by J. R. Ward
As she sank to her haunches to comfort the anxious retriever, Tohr headed for the door, slowing down as he joined the traffic jam of brothers at the vestibule. Waiting to file through, he glanced up at the second-floor balcony. No’One was at the head of the stairs, standing by herself, that hood of hers down.
The braid needed to go, he thought to himself. Hair as beautiful as hers was meant to catch the light and shine.
He lifted his hand in a wave, and after she echoed the good-bye, he ducked out and emerged into the cold night.
Standing close, but not too close to John, he waited for Wrath to give the nod, and then he dematerialized with the king and the boys to a peninsula on the Hudson just north of Xhex’s cabin.
As Tohr re-formed in the midst of a thin beard of forest, the air was bracingly cold and smelled of fallen leaves and the wet rocks of the shoreline.
Up ahead, Assail’s contemporary mansion was a true showpiece, even from this rear view by the garages. The palatial structure had two main floors, with a porch that went all the way around, everything angled and windowed to provide as much of a view of the water as possible.
Dumb-ass place for a vampire to live. All that glass in the daylight?
Then again, what could you expect from a member of the glymera.
The house had been prescreened, as each of the other locations for the meetings had been, so they were familiar with the layout on the exterior—and V had broken in and surveyed the inside as well. Report: Nothing much in there, and clearly that hadn’t changed. In the lights that glowed from the ceilings, there was a whole lot of nothing much in the furniture department.
It was as if Assail lived in a display case featuring himself.
And yet apparently the guy had done a few smart things. According to V, all those glass panels were threaded with fine steel wires, in the manner of a car window defroster system, so there was no dematerializing in or out. He’d also cleared the lawn that circled the place so that if anything or anybody approached, they’d be sitting ducks.
On that note, Tohr let his instincts and senses roam… and had a grand total of nada hit his radar screen. Nothing moved that wasn’t supposed to: just tree limbs and leaves in the breeze, a deer about three hundred yards away, his brother and the boys behind him.
At least until a car came down the narrow, paved driveway.
Jaguar, Tohr guessed by the engine sound.
Yup, he was right. Black XKR. With blacked-out side windows.
The long-nosed convertible went by, stopped at the garage door nearest to the mansion, and then eased inside as the panels rose. Assail, or whoever it was behind the wheel, did not can the engine or get out of the car right away. He waited for the door to drop back into place behind him, and as it did, Tohr noticed there were no windowpanes in the thing. The shit was also a shade ever so slightly off from the trim on the rest of the house. Same with the other five bays.
He’d added those doors since he’d moved in, Tohr thought.
Maybe the SOB wasn’t a total moron.
“Okay, I’ll head over to the front door.” V’s diamond eyes flashed. “I’ll give you a signal… or you’ll hear that lightweight scream like a girl. Either way, you know what to do.”
Annnnnd off he went, dematerializing around the corner of the house. It would be better to have eyes on him, but Wrath was the most important part of this, and the tree line in the back was the only cover there was to be had.
As they waited, Tohr got his gun out, and so did John Matthew and Qhuinn. The king was dripping with forties, but his matched sets stayed put. Way too defensive to have him with a gat in his hand.
But your personal guard? Part of the cocksucking job description.
Keeping sharp, he wished, yet again, that they could leave the king at home for the pregame process, but Wrath had flat-out no’d that idea months ago. Too galling, no doubt, given that, unlike his father, he’d been a fighter before he’d taken the throne—it was just, fucking hell, moments like this made you want to peel your own face off.
Tohr’s cell phone went off three tense minutes later: Kitchen door by the garage.
“He wants us at the back entrance,” Tohr said, putting the thing away. “Wrath, that’s fifty yards straight ahead.”
“Roger that.”
The four of them dematerialized and reappeared on the rear stoop in a flanking formation that provided as much protection to Wrath as possible: Tohr was right in front of the king, John to his right, Qhuinn to his left. V immediately assumed the rear.
And right on cue, Assail opened the door.
FORTY
Tohr’s first impression of their host was that Assail hadn’t changed at all. He was still big enough to be a Brother, with hair so dark he made V seem like a blond. And his clothes were, as always, formal and perfectly tailored. He was also as cagey as ever, his stare shrewd and hooded… seeing too much, capable of too much.
Another fine addition to the continent.
Not.
The aristocrat smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m guessing that’s Wrath in the middle of all those bodies?”
“Show some fucking respect,” V snapped.
“Compliments are the condiment of conversation.” Assail turned away, leaving them to come through the jambs by themselves. “They just get in the way—”
Wrath dematerialized right in the guy’s path, moving so fast they met chest-to-chest.
Baring fangs long as daggers, the king growled low. “Watch your mouth, son. Or I’ll make it impossible for you to throw any more bullshit around.”
Assail stepped back, his eyes narrowing like he was reading Wrath’s vital statistics. “You’re not like your father.”
“Neither are you. Unfortunately.”
As V shut the door, Assail went for his inside pocket—and immediately had four gun muzzles pointed at his head. As he froze, his eyes went from weapon to weapon.
“I was getting out a cigar.”
“I’d do it slowly if I were you,” Wrath murmured. “My boys wouldn’t mind dropping you where you stand.”
“Good thing we’re not in my living room. I love that rug.” He glanced over at V. “You sure you want to do this here in the mudroom?”
“Yeah, bitch, I am,” Vishous ground out.
“Window phobia?”
“You were about to light up,” Wrath said. “Or get lit up. How about we solve that one first and then talk about your sieve of a house.”
“I like the view.”
“Which could be me standing over your grave,” V announced as he nodded at the guy’s disappeared hand.
Cocking a brow, Assail pulled out a long Cuban, and made a point to show it to everybody. Then he went into a side pocket, took out a gold snipper, and held it up to his well-armed peanut gallery.
“Anyone care to join me? No?” He clipped the end off and lit up, seemingly unconcerned that his head was still in the crosshairs.
After a couple of puffs, he said, “So I want to know something.”
“Don’t give me an opening like that,” V muttered.
“Is that why you finally called me?” Wrath asked.
“Yes, it is.” The vampire rolled his cigar back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you have any intention of altering the laws concerning commerce with humans?”
Leaning to the side, Tohr did a flash scan of what he could see of the rest of the house—which wasn’t much: modern kitchen, a hint of the dining room, a living room out the far side. Finding no one moving through the empty rooms, he refocused.
“No,” Wrath said. “Provided the business stays under the radar, you can do what you want. What kind of commerce are you in.”
“Retail.”
“Of what?”
“Does it matter.”
“If you’re not answering, I’m going to assume drugs or women.” Wrath frowned when there was no reply. “So which one is it.”
“Women are too much
trouble.”
“That drug shit is tough to keep under the radar.”
“Not the way I take care of things.”
V piped up. “So you’re the reason middlemen have been capping themselves in alleys.”
“No comment.”
Wrath frowned again. “Why bring this up now?”
“Let’s just say I’ve run into one too many interested parties.”
“Be more specific.”
“Well, one of them’s about six feet tall. Brush-cut dark hair. Name rhymes with sex, and her body’s built for it.”
Oh, no, you didn’t, Tohr thought—
The hiss that came out of John brought everyone’s head around. And what do you know, the guy’s eyes were trained on Assail as if, at least in his mind, he was already ripping the male’s throat out.
“I beg your pardon,” Assail drawled. “I didn’t know you were acquainted with her in some manner.”
Tohr growled on behalf of his son—even though they were estranged. “He’s a fuck of a lot more than just acquainted. So you can blow that speculation out your ass—and while you’re at it, stay away from her.”
“She was the one who came to me.”
Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeat. That went over like a lead balloon—
Before shit got out of hand, Wrath held up his palm. “I don’t give a fuck what you do with humans—provided you clean up any messes. But if you get tagged, you’re on your own.”
“What about our species interfering with my commerce.”
Wrath smiled a little, his cruel face showing absolutely no humor. “Having trouble defending your territory already? Guess what. You can’t have what you can’t keep.”
Assail inclined his head. “Fair enough—”
The shattering of glass sounded out behind them all, cutting through everything, crushing time down to a crawl: gunfire.
With a mighty lunge, Tohr went airborne, his massive body flying over the Spanish tile, his target: Wrath.
As a rat-tat-tat-tat-tat spray of bullets hit the back of the house, he tackled the king to the floor, covering his brother with as much of his body as possible. Everyone else, including Assail, likewise hit the ground and shuffled for cover against various walls.
“My lord, are you hit?” Tohr hissed in Wrath’s ear as he hit send on the text alarm.
“Maybe the neck,” came a groaned response.
“Lie still.”
“You’re all over me. Exactly where do you think I’m going.”
Tohr twisted his head around to eyeball where everybody was. V was all about Assail, his hand locked on the guy’s throat, his weapon tight on their host’s temple. And Qhuinn and John were back-flatted on either side of where they’d come in, covering the outside as well as the entryway into the kitchen.
The cold breeze coming through the broken windowpane in the door did not provide any particular scent, and that proved who it was: Slayers would have stunk up the place given that both the prevailing wind and the shot came from the north.
It was Xcor and his Band of Bastards.
But come on, like they didn’t know that already. That single shot had to have come from a rifle, and had to have been aimed at Wrath through those fucking panes in the door—and it had been a long while since the Lessening Society had shown any finesse in their attacks.
“You were supposed to keep this meeting private, vampire,” V said in a deadly tone.
“No one knows you’re here.”
“Then I’ll assume you ordered an assassination all by your lonesome.”
He was going to shoot the motherfucker, Tohr thought without caring. Right here, right now.
Assail kept it cool, squaring off at the Brother so that the gun muzzle was now pointed at the center of his forehead. “Fuck you—that’s why I wanted to do this out in the living room. That’s bulletproof glass out there, asshole. And P.S., I’m hit, you fool.”
The male lifted his arm and showed off his dripping right hand, the one that had been holding the cigar.
“So maybe your friends have bad aim.”
“That was not bad aim. I’m a target, too—”
More bullets sprayed the back of the house, finding their way in through the cutout in the door. Fucking hell, thermal pane was good against the New York winters, but it didn’t do shit to stop Remington’s best.
“How you doing?” Tohr whispered in Wrath’s ear as he checked his phone for a response from his other brothers.
“Fine. You?” Except the king coughed… and, man, there was a rattle in his lungs.
He was bleeding somewhere along his respiratory tract—
Moving fast as a gasp, Assail slipped out of V’s hold, and streaked across the back of the mudroom, heading for a door that had to let out into the garage. “Don’t shoot! I’ve got a car you can take him in! And I’m killing all the lights in the house.”
As everything went dark, Vishous dematerialized on top of the guy, taking him down and grinding his face into the tile. “I’m going to kill you now—”
“No,” Wrath ordered. “Not until we know what’s going on.”
In the shadows, V grit his teeth and glared at the king. But at least he didn’t hit the trigger. Instead, he put his mouth to their host’s ear and growled, “You better think twice before you go for any exits again.”
“Then do it yourself.” This came out as, “Vhen do ith y’selth.”
Vishous glanced over at Tohr, the pair of them locking eyes. When Tohr gave a subtle nod, the other brother cursed… then reached up and popped open the garage door. The automatic lights were still on from Assail’s having come home earlier, and Tohr caught sight of four cars: The Jaguar. A Spyker. A black Mercedes. And a black van with no side windows.
“Take the GMC,” Assail grunted. “Keys are in the ignition. It’s bulletproof all the way around.”
As everything went silent outside, John and Qhuinn began pumping rounds off through the broken glass, falling into a steady, alternating rhythm, just to make sure that someone didn’t try and dematerialize inside.
Shit, their ammo wasn’t going to last long.
Tohr cursed the lack of options, as well as the fact that he’d gotten no reply from the Brotherhood—
“We got this,” Qhuinn said, not turning away from the door. “But we need the other Brothers here before you try to leave.”
“I’ve already alerted them,” Tohr muttered. “They’re on the way.”
At least, he hoped they were.
Assail’s voice rose above the gunshots. “Take the goddamn van. I’m not fucking with you.”
Tohr pegged the guy with hard eyes. “If you are, I will skin you alive.”
“I’m not.”
Given that there were no further assurances to be had, Tohr rolled off Wrath and helped the king into a crouching position. Shit… blood at the side of his neck. Lot of it. “Keep your head down, my lord, and follow my lead.”
“You don’t say.”
Moving as quickly as he dared, Tohr started them across the floor, steering the king over to the wall so that Wrath could put a hand out and orient himself.
“Washing machine,” Tohr said, pulling him out to avoid the boxy machine. “Dryer. Door six feet. Four. Two. Step down.”
As they went by Assail, the male was watching them. “Jesus, he really is blind.”
Wrath pulled up short and unsheathed his dagger, pointing it directly into the guy’s face. “But my hearing works just fine.”
Assail probably would have recoiled, but he was stuck between the hard wall, a bullet and a sharp point—not a lot of room to maneuver. “Yes. Indeed.”
“This meeting isn’t over,” Wrath said.
“I don’t have anything else.”
“I do. You watch yourself, son—this little go-around proves to have your fingerprints anywhere near it, and your next house is a pine box.”
“It wasn’t me. I swear to it—I’m a businessman, pure and simple. I just want to be lef
t alone.”
“Greta fucking Garbo,” V bit out as Tohr urged Wrath back into motion.
In the garage proper, Tohr crabbed it across the bald concrete with the king, going around the other vehicles. When they got to the van, he checked the thing out, then popped the back double doors and shoved the most powerful vampire on the planet in there like he was a piece of luggage.
As he reshut the panels, he spared one moment to take a deep breath. Then he ripped around to the driver’s side and got in. The interior light stayed on for a bit after he took his seat, and yes, the keys were right where Assail had said. And yeah, there had been some serious modifications to the vehicle: two gas tanks, reinforced steel crash cage, thick glass the girth of which suggested it was indeed bulletproof.
There was a sliding partition that separated the back from the front, and he opened it far enough so he could monitor the king.
With his hearing on overdrive, the dripping of blood in the van seemed as loud as the gunshots that had caused it. “You’re hit bad, my lord.”
All that came back at him was that cough.
Fuck.
John was ready to kill.
As he stood to the left of that goddamn back door, the thick muscles of his thighs were twitching, and his heart was going bronco in his chest. His gun, however, was steady as a stone.
The Band of Bastards had initiated the attack from where the Brotherhood had started out: on the far side of the cleared lawn, in the forest behind the house.
Hell of a shot, he thought. That first rifle bullet had punctured the door’s windowpane and gone right for Wrath’s head, even though there had been a number of people standing around.
Too close. Waaaaay too close.
These guys were true professionals—which meant they had to be gearing up for a second engagement… and not from this angle that was guarded so well.
As Qhuinn kept pulling his trigger in a slow, even motion, John leaned back and looked through the archway into the kitchen.
Whistling low, he caught Qhuinn’s eye and nodded in that direction.
“Roger that—”
“John, you don’t go out there alone,” V said. “I’ll watch the back door as well as our host.”
