"No problem. Actually I didn't like sex until Wrath. I'd been with two guys before him and just whatever. I mean, I didn't understand what all the fuss was about. Frankly, though, even if Wrath had been my first, it probably wouldn't have been any easier given the size of his" Now the queen was flushing. "Anyway you know, sex is an invasion for the woman. Erotic and wonderful, but an invasion just the same, and it takes a little getting used to. And for some, the first time is quite painful. Butch will be patient with you. He'll"
"He didn't finish. I got the impression he couldn't."
"If he hurt you, I can understand why he'd want to stop."
Marissa threw up her arms. "God, I feel so damned ashamed. When it happened, my head got all tangled I had all this stuff shooting through my brain. And before I left, I wanted to talk to him, but I couldn't find the words. I mean, I love him."
"Good. That's good." Beth took Marissa's hand. "And it's going to be all right, I promise you. You two just need to try it again. Now that the pain is over for you, you shouldn't have a problem."
Marissa stared into the queen's midnight blue eyes. And realized that in her whole life, no one had ever talked to her candidly about a problem she had. In fact she'd never had a friend before. And that's what the queen felt like. A friend.
"You know something?" Marissa murmured.
"What?"
"You're very kind. I can see why Wrath has bonded with you so."
"Like I said before, I'd do anything to help you."
"You really have. Tonight you totally have." Marissa cleared her throat. "May Iah, may I try the pants on?"
"Absolutely."
Marissa picked up the clothes, got a change of underwear from the bureau, and went into the bathroom.
When she came out, she had on a pair of slim black pants and a turtleneck. And she couldn't stop staring down at herself. Her body seemed so much smaller without all the skirting. "How do they feel?" Beth asked.
"Odd. Light. Easy." Marissa walked around in her bare feet. "A little like I'm naked."
"You're thinner than I am, so they're a little baggy. But they look great."
Marissa went back into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. "I think I like them."
When Butch returned to the Pit, he lurched down to his suite. As he started the shower, he kept the lights off because he had no interest in seeing how drunk and freaked out he still was. And he got under the spray, even though it was cold, in the hopes that the Antarctic wash would help sober him up.
With rough hands, he worked himself over with a bar of soap, and when he got to his privates, he didn't look down. Couldn't bear it. He knew, what he was washing off his body, and his chest burned at the thought of the blood that had been on the inside of Marissa's thighs.
Man seeing that had been a killer. Then he'd shocked the shit out of himself by doing what he did. He had no idea why he'd put his mouth to her or where the idea had come from. It had just seemed like the thing to do.
Oh hell. He couldn't think about all that.
Quick shampoo. Quick rinse. And then he was out. He didn't bother toweling off, just went dripping to his bed and sat down. The air was freezing cold on his wet skin, and the chill felt like a proper punishment as he rested his chin on his fist and stared across the room. In the dim glow coming under the door, he saw the pile of clothes Marissa had taken off him earlier. Then that dress of hers on the floor.
He went back to looking at what he'd been wearing. That suit wasn't really his, was it. Neither was the shirtor the socks or the loafers. Nothing he wore was his.
He glanced at the watch on his wrist. Took the thing off. Let it fall onto the carpet.
He didn't live in his own place. He didn't spend his own money. He had no job, no future, He was a well-kept pet, not a man. And as much as he loved Marissa, after what just happened on that back lawn, it was clear things couldn't work out between them. The relationship was flat-out destructive, especially for her: she was distraught, blaming herself for shit that wasn't her fault, suffering, and it was because of him. Goddamn it, she deserved so much better. She deserved oh, shit, she deserved Rehvenge, that thick-blooded aristocrat. Rehv would be able to take care of her, give her what she needed, take her out socially, be her mate for centuries.
Butch got up, walked to the closet, and took out a Gucci duffel then realized he didn't want to take anything of this life with him when he bailed.
Tossing the bag aside, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, shoved his feet into some running shoes, and found the old wallet and set of keys he'd brought with him when he moved in with Vishous. As he looked at the metal tangle on its simple silver ring, he remembered that back in September he hadn't bothered to do anything with his apartment. So after all his time, his landlord must have long ago busted in and cleared out his stuff. Which was fine. It wasn't like he wanted to go back there anyway.
Leaving the keys, he headed out of his room, only to realize he had no wheels. He glanced down at his feet. Looked like he vas walking it down to Route 22, then hitching a ride from here.
He had no coherent plan for what he was going to do or where he would go. He knew only that he was leaving the Brothers and Marissa and that was it. Well, he also knew that to make it stick, he was going to have to get out of Caldwell. Maybe he could head west or something.
When he walked into the living room, he was relieved V wasn't around. Saying good-bye to his roommate was nearly as awful as leaving his woman. So no reason to have that bon voyage convo.
Shit. What was the Brotherhood going to do about him pulling out? He knew a lot about themWhatever. He couldn't stay, and if that meant action had to be taken, it would sure as hell put him out of his misery.
And as for what the Omega did to him? Well, he didn't have much of an answer for the whole lesser thing. But at least he wouldn't have to worry about hurting the brothers or Marissa. Because he wasn't planning on ever seeing them again.
His hand was on the vestibule's doorknob when V said, "Where you going, cop?"
Butch swiveled his head around as V stepped out of the shadows of the kitchen.
"V I'm leaving." Before there was a response, Butch shook his head. "If that means you have to kill me, just do it quick and bury me fast. And don't let Marissa know."
"Why you pulling out?"
"It's better this way, even if it means I'm dead. Hell, you'll be doing me a favor if you have to off me. I'm in love with a woman I can't really have. You and the Brotherhood are the only friends I've got and I'm giving you up, too. And what the fuck do I have out in the real world waiting for me? Nothing. I got no job. My family thinks I'm whacked. The only good thing is that I'll be on my own with my own kind."
V approached, a tall, menacing shadow.
Shit, maybe this would all be over with tonight. Right here. Right now.
"Butch, man, you can't get out. I told you from the beginning. No getting out."
"So like I just said snuff me. Grab a dagger and do me. But hear me clear. I will not stay in this world as an outsider one more minute."
As their eyes met, Butch didn't even brace himself. He wasn't going to fight. He was going to go gently into the good night, carried there by his best friend's hand on a good, clean kill.
There were worse ways to go, he thought. Many, many worse ways.
Vishous's eyes narrowed. "There may be another way."
"Another V, buddy, a set of plastic fangs ain't going to make this better."
"Do you trust me?" When there was only silence, V repeated, "Butch, do you trust me?"
"Yeah."
"Then give me an hour, cop. Let me see what I can do."
Chapter Twenty-nine
Time dragged and Butch prowled around the Pit while waiting for V to get back. Finally, unable to shake the Scotch haze and still dizzy as shit, he went in and lay down on his bed. As he closed his eyes, it was more to dim the light than with any hope of sleep.
Surrounded by a dense quiet, he thought about his sister Joyce and that new baby of hers. He knew where the baptism had been held today: Same place he'd been dipped. Same place all the O'Neals had been dipped.
Original sin washed away.
He put his hand on his stomach, on that black scar, and thought that evil had certainly come back for him, hadn't it. Ended up right inside of him.
Palming his cross, he fisted the gold until it cut into his skin, and decided he needed to go back to church. Regularly.
He was still gripping the crucifix when exhaustion took him by stealth, leaching his thoughts away, replacing them with a nothingness he would have been relieved by if he'd been conscious.
Sometime later, he woke up and glanced at the clock. He'd slept for two hours straight, and now he was in the hangover phase of things, his head one big, dull ache, his eyes supersensitive to the light coming in under the door. He rolled over and stretched, his spine cracking.
An eerie moan drifted down the hall.
"V?" he said.
Another moan.
"You okay there, V?"
From out of nowhere, there was a crashing noise, like something heavy had been dropped. Then choking sounds, the kind you made when you were too hurt to cry out and scared to death. Butch sprang off his bed and ran into the living room.
"Jesus Christ!"
Vishous had thrown himself off the couch and landed face-first on the coffee table, scattering bottles and glasses. As he flailed around, his eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth gaped with screams unvoiced.
"Vishous! Wake up!" Butch grabbed on to those heavy arms, only to realize V had taken his glove off: That god-awful hand of his was glowing like the sun, burning holes in the wood of the table and the leather of the couch.
"Fuck!" Butch leaped out of the strike zone as he nearly got swiped.
All he could do was call out Vishous's name as the brother struggled in the grip of whatever monster held him. Finally, something got through. Maybe the sound of Butch's voice. Maybe V knocked himself around hard enough to wake himself up.
As Vishous opened his eyes, he was panting and shivering, covered with fear sweat.
"My man?" When Butch knelt down and touched his friend on the shoulder, V shrank back, cowering. Which was the scariest part. "Hey easy, you're home. You're safe."
V's stare, usually so cool and calm, was glassy. "Butch oh, my God. Butch the death. The death The blood down the front of my shirt. A shirt of mine"
"Okay, just go easy. We're going to cool out here, big guy." Butch clamped a hand under V's right armpit and hoisted the brother back on the couch. Poor bastard flopped against the leather cushions like a rag doll. "Let's get you a drink."
Butch headed for the galley kitchen, picked up a fairly clean glass off the counter, and rinsed it out. He filled the thing with cold water, even though V would no doubt rather it be Goose.
When he came back, Vishous was lighting up a cigarette with hands that were like flags in the wind.
As V took the glass, Butch said, "You want something stronger?"
"Nah. This is good. Thanks, man."
Butch sat down on the other end of the sofa. "V, I think it's time we did something about this nightmare thing."
"Not going there." V inhaled deeply and let out a steady stream of smoke from his lips. "Besides, I've got good news. Kind of."
Butch would rather have stayed on the V dreamland shit, but that was clearly not happening. "So talk. And you should have woken me up as soon as you"
"Tried. You were out cold. Anyway" Another exhale. This one more normal. "You know I've looked into your past, right?"
"I figured."
"Had to know what was doing, if you were going to live with mewith us. I traced your blood back to Ireland. Lot of pasty-white bog people in your veins, cop."
Butch got real still. "Did you find anything else?"
"Not when I searched nine months ago. And not when I retraced you an hour ago."
Oh. Buzz kill. Although, Christ, what was he thinking? He wasn't a vampire. "So why are we talking about this?"
"You sure you don't have any weird-ass stories in your family? Especially back in Europe? You know, some female in your line getting pinched at night? Maybe a pregnancy that came out of the blue? Like someone's daughter who disappeared and maybe came back with a child?"
Actually, there hadn't been a lot of O'Neal lore passed along. For his first twelve years, his mother had been busy raising six kids and working as a nurse. Then after Janie's murder, Odell had been too shattered to carry stories. And his father? Yeah, right. Pulling nine to five for the telephone company and then hitting the night shift as a security guard didn't make for a lot of quality chat time with the kidlets: When Eddie O'Neal had been home, he'd been drinking or asleep.
"I don't know of anything."
"Well, here's the deal, Butch." V inhaled, then talked through the smoke as he breathed out. "I want to see if you've got any of us in you."
Whoa. "But you know my family tree, right? And wouldn't my blood tests at the clinic, or even throughout my life, have shown something?"
"Not necessarily and I have a very precise way of finding out. It's called ancestor regression." V brought up his glowing hand and clenched it into a fist. "Goddamn, I hate this thing. But this is how we do it."
Butch eyed the scorched coffee table. "You're going to torch me like kindling."
"I'll be able to channel it to the purpose. Not saying it will be fun for you, but it shouldn't kill you. Bottom line? That shit with Marissa and the feeding and the way you reacted to it? The fact that you're telling me you throw off scent around her? Plus, god knows, you're aggressive enough. Who knows what we'll find."
Something warm tingled in Butch's chest. Something like hope. "And what if I have a vampire relative?"
"Then we might"V took a very deep drag on the hand-rolled. "We might be able to turn you."
Holy. Shit. "I thought you couldn't do that."
V nodded over at a thigh-high stack of leather volumes by the computers. "There is something in the Chronicles. If you've got some of our blood in you, we can give it a shot. It's very risky, but we could try."
Man, Butch was so on board with that plan. "Let's do the regression. Now."
"Can't. Even if you have the DNA, we need to get clearance from the Scribe Virgin before we even think about jump-starting any kind of change. That kind of shit is not to be done lightly, and there's the added complication of what the lessers did to you. If she won't allow us to proceed, it won't matter whether you've got relatives with fangs, and I don't want to put you through an ancestor regression if there's nothing we can do about it."
"How long until we know?"
"Wrath said he'd talk to her tonight."
"Jesus, V. I hope"
"I want you to take some time and think about this. The regression is a bitch to go through. Your brain's going to stroke out on us and I understand the pain's no party. And you might want to talk to Marissa about it, also."
Butch thought of her. "Oh, I'll get through it. You don't worry about that."
"Don't get cocky"
"I'm not. This has to work."
"Might well not, though." V stared at the lit tip of his hand-rolled. "Assuming you come out the other-side of the regression okay, and we can find a living relative of yours to use to jump-start the change, you could die in the middle of the transition. There's only a small chance you'll survive."
"I'll do it."
V laughed in a short burst. "I can't decide whether you have serious balls or a death wish."
"Never underestimate the power of self-hatred, V. It's a hell of a motivator. Besides, we both know what the only other option is."
As their stares met, Butch knew V was thinking the same thing he was: No matter what the risks were, anything was better than Vishous having to kill him outright because he had to leave.
"I'm going to Marissa now."
Butch paused on his way out the door to the tunnel. "You sure there isn't something we can do about these dreams of yours?"
"You got enough on your plate."
"I'm an excellent multitasker, buddy."
"Go to your female, cop. Don't worry about me."
"You're such a pain in the ass."
"Said the SIG to the Glock."
Butch cursed and hit the tunnel, trying not to be totally pumped. When he got to the big house, he went up to the second floor and passed by Wrath's study. On impulse, he knocked on the jamb. After the king called out, Butch was in there maybe ten minutes tops before he went on to Marissa's room.
He was about to knock when someone said, "She's not there."
He pivoted around and saw Beth coming out of the sitting room at the end of the hall, a vase of flowers in her hands.
"Where is Marissa?" he asked.
"She went with Rhage to check out her new place."
"What new place?"
"She's rented a house for herself. About seven miles from here."
Shit. She was moving out. And she hadn't even told him. "Exactly where is it?"
After Beth gave him the address and assured him the rental was safe, his first instinct was to race over there, but he canned that idea. Wrath was going to the Scribe Virgin right now. Maybe they could get the regression over with and there'd be good news to share on the other side.
"She's coming back tonight, right?" Man, he wished she'd told him about the move out.
"Definitely. And Wrath is going to ask Vishous to work on the security system, so she'll stay here until that's done." Beth frowned. "Hey you don't look so good. Why don't you come down and get some food with me?"
He nodded, even though he had no idea what she'd said to him. "You know I love her, right?" he blurted, not sure why he was going there.
"Yes, I do. And she loves you."
Then why didn't she talk to him?
Yeah, and just how easy had he made that for her lately? He'd freaked out about the feeding. Taken her virginity while he was drunk. Hurt her in the process. Christ.
"I'm not hungry," he said. "But I'll watch while you eat."
Back at the Pit, Vishous stepped out of the shower and yelped like a nancy, slamming back against the marble wall.
Wrath was standing in the bathroom, a big leather-clad male the size of the goddamned Escalade.
"Christ, my lord. Scare a brother, why don't you."
"Little jumpy there, V, huh?" Wrath handed over a towel. "So I just came back from the Scribe Virgin."
V paused with the terry cloth under an arm. "What did she say?"
"She wouldn't see me."
"Goddamn it, why?" He wrapped up his hips.
"Some shit like 'wheels turning. Who knows. One of the Chosen met me." Wrath's jaw went so tight it was a wonder he could talk at all. "Anyway, I go back tomorrow night. Straight up, it doesn't look good."
As frustration spiked, V felt his eyelid start to flicker. "Shit."
"Yeah." There was a pause. "And while we're on the subject of crap, let's talk about you."
"Me?"
"You're strung tighter than cable and your eye'stwitching."
"Yeah, because you just Friday-the-thirteenthed me." V pushed past the king and went into his bedroom.
As he put his glove on his hand, Wrath leaned against the jamb. "Look, Vishous"
Oh, they were so not doing this. "I'm fine."
"Sure you are. So here's the deal. I'm giving you till the end of the week. If you haven't straightened up by then, I'm taking you out of rotation."
"What?"
"Vacation time. Can you say R&R, my brother?"
"Are you out of your mind? You realize we're down to four of us now with Tohr being gone, true? You can't afford to"
"Lose you. Yeah, I know. And so you're not going to get killed because of whatever's going on in that head of yours. Or not going on, as is the case."
"Look, we're all on edge, what with"
"Butch came by a little while ago. Told me about your repeating nightmare."
"That cocksucker." Man, he was going to pound his roommate into the ground like a stake for blabbing.
"He was right to tell me. You should have told me."
V went over to his bureau, where his rolling papers and his tobacco were. He spun one up fast, needing something in his mouth. It was either plug himself up or keep swearing.
"You need to get checked out, V."
"By who? Havers? No CAT scan or lab workup is going to tell me what's wrong, because it's not physical. Look, I'll get it together." He glanced over his shoulder and exhaled. "I'm the smart one, remember? I'll figure this out."
Wrath lowered his wraparounds, his pale green eyes burning like neon penlights. "You've got a week to fix this, or I'm going to the Scribe Virgin about you. Now get your ass dressed. I need to talk to you about something else involving the cop."
As the king took off for the living room, V drew hard on his cigarette and then looked around for his ashtray. Goddamn it, he'd left the thing out front.
He was about to head to the living room when he looked at his hand. Bringing the gloved nightmare up to his mouth, he peeled the leather off with his teeth and stared at his radiant curse.
Shit. The illumination was getting brighter and brighter every day.
Holding his breath, he pressed the lit cigarette into his palm. As the flaming end met his skin, the white glow beneath flared even stronger, backlighting the tattooed warnings until they appeared to be in 3-D.
The hand-rolled was consumed in a burst of light, the sting tingling his nerve endings. When only dust remained, he blew it off into the air, watching the little cloud rush forward and disintegrate into nothing.
Marissa took a tour through the vacant house and ended up back in the living room, where she'd started. The place was much bigger than she'd thought, especially given the six underground bedroom suites. God, she'd taken the lease because it had seemed so much smaller than her brother'sthan Havers'sbut size was so relative. This Colonial felt huge. And very empty.
As she pictured herself moving in, she realized that she'd never actually been in a house alone before. Back home, there had always been servants and Havers and patients and medical staff. And the Brotherhood's mansion was likewise full of people.
"Marissa?" Rhage's heavy boots came up behind her. "Time to go."
"I haven't measured the rooms yet."
"Have Fritz come back and do it."
She shook her head. "This is my house. I want to."
"Then there's always tomorrow night. But we have to get going now."
She took a last look around, then headed for the door. "Okay. Tomorrow."
They dematerialized back to the mansion, and as they came in through the vestibule, she could smell roast beef and hear talk drifting out of the dining room. Rhage smiled at her and started to disarm, stripping his dagger holster off his shoulders as he called out for Mary.
"Hey."
Marissa wheeled around. Butch was in the shadows of the billiards room, leaning on the pool table, a squat crystal glass in his hand. He was dressed in a fine suit and a pale blue tie but as she stared at him, all she saw was him naked and propped up on his arms over her.
Just as heat swirled, his eyes shifted away. "You look different in pants."
"Whatoh. They're Beth's."
He took a drink from his glass. "Heard you're renting a place."
"Yes, I've just come from"
"Beth told me. So how much longer have you got here? A week? Less? Probably less, right."
"Probably. I was going to tell you, but I just rented it, and with all the other drama, I didn't have time to. I wasn't hiding it from you or anything." When he didn't reply, she said, "Butch? Are youare we okay?"
"Yeah." He looked down into his Scotch. "Or at least we're going to be."
"Butch Look, about what happened"
"You know I don't care about the fire."
"No, I mean in your bedroom."
"The sex?"
She flushed and dropped her eyes. "I want to try it again."
When he said nothing, she glanced up.
His hazel stare was intense. "You know what I want? Just once, I want to be enough for you. Just once."
"You are"
He spread out his arms and glanced down at his body. "Not like this I'm not. But I'm going to make it so I can be. I'm going to take care of this problem of me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Will you let me escort you in to dinner?" As if to distract her, he came forward and offered her his arm. When she didn't take it, he said, "Trust me, Marissa."
After a long moment, she accepted his courtesy, thinking that at least he hadn't pulled away from her. Which was what she could have sworn he'd been doing just after the fire.
"Hey, Butch. Hold up, my man."
Both she and Butch looked over. Wrath was coming out of the hidden door underneath the stairs and Vishous was with him.
"Evening, Marissa," the king said. "Cop, I need you a sec."
Butch nodded. "What up?"
"Will you excuse us, Marissa?"
The expressions on the Brothers' faces were bland, their bodies relaxed. And she didn't buy the nothing special for an instant. But like she was going to hang around?
"I'll wait for you at the table," she told Butch.
She headed to the dining room, then paused and looked back. The three males were standing together, Vishous and Wrath towering over Butch as they did the talking. A surprised look hit Butch's face, his brows lifting up into his forehead. Then he nodded and crossed his arms over his chestlike he was braced and ready to go.
Dread washed over her. Brotherhood business. She just knew it.
When Butch came to the table ten minutes later, she said, "What did Wrath and V talk to you about?"
He snapped his napkin loose of its folds and put the damask in his lap. "They want me go through Tohr's house and pull a CSI. Try and see if the guy's been back or left any clues as to where he's gone."
Oh. "That's good."
"It's what I did for a living for many years."
"Is that all you'll be doing?"
As a plate of food was set in front of him, he finished his Scotch. "Yup. Well the brothers are going to start patrolling rural areas, so they've asked me to work up a route for them. I'm going to go with V and do that after sundown tonight."
She nodded, telling herself it was going to be fine. As long as he wasn't fighting. As long as he didn't
"Marissa, what's wrong?"
"I, ah, I just don't want you to get hurt. I mean, you're human and all and"
"So today I need to do some research."
Well if that wasn't a door getting shut on her. And if she pressed the point, she'd only make it sound like she thought he was totally weak. "Research on what?"
He picked up his fork. "What happened to me. V's already been through the Chronicles, but he said I could give it a shot, too.»
As she nodded, she realized they would not spend the day sleeping together, side by side, in his bed. Or hers.
She took a sip from her water glass and marveled at how you could sit so close to someone and still have him be totally far away from you.
Chapter Thirty
The following afternoon, John took a seat in the classroom, all impatient for things to get rolling. The schedule of classes ran on a three-days-on, one-day-off rotation, and he was ready to get back to work.
While he went through his notes on plastic explosives, the other trainees yakked it up as they came in and got settled, the horsing around business as usual until everyone fell silent.
John glanced up. There was a man in the doorway, a man who looked a little unsteady, or maybe drunk. What the hell
John's mouth went slack as he stared at the face and the red hair. Blaylock. It was Blaylock, only better.
The guy looked down and awkwardly walked to the back. Actually, he shuffled more than walked, as if he couldn't really control his arms and legs all that well. After he sat down, he moved his knees around under the table until they fit, then he hunched over as if trying to make himself look smaller.
Yeah, good luck on that. Jesus, he was huge.
Holy crap. He had gone through the transition.
Zsadist walked into the classroom, shut the door, and glanced at Blaylock. Following a quick nod, Z went right into the teaching.
"Today we're going to do an intro to chemical warfare. We're talking tear gas, mustard gas" The Brother paused. Then cursed as he obviously realized no one was paying any attention because they were all staring at Blay. "Well, shit. Blaylock, you want to tell them what it was like? We're not going to get anything done here until you do."