Really?
And dont get her started on the Bobbi Brown makeup.
Who the hell did they think had moved in here? One of those Kardashian nut jobs?
And on that note Christ, she couldnt believe she now knew Kim, Kourtney, Khloe, Kris; the brother, Rob; stepfather, Bruce; little sisters Kendall and Kylie; as well as the various husband(s), boyfriend(s), and that kid Mason
Meeting her own eyes in the mirror, she thought, Well, wasnt this interesting. Shed managed to blow her brains out with E! Entertainment Television.
Certainly less messy than a sawed-off, and the results were the same.
That shit needs to come with a warning label on it.
As she stared at her reflection, she recognized the buzzed-off black hair, and the pale skin, and the tight, hard body. The clipped nails. The absolute lack of makeup. She even had her own clothes on, the black muscle shirt and leather pants a uniform shed put on every night for years.
Well, except for a couple of evenings ago. Then shed worn something else entirely.
Maybe that gown was the reason for all the fembot stuff that had shown up after the mating ceremony: Fritz and the doggen may have assumed shed turned over a new leaf. Either that or it was all just part of the standard, newly mated shellan welcome wagon.
Turning away, she put her hands up to the base of her throat, to the big, square diamond John had bought her. Set in sturdy platinum, it was the only piece of jewelry she could ever imagine wearing: tough, solid, able to withstand a good fight and stay on her body.
In this new world of Paul Mitchell, and Bed Head, and Cocos stinky stuff, at least John still got her. As for the rest of them? Can you say education? Not the first time shed played teacher to a bunch of males who thought that just because you had breasts, you belonged in a gilded cage. Anyone tried to turn her into a glymera chickadee? Shed just saw through the gold bars, set a bomb on the base of the stand, and hang the steaming remains from a chandelier in the foyer.
Heading into the bedroom, she opened the closet and pulled out the red gown that shed worn during that ceremony. Only dress shed ever put onand she had to admit shed enjoyed the way John had taken it off with his teeth. And yeah, sure, the nights lounging around had been greatfirst break shed had in forever. All theyd done was have sex, feed from each other, eat great food, and repeat with bouts of sleep.
But now John had gone back out into the fieldwhereas she wasnt due to start fighting until tomorrow evening.
This was just twenty-four hours, a delay, not a dead end.
So what the hell was her problem?
Maybe all the chicky-chicky was just triggering her inner bitch for no good reason. She wasnt cooped up, nobody was making her change herself, and that Kardashian car accident of a marathon on the boob tube was her own damn fault. As for the beauty stuff? The doggen were just trying to be nice, in the only way they knew how.
Not a lot of females like her. And not just because she was half symphath
Frowning, she cranked her head around.
Letting the satin fall from her hands, she went for the emotional grid that was outside in the hall.
With her symphath senses, the three-dimensional structure of sadness and loss and shame was as real as any building you could drive by, look around, or walk through. Unfortunately, in this case, there was no fixing the damage to the supports, or the hole in the roof, or the fact that the electric system wasnt operational anymore: As much as she experienced a persons emotions as if they were a private home, there were no subcontracting workers to come in and repair what was wrong, no plumbers or electricians or painters for this shit. The homeowner had to perform their own improvements on what was broken, battered, and busted; no one else could do it for them.
As she stepped out into the hall of statues, Xhex had a tremor go through her own little house. Then again, the robed, limping figure up ahead was her mother.
God, that still felt weird to say, even if only in her headand it didnt really apply on so many levels, did it?
She cleared her throat. Good evening ah
It didnt sound right to throw out mahmen or mom or mommy. NoOne, the name the female went by, wasnt comfortable, either. Then again, what could you call somebody who had been abducted by a symphath, violently forced to conceive, and then trapped by biology to bear the result of the torture?
First and last name: I and Sorry. Middle name: Am.
As NoOne shifted around, the hood that was in place covered her face. Good evening. How fare thee?
The English was stiff across her mothers lips, suggesting the female would have done better speaking in the Old Language. And the bow that she gave, which was utterly unnecessary, was lopsided, likely because of whatever injury that caused the uneven gait.
That scent she threw off was not anything by Chanel. Unless theyd recently added a Tragedy line.
Im well. Try restless and bored. Where are you going?
To tidy up the sitting room.
Xhex sucked back a wince of dont-go-there. Fritz didnt let anyone but fellow doggen lift a finger in the mansionand NoOne, in spite of the fact that she had come here to attend to Payne, was staying in a guest room, eating at the table with the Brothers, and accepted here as the mother of a mated shellan. She was not a maid by any standard.
Yeah, ah howd you like to Do what? Xhex wondered. What could the two of them possibly do together? Xhex was a fighter. Her mother was a ghost with substance. Not a lot of common ground there.
It is all right, NoOne said gently. These are awkward
Thunder roared through the foyer below, sure as if clouds had formed, lightning flashed, and rain had started to piss down. As NoOne recoiled, Xhex glared over her shoulder. What the hell was
Rhage, a.k.a. Hollywood, a.k.a. the biggest and most beautiful of the Brothers, all but leaped up onto the second-floor balcony. As he landed, his blond head shot around in her direction, his teal eyes on fire.
John Matthew called. Its all hands on deck downtown. Get armed and meet us at the front door in ten minutes.
Hot damn, Xhex hissed as she smacked her palms.
When she turned back to her mother, the female was trembling, and trying not to show it.
Its okay, Xhex said. Im good at fighting. Im not going to get hurt.
Nice words. Except that wasnt what the female was worried about, was it: Her grid was showing fear of Xhex.
Duh. Given that she was a half-breed symphath, of course NoOne would think dangerous before daughter.
Ill leave you alone, Xhex said. Dont worry.
As she jogged back toward her bedroom, she couldnt ignore the fact that her chest was killing her. But then, she couldnt ignore reality, either: Her mother hadnt wanted her.
And still didnt.
And who could blame her.
* * *
From beneath the brim of her hooded robe, NoOne watched the tall, strong, merciless female she had birthed rush off to fight against the enemy.
Xhexania didnt seem fazed at all by the idea that she would be facing deadly lessers: Indeed, that sneer she had shown upon the Brothers command suggested she would relish it.
NoOnes knees went weak as she thought about what she had brought forth into the world, this female with power in her limbs and vengeance in her heart. No female of the glymera would respond such as that; then again, they would never be asked.
But the symphath was in her daughter.
Dearest Virgin Scribe
And yet, as Xhexania had spun around, there had been an expression quickly hidden on her face.
NoOne hurried forth, limping down the hallway to her daughters room. At the heavy door, she knocked softly.
It was a moment before Xhexania opened up. Hey.
I am sorry.
There was no reaction. That showed. What for?
I know what it is to be unwanted by parents. I do not wish you to
Its okay. Xhexania shrugged. Not like I dont know where youre coming from.
I
Listen, I have to get ready. Come in if you like, but be warned: Im not dressing for tea.
NoOne hesitated at the threshold. Inside, the room was well lived-in: The bed was mussed; there were leather pants draped on chairs; two sets of boots were on the floor; a pair of wineglasses were set on a table over in the corner by the chaise lounge. All around, the bonding scent of a full-blooded male, dark and sensuous, lingered in the air.
Lingered on Xhexania herself.
There was a series of clicks and NoOne looked around the jamb. Over at the closet, Xhexania was putting some kind of nasty-looking gun through its paces. She was utterly competent, slipping it into a holster under her arm and taking out another. And then it was the bullets and a knife
Youre not going to feel any better about me if you keep standing there.
I did not come for myself.
That broke the flow of those hands. Why, then.
I saw the look on your face. I do not want that for you.
Xhexania reached in and pulled out a black leather jacket. As she yanked the thing on, she cursed. Look, lets not pretend either one of us wanted me born, okay? I absolve you, you absolve me, we were the victims, blah, blah, blah. We need to stipulate that and move along our separate ways.
Are you sure that is what you want.
The female froze, then narrowed her eyes. I know what you did. The night of my birth.
NoOne took a step back. How
Xhexania pointed to her own chest. Symphath, remember. The fighter came forward, her gait like a prowl. That means I get into peopleso I can feel the fear you have right now. And the regrets. And the pain. Just standing in front of me, youre right back where you were when it all happenedand yeah, I know you buried a dagger in your stomach rather than face a future with me. So like I said, how about you and I just avoid each other, and save both of us the hassle?
NoOne lifted her chin. Indeed, you are a half-breed.
Dark brows popped. Excuse me?
You sense but a portion of what I feel for you. Or perhaps you do not wish to acknowledge, for your own reasons, that I might wish to care for you.
In spite of the fact that the female was strung with weapons, she abruptly seemed vulnerable.
In your gruff self-protection, do not cut off avenues for us, NoOne whispered. We do not need to force closeness if it is not there. But let us not stop it from blooming if there is a chance. Perhaps perhaps you shall just tell me this night if there is some small way I can help you. We shall start there and see what transpires.
Xhexania broke off and walked around, her tight, hard body more like a males, her dress more like a males, her energy masculine. She stopped when she was in front of the closet and, after a moment, pulled out the skirting of the red gown Tohrment had given her for the night of her mating.
Have you cleaned the satin? NoOne asked. And I am not suggesting you have sullied it. Fine fabric must be cared for, however, in order to be preserved.
Id have no idea where to start on that one.
Allow me, then?
Itll be fine.
Please. Allow me.
Xhexania looked over. In a low voice, she said, Why in Gods name would you want to do that?
The truth was as simple as four words, as complex as an entire language. You are my daughter.
THREE
Back in downtown Caldwell, Tohr shed the cold and the aches and the exhaustion that gumshoed him and went in pursuit once again: The scent of fresh lesser blood was like cocaine in his system, buzzing him up and giving him the strength to carry on.
Behind him, he heard the other two closing in, and knew damn well they werent seeking enemybut good fucking luck trying to get him back to the mansion. Dawn was the only thing that could do that.
Besides, the more wiped out he was, the better shot he had at actually sleeping for an hour or two.
As he rounded the corner of an alley, his shitkickers skidded to a halt. In front of him, seven lessers were circling a pair of fighters, but the centerpieces were not Z and Phury, or V and Butch, or Blaylock and Rhage.
That was a scythe in the left ones hands. A big-ass, sharply honed scythe.
Son of a bitch, Tohr muttered.
The male with the curving blade had his feet planted on the pavement like he was a god, his weapon poised, his ugly face smiling in anticipation as if he were about to sit down to a good meal. Next to him, a vampire Tohr hadnt see for aeons was nothing like the guy hed once met in the Old Country.
Looked as though Throe, son of Throe, had fallen in with a bad crowd.
John and Qhuinn pulled up on either side of him, and the latter glanced over. Tell me that isnt our new neighbor.
Xcor.
Was he born with that puss or did someone make it for him?
Who knows.
Well, if that was supposed to be a nose job, he needs a new plastic surgeon.
Tohr looked over at John. Call them off.
Excuse me? the kid signed.
I know you texted the brothers back at the house. Tell them it was a mistake. Right now. When John started to argue, he cut off the conversation. You want there to be an all-out war here? You call the Brotherhood in, he calls his bastards in, and suddenly were balls to the wall without any strategy. Well handle this by ourselvesIm fucking serious, John. Ive dealt with these boys before. You havent.
As Johns hard stare met his own, Tohr had the sense, as always, that they had been in these situations together far, far longer than just the past few months.
You gotta trust me, son.
Johns response was to mouth a curse, get his phone out and start hitting the buttons.
And at that moment, Xcor tweaked that there were visitors. In spite of the number of lessers ahead of him, he started laughing. Its the bloody Black Daggersand just in time to save us. You want us on our knees?
The slayers spun aroundbig mistake. Xcor didnt waste a moment, striking with a circling sweep, hitting two of them in the lower back. That was his free shot. As the pair fell to the ground, the others split into two camps, half heading for Xcor and Throe, half gunning for Tohr and his boys.
Tohr let out a roar and met the onslaught with his bare hands, leaping forward and locking onto the first slayer that got in range. He went for the head, grabbing on hard, before putting up his knee and cracking the fuckers face open. Then he wheeled the thing around and threw the loose body skullfirst into the side of a Dumpster.
As the ringing faded, Tohr faced off at the next in line. Hed have preferred to have gone more with the fist action, but he wasnt going to dick around: At the far end of the alley, seven more newbies were dropping like snakes from a tree, dripping down the front of a chain-link fence.
He ripped out both daggers, set his boots in the pavement, and assessed an offensive strategy for the fresh arrivals. Man say what you would about Xcors ethics, social skills, and GQ eligibility; the motherfucker could fight. He was swinging that scythe around like it weighed less than a pound, and he had a knack for judging distancelesser parts were flying all over the place, hands, a head, an arm. The bastard was incredibly effective, and Throe wasnt incompetent, either.
Against all odds, and the choice of any of them, Tohr and his crew fell into a rhythm with the bastards: Xcor drove the first round into the waiting blades at the head of the alley, while his lieutenant held the second wave in place so no one got blocked in. After Tohr, John, and Qhuinn picked the tide off, one by one the other slayers were sent to the slaughterfreshly wounded.
Whereas there had been showboating in the beginning, now this was work. Xcor wasnt doing any flashy moves with his wide blade; Throe wasnt jumping around; John and Qhuinn were in the zone.
And Tohr was knee-deep in revenge.
These were nothing but new recruitsso it wasnt like the slayers were offering much in the way of skills. The sheer numbers, however, were such that the tide could turn
A third squadron popped over the fence.
As they landed one after the other on the payment, Tohr regretted his order to John. That had been vengeance talking. Fuck the shit with avoiding a BDB vs. Band of Bastards showdown; hed wanted to save the kills for himself. The result? Hed put Johns and Qhuinns lives in danger. Xcor and Throethey could die tonight, tomorrow, a year from now, whatever. And as for himselfwell, you could jump off a bridge in a thousand different ways.
But his boys? They were worth saving. John was someones hellren now. And Qhuinn had a lot of living ahead of him.
It wasnt fair for his death wish to put them in early graves.
Xcor, son of an unknown sire, had his lover in his hands. His scythe was the only female he had ever cared for, and tonight, as he faced off against what started as seven of the enemy, and then grew to fourteen, and then swelled to twenty-one, she repaid his loyalty with a performance unparalleled.
As they moved together, she was an extension of not just his arms, but his body, his eyes, his brain. He was not a soldier with a weapon; united, they were a beast with mighty jaws. And as they worked, he knew this was what he had missed. This was why he had come across the ocean unto the New World: to find a new life in a new land where there was still plenty of the old, worthy enemy.
Upon his arrival, however, his ambitions had identified an even loftier goal. And it meant the other vampires in this alley were in his way.
At the opposite end of the alley, Tohrment, son of Hharm, was something worth seeing. As much as Xcor hated to admit it, the Brother was an incredible fighter, those whirling black daggers catching the ambient light, those arms and legs shifting positions fast as a heartbeat, that balance and executionsheer perfection.
If he had been one of Xcors males, the Brother might well have had to be killed so that Xcor could retain his prime position: It was a basic tenent of leadership that one eliminated those who presented a potential challenge to ones position although it wasnt as if his band were incompetentsafter all, one had to eliminate the weak as well.
The Bloodletter had taught him that and so much more.
At least some things had proven not to be lies.
There would never be a place for the likes of Tohrment in his band of bastards, however: that Brother and his ilk would not slum themselves for a shared meal, much less any professional association.
Though one cohesed briefly, this night. As the fight progressed, he and Throe fell into a cooperation with the Brothers, funneling lessers in small groups into blade range, whereupon they were dispatched to the Omega by the other three.
Two Brothers, or Brotherhood candidates, were with Tohr, and both were larger than himin fact, Tohrment, son of Hharm, was not as broad as he had once been. Mayhap from recovery of a recent injury? Whatever the cause, Tohr had chosen his backups wisely. The one on the right was a tremendous male, the size of whom proved that the Scribe Virgins breeding program had had a point. The other was more the girth and vertical of Xcor and his maleswhich was to say he was not small. Both worked seamlessly and without hesitation, showing no fear.
When it was finally done, Xcor was breathing hard, his forearms and biceps numb from exertion. All who had fangs were standing. All who had black blood in the vein were gone, sent back to their evil maker.
The five of them stayed in their positions, weapons still in hand as they panted, eyes peeled for any signs of aggression from the other side.
Xcor glanced at Throe and nodded ever so slightly. If others from the Brotherhood had been called in, this was not the kind of showdown they would come out of alive. If these three engaged? He and his soldier had a chance, but there would be injuries.
He did not come to Caldwell to die. He came here to be king.
I look forward to seeing you again, Tohrment, son of Hharm, he announced.
Leaving so soon? the Brother countered.
Did you think I would bow before you?
No, that would require class.
Xcor smiled coldly, flashing his fangs as they elongated. His temper was held in check by his self-controland the fact that he was already begining to work on the glymera. Unlike the Brotherhood, we lowly soldiers actually work during the night. So instead of kissing the ring of antiquated custom, were going to seek and eliminate more of the enemy.
I know why youre here, Xcor.
Do you. Mind reader?
Youre going to get yourself killed.
Indeed. Or mayhap it shall be the other way around.
Tohrment shook his head slowly. Consider this a friendly warning. Go back where you came from before what you set in motion rolls you right into an early grave.
I like where I am. The air is bracing on this side of the ocean. Hows your shellan, by the way.
The cold draft that surged forward was what he wanted: Hed heard through the convoluted grapevine that the female Wellesandra had been killed in the war some time ago, and he wasnt above using any weapon he had to throw off the enemy.
And the shot was a good one. Immediately, the bookends on either side of the Brother stepped in and grabbed on. But there would be no fighting or arguing. Not this eve.
Xcor and Throe dematerialized, scattering themselves into the chilly spring night. He was not worried that they would be followed. That pair was going to make sure Tohr was okay, which meant they were going to dissuade him from a half-cocked, angry whim that might possibly lead to an ambush.
They had no way of knowing he couldnt access the rest of his troops.
He and Throe regained their forms on top of the tallest skyscraper in the city. He and his soldiers had always had a rallying point such that the band could be reunited from time to time during the night, and this towering rooftop was not only easily visible from all quadrants of the battlefield; it seemed apt.
Xcor liked the view from on high.
We need cell phones, Throe said over the din of the wind.
Do we.
They have them.
The enemy, you mean?
Aye. Both of them. When Xcor said nothing further, his right-hand male muttered, They have ways of communicating
That we do not require. If you allow yourself to rely on externals, they become weapons over you. We have done just fine without such technology for centuries.
And this is a new era in a new place. Things are different here.
Xcor glanced over his shoulder, trading the view of the city for the sight of his second in command. Throe, son of Throe, was a fine example of breeding, all perfect features, and comely body that, thanks to Xcors lessons, was now not merely decorative, but useful: For truth, he had grown hard over the years, finally earning the right to declare his sex as that of male.
Xcor smiled coldly. If the Brothers tactics and methods are so successful, why did the race get raided?
Things happen.
And sometimes they are the result of mistakesfatal ones. Xcor resumed his perusal of the city. You might consider how easily such errors can be made.
All Im saying
This is the problem with the glymeraalways looking for the easy way out. I thought I beat that tendency out of you years ago. Do you require a refresher?
As Throe shut the fuck up, Xcor smiled more broadly.
Focusing on the expanse of Caldwell, he knew that dark though the night was, his future was bright indeed.
And paved with the bodies of the Brotherhood.
FOUR
Where the hell are they finding all these recruits? Qhuinn asked as he walked around the fight scene, his boots slapping through the black blood.
John barely heard the guy, even though his ears were working just fine. With the departure of those bastards, he was sticking by Tohrs side. The Brother seemed to have recovered from that uncalled-for kick in the nuts Xcor had just nailed him with, but it was still waaaaay break time.
Tohr wiped his black blades off on his thighs. Took a deep breath. Seemed to pull out of an inner suck hole. Ah the only thing that makes sense is Manhattan. You need a big population. With a lot of bad seeds on the periphery.
Who the hell is this Fore-lesser?
A little shit, last I heard.
Right up the Omegas alley.
Smart, though.
Just as John was going to broach the whole Cinderella-turning-into-a-pumpkin thing, his head shot around.
More, Tohr said on a growl.
Yeah, but that wasnt the problem.
Johns shellan was out in the alleys.
Instantly, everything went from his mind; his toilet bowl flushed. What the hell was she doing out? She wasnt on rotation. She should be home
As the stench of fresh, breathing lesser entered his nose, a deep inner conviction clawed into his chest: She shouldnt be out here at all.
I need to get my coat, Tohr said. Stay here and Ill go with you.
Fat. Chance.
The instant Tohr dematerialized back to the bridge, John took off, his shitkickers pounding the asphalt as Qhuinn shouted something that ended with, You cocksucker!
Whatever, unlike Tohrs wild, crazy, maniac diversions, this was important.
John cut through the alley, shot down a side street, jumped across two lines of parked cars, bolted into a detour.
And there she was, his mate, his lover, his life, squaring off against a quartet of lessers in front of an abandoned rooming houseflanked by a big, loudmouthed blond traitor.
Rhage should never have recruited her. John had said reinforcementshe sure as shit hadnt meant his Xhex. And second of all, hed told them to stay home, at Tohrs request. What the fuck were they
Hey! Rhage called out cheerfully. Like he was inviting them to a party. Just thought wed take the air tonight in beeeeautiful downtown Caldwell.
Right. This was one moment when being mute sucked. You fucking ass
Xhex turned her head around to look at himand that was when it happened. One of the lessers was tucking a knife, and the sonofabitch had both a good arm and great aim: The blade flew through the air, hilt over point.
Until it came to a sudden stop in Xhexs chest.
For the second time in one evening, John screamed without making a sound.
As his body surged forward, Xhex whipped around to the slayer, an expression of rage tightening her features. Without losing a beat, she grabbed onto the handle and tore the weapon out of her own fleshbut how long would her strength last? That was a direct hit
Jesus Christ! She was going to try to take care of the bastard. Even injured, she was going to go after him tooth and nail and get herself killed in the process.
The one thought that shot through Johns mind was that he didnt want to be like Tohr. He didnt want to walk that stretch of hell on earth.
He didnt want to lose his Xhex tonight, tomorrow night, any night. Ever.
Opening his mouth, he roared all of the air out of his lungs. He wasnt conscious of dematerializing, but he was on that lesser so fast that going ghost and re-forming was the only explanation. Locking onto the things throat with his palm, he pushed the piece of shit backward off its feet and let his own weight follow. When they hit the ground, he head-butted its face, smashing the nose, and likely breaking a cheekbone or an eye socket.
No stopping there.
As black blood splashed up all over him, he bared his fangs and tore into the enemy with his teeth while he held the thing down. The destructive instinct was so finely tuned and focused, he would have kept going until he was chewing on pavementbut then his rational side sent up a hi-howre-ya.
He needed to assess Xhexs injuries.
Taking out a dagger, he raised his arm high and locked eyes with the slayer. Or what was left of the lessers pair of peepers.
John buried that blade so deep and hard that after the flash and bang faded, he needed a two-handed grip and a full-body pull to free the weapon out of the asphalt. Scrambling around, he prayed to see Xhex