.

Mine had gotten a little longer too, but I had tied it back properly.

Then Cindy stepped toward me, and to my surprise, held up another hat.

"Here," she said. "I picked this one for you."

It was dark blue.

I smiled a little and lowered my head without arguing. Cindy slipped it onto me, adjusting it with both hands until it sat right.

For a second, I just stood there and let her.

Then I looked at all three of them again.

From head to toe, they were dressed well for this. Ready. Protected as much as possible without giving up speed. They had clearly thought things through.

And even so, a bullet could still kill them instantly.

And just imagining it dreaded me.

If it were only up to me, I probably wouldn’t drag any of them into something like this. But I knew how that sounded. Like I thought they were weak. Like I thought they needed shielding because they were women.

That wasn’t it at all.

I knew how strong they were.

Even before Dullahan and even more now with Dullahan in their blood now. Their bodies were stronger, faster, tougher than before. Even physically, they were already beyond what they had once been. That wasn’t me comforting myself. That was just fact.

Still, strength didn’t erase fear.

And because I loved them, it was hard not to worry.

But I had to trust them.

Trust Cindy. Trust Sydney. Trust Rachel. Trust Christopher as well.

Trust all of them.

I couldn’t do everything alone.

They had told me that over and over again.

"Come on," Cindy said, taking hold of my arm and pulling me forward. "Rachel’s waiting for us."

I nodded and followed her.