Blood Fury: Black Dagger Legacy

by J. R. Ward

  As he approached her, he tried to reconnect with his purpose here, his job, his reality. It was so hard. He kept seeing Ruhn’s mask-like face, and with that image in his mind, it was hard to focus on anything else—impossible not to obsessively try to reconcile the violence he’d witnessed firsthand with the rest of what he knew, and liked, about the male.

  “I am Saxton,” he said as he stepped onto the stoop and bowed low. “It is my pleasure to be of service to you and your granhmen.”

  “Thank you so much for all your help.” The female dropped her voice. “This has been a nightmare like you can’t believe.”

  “We’re going to take care of this,” he affirmed in equal quiet. “Oh, there you are, Minnie.”

  He smiled at the older female as he entered the parlor. “How are you?”

  “I am well, thank you.” Minnie glanced at Ahna from her seat. “But I don’t see why I have to leave. What happened? What’s changed?”

  Saxton went over and sat down beside her on the sofa. “As we discussed, I went and spoke with the humans. I don’t want to alarm you, but there was, shall we say, a bit of an altercation.”

  Read: Ruhn almost decapitated one of them. With his bare hands.

  “And in light of that, we feel as though you should stay with your granddaughter for a couple of nights.”

  “I can’t leave the house unattended.” The female shook her head, her eyes worried and sad. “This is all I have in the world. What if they—”

  “I could stay here,” he offered. “If you’re worried about the property, it would be my pleasure to stay in a guest room, or even sleep here on this sofa, so that you are assured all is well in your absence.”

  Minnie looked at Ahna, and the granddaughter was right on it. “Granhmen, be sensible. Come downtown. It is a most generous offer by Saxton. Most generous.”

  Miniahna refocused on Saxton. “I cannot ask you to do that.”

  “Madam, you did not. And if it will give you peace of mind, that is all the repayment I shall ever need.”

  Besides, it wasn’t like he was leaving his own home behind. More like a hotel suite with an elevation.

  Ahna went over and dropped down to her knees by her granhmen. “Please. This has gone on long enough. I’m so exhausted losing sleep, and with everything that is coming up in the next few weeks, please. I’m begging you.”

  Minnie’s fallen shoulders were answer enough. “All right. If I must.”

  “Well done.” Saxton got to his feet. “Now, perhaps there are some things you’d like to gather? If there is much to be transported, I shall summon a car.”

  Fritz might have his hands full running the Brotherhood’s lives, but there was nothing that doggen liked better than a problem to solve.

  “Come, Granhmen, let’s get you packed.”

  “But I could come back. Shower and change here each night and—”

  “Granhmen.”

  Minnie rose from the sofa and looked around. With her white hair and another version of the same loose dress she’d had on the other night, she seemed every one of her years, not just old, but worn out and discouraged.

  “I’m worried that if I leave…I won’t ever come back.”

  “That is not true,” Ahna said. “This will always be your home.”

  “You want me to move in with you.”

  “Of course I do. But I’m not going to make you leave here for good. This is about safety, not because you’re frail and can’t live independently. You will absolutely come back if that’s what you want.”

  It took some more cajoling, but then the females were heading for the second floor. In their absence, he took out his phone to call for the butler to send a car. And then he cursed. He had to work all night, yet he’d promised to babysit the house.

  As if on cue, his phone rang and he answered it without checking to see who it was. “Hello?”

  There was a pause. And then Ruhn said, “I’m so sorry.”

  Saxton closed his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I am uninjured.”

  Are you who I thought you were, Saxton amended in his own head.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “I’m in the truck, going back to the Brotherhood’s compound.”

  “I’m sorry I left without saying anything, but I was concerned about a retaliation against Minnie—I’m at her house now. She’s leaving with her granddaughter as soon as she has some things gathered.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  There was a pause. And just as Saxton was trying to re-form the “are you okay?” thing, Ruhn spoke up. “Listen…I want to explain things to you. I know that you are shocked, and I just…I’m not that person. I mean, a part of me is. But…” The male took a deep breath. “I am very good at something I hate, and I used that skill for a number of years for my family. That is not me anymore, however—and I don’t want it to be. That is my past. It stays…in the past.”

  Saxton thought about the male who had sat across from him at that little table. The one who had been so careful as he had eaten things he could not pronounce, but had loved. The one who had sheepishly tried to tackle escargots à la Bourguignonne and ended up with one shooting off onto the floor. The one who had sipped white wine and held the delicate glass as if he were afraid he would break the stem.

  Then he thought of the lover who had bent him over in the kitchen.

  Passion. But not rage.

  That could be a thin line to walk, however.

  In the end, he had to go with his gut. “Could you do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “Can you come to Minnie’s? We need to transport her stuff downtown. She and her granddaughter can dematerialize to the address, but if you could bring her things to them, that would be great.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “See you in a bit.”

  “Thank you. Yes.”

  As the call was ended, Saxton took the phone from his ear and stared at it.

  “Everything okay?” Ahna asked as she came down the stairs.

  “Yes, indeed. Is that suitcase all?”

  “She has a carry bag, toiletries, and some pictures of my grandfather she would like to bring.”

  “Perfect.”

  He got up and walked around the little parlor, coming to stand in front of the fireplace with its blue and white tiles. As he thought of the love that had brought the pieces of art across a vast, dangerous ocean, he wanted that force of grace and warmth and stability in his own life.

  But it was hard to find the courage to open oneself again. There was such risk involved, and though the reward was great, the chances were slim.

  Funny…that this was occurring to him as he considered Ruhn.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “Can you please tell me how to operate the security alarm? I work nights, but if it goes off, I can be here, with reinforcements, in an instant.”

  “But of course. There’s a pad over here in the kitchen.”

  As they went in, and she wrote various codes and cell phone numbers and her address down, he looked around and noticed that there was a light out in the recessed fixtures in the ceiling. And the faucet was dripping over at the sink. A whistling by the back door onto what he assumed was a porch suggested some weather stripping had to be replaced.

  It had been two years since Minnie’s hellren went unto the Fade, if he remembered correctly.

  If he were handy with these things, he would help her.

  “Let me go check everything is in order downstairs in the guest quarters.” Ahna headed for what had to be the cellar door. “She’s going to need to make sure everything is in order as she wants you to feel like the honored guest you are. But I don’t want to waste time or backslide.”

  “I will be fine.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  After a minute, Minnie came around the corner, pulling on a coat the color of mulberry wine. When she saw the basement door open, she became fluste
red. “Oh, I must go down and—”

  Ahna appeared at the head of the stairs. “Everything is in order, Granhmen. Come now, let’s go.”

  Minnie looked around as if she were saying a good-bye that tore at her heart. “I, ah…” She glanced at Saxton. “Your friend is more than welcome to stay here as well?”

  Saxton covered his own awkwardness as he bowed. “You are most kind.”

  It took another ten minutes to get the older female out of the house, but then she and her granddaughter left her things by the front door and dematerialized from the closed garage. Left by himself, Saxton returned to the kitchen, took off his coat, and started up the Mr. Coffee machine. As the unit burped and hissed, he got out one mug. Added a second. And then sat down at the circular table in the alcove.

  Funny how each and every home had its own smell, its own accent of creaks and groans, its singular impression. And as he looked around, he saw the Old Ways preserved…and old love enshrined. It was a sad commentary on the relentless progress of life that there was visible decay and aging happening, one half of the happy couple trying desperately to sustain that which had been a two-handed carry.

  He thought of Blay and his time with the male.

  And was still locked in his memories when he heard a truck pull up to the front of the house.

  Ruhn, he thought, as he got up and headed for the front door.

  Or perhaps the shady developer had sent reinforcements.

  His heart pounded equally over either.

  Ruhn stepped up to the front door of the farmhouse and found himself straightening his wool jacket. There was blood on it. His knuckles were busted. And he had been hit a couple of times in the face, although the pain was muted from the cold.

  He was a fucking mess.

  After Saxton had dematerialized out of the scene behind the French restaurant, Ruhn had spoken with the Brothers for a time. They didn’t seem particularly bothered by any of the violence or the fact that he’d nearly killed the human. But their opinion was not what mattered to him.

  He knocked on the door and stepped back, stomping his boots in preparation for going in. And then things were open. Saxton was on the other side, his coat having been removed, his blond hair flopped off his cowlick as if he had been dragging restless hands through it.

  His stare locked on Ruhn’s left eye, the one that had its own heartbeat from the swelling.

  Ruhn lifted a hand and covered whatever was going on up there. But that was stupid. “May I come in?”

  Saxton seemed to shake himself. “Yes, please. It’s cold. I’m making coffee?”

  As the male indicated the way in, Ruhn followed the direction and then just stood there in the little entry area at the base of the stairs. Saxton’s eyes traveled around, but always returned to Ruhn’s face.

  Maybe his injuries were worse than he thought? They didn’t feel like much. But then, with his high pain tolerance, they never did.

  “It’s fine,” he said as he touched his face. “Whatever this is.”

  Saxton cleared his throat. “Yes. Of course. Ah, coffee?”

  Ruhn shook his head and proceeded in the solicitor’s wake to the back of the house. Sure enough, there were a pair of mugs on the counter and the scent of fresh brew in the air.

  “Do you like anything in yours?” Saxton went for the pot and pulled it out from its base. “I just like a little sugar in mine—”

  “I was conscripted into a fighting ring. For a decade.”

  Saxton slowly pivoted, coffeepot in his hand. “I’m sorry?”

  Ruhn paced around and tried not to get lost in how much he hated talking about the past. “It was an indentured fighting ring, run in South Carolina. Humans do them for dogs and birds. Vampires do it for our own species. I spent ten years getting in the ring with other males so that people could bet on the outcome. I was very good at it and I hated it. Every second.”

  When Saxton didn’t say anything, he stopped and looked across the homey kitchen at the other male. Such surprise. Such stunned shock.

  Fates, he wanted to throw up.

  “I’m sorry,” he blurted. Even though he wasn’t sure exactly what he was apologizing for.

  No, wait, he knew. It was the fact he had anything like this to confess to such a fine, upstanding male—and also now that he’d spoken of the past, Ruhn was drowning in it once again.

  He remembered the stench of the stables where the fighting males were kept. The spoiled food. The kill-or-be-killed reality that had meant he had been in the ring even with those just out of their transitions. He had had to beat others who were weaker than him and be beaten by those closer to his level. And all the while, the masters of the fighting ring had profited from the bodies that had been maimed, crippled…destroyed.

  The young ones were what haunted him the most: all those begging, bloodshot eyes, and pleading mouths, and heaving chests from pain and exertion. He had cried every time at the end. When the moment had inevitably come, his tears had run through the dirt, sweat, and blood down his face.

  But if he did not do the job, his family was going to pay the price.

  And so he had learned that in fact you could die even as you lived.

  “I’m sorry,” he croaked again.

  Saxton blinked. And then put the coffeepot back in the machine without pouring anything. “I’m not…ah, I don’t believe I knew of such a thing in the New World. I have heard stories about betting on males in brokered combat in the Old Country, however. How did you…if you don’t mind me asking, how did you come to be a part of the practice? ‘Conscripted’ means in servitude. Were you…how did this happen?”

  Ruhn crossed his arms over his chest and let his head hang. “I loved my father. He was a male who provided well for my mahmen and his family. We never were rich, but we never were left wanting.” Images of the male chopping wood, and building things, and fixing cars, replaced the ugliness of the fighting ring. “He had a weakness, though. All of us do, and those of us who think they do not are not being honest. He had a gambling problem. He bet on the fights for some time, and eventually racked up so many debts that not only was he going to lose our house—but my sister and my mahmen…well, they were in danger. They were going to be conscripted for…activities of another sort. Do you understand what I’m saying?” As Saxton paled and nodded, Ruhn continued, “I had to do something to cover what he owed. I mean, I wasn’t going to stand by and have those two innocent females pay…Fates, I can still hear the sound of my father begging the boss, weeping for some more time to try to pay up.”

  When his voice cracked, he coughed a little. “You know, I think I will have some coffee, if you do not mind.”

  “Let me get it for you—”

  Ruhn put his hand out. “No. I will do it.”

  He needed something to occupy him for a moment; otherwise, he was liable to break down. The memories were too clear, like lasers burning through him. He could still remember the banging on the door when the boss had shown up and threatened to take his sister and use her to work off the debts.

  The male had said if their mahmen came, too, it would go quicker. Five years instead of ten. They had until dawn came to make good.

  Instead, Ruhn had departed before the sun had risen and he had traveled farther south, to the deep woods that had hidden within them an extensive operation of fighting, illegal gambling, and prostitution. They had tested him out in the offices, sending in a male who had been half his height and twice his weight. Ruhn had taken a brutal beating, but he had just kept getting up, over and over again, even as he had bled from his mouth and from cuts and bruises all over his body.

  After they had accepted him, he had made his mark on some kind of document he hadn’t been able to read, and that was that.

  Coming back to the present, Ruhn looked down and found a full mug in his hand. Guess he had poured himself the coffee.

  Taking a test sip, he found that the taste was perfect—but a sting suggested his lower lip was split
. “As I said, I needed to be the one who fixed it. My father was too old to fight, and I was out of my transition by about twenty years at that time. I’ve always been big and very strong. Sometimes what we do to survive…is harder than what we do when we die.” He shrugged. “But my parents were able to rebuild their lives. My sister…well, that was another story.” He looked at the solicitor. “Please know, it was not something I would have chosen freely. It is not in my nature to be violent, but I learned that I will do anything to take care of those I love. I also learned that if someone is trying to hurt me…I will defend myself, to the death.”

  He shook his head. “My father…he never got over what happened. He never bet a single penny after I went away, and by the time I came out, they were both working and in good health. I couldn’t see them, of course, while I was fighting. You were not allowed out of your stall.”

  “Stall?” Saxton said with horror.

  “They kept us underground in stalls, as you would horses. The spaces were six feet by six feet. We were allowed out only to fight, and we had no visitors except for the females they gave us to feed from. That’s what they wanted to use my sister and my mahmen for.” Through a tight throat, he added, “And sometimes we had to service…well. Anyway.”

  Saxton seemed to wipe his eyes. “I cannot imagine what that was like.”

  “It was…” Ruhn touched the side of his head. “It did something in here. It rewired me, and I wasn’t sure whether it was permanent….Until tonight, I hadn’t been in a position where I was fighting again. It came back, though. All of it.”

  He took another draw from the mug, not because he was particularly thirsty, but because he was done with the conversation. The facts had been shared, and he had tried to be honest without talking too much about how ugly it had all been.

  How ugly he had been when he’d been there.

  As the silence stretched out, he risked a glance at Saxton—

  His breath caught. The male’s eyes were full of compassion, not disgust or fear.

  “Come sit down,” Saxton said softly. “You’re bleeding and I want to clean you up. Sit.”

  —

  When Ruhn continued to just stand there, Saxton went over, took the male’s hand, and nudged him toward the table. As Ruhn sat down, the coffee in his mug was wobbling because his hands were shaking.