The Chosen

  It was not Vishous.

  As the figure got closer, Tohr realized...it was Xcor. Xcor was the one coming over.

  When the Bastard was in range, it was obvious he was very badly injured, all kind of red stuff leaking from wounds that seemed to affect almost every part of his body.

  "We must get the King out," the Bastard whispered in a hoarse voice. "I will go scout."

  "Wait," Tohr said as he grabbed for the male's arm. "You're hurt."

  "And you are the shield of our King. It's too dangerous for him to be left unattended. If I die, it will not matter. If he dies, all hope is lost for the race and the Omega wins."

  Tohr stared up into his blooded brother's eyes. "If you can get outside, there's help. Four blocks over to the west. They were told not to come unless someone called on them. We didn't want to sacrifice the doctors."

  Xcor nodded. "I will return."

  And then in an unbelievable show of will and strength, the male ghosted into the thin air. In spite of the fact that he was brutally wounded.

  "We're going to have to buy that motherfucker a gold watch or something," Wrath muttered.

  "Isn't that what you get when you retire?"

  "You think he's fighting again after this shit?"

  Tohr waited. And waited. And waited. And tried to contain his panic that people he loved were dead or dying around him and he was tending to none of them.

  He told himself that as long as he didn't hear any bullets or anything, Xcor might have made it to the--

  The sound started off faintly, a growl in the distance. And then it grew louder, and louder...and louder still until the roar was so close it shook the flimsy walls of the warehouse--

  The black Mercedes S600 exploded into the interior about twenty feet from where Tohr and Wrath were huddled together, debris going everywhere, sheets of metal knocking Tohr on the head and shoulders.

  As Xcor burst out of the backseat, Fritz lowered the driver's side window, his wrinkly, sagging face full of concern. "My Lords, do jump in. I fear the human police will be coming soon."

  Tohr went to get up, but his knees gave out from cramps.

  Xcor was the one who grabbed the King and all but threw him into the backseat.

  "I'm getting really fucking tired of being manhandled like this!" Wrath hollered.

  Tohr was next on Xcor's list, the Bastard taking hold of him with astonishing strength and going javelin on him.

  But Tohr wasn't having it. He knew exactly what was coming next.

  Snagging the Bastard's arm, he dragged the male in with them and yelled, "Hit it, Fritz!"

  The doggen with the NASCAR lead foot punched the accelerator, wrenched the wheel, and with a tire-screeching hard turn, swung them around so the door shut itself. And then they were exiting through a different panel, going all Fast & Furious as the Mercedes plowed through the warehouse's outer wall again and hit the snow on the far side like it stole something.

  Xcor's eyes were wide with shock as they bounced around the backseat. "You didn't have to save me."

  Tohr thought about things for a second. And then decided, Fuck it. Who knew how many were dead back there and whether Xcor was even going to live, given his injuries? Whether Fritz would be able to get them out of downtown, to safety?

  "I wasn't about to leave my brother behind."

  --

  At first, Xcor was determined to reinterpret the words spoken unto him. Surely there was some translation problem, although it certainly appeared that English had been uttered.

  "I'm sorry...what did you say?"

  Wrath leaned forward as well, such that Tohr, sandwiched between them, was the only one sitting back against the seat.

  "Yeah," the King said as the engine roared and they got thrown around. "What was that?"

  The Brother looked right into Xcor's eyes. "I am Hharm's son. So are you. We are brothers by blood."

  Xcor's heart began to pound so hard his head hurt. And then he felt his stare narrow of its own volition on Tohr's face.

  "It's the eyes," the Brother said. "You'll see it in the eyes. And no, I didn't really know him, either. I gather he was not a good male."

  "Hharm?" Wrath muttered. "No, he wasn't. And that's all I'll say about it."

  Xcor swallowed through a tight throat. "You...are my brother?"

  And yet was confirmation truly needed? Tohrment was right, those eyes...were the same shape and color as his own.

  "I am," Tohr affirmed roughly. "I am your blooded kin."

  All kinds of things went through Xcor's mind, snippets of images, echoes of sadness, memories of loneliness. In the end, as the Mercedes reached a cruising speed that suggested they were on a highway, he could only lower his stare and fall silent.

  When one was granted something that was both secretly yearned for and utterly unexpected, when a sudden revelation seemed to darn a hole in one's life, often the response was of a shock not dissimilar to when one was injured gravely.

  Or perhaps he was just that. Injured gravely and losing mental function.

  They were silent for the rest of the trip to where'er they were traveling, Xcor passing the time watching out the blackened window as he bled all over himself, the seat, and his...brother.

  Sometime later, a lifetime, it seemed, they began to stop and go, stop and go, stop and go. And eventually, they came to a halting that stuck. Wrath opened his door immediately, as if the King knew where they were was safe, and Tohr followed their ruler out of the back.

  Xcor went to get his own door--

  His hand flopped uselessly at the latch. Even on the second try.

  Tohr opened the way for him and leaned in. "We're going to get you treated. Come on."

  As the Brother, and the brother, held out his hand, Xcor commanded his body to move. But it rebelled. He seemed to have...

  A rousing dizziness made him feel as though he were going to lose control of his stomach, but he shook his head to clear it and demanded that his flesh obey him. And so it did this time. His broken-down, beat-up, shot-at body, managed to rise out of the back and ambulate forward.

  For one step.

  As he collapsed, strong arms locked around him and a powerful stance kept him from hitting the floor of what appeared to be a parking garage.

  Tohrment accepted his weight easily. "I've got you," came the rough affirmation.

  With a halting series of ungainly movements, Xcor held onto the male's shoulders and pushed himself back a little. Meeting Tohrment in the eye, he whispered, "My brother."

  "Yes," the male said hoarsely, a sheen of tears making that blue stare glow like a pair of sapphires. "I am your brother."

  It was hard to say who embraced who, but suddenly they were both holding on, one upon another, warrior to warrior.

  There had been many consequences of the night that Xcor had contemplated, many contingencies and probabilities that he, like any good leader, had assessed and reassessed.

  Finding family had never been on his radar.

  And though his sire had not proven to be the brave warrior on horseback come to rescue him...his blooded brother certainly fit the bill quite readily.

  SIXTY-FIVE

  When Cormia appeared in the courtyard, Layla was up on her feet in an instant. "Tell me."

  Lassiter had long since left, fading away in a shower of golden sparkles, leaving her alone with her terror.

  The Chosen was frantic. "You must go down now. They need blood and I have given all I can. I shall stay with the young."

  The two of them hugged and then Layla took off, traveling between the two realms in a rush, and re-forming outside the mansion, for she could not get into the interior for the steel mesh.

  She didn't notice the cold as she ran up the front steps, yanked wide the vestibule's heavy door, and threw her face into the security camera--and as she waited, she wanted to scream.

  It was Beth who opened things up.

  "Oh, thank God," the Queen exclaimed with a hard embrace. "Go, g
o now to the training center. That's where they all are."

  Layla started off and then called out over her shoulder, "Has anyone died?"

  "Not yet. But, oh...just go. I have to wait for Wrath and then take him back down again."

  Layla made it through the underground tunnel and out the other side into the training center in record time--but as soon as she broke into the corridor, she stumbled to a halt.

  The smell of blood was overwhelming, and so were the number of males down on the floor in various stages of injury and wound care.

  It was not only Brothers. In fact...what she assumed were all of Xcor's fighters were lined up shoulder to shoulder with the Brotherhood, Ehlena, the nurse, and all of the other Chosen, tending to them.

  While Manny and Doc Jane were no doubt in surgery.

  "I am here," she said to no one and everyone.

  In her mind, she was yelling at them all, demanding to know what had happened to Xcor, for she didn't see him and couldn't sense him, and that terrified her.

  Yet she went to the first of the injured she came to, yanking up her sleeve and putting her wrist out.

  She recognized the male. It was one of Xcor's.

  Zypher shook his head at her. "I am honored, sacred Chosen. But I cannot take your vein."

  "You must," she breathed.

  "I cannot. You are the female of my leader. I will die before I know the taste of your blood."

  One of her sisters came up. "I shall feed him. Go down to Rhage."

  And so Layla did, offering her vein unto him. When the Brother had taken what he needed and thanked her, she went to the next male in line.

  But he was a Bastard and he, too, shook his head and refused her. "I cannot know your blood. You are the female of my leader."

  And so it was down the line, until she focused only on the Brotherhood and didn't even try with the others.

  So many wounds, some so deep that she could see anatomy that terrified her. And all the time, she worried about Xcor, and panicked over what Lassiter had done, and prayed that no one died.

  She was about to move on to Phury, who needed another vein, so grave were his injuries, when she felt her elbow get taken in a grip.

  As she looked up, Tohr's face was grim. "Xcor needs you. Now."

  Layla got up so fast that she grew light-headed and Tohr had to help her down the corridor.

  "You would have been proud of him," Tohr said as they came up to the closed door of the second OR. "He was unbelievably brave, and he was the one who got Wrath out of there."

  "He was?"

  "Yes. And he knows. About him and me. I told him because...why the fuck not after a night like tonight?"

  Tohr opened the way in, and Layla gasped. Xcor was on the operating table, his stomach cut open, his intestines showing--and yet he was conscious.

  He turned his head and tried to smile. "My love."

  His voice was so reedy, and oh, his coloring was bad. And yet he still tried to sit up.

  Manny's tone was sharp. "Okay, that's not working for me. Not while I'm stitching up your bowel."

  "Do not look," Xcor commanded her. "You do not look at my body."

  In a vivid flashback, she remembered him not wanting to take his clothes off around her.

  Layla raced to him and held her wrist to his mouth. "Drink. Take of me."

  "We did this once"--he winced and coughed--"once before when I was dying. Did we not."

  "Twice, actually. And both times it was colder," she said through tears. "Oh, God, don't die on me. Not tonight. Not ever."

  "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." His eyes were fading, the light dimming. "I shared my body with others, but I was as a virgin with you, for my soul had been given to no one. You alone...you alone have me..."

  A machine started beeping.

  "Someone better fucking start CPR here!"

  Tohr came over in an instant, and as he formed a fist of his combined hands, he said, "Breathe for him! Breathe for him!"

  Even though Layla's heart was pounding out of control and she felt like she couldn't stand, she sealed Xcor's lips with her own and blew a great breath of oxygen down deep into his lungs. And then Tohr set about pumping.

  "Breathe! Now!"

  She dipped down again and exhaled everything she had.

  And still the alarms continued to go off...

  "Again!" Manny yelled as his bloodied, gloved hands worked fast with sutures and a needle.

  SIXTY-SIX

  When Qhuinn came back around, for a minute, he thought he had returned to the beginning of the nightmare, that fantasy of Blay sitting across a hospital room in a chair presenting itself once again.

  "Oh, thank God."

  "What?" Qhuinn mumbled.

  Blay jumped up and rushed over even though he had one arm in a sling and was limping like someone had dropped a toolbox on his foot.

  Qhuinn was about to ask if the male was okay when those beautiful lips were on his and that familiar bonding scent was in his nose--and oh, fuck, this was so much better than that fantasy--

  "Ow!"

  As Qhuinn let out the holler, his arm flopped back down on the bed and pain, red hot and deep as an ocean, lit off along his entire right side.

  Blay pulled back and smiled. "Look at it this way. You finally got that shoulder fixed. When they stitched up that knife wound, they went in and took care of your bursitis."

  As soon as he could, Qhuinn returned the grin. "Two for one."

  "BOGO."

  Except then he got serious. "Did we lose anyone?"

  "Not from our people, but we got a lot of healing up to do. This was nearly a massacre."

  "What about theirs. The Bastards."

  Blay looked away. "Xcor's not doing so good. And if you've got anything to say about that you better keep it to yourself. He was the one who got Tohr and Wrath out. And Layla is in the corridor feeding people, FYI--and I don't want to hear about that, either. This is an emergency."

  Qhuinn closed his eyes.

  "I'm so glad you made it," Blay whispered. "I would have died along with you if you hadn't."

  Popping his lids, Qhuinn blurted, "I'm sorry."

  "For what?"

  "I don't know." He nodded to a piece of machinery by the bed. "Is that a morphine pump?"

  "Yup."

  "I think I'm babbling, then."

  "It's okay. Babble all you like."

  Blay sat on the edge of the bed gingerly, and as Qhuinn felt his hand getting taken, he squeezed back.

  They stayed like that for the longest time, just staring at each other. And yes, eyes were watering and throats were scratchy...but hearts were full, oh so very full.

  "I don't ever want to be without you again," Qhuinn said. "Nothing is worth that."

  Blay's smile was hauntingly precious. "I couldn't agree more."

  The male leaned down again and they brushed lips once. Twice.

  "Mmmm, you know what I can't wait for?" Qhuinn murmured.

  "Peeing without a catheter?"

  "Makeup sex." Qhuinn lowered his lids. "I want in you right now, as a matter of fact."

  The blush that hit Blay's face was a criminal turn-on--when you were hooked up to an opium dispenser. "Then rest up," the male drawled. "And take all the fluids you can. You're going to need them."

  --

  Vishous opened his lids and wondered for a moment where he was. The white ceiling above him didn't give a lot away, and--

  Jane's face, right above his, was such a surprise he jerked back into the pillows.

  "Hi," she said in a wavering voice. "You're back."

  "Where did I go--" Goddamn, his throat hurt. Had they intubated him? "What happened?"

  And yet even as he asked, that goatfuck scene in the warehouse came back to him...him falling and hitting his head, and then lying there paralyzed as guns had continued to go off. Given the distribution of pain all down his body, he concluded a couple of things: one, he was not, in fact, paralyzed; t
wo, he had been shot in a couple of places, having clearly caught some of the crossfire; and three--

  "We almost lost you," Jane said, her forest-green eyes shimmering with tears. "I've been in this room for the last two hours praying you were going to come around."

  "Two hours?"

  She nodded. "As soon as I was finished operating, I came in--" She frowned. "What's wrong? Are you in pain? Do you need more morphine?"

  "Why--"

  As she brushed under his eyes, he realized he was crying--and the moment that registered, he sucked up his emotions and slapped them into submission. No crying. Nope. He was not going there.

  "Here, let me call for Ehlena."

  Jane was across the room and at the door leaning out faster than his heart was beating--which actually wasn't saying much. And as he heard her demand more meds for him, and then start answering questions about other people, all of his aches went away.

  Except for the one at his sternum.

  And that was the one that, yeah, wasn't going to respond to any kind of drug.

  He watched her tilt even farther and nod to someone, and then step all the way out. Just as the door was easing shut, she looked over her shoulder, her eyes full of worry.

  "I'll be right back."

  No, he thought, I don't think you will be.

  And sure enough, five minutes later, Ehlena came hustling in with a vial and a needle for the IV.

  "Hey," she said with a warm smile. "Jane's just checking some dressings. She didn't want you to have to wait for her."

  "It's okay, and I don't need that."

  "She said you're having breakthrough pain."

  With a grunt, Vishous sat up and swung his legs off the side. As he started to remove his IV, Ehlena recoiled.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'm checking myself out. But don't worry, it's not AMA or anything, because I'm pretty much fully trained at this point. Now I'd like some privacy, if you don't mind. Unless you want to watch me take my Foley out?"

  "How about I go get Jane?"

  As the female started to head for the door, he said, "There are more patients out there than you guys can handle, so I'm guessing you could use this bed. And my vitals are stable, I'm already healing, so some Chosen had to have been through and fed me. I really think you need to be critical-pathing your time rather than waste any of it trying to talk me out of leaving--or bothering Jane when she needs to be with more important patients."

  Right on schedule, Manny poked his head in. "Hey! Check you out all nearly-vertical. Listen, Ehlena, I need you, right now."