"Let's talk about something cheerful." She cracked her neck and then smiled with determination. "You know, anything else but families and past loves that didn't work out."
He returned her smile. "That leaves us with a lot of possibilities."
"Doesn't it just."
"Hey, listen, will you do me a favor?"
"Sure."
"Will you let me find you a place other than that rooming house to stay in?" He put his hands up. "I know, it's none of my business, but that is a really shady part of town, and I'm not saying that you can't take care of yourself. It's clear that you're an intelligent, perfectly capable individual who can run her own life. But, I mean, really. It's that dangerous."
"You're sweet."
"Not sure that that's quite the descriptor most people would apply to me."
"Okay, so what would they say?"
Yes, she was trying to change topics, but not because she was creeped out by his offer. More because she had a strong inkling to take him up on it.
"Nice pivot."
"I'm sorry?" she said.
"That's a very deft way of telling me to mind my own business."
At that moment, their waitress came over and slid their plates into place. Holy crap, Therese thought as she took a gander at her Reuben. The last time she'd seen slices of bread that big was on a box spring. And there had to be a half a cow's worth of corned beef between the rye mattresses.
"This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she said.
"I told you," Trez agreed.
The waitress just grunted, but Therese supposed they were lucky she didn't empty the side plates of fries on their heads.
"Tell me," Trez said as the woman stalked off, "are you a ketchup girl?"
"I am, I am."
He twisted off the cap of the Heinz bottle and handed the thing to her. When she was done, he went to town on his cheeseburger with the stuff.
"So about my offer to help you."
Therese carefully picked up one half of her sandwich. "I don't know, I'll be out of there by the middle of January as long as I can keep the job at Sal's. That's not much more time."
"See, I have some friends who have a bunch of real estate in town. Members of the species, you know. The houses are in good neighborhoods and they're monitored by...well, it's state of the art. They have good security systems and the added bonus of no heroin addicts in the front hall."
"But how much will something like that cost?" She shook her head. "I don't have a security deposit saved up and I won't be able to afford--"
He waved a hand. "Don't worry about that."
"Sorry, but I have to. I'm taking care of myself, remember."
On that note, Therese stretched her mouth wide and took a bite. Oh, yeaaaaaaaah, talk about your heaven. And the rye was soft as Wonder Bread, but with a tang to rival the Russian dressing.
As she moaned, Trez nodded. "Good, right? I'm glad."
As he ate his hamburger, she was impressed with his table manners. Nothing sloppy or rushed, and plenty of napkin wiping. He also managed to not spill anything on that suit jacket, which was seriously impressive.
"Is that silk?" she said as she nodded at his torso.
"The suit or the shirt?"
"Um...both?"
"Yes."
"Well, they're beautiful." And I'll bet what's underneath that shirt is even better looking--
Abruptly, his lids got low. "I'm not sure what to say to that."
Therese lowered her sandwich and slumped in the banquette. "Oh, my God."
"It's all right." His eyes went to her mouth. "Don't worry about it."
Putting down the wedge that was left of the first half of her Reuben, she wiped her hands on the paper napkin. "You know what, I think maybe I should go."
"Don't talk crazy."
"That's apparently all I can do tonight."
"Tell you what," he murmured. "Make it up to me. Stay at one of my friends' places so I don't have to feel guilty if something bad happens to you."
"Why would you feel guilty? I'm not your problem."
"Any male--any person--who doesn't step up when someone needs help is doing something wrong."
"But what about the security deposit and first and last month's rent and--"
"They'll work out a schedule for you. You know, for payments." He shrugged. "Look, this is just members of the species taking care of each other. We have to stick together in this world. Between the humans and the lessers, we're outnumbered."
The waitress came back over, replaced the Cokes with new ones, and pitched down two dessert plates with gigantic slices of apple pie on them. A la mode. Then she took out her old-school ordering pad and tore the bill off like it had insulted her mother.
She slapped it facedown on the table. "Pie's on the house." She nodded at Therese's tuxedo. "You work at Sal's?"
Therese's brows popped. "Yes, I do."
"Professional courtesy. Night."
The woman marched off as if she were on a campaign to shut down the kitchen.
"Wow," Therese said. "That was nice of her."
"I don't have any problem with people who are crispy because they're making an honest buck for an honest shift's work."
"Me, neither. And I would have thanked her--"
"But you were worried she'd put a gun to your head? Good idea."
They both fell into silence as Therese thought about going back to that hovel. "When could I move?" she blurted.
Trez stared across at her and smiled slowly. "Let me make a couple of phone calls and I'll find out."
She ducked her eyes. "Thank you." And then she immediately looked back up at him. "But I pay for everything myself. I don't want any discount or anything. This is just like any other tenant, okay? I would rather stay right where I am and get mugged than--"
Trez put his palm forward. "Understood. Completely understood. You'll just be moving to a place where you don't have to prove your independence by getting stabbed."
"That's right." She reached forward and snagged the check. "And on that note, I'm paying for this meal and you're going to let me, graciously."
As he opened his mouth, she feigned putting a hand over her heart. "Oh, you're so welcome. Really, it's my pleasure and a great way to pay back your kindness. And you know, may I just say, I love a secure male who can let a female be his equal. It's really sexy."
He closed his mouth. Leaned back. Leaned forward.
"Wow," he said eventually.
"What?'
Trez cleared his throat and straightened the open collar of his shirt. Which was perfectly straight. "This is a great cheeseburger. Ah, yeah. Really...nice fries, too."
Therese started to smile. "Wait'll you get to the pie. I think we're both going to love it."
FIFTY-THREE
At the appointed hour of four a.m., Xcor transferred his corporeal form to the top of the Caldwell Insurance Company building. As he re-formed in the stiff gusts that barreled through the air space high above the city, he took in a deep, bracing breath.
And when he looked over his shoulder, one by one, his males appeared: Zypher, Balthazar, Syphon, and Syn. When they were all standing before him, he felt a moment of pride, for he had assembled them by choice, cherry-picking from among all at the war camp those whom he felt were the best of the best. This group of fighters had followed him into countless battles, and together they had bested so many slayers, their kills would be impossible to count--
Abruptly, the image of all those jars in that cave of the Brotherhood's came back to him. For truth, if the two groups had been able to work together? Mayhap the war would be over by now.
Zypher stepped forward, clearly prepared to make some kind of statement for the whole.
"Whate'er you speak," Xcor said into the wind, "I accept and--"
The great fighter sank to his knees and stared up at Xcor mutely.
As the wind swirled around and the hair on both their heads blew this way and that along with
their winter clothes, Xcor found himself blinking quickly.
And then he reached into his coat and withdrew a knife that he had lifted from that safe house's kitchen and kept within the folds of the black parka he wore. Curling his dagger hand into a fist around the double-sided blade, he squeezed hard...and as he withdrew the weapon from his grip, blood flowed.
Xcor offered his bleeding palm to his soldier, and Zypher lowered his mouth and drank from what welled forth. Then he swiped his mouth on the back of his arm and rose to his feet. After he bowed, he stepped back.
One by one, the other males repeated the pledge of fealty, a ceremony they had done so many, many years ago, back in a forest in the Old Country. Syn was the last to come forth, just as he had been during the first swearing--and after he partook and stood once more, he took something from off his back.
When Xcor saw what it was, he was momentarily struck dumb. But then he ran his own tongue up the wound upon his palm to seal it...and reached out to what was being offered to him.
It was his scythe. The one that had protected him against those males of the Bloodletter's in that forest. The one that he had claimed and used as his own for centuries. The one that was as much a part of him as his arms or his legs.
"Where did you find it?" he whispered as he accepted the grips.
It was like coming home.
Zypher looked at the others and then spoke. "At the Brownswick School for Girls. It was the only remnant we e'er located of you."
Xcor shifted his weight back and swung the great blade around. It was an old habit joyfully renewed, and with the way it moved under his power...it was proof that water wasn't the only thing that could exist in different states.
A blade in the right hands could also be both a solid and a liquid.
Except then he stopped. "I shall not use this against the Brotherhood. Do you understand my position."
Zypher glanced around at the group. And then over the brisk, cold wind, he said, "We are prepared to follow you. And if you follow Wrath, then we are prepared to follow Wrath."
"He is expecting you to swear unto him your fealty. On your lives so that you may remain alive."
"We follow you. If you follow Wrath, we are prepared to follow Wrath."
Xcor looked at Balthazar. "What say you?"
"The same," the male said.
"And you?" Xcor asked the next one. When there was a nod, he asked the next.
This was not the agreement the Blind King sought.
"If this costs you your lives," Xcor intoned, "if this makes you hunted, what say you then?"
"We are warriors," Zypher spoke up. "We live and die by the dagger, and we are hunted already. Naught will be different to us save the integrity of our long-held service unto our one true lord. We are at peace with our station in this manner. In any other, we are not."
They had clearly discussed the matter at some length...and arrived at a position that was unified and unwavering, not subject to alteration or negotiation.
Xcor felt a swell in his heart, and he followed an instinct to bow low. "I shall present this unto the King and we shall see whate'er he says."
As a unit, they bowed back to him.
"Tomorrow at midnight," Xcor announced. "I shall present you with the conclusion to all this."
"And then we shall go home," Zypher tacked on. As if that was another unalterable.
"Aye," Xcor said into the wind. "We go home."
--
Layla left the ranch by the sliding door, slipping out into the cold and bundling herself in the coat she had taken from the closet. As she closed her eyes to dematerialize, her heart was pounding and she knew a rage that was close to unholy.
When next she re-formed, it was out on a peninsula that jutted into the Hudson River, about fifteen miles up and across the waterway from where she had spent a good two hours pacing around. The hunting cabin that was her destination was small, and as modest and enduring as an old shoe well-repaired, situated such that it faced the city from its shore. Farther out on the jutting of land, a glass mansion of great size and elegance sat like a museum exhibit on wealth, its glow reaching all around the point as the sun's radiance fortified the solar system.
But that other structure was not her business nor her care.
Fates knew she had enough to contend with as it was.
As she marched through the snow toward the cabin's back door, her footprints were the first to disturb the pristine blanket. But there was an inhabitant within the structure, and he opened the way inside before she could knock.
The Brother Tohrment's huge body was silhouetted in the light behind him. "Hey! So this is a surprise! Sorry it took a little bit to get back to you, I--"
"Which one of you did it?" she snapped. "Which one of you shot him?"
As the Brother stopped speaking, she didn't give him a chance to answer. She shoved past him to enter the warmth of the interior and promptly took to pacing around the minimal, sparsely furnished space.
She kept her eyes on him as he closed them in together and leaned back against that which he had shut.
"Well," she demanded. "And don't fucking tell me I've got this wrong. He said it was a lesser--and then told me he hadn't seen one since well before you bunch of monsters kidnapped him--"
"Monsters?" Tohr shot back. "You're calling us monsters? After that piece of shit put a bullet into your King?"
Layla stopped in front of him and put a finger right in his face, punctuating her words with it. "That 'piece of shit' gave up the opportunity to sell your ass down the river. So watch what you call him."
Tohr jerked forward on his hips. "Don't make him a hero, Layla. It didn't help you out before, and sure as hell won't make things better for you now."
"FYI, I don't hear you denying that it was you. Was Qhuinn with you or did you decide to go out after him alone--and before you tell me to be a good little female and mind my own damn business, I was there when Xcor got on one knee and kissed the King's ring. I saw him make the oath, and I know damn well that Wrath told all of you to make sure he was safe. But you didn't listen, did you. You think you're more important than that--"
"This is none of your business, Layla."
"Fuck you, it isn't. I love him--"
Tohr threw up his hands. "Oh! Right, right, right, you fell in love with a murderer and a thief and a traitor, and suddenly all that tarnish is wiped clean, all those happy little details going poof! because you've got a case of the crushies! Okay, good to know, I'll just erase the fact that Wrath almost died in front of me because you want to suck some male's cock--"
She slapped him so hard she felt the sting all the way up her forearm. And she felt absolutely no regret whatsoever in the aftermath.
"I will remind you of my station," she snapped. "Whether you like it or not, I have been a Chosen and you will not disrespect me. I have earned the right through my years of service to be treated better than that."
Tohr didn't even seem to notice she'd hit him. He just leaned forward again and bared his fangs. "And may I remind you that it's my fucking job to protect the King. Your love life doesn't interest me in the slightest on a good night. When it conflicts with me keeping alive a male of worth like Wrath? I will mow you and your precious little delusions down faster than an arterial bleed will solve this problem."
"You"--she jabbed her finger at him again--"are the one who's going to be a murderer if you kill him, and so will Qhuinn."
She waited for him to deny that Qhuinn was involved. And was not surprised when he didn't.
Tohr just shrugged. "I have an executive order that says I can be the one who puts him in his grave."
"Which clearly was revoked." She shook her head and put her hands on her hips. "I don't know what you're going on about, but this is clearly nothing to do with Xcor--"
"The fuck it isn't!"
"Bullshit! Wrath's moved on. Wrath was the one who almost died. You're the person hanging onto what happened, and that's why there has t
o be another agenda at work here. If it were actually about Xcor and what he did to Wrath, it'd be as over for you as it is for him."
Tohr bared his fangs at her. "Listen to me, and listen to me good, because I will only say this once. You may be a Chosen, and you can swan around in your white robes and your holier-than-thou attitude all you want, but you are not in this war. You never have been and you never will be. So go home and sit on your fucking tuffet and eat your curds and whey, because nothing you can say to me is going to change my mind or my course in the slightest. You are not that important to me, female, and more to the point, this role that you demand respect for is not that significant when it comes down to the race's survival."
High-octane fury raged through her veins. "You sexist blowhard. Wow. Does Autumn know how condescending you can be? Or do you hide it from her so she'll still sleep next to you during the day?"
"Call it what you want. Label it how you do. But between you and me, there is only one of us who knows what he's talking about."
Layla blinked once. And then twice. And then a third time.
She had some inkling that where she was about to go was probably not the best idea. But he was the one who'd brought a "cock" into this showdown.
"I know what your first shellan was like." As the blood drained out of his face, she kept going. "While you're putting me in a box because of my ovaries, you might consider, just for a moment, how Wellsie would have reacted to your saying any of this to a female. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have been impressed."
As the words sank in, the Brother seemed to swell in front of her very eyes, his body increasing in size, strength, and mass to that of a deadly monster.
Tohr's fists curled, and as he raised them, his face screwed down into a mask of absolute violence. In a voice that trembled, he said, "You need to go. You need to leave right now. I've never struck a female before and I'm not starting tonight."
"I'm not afraid of you. I'm not afraid of anything." She lifted her chin. "When it comes to protecting the lives of my young and the male I love, I will lay my life down in the path of their destiny, and if you beat me to death because of it, I will rise from the dead and haunt you to the point of insanity. There is nothing you can do to me that will make me back down. Nothing."
For a moment, the Brother seemed so stunned he could not speak. And she supposed she could understand why. Here she was, facing off with the most fearsome kind of male the species had to offer, a trained killer who was armed and had at least two hundred pounds on her...and she wasn't even shaking.