The sound of gravel crunching under tires had him turning to the door. Theyre here.
My son, I should like you to bring me more. I find myself hungry for fresh ones.
Lash went to the doorway. No problem.
In this at least, they were fully aligned. More inductees meant more money, more fighting.
The Omega came up behind Lash and there was a soft brushing movement as a black hand ran down his spine. You are a good son.
For a split second, Lashs dark heart ached. The phrase was exactly the one the vampire whod raised him had said from time to time. Thanks.
Mr. D and the two others got out of the Lexus. . and brought the human forward. It hadnt dawned on the little bastard yet that he was a pair of jeans and a T-shirt away from being a sacrificial lamb. But the instant he got a look-see at the Omega, shit was going to become clear as a bell.
TWELVE
As John lay facedown and the footsteps of his enemy got closer, he breathed through his nose and got a sinus-load of fresh dirt. Pulling a possum was not a bright idea generally speaking, but this motherfucker with the epileptic trigger finger didnt fit the profile of someone who was going to be too careful about whether hed hit his mark or not.
Letting loose the lead in the middle of a public park?
Had the idiot never heard of the Caldwell Police Department? The Caldwell Courier Journal?
The boots stopped and that sweet, choking smell lessers carried on their skin nearly made him gag. But funny how life and death got the attention of your esophagus.
He felt something blunt push at his left arm, like the slayer was checking with his boot to see if they were in toe tag territory. And then on cue, Qhuinn let out a low, pathetic moan from around the far side of the shed.
Like his liver was leaking into his colon.
The boots moved down Johns body as the bastard wandered forward to investigate and John cracked an eye. The slayer was pulling a Hollywood, his gun held straight out in a double-palm grip, the muzzle swinging from side to side with more affect than effect. Still, though he looked all Crockettand-Tubbs ridiculous with that theatrical bust-a-move, bullets were bullets and it would take only a quick shift in direction and John was at point-blank range.
Good thing he didnt give a shit. As the fucker wedding- marched it toward Qhuinns moans, an image of Xhexs face sprang John up off the ground in a single lithe move. He landed on top of the lessers thick back, latching on with his free arm and both of his legs as he put his gun to that pale temple.
The slayer froze for a split second, and John whistled between his teeth, the signal for Qhuinn and Blay to come up from behind.
Time to drop the gun, asshole, Qhuinn said as he reappeared. Then, without giving the bastard time to comply, he reached out, locked his hands on the slayers forearm, and made like he was snapping a stick.
The crack of bones was louder than Johns whistle had been and the result was a limp wrist and a Glock no longer under the enemys control.
As the lesser bucked in pain, sirens from far off sounded out. . and closed in.
John dragged the bastard back to the double doors of the shed, and after Blay opened the way in, he pulled his prey out of sight.
With overexaggerated words, he mouthed to Qhuinn, Go get your Hummer.
If those cops are coming for us, weve got to blow.
Not leaving. Get the Hummer.
Qhuinn took out his keys and tossed them to Blay. You go. And lock us in, feel me?
Blay didnt waste a second, backing out and closing the door. There was the subtle sound of metal clinking as he reset the chain and then a click as that Master Lock was popped into place.
The lesser was starting to struggle with greater strength, but this was not a bad thingconsciousness was what they were going for.
John flipped the fucker onto his stomach and pulled back on that neck until the things spine pretzeled.
Qhuinn knew exactly what to do. Kneeling down, he put his face right into the slayers. We know you hold a female prisoner. Where is she?
As the sirens intensified, the slayer managed only a series of grunts, so John relented a little and allowed some air down in those lungs.
Qhuinn drew back his palm and slapped the lesser. I asked you a question, bitch. Where is she?
John eased up a little further, but not so much as to offer an escape route. With the added leeway, the lesser shuddered in fear, proving that whereas the motherfucker had been all business with his showy shooting, here during crunch time, he was nothing but a young punk in over his head.
Qhuinns second slap was harder. Answer me.
No. . prisoner.
As Qhuinn threw back his arm again, the slayer recoiledyup, although the fuckers were dead, their pain receptors worked just fine. Female abductee held by your Fore-lesser. Where is she?
John reached forward and gave his gun to Qhuinn and then, with his now-free hand, he went to the small of his back and withdrew his hunting knife. It went without saying that he was the only one who was going to do any real damage and he brought the blade around and put it right up to the lessers eyes. Wild bucking ensued, but the struggle was quickly contained, Johns huge body blanketing what was under him.
Youre going to want to talk, Qhuinn said dryly. Trust me on this.
I dont know no female. The words were nothing but a hiss, that wind-pipe constricted by Johns forearm.
John gave a jerk backward and the slayer yelled, I dont!
Sirens were screaming now, and out in the parking lot there were multiple tire squeals.
Time to tread carefully. The lesser had already demonstrated a total disregard for the single rule in the war, so whereas with any other slayer you could be sure of silence, that was a not-so-much with Mr. Click-click Bang-bang.
John met Qhuinns mismatched stare, but the guy was already on it. Reaching over to a pile of oily rags, Qhuinn snagged one and stuffed it into the lessers mouth. Then it was freeze-frame time.
From outside, the voices of the cops were muffled: Cover me.
Roger that.
As John put away his knife so he could hold on with both hands, there was lots of foot shuffling, most of which was off in the distance. But would no doubt come near eventually.
While the uniforms scattered, the radios in the cop cars provided a chatty sound track to their initial search- and-secure. Which didnt take long. Within a couple of minutes, the policemen were pooling around the cars, right next to the shed.
Unit Two-forty to base. Area is secure. No victims. No perp
With a quick kick, the lesser creamed a gas can with its boot. And you could practically hear all those CPD gun muzzles come back up and train on the shed.
What the fuck?
Lash smiled as the kids eyes locked on the Omega. Although everything was covered with robing, youd have to be a total moron not to realize there was something way off under thereand ding-ding-ding, they had a winner in the cognitive lottery.
As those feet started to paddle backward out of the farmhouse, Mr. Ds backup slayers flanked the little bastard and caught him by the arms.
Lash nodded to the dining room table. My father will do him in there.
Do what! Now there was full-on panic, with the kid thrashing like a gutted pig. Which was nothing but good practice for what was coming, really.
The slayers muscled him over and flipped him up on top of the pitted wood, holding him down at the feet and ankles as the Omega came forward amid all the squeaking and flapping.
As the evil lifted his hood, everything went quiet.
And then the scream that came out of the humans mouth ripped through the air, echoing up to the ceiling, filling the decrepit house with noise.
Lash hung back and let his father go to work, watching the humans clothes get shredded with a mere pass of that black, transparent palm. And then it was time for the knife, the blade catching the light of the cheapo chandelier that dangled from the grungy ceiling.
Mr. D was the one who helped with the technicalitiespositioning the buckets under the arms and legs, scurrying around.
Lash had been dead when his veins got drained; hed awoken only when a shock that had been generated from God only knew where had tunneled through his body. So it was interesting to see how it all worked: How the blood was emptied from the body. How the chest was split open and the Omega slit its own wrist to drip black oil into the cavity. How the evil called up a ball of energy out of thin air and sent into the corpse. How the reanimation carried what had been given to every vein and artery. The final step was removal of the heart, the organ shriveling up in the Omegas palm before being put into a ceramic container.
As Lash remembered his own coming-back-from-the-dead routine, he recalled his father dragging Mr. D over to serve as a feeding source for him. Hed needed the blood, but then again, hed been dead for a while at that pointand was at least half vampire. This human, on the other hand, came awake with nothing more than a gaping, fish mouth and a whole lot of confusion.
Lash put his hand up to his own chest and felt the beat of his heart
Something was leaking. In his sleeve.
While the Omega started to do depraved things to the initiate, Lash jogged upstairs to the bathroom. Taking off his suit jacket, he folded the thing in half. . and realized there was nowhere to lay it down. Everything was covered with two decades worth of grime.
Christ, why hadnt he sent someone over to clean the place?
He ended up hanging the jacket from a hook and
Oh, shit.
As he lifted his arm, there was a black stain right over where hed put the bandage, and at the bottom of his elbow, there was a wet patch.
Goddamn it.
Ripping free his cuff links, he unbuttoned his shirt and froze as he looked down at his chest.
Lifting his eyes to the cloudy mirror, as if that were going to change what he was seeing, he leaned in toward the glass. There was another sore on his left pectoral, of the same flat, dime-size shape as the first. And a third by his belly button.
Wings of panic fanned up a light-headed dizziness and he caught himself on the sink. His first thought was to run to the Omega and ask for help, but he held offgoing by the screams and grunts downstairs, there was some serious action happening in the dining room, and only an idiot interrupted that.
The Omega was fickle by nature, but had OCD concentration about some things.
Bracing his hands on the basin, Lash dropped his head as his empty stomach pulled a churn and burn on him. He had to wonder how many more of those spots he hadand didnt want to know the answer.
His induction, rebirth, whatever, was supposed to be permanent. Thats what his father had told him. He was born from the evil, spawned from a dark well that was eternal.
Rotting in his own skin had not been part of the deal.
Yall okay there?
Lash shut his eyes, the sound of the Texans voice like claws raking down his back. Except he just didnt have the energy to fuck-off the guy.
How are things going downstairs? he asked instead.
Mr. D cleared his throat. And still the disapproval made him choke on his words. I do believe itll be while yet, suh.
Great.
Lash forced his sagging spine to straighten and turned to face his deputy
In a sharp rush, his fangs punched into his mouth, and for a moment, he couldnt figure out why. Then he realized his eyes had locked on the guys jugular.
Deep in Lashs belly, his hunger grew horns and went haywire, thrashing and gouging his gut.
It happened too fast to stop or question or think. One second he was rooted where he stood in front of the sink. The next he was all over Mr. D, shoving the lesser back against the door, and going hard into the guys throat.
The black blood that hit his tongue was the tonic he needed and he drew with desperation, even as the Texan struggled and then fell still. But the fucker didnt have to worry. There was nothing sexual in the sucking. It was nutrition, plain and simple.
And the more he swallowed, the more he needed.
Jacking the slayer tight against his chest, he fed like a motherfucker.
THIRTEEN
As the sound of the slayers boot against that gas can faded, Qhuinn moved down and sat on the SOBs legs. The bastard might have gotten one kick in, but he was not getting a second chance.
Outside, the human cops gathered around the shed.
Its locked, one of them said as the chain rattled.
I have shell casings over here.
Wait, theres something inside. . phew, man, what a stench.
Whatever it is, its been dead at least a week. That smellId take even my mother-in-laws tuna casserole over that.
There was a ripple of agreement.
In the darkness, John and Qhuinn locked eyes and waited. The only solution if the door got popped was to dematerialize and leave the lesser behind; there was no way of moving the weight of the slayer through thin air. But none of these policemen could possibly have the keyso that left shooting their way in as their only option.
And chances were good theyd assume a quick pop just to get into the shed was not worth the paperwork.
Only one shooter, according to the nine-one-one call. And he cant be in there.
There was a cough and a curse. If he is, his nose is falling off from the stank.
Call the groundskeeper, a deep voice said. Someones gotta get that dead animal out of there. Meantime, lets head into the neighborhood.
There was chatter and footsteps. A little later one of the cars drove off.
We gotta off him, Qhuinn whispered over Johns shoulder. Take that knife and lets do him and get the fuck out of here.
John shook his head. There was no way he was losing this prize.
John, were not leaving with him. Kill him so we can bounce.
Even though Qhuinn couldnt see his lips, John mouthed, Fuck that. Hes mine.
Letting this source of information slide was not going to happen. If anything, the human police could be dealt with mentally. . or physically if it came down to it.
There was the smooth sound of a knife being unsheathed. Sorry, John, were outtie.
No! John yelled over his shoulder soundlessly.
Qhuinns hand locked on the collar of Johns jacket and dragged him off balance, so it was a case of either letting go of the slayers neck or snapping the fuckers head off his spine. Since an incapacitated lesser couldnt talk, John released his holdand caught himself by planting his palm on the cold cement.
No fucking way was he going to let his buddy cheat him out of this.
As he lunged at the male, all hell broke loose. He and Qhuinn wrestled for control over the dagger, knocking into a lot more than a gas can, and the lesser rolled free and sprang for the door. As the cops started hollering, the slayer pounded to get out
The next sound that made any impression over the din was a gunshot. The chaser of which was a metallic ringing.
The police had blasted off the Master Lock.
From down on the floor, John whipped his arm around to the small of his back, and as he pivoted on his knees, he and Qhuinn threw their knives in sync, their blades traveling end over end across the shallow space.
The penetrations were of such force that even though they went into the slayers torso between the shoulder blades, clearly one or both hit home: In a flash bright as lightning and with a sonic boom loud enough to make ears bleed, the lesser went back to his maker, leaving nothing but a smoky stink. . and a hole the size of a refrigerator in the shed door.
With adrenaline running so high, neither he nor Qhuinn could dematerialize, so they leaped up and back-flatted it on either side of the gaper, staying put as first one gun muzzle then another eased inside.
Forearms were next.
Then profiles and shoulders. And flashlights.
Fortunately, the humans stepped fully inside.
Psst. Your flys down. As the cops turned on Qhuinns smart ass, John unsheathed both his SIGs, and with a quick cross-strike on those heads, CPDs finest were seeing stars and sinking down onto the floor.
Which was precisely when Blay showed up with the Hummer.
John jumped over the policemen and hightailed it down to the SUV with Qhuinn right behind him, those New Rocks the fucker insisted on wearing positively pounding the earth. John gunned his way for the rear door, which Blay had popped, catching the handle and flipping himself inside as Qhuinn slid into the backseat.
As Blay took off, flooring the engine and blasting out of there, John was glad theyd had to tango with only one set of copsalthough sure as shit the other two badges would be back ASAP.
They were heading north toward the highway as John clawed his way into the backseat. . and relocked his hands around Qhuinns throat.
As they went back at it, Blay shouted from up front, What the fuck is wrong with you two?
No time to answer that. John was busy squeezing and Qhuinn was trying to give him a black eyeand succeeding.
Sixty-something miles an hour. In and around downtown. With a possible ID on the Hummer if either of those cops had come to enough to focus his peepers while Blay got them out of Dodge.
And a brawl going down.
Later, John would realize that of course there was only one place Blay could go.
By the time the guy pulled into Sals parking lotin the back of the restaurant, where there were no lightsJohn and Qhuinn had both drawn blood. And the fight ended only when John was yanked out of the door by Trezwhich suggested the redhead had phoned ahead. Qhuinn was handled with similar muscle by iAm.
John spit to clear out his mouth and glared at all of them.
I believe well call this a draw, boys, Trez said with a half smile. What do ya think?
As John was released, rage made him shake. That slayer could have been the one thing they needed to crack the locale. . the story. . the anything. And because Qhuinn had insisted on wasting the bastard, they were no closer to where they had to be. Plus there was the fact that the lesser had died so easily. Just a prick in the heart cavity and he was home freeor at least back to the Omega.
Qhuinn wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. For fucks sake, John! You think I dont want to find her? You think I dont give a shit? Christ, Ive been out every night with you, looking, searching, praying for a break. He pointed his finger straight out. So get this straight. The pair of us getting busted with a leaking lesser by a bunch of humans is not going to help us. You want to tell Wrath how you rolled with that one? I dont. And if you ever put a gun in my face again, I will fuck you up no matter what my job is.
John didnt trust himself to respond. One thing was clear, thoughif he didnt have the hope of something turning up at Benloises St. Francis place, he would have been tearing shit up no matter who tried to stop him, Shadow or otherwise.
Are you hearing me? Qhuinn demanded. Am I clear to you?
John paced around, hands on his hips, head down low. As his temper started to cool, the logical side of him knew his buddy was right. He was also very aware hed temporarily lost his damn mind in that shed. Had he really put a forty in his friends puss?
His sudden clarity made him sick to his stomach.
If he didnt stitch it up here, he was going to have more problems than a missing female. He was going to end up dead, either because he was sloppy in combat or because Wrath gave him a serious case of boot-up-the-ass-itis.
He looked over at Qhuinn. Man, the hard expression on that pierced face was right close to an edge a friendship couldnt go back fromthe kind of thing that didnt have to do with Qhuinn being a tough guy, but rather John being the kind of asshole no one wanted to hang out with.
He walked up to the male and wasnt surprised when Qhuinn held his ground in spite of the throw-down in the car. When he stuck his hand out, there was a long pause.
Im not the enemy, John.
John nodded, focusing on that tattooed tear beneath the guys eye. Retracting his palm, he signed, I know that. I just. . I need to find her. And what if that slayer was the way?
Maybe he wasbut the sitch got critical and youre going to have to choose yourself over her sometimes. Because if you dont, theres no way youre ever going to find out what happened. You cant search for her from inside a coffin.
He couldnt find a way to argue with that.
So listen up, you crazy fuck, were in this together, Qhuinn said softly. And Im here to make sure you dont wake up dead. I get the drive, I do. But youve got to work with me.
Im going to kill Lash, John signed in a rush. Im going to hold his throat in my hands and Im going to stare into his eyes as he dies. I dont care how much it costs me. . but his ashes will be sprinkled on her grave. I swear on. .
What did he have to swear on? Not his father. Not his mother.
. . I swear on my own life.
Anyone else might have tried to placate him with a shitload of have-faith, you-gotta-believe crap. But Qhuinn clapped him on the shoulder. Have I told you how much I love you lately?
Every night you come out with me to help find her.
Its not because of the fucking job.
This time when John put his palm out, his friend used it to pull them into a hard embrace. Then Qhuinn shoved him away and checked the watch on his wrist. We should head over to St. Francis Avenue.
You got ten minutes. Trez put his arm around the guy and started walking for the back door into the kitchen. Lets get you two cleaned up. You can leave the Hummer in our receiving dock and Ill switch the plates for you while youre gone.
Qhuinn looked over at Trez. Thats really fucking nice of you.
Yeah, Im a prince, all right. And to prove it, Ill even tell you all I know about Benloise.
As John followed them inside, the fact that he hadnt gotten anything out of the slayer focused him, steeled him, resolved him further.
Lash wasnt going to leave Caldwell. He couldnt. As long as he was head of the Lessening Society, he was going to go toe-to-toe with the Brotherhood, and the Brothers werent budging from the citythe Tomb was here. So although the civilian vampires had scattered, Caldie remained the focal point of the war because there would be no winning for the enemy if the Brothers still breathed.
Sooner or later, Lash was going to slip up and John was going to be there.
But goddamn the waiting could wear a guy out, it really could. Every dragging night with nothing new and nothing really to go on. . was a forever in hell.
FOURTEEN
When Lash finally released Mr. Ds vein, he pushed him away like a dirty plate after a meal. Sagging on the counter, he reveled in the fact that his hunger was sated and that his body seemed stronger already. But now he was logy as fuck, which was what always happened after he fed.
Hed been taking Xhexs throat periodically just for kicks and giggles, but that clearly wasnt what he needed to fill his gut.
Which left him living off of. . lessers?
Nah, he didnt fly that way. Never had. No fucking way he was going to be latching onto the throats of guys with any regularity.
Lifting up his arm, he checked his watch. Ten minutes of ten. And he looked like a homeless guy. Felt like one, too.
Clean yourself up, he told Mr. D. I have shit you need to do.
As he started to give out the orders, his mouth tripped over the words he was speaking.
You got that? he said.
Yes, suh. The Texan looked around the bathroom like he was searching for a towel.
Downstairs, Lash snapped. Kitchen. And you need to go get me a change of clothes and bring them here. Oh, and while youre at the brownstone, set some more food out in the bedroom.
Mr. D just nodded and headed out, walking on loose legs.
Did you get the new recruit a cell phone? ID? Lash called after him.
Theyre down in the messenger bag. And I texted you the number.
Fucker really was an excellent PA.
As Lash leaned into the shower and cranked the knobs on the tile wall, he wouldnt have been surprised if either nothing came out or there was only a thin trail of brown muck. He lucked out, though. Fresh, clean rain fell from the showerhead and he quickly undressed.
It felt good to wash off, kind of like he was rebooting his body.
After he was finished, he used his shirt to dry himself and then stumbled into a bedroom. Lying down, he closed his eyes and put his hand on his stomach over where the sores were. Which was dumb. Not like he needed to protect them from anything.
As the sounds from downstairs seemed to indicate things were progressing, he was relieved. . and a little surprised. The noises werent all painful and frightened anymore; they were heading into porno territory, the groans and moans now rising up the result of orgasms.
Are you queer? he recalled the kid asking.
Maybe that had been more of an I-hope-so kind of thing.
Whatever. Lash didnt want to be all out-of-it around his father, so with any luck the new recruit would be used for a while.
Lash closed his eyes and tried to shut his head off. Plans for the Society, thoughts of Xhex, frustration at the whole feeding thing. . His brain waves coalesced into a whirl, but his body was too exhausted to sustain consciousness.
Which was just as well
It was as he sank down into sleep that he had the vision. Sharp and clear, it came into him, not to him, entering his mind from somewhere else and shoving all other preoccupations out of the way.
He saw himself walking the grounds of the estate hed grown up on, going over the lawn toward the grand house. Inside, the lights were glowing and folks were moving around. . exactly as they had the night he had gone in and murdered those two vampires who had raised him. These were not the profiles of people he knew, however. They were different. They were the humans who had bought the house.
To the right was the ivy bed that hed buried his parents in.
He saw himself standing over the place where hed dug the hole and dumped the bodies. It was still slightly uneven, although some gardener had planted it over with new ivy growth.
Kneeling down, he reached forward. . only to see that his arm was not his own.
He was as his true father existed: a black, shimmering shadow.
For some reason, the revelation panicked him and he tried to rouse himself. In his motionless skin, he thrashed.
But he had sunk too low to get free of the pull.
Ricardo Benloises art gallery was downtown, over near the St. Francis Hospital complex. The sleek, six-story building stood out amid its sister 1920s-era skyscrapers thanks to a face-lift that left it with a brushed-steel exterior and windows the size of barn doors.
Rather like a starlet seated next to a bunch of dowagers.
As John and the boys appeared on the sidewalk across from the facade, the place was hopping. Through those huge panels of glass, he could see men and women dressed in black carrying around champagne glasses as they inspected the art on the walls. Which at least from the street seemed to be a fusion between five-year-old finger painting and the work of a sadist with a rusty nail fetish.
John was not impressed with the cultivated avant-garde routineand as always, he had no idea why he had an opinion about art. Like any of it mattered?
Trez had told them to head around back, so he and his boys walked down the block and cut into the alley that ran behind the gallery. Whereas the front of the place was all eye-catching and welcoming, the opposite was true for the businesss ass. No windows. Everything painted matte black. Two flush doors and a loading dock that was locked up tighter than a chastity belt.