Lash pushed his combat boot into the floor again and fell into the same rhythm as the king.
And what exactly might you need from me, he drawled.
The king smiled. Couplings are our fundamental congregations, are they not. A male and a female bound together. And yet within these intimate relationships discord is common. Promises are made, but not kept. Vows are given and yet discarded. Against these transgressions, measures must be taken.
Sounds like youre talking vengeance, there, big guy.
That smooth face shifted into a self-satisfied expression. Not vengeance, no. Corrective action. That a death would be involvedis merely what the situation requires.
Death, huh. So symphaths dont believe in divorce?
Ruby eyes flashed with contempt. In the case of a faithless mate whose actions outside of the bed run contrary to the core of the relationship, death is the only divorce.
Lash nodded. I get the logic. So whos the target?
Are you committing yourself to act?
Not yet. It wasnt clear to him exactly how far he was willing to go. Getting his hands dirty inside the colony had not been part of his original plan.
The king stopped rocking and got to his feet. Think of it, then, and be sure. When you are ready to receive from us what you need for your war, come unto me again and I shall show you the way to proceed.
Lash stood up as well. Why dont you just kill your mate yourself.
The kings slow smile was like that on a corpse, rigid and cold. My dearest friend, the insult to which I most object is less the disloyalty, which I would expect, but rather the arrogant assumption that I would never know the deceit. The former is a trifle. The latter inexcusable. Nowshall I see you to your car?
Nope. Well walk ourselves out.
As you wish. The king extended his six-fingered hand. Such a pleasure
Lash reached forward and felt electricity lick up his arm as their palms met. Yeah. Whatever. Youll be hearing from me.
SIXTEEN
She was with himoh, God, she was finally back with him.
Tohrment, son of Hharm, was naked and pressed against the flesh of his beloved, feeling her satin skin and hearing her gasp as his hand went to her breast. Red hairred hair everywhere on the pillow hed rolled her back against and on the white sheets that smelled like lemonsred hair wrapped around his thick forearm.
Her nipple was tight against his circling thumb and her lips soft beneath his own as he kissed her deep and slow. When she was begging for him, he was going to roll onto her and take her from above, driving into her hard, holding her down.
She liked the weight of him. She liked the feel of him covering her. In their life together, Wellsie was an independent female with a strong mind and a stubborn streak to rival a bulldogs, but in bed, she liked him on top.
He dropped his mouth to her breast, sucking her nipple in, rolling it around, kissing it.
Tohr
What, leelan? More? Maybe Ill have you wait
But he couldnt. He nursed at her and stroked her stomach and her hips. As she writhed, he licked up to her neck and raked his fangs across her jugular. He couldnt wait to feed. For some reason, he was starved for blood. Maybe hed been fighting a lot.
Her fingers dug into his hair. Take my vein
Not yet. The sting of delay was just going to make it better-the more he wanted it, the sweeter the blood.
Moving up to her mouth, he kissed her harder than before, his tongue penetrating her as he deliberately rubbed his cock against her thigh, a promise of another, deeper invasion down below. She was thoroughly aroused, her scent rising up through the lemony sheets, making his fangs pound in his mouth and the tip of his sex weep.
His shellan had been the only female hed ever known. Theyd both been virgins on their mating night-and hed never wanted anybody else.
Tohr
God, he loved the low sound of her voice. Loved everything about her. They had been promised to each other before theyd been born, and it had been love at first sight the moment theyd met. Destiny had been so kind to them.
He swept his palm down onto her waist, and then
He stopped, realizing something was wrong. Something
Your bellyyour belly is flat.
Tohr
Wheres the young? He pulled back in a panic. You were with young. Wheres the young? Is he okay? What happened to youare you all right?
Tohr
Her eyes opened, and the stare he had looked into for over a hundred years focused on him. Sadness, the kind that made you wish youd never been born, drained the sexual flush from her beautiful face.
Reaching up to him, she put her hand on his cheek. Tohr
What happened?
Tohr
The sheen over her eyes and the quaver of her lovely voice snapped him in half. And then she began to drift away, her body disappearing under his touch, her red hair, her exquisite face, her despairing eyes fading so that only the pillows remained before him. Then in a final blow, the lemony smell of the sheets and her naturally clean scent left his nose, replaced by nothing-
Tohr jacked upright off the mattress, his eyes spilling over with tears, his heart aching as if hed had nails driven into his chest. Breathing raggedly, he clutched at his breastbone and opened his mouth to scream.
No sound came. He didnt have the strength.
Falling back against the pillows, he wiped his wet cheeks with hands that shook and tried to calm the hell down. When he finally caught his breath, he frowned. His heart was skipping in his rib cage, not so much beating as fluttering, and no doubt because of the erratic spasms, dizziness spun his head in a tight circle.
Pulling up his T-shirt, he stared down at his deflated pecs and his shrunken torso and willed his body to keep failing. The spells had been coming with increasing regularity and strength, and he wished to hell theyd just get organized and help him wake up dead. Suicide was not an option if you wanted to get into the Fade and be with your deceased loved ones, but he was operating under the assumption that you could effectively neglect yourself to death. Which wasnt technically suicide, like eating a bullet or throwing a noose around his neck or doing a slit-the-wrist special would be.
The scent of food from out in the hallway had him looking at the clock. Four in the afternoon. Or was it morning? The drapes were drawn, so he didnt know whether the shutters were up or down.
The knock that sounded was soft.
Which, thank fuck, meant it wasnt Lassiter, who just came in whenever he wanted. Evidently fallen angels werent big on manners. Or personal space. Or boundaries of any kind. Clearly the great, glowing nightmare had been booted out of heaven because God hadnt liked his company any more than Tohr did.
The quiet knock was repeated. So it must be John.
Yeah, Tohr said, letting his shirt fall as he pushed himself up on the pillows. His arms, once strong as cranes, struggled under the weight of his wilted shoulders.
The boy, who was no longer a boy, came in bearing a tray heavily laden with food, and a face full of baseless optimism.
Tohr glanced over as the burden was put on the bedside table. Herbed chicken and saffron rice and green beans and fresh rolls.
The shit might as well have been roadkill wrapped in barbed wire, for all he cared, but he picked up the plate and rolled out the napkin and took the fork and the knife and put them to use.
Chew. Chew. Chew. Swallow. More chewing. Swallow. Drink. Chew. Eating was as mechanical and autonomic as his respiration, something he was only dimly aware of, a necessity, not a pleasure.
Pleasure was a thing of the pastand a torture within his dreams. As he recalled his shellan up against him, naked, in lemony sheets, the fleeting image lit up his body from the inside out, making him alive, and not just living. The strike of his mortal match head faded quick, though, a flame with no wick to sustain it.
Chew. Cut. Chew. Swallow. Drink.
As he ate, the boy sat down in a chair by the closed drapes, elbow on knee, fist on chin, a living, breathing Rodins The Thinker. John was always like that lately, always with something on his mind.
Tohrment knew damn well what it was, but the solution that was going to end Johns sad preoccupation was going to hurt the kid like a bitch first.
And Tohr was sorry about that. Very sorry.
Christ, why couldnt Lassiter have just left him where hed lain in that forest? That angel could have kept right on going, but no, His Lordship Halogen had to be a hero.
Tohr shifted his eyes over to John and his gaze locked on the kids fist. The thing was huge, and the chin and jaw that rested on it were strong, masculine. The boy had turned out to be a handsome guy; then again, as Dariuss son, hed had a good gene pool. One of the best.
Come to think of ithe really looked like D, a carbon copy, actually, except for the blue jeans. Darius wouldnt have been caught dead in blue jeans, even fancy designer-distressed ones like the kind John was sporting.
Matter of factD had often assumed that exact position when hed been stewing over life, pulling the Rodin, all frown and churn-
A flash of silver winked from Johns free hand. It was a quarter, and the kid was weaving the coin in and out and around his fingers, his version of a nervous twitch.
Tonight was more than Johns usual silent perching. Something had happened.
Whats doing? Tohr asked, his voice a rasp. You okay?
Johns eyes shot over in surprise.
To avoid the stare, Tohr looked down, speared some chicken, and put it in his mouth. Chew. Chew. Swallow.
Going by the shifting sounds, John was uncurling himself from his wood-burning routine slowly, as if he were afraid that sudden movements would spook away the question hanging between them.
Tohr glanced over again, and when he waited, John put the quarter in his pocket and signed with economy and grace, Wrath is out fighting again. V just told me and the guys.
Tohr was rusty with American Sign Language, but not that rusty. Surprise lowered his fork. Waithes still king, right?
Yeah, but he told the Brothers tonight that hes going back on rotation. Or I guess hes been on rotation and kept it to himself. I think the Brotherhoods pissed at him.
Rotation? Cant be. The kings not allowed to fight.
He is now. And Phurys coming back, too.
What the fuck? The Primales not supposed to Tohr frowned. Is there some change in the war? Something going on?
I dont know. John shrugged and settled back into the chair, crossing his legs at the knee. Another thing Darius always did.
In the pose, the son seemed as old as the father had been, although that was less about the way Johns limbs were arranged and more about the exhaustion in his blue eyes.
Its not legal, Tohr said.
Is now. Wrath met with the Scribe Virgin.
Questions started to buzz in Tohrs head, his brain struggling with the unaccustomed load. In the midst of the disjointed swirl, it was hard to think coherently, and he felt as if he were trying to hold a hundred tennis balls in his arms; no matter how hard he tried, ones slipped through and bounced around, creating a mess.
He gave up trying to make sense of anything. Well, thats a change I wish them luck.
Johns low exhale pretty much summed it all up as Tohr unplugged from the world and went back to eating. When he was finished, he folded up the napkin neatly and took a final drink from the water glass.
He turned the TV on to CNN, because he didnt want to think and he couldnt handle the quiet. John stayed for about a half hour, and when he clearly couldnt stand being still any longer, he got to his feet and stretched.
Ill see you at the end of the night.
Ah, so it was afternoon. Ill be here.
John picked up the tray and left with no pause, no hesitation. There had been plenty of both at first, as if each time he hit the door, he hoped that Tohr would stop him and say, Im ready to face life. Im going to soldier on. Im better enough to give a shit about you.
But hope didnt spring eternal.
When the door was shut, Tohr pulled the sheets off his stick legs and shuffled his feet over the edge of the mattress.
He was ready to face something, all right, but it wasnt his existence. With a groan and a lurch, he stumbled into the bathroom, went to the toilet, and popped up the porcelain thrones seat. Bending over, he gave the command and his stomach evacuated the meal without a fuss.
In the beginning, hed had to cram his finger down his throat, but no more. He just clenched his diaphragm and up it all came, like rats fleeing an overflowing sewer.
You gotta cut that shit out.
Lassiters voice harmonized with the sound of the toilet flushing. Which so made sense.
Christ, dont you ever knock?
Its Lassiter. L-A-S-S-I-T-E-R. How is it possible youre still getting me confused with someone else? Do I need a nametag?
Yes, and lets put it over your mouth. Tohr sagged onto the marble and dropped his head into his hands. You know, you can go home. You can leave anytime.
Get your flat ass in gear, then. Cuz thats whatll do it.
Now, theres a reason to live.
There was a soft chiming sound, which meant, tragedy of tragedies, the angel had just popped himself up onto the countertop. So, what are we doing tonight? Wait, let me guess, sitting in morose silence. Or, noyoure mixing it up. Brooding with soulful intensity, right? What a fucking wild child you are. Whoo. Hoo. Next thing you know, youll be opening for Slipknot.
With a curse, Tohr stood up and went over to turn on the shower, hoping that if he refused to look at the loudmouth, Lassiter would get bored more quickly and move on to ruin someone elses afternoon.
Question, the angel said. When are we going to cut that rug thats growing out of your head? Shit gets any longer, were going to have to mow it down like hay.
As Tohr stripped out of his T-shirt and boxers, he enjoyed the only consolation to be had in suffering Lassiters company: He flashed the motherfucker.
Man, flat ass is right, Lassiter muttered. Youre sporting a pair of deflated basketballs back there. Makes me wonderHey, Ill bet Fritz has a bicycle pump. Im just saying.
You dont like the view? You know the door. Its the one you never knock on.
Tohr didnt give the water time to warm up; he just got under the spray, and he cleaned himself for no good reason he knew of-he had no pride, so he didnt give a shit what anyone thought of his hygiene.
The throwing up had a purpose. The showeringmaybe it was simply habit.
Closing his eyes, he parted his lips and stood facing the nozzle. Water licked into his mouth, whisking away the bile, and as the sting left his tongue, a thought walked into his brain.
Wrath was out fighting. Alone.
Hey, Tohr.
Tohr frowned. The angel never used his proper name. What.
Tonight is different.
Yeah, only if you leave me alone. Or hang yourself in this bathroom. Got six showerheads to choose from in here.
Tohr picked up the bar of soap and went over his body, feeling the hard, jabbing thrusts of his bones and joints coming through his thin skin.
Wrath out alone.
Shampoo. Rinse. Turn back to the spray. Open mouth.
Out. Alone.
He ended the shower, and the angel was front and center with a towel, all manservant and shit.
Tonight is different, Lassiter said softly.
Tohr looked at the guy truly, seeing him for the first time, even though they had been together for four months. The angel had black-and-blond hair that was as long as Wraths, but he was no cross-dresser in spite of all the Cher dripping down his back. His wardrobe was straight-up army/navy, black shirts and camo pants and combat boots, but he wasnt all soldier. Fucker was pierced like a pincushion and accessorized like a jewelry box, with gold hoops and chains hanging from holes in his ears and wrists and eyebrows. And you could bet the mountings were on his chest and below the waist-which was something Tohr refused to think about. He didnt need help throwing up, thank you very much.
As the towel changed hands, the angel said with gravity, Time to wake up, Cinderella.
Tohr was about to point out that it was Sleeping Beauty when a memory came to him as if it had been injected into his frontal lobe. It was the night hed saved Wraths life back in 1958, and the images came to him with the clarity of the actual experience.
The king had been out. Alone. Downtown.
Half-dead and bleeding into the sewer.
An Edsel had nailed him. A piece-of-shit Edsel convertible the color of a diner waitresss blue eye shadow.
As near as Tohr could figure out later, Wrath had been on foot in pursuit of a lesser and barrel-assing around a corner when the boat of a car had plowed into him. Tohr had been two blocks away and heard the screeching brakes and the impact of some sort, and hed been prepared to do absolutely nothing.
Human traffic accidents? Not his problem.
But then a pair of lessers had run past the alley hed been standing in. The slayers had been hauling nut through the fall drizzle like they were being pursued, except there was no one riding their bumpers. Hed waited, expecting to see one of his brothers. None had come pounding along.
Didnt make any sense. If a slayer had been hit by a car in the company of his cronies, they wouldnt have left the scene. The others would have killed the human driver and any passengers, then packed their dead up in the trunk and driven off from the scene: The last thing the Lessening Society wanted was an incapacitated lesser leaking black blood on the street.
Maybe it was just coincidence, though. A human pedestrian. Or someone on a bike. Or two cars.
Only one set of squealing breaks though. And none of that would explain the pair of paled-out flip-heels whod passed him like they were arsonists running from a fire theyd lit.
Tohr had jogged onto Trade and around the corner and caught sight of a human male in a hat and trench coat crouched over a crumpled body twice his size. The guys wife, who had been dressed in one of those petticoated, frothy fifties numbers, stood just beyond the headlights, huddled into her fur.
Her brilliant red skirt had been the color of streaks on the pavement, but the scent of the spilled blood hadnt been human. It was vampire. And the one whod been struck had long dark hair
The womans voice had been shrill. We need to take him to the hospital-
Tohr had stepped in and cut her off. Hes mine.
The man had looked up. Your friendI didnt see him Dressed in black-he came out of nowhere-
Ill take care of him. Tohr had stopped explaining himself at that point and just willed the two humans into a stupor. A quick thought suggestion sent them back into their car and on their way with the impression that they had hit a trash can. Hed figured the rain would take care of the blood on the front of their car, and the dent they could fix on their own.
Tohrs heart had been going as fast as a jackhammer as hed leaned over the body of the heir to the races throne. Blood had been everywhere, leaking fast from a gash in Wraths head, so Tohr had shrugged out of his jacket, bit into the sleeve, and ripped off a strip of leather. After wrapping up the heirs temples and tying the makeshift bandage as tight as he could, hed flagged down a passing truck, pulled a gun on the greaser behind the wheel, and been chauffeured by the human out to Haverss neighborhood.
He and Wrath had ridden in the back bed, with him keeping pressure on Wraths head wound, and the rain had been cold. A late-November rain, maybe December. Good thing it hadnt been summer, though. No doubt the chill had slowed Wraths heart and eased his blood pressure.
Quarter of a mile from Haverss, in the ritzy part of Caldwell, Tohr had told the human to pull over and brainwashed him on his way.
The minutes it had taken Tohr to walk to the clinic had been among the longest of his life, but hed gotten Wrath there, and Havers had closed what had turned out to be a temporal artery slice.
It had been touch and go that next day. Even with Marissa there to feed Wrath, the king had lost so much blood, he hadnt rebounded as expected, and Tohr had stayed for the duration, sitting in a chair by the bedside. As Wrath had lain so still, Tohr had felt as if the whole of the race were tipping between life and death, the only one who could take the throne locked into a sleep that was only a few firing neurons off a permanent vegetative state.
Word had gotten out and people had come undone. The nurses and the doctor. The other patients who had stopped by to pray over the king who would not serve. The Brothers, who had used rotary phones to call every fifteen minutes.
The collective sense was that without Wrath, there was no hope. No future. No chance.
Wrath had lived, however, waking up with the kind of crankiness that made you sigh in reliefbecause if a patient had the energy to be that pissy, he was going to pull through.
The following nightfall, after having been out cold for twenty-four hours straight and having scared the shit out of everyone around him, Wrath had unplugged the IV, dressed himself, and left.
Without a word to any of them.
Tohr had expectedsomething. Not a thank-you, but an acknowledgment orsomething. Hell, Wrath was a gruff son of a bitch now, but back then? Hed been downright toxic. Even sonothing? After hed saved the guys life?
Kinda reminded him of the way hed been treating John. And his brothers.
Tohr wrapped the towel around his waist and thought about the more important point of the memory. Wrath out there fighting alone. Back in 58, it had been a stroke of luck that Tohr had been where he had and found the king before it was too late.
Time to wake up, Lassiter said.
SEVENTEEN
As night settled in for the duration, Ehlena prayed that she wouldnt be late to work again. With the clock ticking, she waited upstairs in the kitchen with the CranRas and the crushed drugs. Shed been meticulous about cleanup: Shed put the spoon away. Double-checked all the surfaces. Even made sure the living room was ordered properly.
Father? she called down the stairs.
While she listened for sounds of shuffling movement and quiet words spoken without sense, she thought of the bizarre dream shed had during the day. Shed imagined Rehv in the dark distance with his arms hanging to the sides. His magnificent, naked body had been spotlit as if on display, his muscles bunching up in a powerful show, his skin a warm, golden brown. His head had been angled down, his eyes closed as if in repose.
Captivated, summoned, she had walked across a cold stone floor to him, saying his name over and over again.
He had not responded. He had not lifted his head. He had not opened his eyes.
Fear had whistled through her veins and kick-started her heart, and she had rushed to him, but he had stayed ever distant, a goal never realized, a destination never reached.
She had awoken with tears in her eyes and a body that trembled. As the choking trauma had receded, the meaning was clear, but really, she didnt need her subconscious to tell her what she already knew.
Snapping herself out of it, she called down the stairs again, Father?
When there was no reply, Ehlena took her fathers mug and walked down to the cellar. She went slowly, although not because she was afraid of spilling bloodred CranRas on her white uniform. Every once in a while her father didnt rouse himself and she had to make this descent, and each time she took the steps in this way, she wondered if it had finally happened, if her father had been gathered up unto the Fade.
She wasnt ready to lose him. Not yet, and no matter how hard things were.
Putting her head through the doorway into his room, she saw him seated at his hand-carved desk, shaggy stacks of papers and unlit candles surrounding him.
Thank you, Virgin Scribe.
As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she worried over how the lack of light might damage her fathers vision, but the candles were going to stay as they were, because there were no matches or lighters in the house. The last time hed gotten his hands on a match had been back at their old place-and hed lit the apartment on fire because his voices told him to.
That had been two years ago, and the reason hed been put on meds.
Father?
He looked up from the mess and seemed surprised. Daughter mine, how fare thee this night?
Always the same question, and she always gave him the same answer in the Old Language. Well, my father. And you?
As always I am charmed by your greeting. Ah, yes, the doggen has put out my juice. How good of her. Her father took the mug. Wither goest thou?
This led to their verbal pas de deux over him not approving of her working and her explaining that she did it because she liked to and him shrugging and not understanding the younger generation.
Verily I am departing now, she said, but Lusie shall arrive in a matter of moments.
Yes, good, good. In truth, I am busy with my book, but I shall entertain her, as is proper, for a time. I must needs get about my work, though. He waved his hand around the physical representation of the chaos in his mind, his elegant sweep at odds with the ragged sheaves of paper that were filled with nonsense. This needs tending to.
Of course it does, Father.
He finished the CranRas and, as she went to take it from him, he frowned. Surely the maid will do that?
I should like to help her. She has many duties. Wasnt that the truth. The doggen had to follow all the rules for objects and where they belonged, as well as do the shopping and earn the money and pay the bills and watch after him. The doggen was tired. The doggen was worn out.
But the mug absolutely had to go up to the kitchen.
Father, please let go of the mug so that I may take it upstairs. The maid fears disturbing you, and I should like to spare her the concern.
For a moment, his eyes focused on her the way they used to. You have a beautiful and generous heart. I am so proud to call you daughter.
Ehlena blinked fiercely and in a rough voice said, Your pride means everything to me.
He reached out and squeezed her hand. Go, my daughter. Go to this job of yours, and come home to me with stories of your night.
OhGod.
Just what he had said to her way back when shed been in private school and her mother had been alive and they lived among the family and the glymera like people who mattered.
Even though she knew that by the time she got home likely as not he would have no memory of asking her his old lovely question, she smiled and ate up the tasty crumbs of the past.
As always, Father mine. As always.
She left to the sound of shifting pages and the tink-tink-tink of a quill nib on the edge of a crystal ink bottle.
Upstairs, she rinsed out the mug, dried it, and put it in the cupboard, then made sure that everything in the refrigerator was where it needed to be. When she received the text that Lusie was on her way, she ducked out the door, locked it, and dematerialized to the clinic.
As she came in to work, she felt such a relief at being like everyone else, showing up on time, putting things in her locker, talking about nothing in particular before the shift started.
Except then Catya came up to her when she was at the coffeepot, all smiles. Solast night was? Come on, do tell.
Ehlena finished filling her mug and hid a wince behind a deep first draw that burned her tongue. I think no-show would cover it.
No-show?
Yup. As in, he didnt show.
Catya shook her head. Damn it.
No, its fine. Really. I mean, its not like I had much invested. Yeah, only a whole fantasy about the future that included things like a hellren, a family of her own, a life worth living. Nothing much at all. Its fine.
You know, I was thinking last night. I have a cousin who is-
Thanks, but no. With my dad the way he is, I shouldnt be dating anyone. Ehlena frowned, recalling how quickly Rehv had agreed with her on that. Even though you could argue that it made him some kind of gentleman, it was hard not be a little annoyed.