The Thief

by J. R. Ward

  FIFTY

  Phury left the Sanctuary first, and V had every intention of following in the brother's shitkicker steps. Not surprisingly, however, the guy didn't really want him around, considering the shade he'd just thrown on all the Chosen. So after they closed up the Treasury, V found himself giving the brother some space by going on a wonder.

  Wander, he meant.

  Although the former was probably more what this was, he thought as he closed in on the Scribe Virgin's private quarters. With every step he took, he intended to stop and ghost out so he could make it to the Brotherhood meeting. With each increment of forward motion, he truly meant to reroute. With all the one step, two step, three step, four...he had another destination in mind.

  Instead of going the peace-out route, though, he ended up entering his mother's quarters through the retracting panel and standing in that courtyard. The songbirds silenced as his presence registered on them, and the longer he stayed there, the more those brightly colored wings fluttered and the little-grip feet shifted the wee things up and down on their branches--the aviary equivalent of nervous pacing, he decided.

  V kept thinking about what Jane had said about her little sister. How the loss never went away.

  Put in that kind of context, he felt like his mahmen had died at his birth. If he were honest with himself--and he hated to be when it came to shit like this--he had been missing what-had-never-been as if it were more like a something-that-was. And now that the Scribe Virgin was actually gone, he somehow had the space to realize he was mourning that which he'd never had.

  And FFS, this struck him as a colossal waste of introspection: As much as he respected Mary and her whole talk-it-out deal, he'd never found any relief in dropping the proverbial trou on his weaknesses--whether it was in private or in front of somebody with anime eyes and a master's in social work.

  Way too many people cloaked themselves in the mantle of victimhood, creating a vacuum of identity that they expected the world to rush in and fill with compassion that was undeserved.

  Although that being said, maybe he was just a defensive, judgmental piece of shit.

  Probably. God, he didn't know what the fuck to do with himself anymore. He'd been really all over the place lately.

  As he crossed over the white marble, he stopped in front of the water fountain. Then sat on its hard stone outer rim. The water came out of its spigot and fell in crystal droplets that were always in exactly the same place, the spray like a pattern in cloth, fixed within its arching descent and utterly symmetrical--as opposed to how it would have been down below, all random twinkles and somehow more beautiful because of that.

  He thought of the Scribe Virgin's regimentation of the race: her mandates that covered the way her Chosen had to live and worship...her breeding program...the rules and regulations of the classes.

  She had even forbidden questions being asked of her. Like, literally, no one, not even Wrath, had been allowed to ask her anything.

  Okay, fine, she had kind of let Butch get away with it. But that was it.

  As memories of her tangled him up, he reached down to the water for no particular reason, trailing the fingertips of his curse in the depths--

  A strange flushing warmth hit his upper arm and he looked down.

  The wound that the shadow had made in his flesh shriveled and disappeared, as if chased away, no remnant of its red flush remaining.

  "What the fuck," V breathed.

  And then it dawned on him.

  "My bullets," he announced to the songbirds. "That's why my fucking bullets worked."

  * * *

  --

  Back down at the Brotherhood's training center, Sola burst into her grandmother's hospital room.

  "We have to go," she said as she went to the shallow closet. "We need to go. We're leaving right now--"

  Her vovo sat up in the bed. "What you speaking of?"

  "We're leaving." She got her grandmother's clothes and wheeled around. "We need to get you dressed. I'll help you--"

  "I am not leaving--"

  "Yes, you are." Sola pulled the covers back. "We're--"

  "Marisol! What is wrong!"

  The sharp tone was exactly what had always worked on her as a child, and her inner ten-year-old overrode her adult impulses, freezing her in place.

  But she was not about to vampire the poor old woman. For godsakes.

  "They are bad people," Sola choked out. "They are...not good people, Vovo. We need to escape--"

  "What do you say." Her grandmother made a dismissive sound in the back of her throat. "They treat us good. They treat us--"

  "I'm not arguing with you about this."

  "Good. Then we are no going!"

  Sola closed her eyes. "Yes, we are. You have always trusted me when it comes to our safety. Always. That is the way it works with us. And I'm telling you right now, we have to get out of here."

  Her grandmother crossed her arms over her bosom and glared. "Not good people? The night of your abduction, who freed you?"

  "I freed myself."

  "Who got you back to Caldwell. Who took care of you when you injured."

  "We're not going to talk about this--"

  "When I was sick last night, who came for me? Who stayed with you? Who care for me now!"

  Sola looked in a panic at the IV line. "We don't know what they're giving you!"

  "You lost your mind. I feel better. I not going. You leave you want. I stay."

  "You are coming with me--"

  As Sola reached out a hand, her grandmother slapped it away. "You no boss of me. You want to be idiot, go--leave. But I stay here and you no make me do anything." Those eyes were fierce as a tiger's. "I know bad men, I know bad people--I lived through more than you. I seen cruelty, it has been done to me. These people are no bad. They protect us. They help us. They heal us--and that man? He love you. He love you all his heart and you are stupid girl. Stupid!"

  The English train ran out at that point. What came out next was a fury of Spanish that nearly blew Sola off her boots.

  When her grandmother finally took a breath, Sola cut in. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

  "And neither do you if you think they bad." Her grandmother made hand motions toward the door. "Go. I no want to talk to you. Go! I kick you out! You no good--"

  All at once, alarms started to go off, the shrill alerts adding another layer of panic onto Sola's already stratospheric base.

  "Vovo?" she said as her grandmother stopped talking and seemed to struggle for breath. "Vovo!"

  FIFTY-ONE

  V beelined his shit out of the Sanctuary, re-forming in the mansion's foyer. Taking the grand staircase two at a time, he all but flew up to the second story and burst into Wrath's pale blue study. The Brotherhood had already started to gather for the meeting, everybody talking over everyone, all those male voices like a wall he had to break through.

  Fortunately, they all went silent as he crashed into the room.

  "I figured it out," he panted. "I got it!"

  There was some generalized throat clearing, and then someone muttered, "You're ready to come out as a My Little Pony fan?"

  "What?" V said.

  "No offense," somebody else chimed in, "but you have seriously Rainbow'd that Dash of yours."

  Rhage put his palms up. "Which is cool--"

  "Hey, whatever you like--"

  "My best friend is an Apple Jack--"

  "See what I have to live with?" Butch said mournfully. "I don't care about the color, it's the cut that kills me. Showing that much ankle. In winter?"

  V looked down at himself for the second time--and the view hadn't improved in the slightest. Still high-waters. Still pink. Still flannel.

  Still Fuck Me Pony.

  Wrath spoke up from behind his father's grand desk. "Can someone tell me what the hell he's wearing?"

  Vishous ripped those fucking pj bottoms off so fast, he nearly split the seams--and he would have thrown th
em in the fire, but for all he knew, Jane liked them.

  "We done?" he asked his brothers as he met 'em in the eye one by one. "We fucking done now? So we can talk about what's killing civilians? Or do you bunch of ass eaters want to waste more time. While people are dying."

  From over in the corner by the fire, someone said, "Okaaaay, let's not humor shame."

  Annnnd that started the deluge. "I'm feeling very shamed right now--"

  "Completely shamed, and I was just expressing myself--"

  "Can someone bubble-wrap me and give me a puppy to hold? 'Cuz my work/life balance has seriously suffered--"

  "What happened to your other nut? Was one of those ponies hungry?"

  That last one came out of Lassiter's mouth, and V seriously thought about marching over and punching that angel in the junk.

  But for all V knew, the fidiot was wearing a solid gold jockstrap.

  Behind his desk, the King was smiling. "You know, normally I don't miss my sight. This is not one of those fucking times."

  "He's nakey," Rhage supplied helpfully. "Well, half-nakey, and it's the business half that's out in the breeze if you get my drift. And can I just say, it's so good not to be on the receiving end of--"

  "My little mermaid!"

  "How's your water hose--"

  "Harpoon--are you, Hollywood?"

  "Okay, what does that even mean," Rhage muttered. "And all of you are motherfuckers--every single one--"

  "All right," Wrath said. "Enough. V, what you got?"

  "One meat, one veg, and a side of pissed off," someone cracked. "And a knitting addiction he refuses to come clean about."

  The King put an end to it by throwing his fist into his desk--but he was still smiling. "V. What."

  Before V launched into the report, he thought about telling them all to kiss his ass. But considering he had both his buck and that ass exposed, he was worried someone might take him up on the offer--and then he'd have to kill them. Which would get messy. After all, he was willing to do Fritz a solid, but there were more effective ways to create work for that doggen and his staff.

  Besides, George, the King's golden retriever, got worried when people yelled too much and got rowdy. The dog was already leaning into his master's leg. Real violence broke out around him and they were liable to have to send him to counseling.

  V got serious. "The civilian who was attacked last night stated that when he shot at the shadow, his bullets were ineffective. That was not my experience. When I shot at the one that came at me, my bullets caused damage. I couldn't reconcile this--until I was up at the Sanctuary just now. I put my hand into the water, and the remnants of my wound healed like that." He snapped his fingers. "And that's when it dawned on me. Our bullets have water from the Sanctuary in them. Those hollow tips that I fill for all of you, that's the difference. And it's a material one, evidently. Because without that little booster shot of the holy-holy, those fucking entities can't be slowed down--and if they get you? You're Norman Reedus with the bad things in the afterlife."

  The Brotherhood had always treated their bullets in such a way, going back for a hundred years. It had helped against the slayers--and clearly it did the same with the shadows.

  "I'm going to see about increasing our ammo supply," he said. "I want all of us to be prepared. The aftermath of those attacks--I don't want any of you like that. I don't want me like that."

  There was a grumbling of agreement, and then Wrath spoke up. "Where can we buy hollow tips in bulk without the humans getting up in our asses?"

  "I got this," V concluded. "Don't worry, my Lord. I'll take care of everything."

  "Good. And, Phury, let's talk about that little book problem." The King looked around. "I think we know now where the shadows came from. But we don't know who the fuck was up there when they shouldn't have been."

  * * *

  --

  Down in the training center, Jane was just coming out of the office's glass doors, when she heard a patient alarm start going off. Falling into a jog, she burst into one of the inpatient rooms--and was surprised to see Sola standing next to her grandmother, who was in the bed.

  "Well, hello," Jane said as she went around and checked the monitors while silencing them. "How are we doing?"

  Mrs. Carvalho, Jane thought. Manny had texted her about the admit.

  Jane smiled at Sola and then refocused on the patient. "Looks like you've had an episode of elevated heart rate. How are you feeling? Dizzy? Nauseated?"

  Mrs. Carvalho lifted her chin. "Tell her out. I no--what is word--no consent to her here. Tell her go. Right now."

  Jane looked back and forth between the two women. Sola was every bit as stone-faced as her grandmother, the younger woman's eyes locked on the floor, her arms crossed over her chest.

  When nothing but a boatload of awkward silence followed, Jane cleared her throat. "Even though I may have intruded on something personal here, I'd like to examine you, Mrs. Carvalho. You're due for--"

  "That is fine. She leaves, though. Go. Go! Stupid girl."

  There was a further commentary in Spanish, and Jane was glad she couldn't translate it. She was pretty sure there were some very private things in there--things that had nothing to do with medical situations, and therefore had nothing to do with her.

  "Listen," Jane hedged. "I'm just going to go get my stethoscope and give you two a brief moment. When I get back, though, if this is not resolved"--she glanced at Sola--"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, unfortunately."

  "Do it now," the grandmother ordered.

  "I'll be right back," Jane murmured.

  As she stepped out of the room, she jumped. Assail was coming out of the break room and buttoning his shirt up at the same time.

  "Is she okay?" he asked frantically. "Marisol's grandmother?"

  Hmm, Jane thought. Maybe the couple had been caught in flagrante?

  "I think so. I just need to check her out."

  After he finished tucking in his shirttails, he seemed at a loss. "I hope...well, I hope all is okay."

  "Why don't you go in there?" Jane smiled. "I think there might have been a family argument or something. Maybe you can help smooth it over."

  "I doubt that," the male said with sadness. "I seriously doubt that."

  Jane frowned. "Hey, after I'm finished in there--assuming nothing is going south--how about I do our exam? And Ghisele is coming down to feed Luchas. I'm sure she'll oblige for you--"

  "I'm fine. But thank you--"

  "That wasn't really an offer," she said gently. "More like a plan we're going to work on together. You're still my patient, even if you're doing great."

  When he just shook his head and disappeared back through the break room door, Jane decided that it was a full moon even if the calendar didn't know it. People be cray tonight.

  As she went to reenter Mrs. Carvalho's room with her stethoscope, somehow she was not surprised that Sola was marching out like she had lost an argument. And the woman was so upset, she didn't seem to be aware of what was in front of her--so they ran into each other.

  "Oops, sorry," Jane said as she reached out to steady Sola. "My fault."

  The other woman jumped back so fast and so far, she nearly put herself through the concrete wall across the corridor.

  In fact, she shrank back in fear, her eyes panicked, her face pasty as hell, her body shaking.

  Okay, Jane thought. Sola's grandmother was elderly and had had a fainting spell of some kind, but she had no acute issues that Manny had been able to isolate--so this high emotion was completely out of place. And considering what Sola had already been through coming here and standing by Assail when he'd been so compromised...there was really only one explanation, wasn't there.

  "He told you," Jane murmured. "About what he is. Didn't he."

  One of Sola's hands dove into the open collar of her fleece, and she outed a small gold cross. "Stay away from me. Just stay away--"

  "That doesn't work, FYI." Jane gave the
woman a sad smile. "Makes for great scenes in movies and books, though. They're not soulless, godless, or immortal. Trust me, I've seen more love here in this world, more devotion--and tragically, more death--than I ever did on the human side."

  Sola blinked. "Wait...what?"

  "I'm not a vampire." Jane flashed her flat canines. "See? No points. Never had 'em, never will."

  Of course, it was best to keep quiet about the whole ghost thing. That was not going to be helpful information to share at this moment.

  "What--how...why are you here?"

  Jane shrugged. "I fell in love with one. And he fell in love with me." And then I died and his mother brought me back to life--it's great to have demigods as in-laws. "I live here now."

  Sola put her hands to her face, as if she were trying to reassure herself that she hadn't lost her mind. "I don't understand any of this. I don't understand how..."

  "It's a hard transition, I'm not going to lie. It was hard on me. But I'm not the only human here--Manny's one."

  "Dr. Manello?"

  "Mmm-hmm. He's my brother-in-law, actually. Mated to Vishous's sister, Payne. Manny's just as human as you and I. And then Rhage's mate, Mary--"

  "Rhage. The big blond man."

  "Male. They go by the word 'male,' not man." Jane glanced at the closed door they were in front of. "Look, let me make sure your grandmother is stable. And then how would you like to go for a little stroll with me. We can just talk." She put her hands up. "You can trust me. I took the Hippocratic oath--I am sworn to do no harm, okay?"

  It was a long, long while before Sola answered. And when the woman did, it was with a short nod of the head.

  "Stay right here." Jane took her phone out of her white coat pocket. "I'm going to text Manny and tell him we'll be back in a bit--assuming your grandmother is all right. Then I'm going to break protocol and try to tell you what's going on down here."

  FIFTY-TWO

  "No," Phury was saying up in Wrath's study, "I don't know the book's origins. I've spoken to Amalya and she told me she would look into it further. Now, what is clear is that..."

  As Phury continued to talk about the missing tome, Vishous went to get a hand-rolled and cursed as he patted his muscle shirt. And then the heating came on and he caught a cold draft on his ass cheeks that turned him into a grower, not a shower. Just as he was eyeing the exit, and wondering if he maybe could go grab a throw rug from the hall and use it as a kilt, Butch sidled over and took off his fleece.