by J. R. Ward
Lassiter was right: He hadn’t taken things as far as he could. But, God, having sex with someone else? As in actual sex? There had only ever been his Wellsie.
Shiiiiit… this nightmare he was in just kept getting more “mare.”
But, God, that vision as he’d woken up, of his shellan ever farther away… even more faded… her exhausted eyes tortured and gray as the landscape.
The knock on the door was too strong to be Fritz.
“Come in.”
John Matthew peered around the jamb. The kid was dressed for fighting, his weapons on, his mood dark.
“Going out early?” Tohr said.
No, I’ve switched shifts with Z—just wanted you to know that.
“What’s wrong?”
Nothing.
What a lie. The truth came out in the sharp edges to the kid’s words, his hands forming the positions of ASL with hard corners on the letters. And he wouldn’t look anywhere but the floor.
Tohr thought of the messy bed across the way, and the fact that No’One had left one of her spare sheaths on the chair over by the bureau.
“John,” he said. “Listen…”
The kid didn’t look at him. Just stood there in the open doorway, head down, brows down, body twitching to leave.
“Come in a minute. And shut the door.”
John took his time and crossed his arms when he was done closing them in.
Crap. Where to start.
“I think you know what’s going on here. With No’One.”
None of my business, came the signed response.
“Bullshit.” At least that got him some eye contact—too bad, since he promptly stalled out on the reveal. How could he explain what was going on? “It’s a complicated situation. But no one’s taking Wellsie’s place.” Shit, that name. “I mean—”
Do you love her?
“No’One? No, I don’t.”
So what the hell are you doing here—no, don’t answer that. John paced around, hands on hips, weapons catching the light in subtle flashes. I can guess.
In a sad way, Tohr thought, the anger was honorable. A son protecting the memory of his mother.
God, that hurt.
“I’ve got to move on,” Tohr whispered hoarsely. “I have no choice.”
The fuck you don’t. But like I said, it’s none of my business. I gotta go. Later—
“If you think for one moment that I’m having a party in here, you’re too wrong.”
I’ve heard the sounds. I know exactly how much fun you’re having.
As he took off, the door shut with a crack.
Fantastic. This night got any better and someone was going to lose a leg. Or a head.
THIRTY-SIX
Generally speaking, the scent of human blood wasn’t nearly as interesting as that of a lesser or a vampire. But it was equally recognizable, and something that you had to pay a little attention to.
As Xhex threw a leg over her Ducati, she sniffed the air again.
Definitely human, coming from west of the Iron Mask.
Checking her watch, she saw she had a little extra time before her meet-and-greet, and whereas in the normal course of business she wouldn’t give any kind of mess involving humans even a drive-by, in light of current events in the black-market trade, she dismounted, took her key, and dematerialized in that direction.
Over the last three months, there had been a rash of killings downtown. Well… duh on that. But the ones she had been interested in were not the sloppy gang-related drive-bys, or the heat-of-passion trigger fingers, or the drunken hit-and-runs. Her group fell into the fourth big catchall—drug related.
Except not in your run-of-the-mill kind of way.
The deaths were all suicides.
Middlemen were capping themselves left and right—and really, what were the chances that so many of those motherfuckers would develop a conscience at the same time? Unless, of course, someone was putting a moral additive in the Caldwell water system. In which case Trez would be out of business on a couple of different levels—and he wasn’t.
The human police were flummoxed. The news media had gone national. The politicians were all excited and getting up on their stumps.
She’d even tried to do some Nancy Drewing herself, but her timing had always been of the day/late, dollar/short variety.
Then again, she already knew the answer to a lot of those human questions: That Old Language symbol for death on those packets was the key. And gee whiz… the more guys who ate their own bullets, the more those stamps had appeared. They were even starting to show up on heroin and Ecstasy packaging now, not just cocaine.
The vampire in question, whoever he or she was, was gradually staking their claim. And after a busy summer season of influencing human filth to take themselves out of the gene pool, they’d managed to kill off an entire demographic in the drug trade: All that were left were street-corner retailers… and Benloise, the big-fish supplier.
As she took form behind a parked van, it was clear that she’d gotten to the scene right after it had all gone down: There were two guys making like mud puddles on the asphalt, lying faceup with unseeing eyes. Both had guns in their hands and holes in the fronts of their brains, and the car that the RIPs had come in was still going at an idle, its doors open, steam rising from its tailpipe.
None of that was what she cared about, however. What she was really interested in was the male vampire getting into a sleek Jaguar, his black hair flashing blue in the overhead light of an archway.
Guess her day/dollar ratio was on an upswing.
With a quick shift, she re-formed in front of his car, and thanks to the fact that he had no headlights on, she caught a good look at his face in the glow from the dashboard.
Well, well, well, she thought, as his head shot up to her.
The slow laugh that came out of the male belonged with the summer nights: deep, warm—and dangerous as coming lightning. “The fair Xhexania.”
“Assail. Welcome to the New World.”
“I had heard you were here.”
“Likewise.” She nodded at the bodies. “I understand that you’ve been performing a public service.”
The vampire assumed an evil expression, one she had to respect. “You give me credit where it may not be due.”
“Uh-huh. Right.”
“You can’t tell me you care about these rats without tails?”
“I care that your product has been in my club.”
“Club?” Elegant brows peaked over those cold eyes. “You work with humans?”
“Keep them in line is more like it.”
“And you don’t approve of chemicals.”
“The more they’re under the influence, the more annoying they are.”
There was a long pause. “You look good, Xhex. But you always did.”
She thought of John and the way he’d handled that vampire wannabe a couple of months ago. It would be a different scenario with Assail—John would have much more fun with a worthier opponent, and Assail was capable of anything.…
With a shot of pain, she abruptly wondered whether her mate would even bother fighting for her now.
Things were different between them, and not in a good way. All those summertime resolutions to stay close and connected had faded under the grind of their nightly jobs, those short bursts of seeing each other seeming to create more distance than they cured.
Until now, in the cold weather of fall, their visits were harder, less frequent. Less sexual, too.
“What’s the matter, Xhex,” Assail said softly. “I can smell pain.”
“You overestimate your nose—and your reach, if you think you can take over Caldwell so fast. You’re trying to fill some big-ass shoes.”
“Your boss, Rehvenge’s, you mean.”
“Precisely.”
“Does that mean you’ll come work for me when I finish cleaning house?”
“Not on your life.”
“How about on yours?”
He tempered that one with a smile. “I’ve always liked you, Xhex. If you ever want a real job, come find me—I don’t have a problem with half-breeds.”
Annnnd didn’t that little ditty make her want to kick him in the teeth. “Sorry, I like where I’m at.”
“Not according to your scent, you don’t.” As he turned the car engine on, the subtle growl foretold all kinds of horses under the hood. “I’ll see you around.”
With a casual wave, he shut himself in, revved the engine, and tore off without putting on his lights.
As she stared at the dead he’d left behind, she thought, well, at least she had a name now, but that was the extent of the good news. Assail was the kind of male you didn’t turn your back on for an instant. A chameleon without a conscience, he could be a thousand different faces to a thousand different people—with no one ever knowing the real him.
For example, she didn’t believe he found her attractive for one moment. It was just a comment to put her off balance. And it had worked; just not for the reason he’d intended.
God, John…
This shit between them was killing them both, but they were stalled out. Unable to make things work; unable to let things go.
It was a mess.
Flashing back to her bike, she mounted, put her sunglasses on to protect her eyes, and took off. As she headed out of downtown, she blew past a fleet of CPD squad cars with their lights flashing and sirens blaring, going as fast as their tires would take them toward where she had just been.
Have fun, boys, she thought.
Wonder if they had a protocol for multiple suicides by now.
She herself headed north toward the mountains. It would have been more efficient to just dematerialize, but she needed to air her head out, and there was nothing like doing eighty on a rural road to get your skull clean as a whistle. With the cold air shoving her aviators back onto her nose, and her biker’s jacket forming a second skin across her breasts, she gunned the engine even harder, stretching out flat over the bike, becoming one with the machine.
As she closed in on the Brotherhood’s mansion, she wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to this. Maybe it was just surprise at the request. Maybe she wanted to run into John. Maybe she was… looking for something, anything, that was a change from this fog of sadness she was living in.
Then again, maybe the fact that she was meeting with her mother meant shit was only going to get worse.
About fifteen minutes later, she turned off the road and ran smack into the mhis that was always in place. Slowing down, so she didn’t hit a deer or a tree, she gradually ascended the mountain’s rise, stopping at the series of gates that were similar to the ones that led to the training center entrance.
There was barely a delay at each of the security cameras; she was expected.
After she passed through the last barricade, and started on the wide turn that led to the courtyard, her heart relocated to her gut. Dayum, the huge stone house still looked the same. But come on, like it would have changed at all? There could be a nuclear bomb shower along the northeast coast and the place would still be solid.
This fortress, cockroaches, and Twinkies. All that would be left.
She parked the Ducati just beyond the stone steps that went up to the front door, but she didn’t dismount. Looking at the arching jambs, the massive carved panels, the glowering gargoyles that had cameras in their mouths—there was no welcome mat in sight.
Enter at your own risk was the point.
A quick check of her watch told her what she already knew: John would already be out for the night, fighting in the part of town she had just left—
Xhex cranked her head to the left.
Her mother’s grid was out back, in the gardens behind the house.
This was good. She didn’t want to go inside. Didn’t want to walk across the foyer. Didn’t want to remember what she had been wearing, thinking, dreaming of when she’d been mated.
Dumb-ass fantasy of what life was going to be like.
Dematerializing to the far side of the barrier hedge, she had no trouble orienting herself. She and John had wandered out here in the spring, ducking beneath the budding branches of the fruit trees, breathing in the forgotten smell of fresh earth, holding each other against the chill that they knew was not long for the air.
So much possibility back then. And given where they were now, it seemed kind of fitting that all of summer’s warmth was gone, that vital blooming period missed altogether: Now the leaves were on the ground, the branches were bare once again, and everything was about hunkering down.
Well, wasn’t she a Hallmark card tonight.
Zeroing in on her mother’s grid, she went along the side of the house, passing by the French doors of the billiards room and the library.
No’One was down at the pool’s edge, a still figure spotlit by the blue glow of water that was yet to be drained.
Wow… Xhex thought. Something big had changed with the female, and whatever the shift was, it had altered much of her emotional superstructure. Her grid was jumbled up, but not in a bad way; more like a house that was undergoing extensive renovations. It was a good start, a positive transformation that was probably a long time in coming.
“Attaboy, Tohr,” Xhex murmured under her breath.
As if she had heard, No’One looked over her shoulder—and that was when Xhex realized that the hood that was always up was down, her mother’s cap of smooth blond hair suggesting that the stuff was braided, with the long end tucked under the robing.
Xhex waited for fear to light up that grid. And waited. And waited…
Holy shit, something really had changed.
“Thank you for coming,” No’One said as Xhex approached.
That voice was different. A little deeper. Surer.
She had been transformed in a lot of ways.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Xhex replied.
“You look well.”
“As do you.”
Stopping in front of her mother, she measured the way the flickering light from the pool played across the female’s perfectly lovely face. And in the quiet that followed, Xhex frowned, information flooding through her sensory receptors, the picture filling out.
“You are stuck,” she said, thinking that was kind of ironic.
Her mother’s brows flared. “As a matter of fact… I am.”
“Funny.” Xhex looked at the sky. “Me, too.”
Staring up at the strong, proud female in front of her, No’One felt the strangest connection to her daughter: as the restless reflections from the pool played over tough, grim features, those gunmetal gray eyes held an edgy frustration similar to her own.
“So you and Tohr, huh,” Xhex said casually.
No’One put her hands up to her hot blush. “I do not know how to respond to that.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s just—yeah, it’s all over your mind.”
“Not really.”
“Liar.” There was no accusation, though. No censure. Just a statement of fact.
No’One turned back to the water and reminded herself that as a half symphath, her daughter would know the truth even if she didn’t say a word.
“I have no right to him,” she murmured, looking at the pool’s churning surface. “No right to any of him. But that is not why I asked you to come—”
“Says who?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Who says he’s not yours.”
No’One shook her head. “You know all the whys.”
“No. I don’t. If you want him and he wants you—”
“He does not. Not… in all ways.” No’One brushed at her hair even though it was already back off her face. Dearest Virgin Scribe, her heart was beating so hard. “I can’t… I shouldn’t speak of this.”
It felt safer not to utter a syllable to a soul—she knew Tohr wouldn’t like to be speculated about.
There was a long silence.
“John and I
aren’t doing well.”
No’One glanced over, brows up at her daughter’s candidness. “I… I had wondered. You have been long gone from here, and he has not looked happy. I had hoped for… a different outcome. On many levels.”
Including between the two of them.
And indeed, it was true what Xhex had said. They were each stalled—not exactly the accord one would wish for. However, she would take any commonality that presented itself.
“I think you and Tohr make sense,” Xhex said abruptly, as she began to wander down the edge of the pool. “I like it.”
No’One arched her brows again. And reassessed the no-talk rule. “Truly?”
“He’s a good male. Steady, reliable—damn tragic about what happened to his family. John’s been worried about him for so long—you know, she was the only mother John had. Wellsie, that is.”
“Did you ever meet her?”
“Not formally. She wasn’t the type to hang out where I worked, and God knew I was never welcome where the Brotherhood was. But I was aware of her reputation. Tough cookie—really blunt, a female of worth in that regard. I don’t think the glymera were big fans of hers, and the fact that she didn’t care about them was just another thing to recommend her, in my opinion.”
“Theirs was a true love story.”
“Yeah, from what I hear. Frankly, I’m surprised that he’s been able to move on, but I’m glad he has—it’s done you a world of good.”
No’One took a deep breath and smelled dry leaves. “He has no choice.”
“I’m sorry?”
“It is not my story to tell, but suffice it to say, if he could choose another path, any other, he would.”
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.” When No’One didn’t fill in with explanations, Xhex shrugged. “I can respect the boundaries.”
“Thank you. And I’m glad you came.”
“I was surprised you wanted me here—”
“I have failed you too many times to count.” As Xhex visibly recoiled, No’One nodded. “When I first arrived herein, I was overwhelmed by so much, lost though I spoke the language, isolated though I was not alone. I want you to know, however, that you are the real reason I came—and tonight, it is time that I apologized to you.”
