"Don't think about it. It's over. Done with."
Sweet Virgin in the Fade, how could he say that?
"Why" She cleared her throat. And thought that she'd wanted the whole story so she damn well better show him she could handle it. "Why were you quarantined, then?"
"They put something in me." He untucked his silk button-down and flashed his black abdominal scar. "V found me left for dead in the woods and took out whatever it was, but now I'm like connected to the lessers." As she stiffened, he dropped the shirt. "Yeah, the slayers, Marissa. The ones who are trying to exterminate your kind. So believe me when I tell you, my need to know what was done to me isn't some kind of kumbaya, find-my-inner-self bullshit. Your enemies tampered with my body. They put something inside of me."
"Are you one of them?"
"I don't want to be. And I don't want to hurt you or anyone else. But see, this is the problem. There's too much shit I don't know."
"Butch, let me help you."
He cursed. "What if"
"What if's don't cut it." She took a deep breath. "I won't lie. I'm scared. But I don't want to turn my back on you and you're a fool to try and make me."
He shook his head, respect in his eyes. "You always been this courageous?"
"No. But it appears that for you, I guess I am. Are you going to let me in?"
"I want to. I feel like I need to." But it was quite a while before he crossed the room. "Is it okay for me to sit next to you?"
When she nodded and moved over, he lowered himself onto the bed, the mattress dipping down from his weight, her body sliding into his. He stared at her for the longest time before reaching for her hand. God, his palm was so warm and big.
He bent down and brushed his lips over her knuckles, then rubbed his mouth back and forth. "I want to lie down next to you. Not for sex. Not for anything like that. Just"
"Yes."
As he stood up, she lifted the sheets, but he shook his head. "I stay on top."
He took off his coat and stretched out beside her. Pulled her up close. Kissed the top of her head.
"You seem really tired," he said in the candlelight.
"I feel really tired."
"So sleep and let me watch over you."
She wedged herself even more tightly against his big body and exhaled. It was so good just to rest her head on his chest and feel his warmth and smell him up close. He stroked her back slowly, and she fell asleep so fast she didn't realize she'd gone under until she felt the bed moving and woke up.
"Butch?"
"I've got to go talk with Vishous." He kissed the back of her hand. "You keep resting. I don't like how pale you are."
She smiled a little. "No caretaking."
"That was just a suggestion." His lips lifted on one side. "How about we meet before First Meal? I'll wait for you downstairs in the library."
When she nodded, he leaned forward and ran his fingertip down her cheek. Then he glanced at her lips and the scent he was throwing off abruptly got stronger.
Their eyes locked.
It took less than a second before a craving lit off in her veins, a kind of burning, clenching need. Of their own accord, her eyes shifted from his face to his throat and her fangs began to throb as her reality shrunk to nothing but instinct: She wanted to pierce his thick vein. She wanted to feed from him. And she wanted him to have sex with her body while she did.
Bloodlust.
Oh, God. That's was why she was so tired. She hadn't been able to feed from Rehvenge the other night, and then there had been all the stress of Butch being so ill, followed by his taking off. Plus the thing with Havers.
Not that the whys mattered at the moment. All she knew was the hunger.
Her lips parted and she started to reach for him
Except what would happen if she drank from him?
Well, that was easy. She'd drain him dry trying to satisfy herself because his human blood was so weak. She would kill him.
But God, he would taste good.
She cut off the voice of the bloodlust, and in an act of iron will, put her arms under the sheets. "I'll see you tonight."
As Butch straightened, his eyes dulled and he put his hands over the front of his hips, like he was hiding an erection. Which naturally made the urge to grab him get even stronger.
"You take care of yourself, Marissa," he said in a low, sad tone.
He was at the door when she said, "Butch?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't think of you as weak."
He frowned as if wondering where that came from. "Neither do I. Sleep well, beautiful. I'll see you soon."
When she was alone, she waited for the hunger to pass and it did. Which gave her some hope. With everything that was going on right now, she would love to put feeding off for a little while. Getting so close to Rehvenge just seemed wrong.
Chapter Eighteen
Van drove downtown as night came rolling over Caldwell. After getting off the highway, he took a half-assed access road to the river, easing his truck along a pothole-riddled strip that ran beneath the city's big bridge. Stopping under a pylon marked f-8 in orange spray paint, he got out and looked around.
Traffic overhead rushed by, semis bumping along with echoing thunder, cars letting off the occasional horn blast. Down here, at river level, the Hudson was almost as loud as the din from above. The day had been the first to carry a shot of spring warmth, and the water was flowing fast from the runoff of melting snow.
The dark gray rush looked like liquid asphalt. Smelled like dirt.
He scanned the area, instincts hackling up. Man, alone under the bridge was never a good place to be. Especially as daylight faded.
Fuck this, he shouldn't have come. He turned back to his truck.
Xavier stepped from the shadows. "Glad you made it, son."
Van sucked back his surprise. Shit, the guy was like some kind of ghost. "Why couldn't we do this over the phone?" Well, didn't that sound weak. "I got things I have to fucking do."
"I need you to help me with something."
"I told you I wasn't interested."
Xavier smiled a little. "Yes, you did, didn't you."
The sound of wheels on loose gravel percolated into Van's ears and he looked to the left. The Chrysler Town & Country, that gold-toned, utterly forgettable minivan, was pulling up right next to him.
Keeping his eyes on Xavier, Van put his hand in his pocket and slipped his finger into the trigger of his nine. If they were going to try and whack him, they were going to get a lead fight.
"There's something in the back for you, son. Go ahead. Open her up." There was a pause. "Afraid, Van?"
"Fuck that." He walked over, ready to pull out his heat. But when he slid back the door, all he could do was recoil. His brother, Richard, was tied up with nylon rope, strips of duct tape over his mouth and his eyes.
"Jesus, Rich" When he reached forward, he heard a gun get cocked and he looked up at the minivan's driver. The pale-haired bastard behind the wheel was pointing what looked like a Smith & Wesson forty right in Van's face.
"I'd like you to rethink my invitation," Xavier said.
Behind the wheel of Sally Forrester's Honda, Butch cursed as he took a left at a stoplight and saw a Caldwell PD patrol car parked at the Stewart's on the corner of. Framingham and Hollis. Holy hell. Driving around in a stolen car with two grand in cash did not make a guy feel relaxed.
Good thing he had backup. V was right on his ass in the Escalade as they headed to the Barnstable Road address.
Nine and a half minutes later, Butch found Sally's little Cape Cod. After he killed the headlights and let the Accord roll to a stop, he broke the wire connection to cut off the engine. The house was dark, so he walked right up to the front door, shoved the envelope with the cash through the mail slot, and then beat feet across the street for the Escalade. He wasn't worried about getting caught on this quiet street. If anyone asked questions, V would just do a mental Windex on them.
He was getting into the SUV when he froze, an odd feeling rushing through him.
For no apparent reason, his body started to ringthat was the only way he could describe it. Like there was a cell phone smack dead in the center of his chest.
Down the street down the street. He had to go down the street.
Oh, Godlessers were there.
"What is it, cop?"
"I feel them. They're close."
"Game on, then." Vishous slipped out from behind the wheel and they both shut their doors. As V hit the alarm, the Escalade's lights flashed once. "Go with it, cop. Let's see where this takes us."
Butch started walking. Then fell into a jog.
Together they ran through the shadows of the peaceful subdivision, staying out of the pools of light thrown by porches and streetlamps. They cut through someone's backyard. Dodged around an aboveground pool. Sidled past a garage.
The neighborhood got shittier. Dogs barked in warning. A car passed by with no headlights on and rap thumping. And then an abandoned house. Followed by an empty lot. Until finally they came up to a decrepit two-story from the seventies that was surrounded by a nine-foot-high wooden fence.
"In here," Butch said, looking around for a gate.
"Give me your leg, cop."
As Butch grabbed the top of the fence and cocked his knee, V tossed him over the thing like he was the morning newspaper. He landed in a crouch.
There they were. Three lessers. Two of whom were dragging a male out of the house by his arms.
Butch went into an instant overboil. He was radioactive angry about what had been done to him, frustrated by his fears for Marissa, trapped by his human natureand those slayers became the focal point of his aggression.
Except V materialized next to him and grabbed his shoulder. As Butch wheeled around to tell the brother to fuck off, Vishous hissed, "You can have at them. Just keep it quiet. We've got eyes everywhere and without Rhage around, I need to fight on all cylinders, true? So I can't pull off no mhis. I'm not going to be able to mask this one."
Butch stared at his roommate, realizing this was the first time he'd ever been given free rein to go fight. "Why are you letting me in now?"
"We gotta be sure whose side you're on," V said, unsheathing a dagger. "And this is how we'll know. So I'll take the two with the civilian and you hit the other one."
Butch nodded once, then sprang forward, aware of a great roaring between his ears and within his body. As he gunned for the lesser that was about to move in on the house, the thing turned like he heard the approach.
The bastard merely looked annoyed as Butch ran up on him. "About time you backups showed." The slayer pivoted away. "There are two females in here. The blonde's really fast, so I want her"
Butch tackled the lesser from behind and made like a vise, clamping on to the fucker's head and shoulders. It was like mounting a rodeo horse. The slayer went shit wild and spun around, grabbing at Butch's legs and arms. When that didn't work, the thing slammed the two of them back against the house hard enough to dent the aluminum siding.
Butch stayed locked on, his forearm tight against the lesser's esophagus, his other hand on his straining wrist, pulling back. To get an even better hold, he linked his legs around the slayer's hips, crossed his ankles, and squeezed with his thighs.
It took a while, but asphyxia and exertion eventually slowed the undead down.
Except, holy hell, by the time the lesser's knees started to wobble, Butch knew what a pinball felt like. He'd been knocked against the house's exterior, then its front doorjamb, and now they were in the hall and he was getting banged back and forth in the narrow space. His brains were pinging around the inside of his skull and his internal organs were like scrambled eggs, but, goddamn it, he was not letting go. The longer he kept the lesser occupied, the more chance those females had to escape
Oh, shit, it was Tilt-A-Whirl time. The world spun and Butch hit the floor first, the lesser turtling over on top of him.
Bad place to be. Now he was the one who couldn't breathe.
He threw out a leg, kicked against the wall, and slid out from under, wrenching the lesser's torso. Unfortunately, the bastard pulled a twist move, too, and the two of them started rolling around and around on the nasty orange carpet. Finally, Butch's strength wore out.
With little effort, the slayer flipped him over so they were face-to-face, then cranked Butch into a submission hold, immobilizing him.
Okay now would be a great time for V to show up.
Except then the lesser looked down and met Butch's eyes, and the world just slowed down. Grinded to a halt. Stopped. Dead.
Another kind of vise action bolted them together, but this was a locking of stares and Butch was the one in control, even though he was on the bottom of the body pile. The lesser became transfixed and Butch followed his instincts.
Which meant he opened his mouth and began to inhale slowly.
But he wasn't taking in air. He was taking in the slayer. Absorbing him. Consuming him. It was as before in the alley, but now no one stopped the process. Butch just kept sucking in an endless draw, a streaming black shadow passing from the lesser's eyes and nose and mouth and going into Butch.
Who felt like a balloon filling up with smog. Who felt like he was assuming the mantle of the enemy.
When it was over, the slayer's body just disintegrated into ash, the fine mist of gray particles falling onto Butch's face, chest, and legs.
"Holy shit."
In utter despair, Butch shifted his eyes around. V was leaning in through the front door, holding on to the frame as if the house was the only thing keeping him standing.
"Oh, God." Butch rolled over onto his side, the ugly carpet scratchy on his cheek. He was wretchedly sick to his stomach, and his throat burned like he'd been hammering Scotch for hours. But worst, the evil was back in him, running through his veins.
As he breathed through his nose, he smelled baby powder. And he knew it was him, not remnants of the lesser. "V" he said with desperation, "what did I just do?"
"I don't know, cop. I have no idea."
Twenty minutes later, Vishous shut himself and his roommate in the Escalade and hit all the locks. As he dialed his cell phone and put it up to his ear, he eyed Butch. The cop was looking multifactorially ill in the passenger seat, like he was seasick and jet-lagged and coming down with the flu all at the same time. And he reeked of baby powder, as if he were sweating out the scent through every one of his pores.
While the phone rang, Vishous started the SUV, threw it into drive, and thought back to Butch working some kind of mojo shit on that lesser. To steal a phrase from the cop, Holy Mary, Mother of God.
Man that suck job was a hell of weapon. But the complications were legion.
V glanced over again. And realized it was to reassure himself that Butch wasn't eyeing him as a lesser would.
Fuck.
"Wrath?" V said as his call was answered. "Listen, Ishit our boy here just consumed a lesser. No not Rhage. Butch. Yes, Butch. What? No, I saw him consume the thing. I don't know how, but the lesser disappeared into dust. No, no knife involved. He inhaled the damn thing. Look, just to be conservative, I'm going to take him to my place and let him sleep it off. Then I'm coming home, true? Right No, I have no clue how he did it, but I'll give you the blow-by-blow when I get to the compound. Yup. Right. Uh-huh. Oh, for God'syes, I'm fine and quit asking me that. Later."
As he hung up and tossed the phone onto the dash, Butch's voice drifted over, all weak and hoarse. "I'm glad you're not taking me home."
"Wish I could, though." V took out a hand-rolled and lit it, drawing hard on the thing. As he blew smoke, he cracked one of the windows. "Jesus Christ, cop, how did you know you could do that?"
"I didn't." Butch coughed a little, like his throat was bothering him. "Lemme have one of your daggers."
V frowned and looked at his roommate. "Why?"
"Just give it to me." As V hesitated, Butch shook his head with sadness. "I'm not going to come after you with it. I swear on my mother."
They hit a red light and V shifted his seat belt out of the way so he could unsheathe one of his blades from his chest holster. He gave the weapon to Butch handle first, then checked the road ahead. When he glanced back over, Butch had shoved up his sleeve and was slicing himself on the inside of his forearm. They both stared at what came out.
"I'm bleeding black again."
"Well not a surprise."
"I smell like one, too."
"Yeah." Man, V did not like the way the cop was fixated on that dagger. "How 'bout you give my blade back, buddy?"
Butch handed the thing over and V wiped the black steel on his leathers before resheathing the weapon.
Butch wrapped his arms around his middle. "I don't want to be anywhere around Marissa when I'm like this, okay?"
"No problem. I'll take care of everything."
"V?"
"What?"
"I will die rather than hurt you."
V's eyes shot across the space between them. The cop's face was grim and his hazels were dead serious, the words not a mere expression of thought but a vow: Butch O'Neal was prepared to take himself out of the game if shit got critical. And he was fully capable of doing the job.
V inhaled on his hand-rolled again and tried not to get even more attached to the human. "Hopefully it won't come to that."
Please, God, let it not come to that.
Chapter Nineteen
Marissa paced another circle around the Brotherhood's library and ended up back at the windows that looked out over the terrace and the pool.
The day must have been a warm one, she thought. There were patches in the snow that had melted through, revealing black slate at the terrace or brown ground over the lawn
Oh, who the hell cared about the goddamned landscape.
Butch had left after First Meal, saying he had a quick errand to run. Which was fine. Dandy. A-okay. But that had been two hours ago.
She wheeled around as someone came into the room. "Butchoh it's you."
Vishous stood in the archway, a full-blooded warrior framed by the extravagant gold-leaf molding around him.
Dear Virgin in the Fade his expression was utterly blank, the kind of thing you put on your face when you had bad news to deliver.
"Tell me he is alive," she said. "Save my life right here and now and tell me he is alive."
"He is."
Her knees buckled and she grabbed on to one of the wall-to-wall bookshelves. "But he isn't coming, is he?"
"No."
As they stared at each other, she noticed absently that he was wearing a fine white shirt with his black leathers: a Turn-bull and Asser button-down. She recognized the cut. It was what Butch wore.
Marissa wrapped an arm around her waist, overwhelmed by Vishous even though he was all the way across the room. He seemed like such a dangerous maleand not because of the tattoos on his temple or the black goatee or that fearsome body. The Brother was cold to the core, and someone that removed was capable of anything.
"Where is he?" she asked.
"He's okay."
"Then why isn't he here?"
"It was just a quick fight."
A quick fight. Her knees loosened again as memories of being at Butch's bedside crashed over her. She saw him lying on hospital sheets in that johnny, beaten up, almost dying. Contaminated by something evil.
"I want to see him."
"He's not here."
"Is he at my brother's?"
"No."
"And you're not going to tell me where he is, are you?"
"He's going to call you in a little bit."
"Was it with the lessers?" When all Vishous did was continue to stare at her, her heart kicked into overdrive. She couldn't bear for Butch to be involved in this war. Look what had already been done to him. "Goddamn it, tell me if it was with the slayers, you smug bastard."
Only silence. Which of course answered the question. And also suggested that Vishous didn't care whether or not she was pissed off at him.
Marissa gathered up her skirts and marched over to the warrior. Up close, she had to crane her neck to look at his face. God, those eyes, those diamond white eyes with the midnight blue lines around the irises. Cold. So very cold.
She did her best to hide her shiver, but he caught it. Tracked it in her shoulders.
"Scared of me, Marissa?" he said. "Exactly what do you think I'd do to you?"
She ignored that. "I don't want Butch fighting."
One black eyebrow cocked. "Not your call."
"It's too dangerous for him."
"After tonight, I'm not so sure about that."
The Brother's hard smile made her take a step back, but anger saved her from a full-on retreat. "You remember that hospital bed? You saw what they did to him last time. I thought you cared about him."
"If it turns out he's an asset, and he's willing, he will be used."
"I don't like the Brotherhood right now," she blurted. "Or you."
She started to go past him, but his hand shot out, grabbing her arm and jerking her close, holding her, though not hurting her. His eyes went over her face, her neck, then swept down her body.
And that was when she saw the fire in him. The volcanic heat. The interior inferno that was caged by all that glacial self-control.
"Let go of me," she whispered, heart beating hard.
"I'm not surprised." His reply was quiet quiet as a sharp knife laid on a table.
"About w-what?"
"You're a female of worth. So you shouldn't like me." Those glittering eyes narrowed on her face. "You know, you really are the great beauty of the species, aren't you."
"No no, I am not"
"Yeah, you are." Vishous's voice grew lower and lower, softer, until she wasn't sure whether she was hearing it or he was in her mind. "Butch is a wise choice for you, female. He'll take good care of you, if you let him. Will you, Marissa? Will you let him take care of you?"
As those diamond eyes hypnotized her, she felt his thumb move over her wrist, shifting back and forth. Her heart rate gradually slowed to the lazy rhythm.
"Answer my question, Marissa."
She swayed. "What what did you ask?"
"Will you let him take you?" Vishous leaned down and put his mouth at her ear. "Will you take him inside of you?"
"Yes" she breathed, aware they were talking about sex, but too seduced in the moment not to reply. "I will have him within me."
That hard hand loosened, then stroked her arm, traveling over her skin warmly, strongly. He looked down at where he was touching her, an expression of deep concentration on his face, "Good. That's good. The two of you are beautiful together. A fucking inspiration."
The male turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.
Disoriented, shocked, she stumbled over to the library's doorway and saw Vishous going up the stairs, his heavy thighs eating the distance with no effort.
Without warning, he stopped and snapped his head her way. Her hand fluttered to her throat.
Vishous's smile was as dark as his eyes were pale. "Come on, Marissa. Did you really think I was going to kiss you?"
She gasped. That was exactly what had been going through her
Vishous shook his head. "You're Butch's female and whether you end up with him or not, you always will be to me." He started up again. "Besides, you're not my type. Your skin's too soft."
V walked into Wrath's study and shut the double doors, thinking that little chat with Marissa had been disturbing as hell on a variety of levels. God, he hadn't gotten into anyone's thoughts for weeks now, but he'd read hers clear as day. Or maybe he'd just hazarded a guess. Hell, more likely the latter. Going by those saucer-wide eyes of hers, she'd clearly been convinced he was going to lay his mouth on her.
Wrong. The reason he'd stared at her was because she fascinated him, not attracted him. He wanted to know what it was about her that made Butch lay with her with such warmth and love. Was it something in her skin? Her bones? Her beauty? How did she do it?
How did she take Butch to a place were sex was communion?
V rubbed the center of his chest, aware of a piercing loneliness.
"Hello? My brother?" Wrath leaned onto his dainty desk, all heavy forearms and big hands. "You here to report or make like sculpture?"
"Yeah sorry. Distracted."
Vishous lit up and replayed the fight, especially the final part when he'd watched a lesser disappear into the thin air, thanks to his roommate.
"God damn" Wrath breathed.
V went to the fireplace and chucked the ass end of his hand-rolled into the flames. "Never seen anything like it."
"Is he okay?"
"Don't know. I'd take him to Havers to get checked out, but there's no going back to the clinic with the cop. Right now, he's at my place with his cell phone. He'll call me if things get ratty and I'll think of something."
Wrath's brows disappeared behind his mirrored wraparounds. "How confident are you that the lessers can't trace him?"
"Damn confident. In both cases, he's the one that went after them. It's like he smelled them or something. When he gets up close, they seem to recognize him, but it's always him engaging first."
Wrath looked down at the stacks of paper on his desk. "Don't like him out there alone. Don't like it at all."
There was a long pause and then V said, "I could go get him. Bring him home."
Wrath took off his sunglasses. As he rubbed his eyes, the king's ring, that massive black diamond, sparkled on his middle finger. "We got females here. One of whom is pregnant."
"I could watch him. I could make sure he stays in the Pit. I could seal off the tunnel access."
"Hell." Those sunglasses got slid back on. "Go get him. Bring our boy home."
* * *
For Van, the scariest part of his induction into the Lessening Society was not the physical conversion or the Omega or the involuntary nature of it all. Not that that shit wasn't horrifying. It was. Jesus Christ to know that evil actually existed and walked around and did things to people? Yeah, huge wake-up call in a bad way.
But not the scariest part.
With a grunt, Van pushed himself up on the bare mattress he'd been on for God only knew how long. Staring down at his body, he extended his arm out from his shoulder socket, then curled it in tight.
No, the scariest part was the fact that when he'd finally stopped throwing up and managed to catch his breath, he couldn't quite remember why he hadn't wanted to join in the first place. Because the power was back in his body; the roar from his twenties was parked in his garage once again. Thanks to the Omega, he was returned to himself, no longer a faded, washed-up shadow of what he once had been. Sure, the means had been a mind bender of terror and disbelief. But the ends were glorious.
He flexed his bicep again, just feeling the muscles and bones, loving them.
"You're smiling," Xavier said as he came into the room.
Van looked up. "I feel great. Really fucking great."
Xavier's eyes were distant. "Don't let it go to your head. And listen up good. I want you to stay close to me. You never go anywhere without me. We clear?"
"Yeah. Sure." Van shifted his legs off the bed. He couldn't wait to run and see what that felt like.
As he stood, Xavier's expression was odd. Frustration?
"What's wrong?" Van asked.
"Your induction was so average."
Average? Getting your heart taken out and your blood exchanged for something that looked like tar didn't count as average to him. And for chrissakes, Van wasn't interested in this buzz-kill routine. The world was fresh and new again as far as he was concerned. He was reborn.
"Sorry to disappoint you," he muttered.
"I'm not disappointed in you. Yet." Xavier checked his watch. "Get dressed. We leave in five."
Van went into the bathroom and stood over the toilet, only to realize he didn't have to go. And he wasn't thirsty or hungry either.
Okay, this was weird. It seemed unnatural not to follow his morning routine.
Leaning forward, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. His features were the same, but his eyes were different.
With unease snaking through him, he rubbed his face with his palm to reassure himself that he was flesh and blood still. As he felt the bones of his skull through his thin skin, he thought of Richard.