Chapter FIFTY-THREE
As a cold day dawned and clouds dappled across a milky blue sky, Jos¨¦ de la Cruz drove through Pine Grove Cemetery's gates and wound around rows and rows of headstones. The tight, curving lanes reminded him of Life, that old board game his brother and he had played when they were kids. Each player got a little car with six holes and started with one peg to represent himself. As the game rolled on, you moved around the road track, picking up more pegs to represent a wife and kids. The goal was to acquire people and money and opportunity, to plug the holes in your car, to fill those voids you started out with.
He looked around, thinking that in the game called Real Life, you ended up plugging a dirt hole by yourself. Hardly the kind of thing you wanted your kids to know right out of the box.
When he came to where Chrissy's grave was, he parked his car in the same place where he'd been until around one a.m. the previous night. Up ahead, there were three CPD police cars, four uniforms in parkas, and a stretch of yellow crime scene tape that wound from gravestone to gravestone in a tight box.
He took his coffee with him even though it was lukewarm at best, and as he walked over, he saw the soles of a pair of boots through the circle of his colleagues' legs.
One of the cops looked over his shoulder, and the expression on the guy's face forewarned Jos¨¦ about the condition of the body: If you'd offered the uni an airsick bag, he would have blown out the bottom of the damn thing. "Hey...Detective."
"Charlie, how we doing?"
"I'm...good."
Yeah, right. "You seem it."
The other guys glanced over and nodded, each one of them wearing an identical my-balls-are-in-my-lower-intestine look on his puss.
The crime scene photographer, on the other hand, was a woman known for having issues. As she bent down and started snapping, there was a little smile on her face, like she was enjoying the view. And maybe going to slip one of the candids into her wallet.
Grady had bitten it hard. Literally.
"Who found him?" Jos¨¦ asked, crouching down to examine the body. Clean cuts. A lot of them. This had been done by a professional.
"Groundsman," one of the cops said. "'Bout an hour ago."
"Where's that guy now?" Jos¨¦ got to his feet and stepped to the side so the cock-sogynist could keep doing her job. "I'm going to want to talk to him."
"Back in the shed having a cup of coffee. He needed it. Shook up bad."
"Well, I can understand that. Most of the bodies 'round here are not on top of the graves."
All four of the unis looked at him as if to say, Yeah and not in this condition, either.
"I'm done with the body," the photographer said as she put the cap on her lens. "And I already snapped the stuff in the snow."
Jos¨¦ walked around the scene carefully so he didn't disturb the various prints or their little numbered flaggings or the path that had been made across the ground. It was clear what had happened. Grady had tried to run from whoever had gotten him and failed. Going by the blood streaks, he'd been injured, likely just to incapacitate him, and then moved over to Chrissy's grave, where he had been dismembered and killed.
Jos¨¦ went back to where the body was and took a gander at the headstone, noticing a brown streak that ran from the top down the front. Dried blood. And he was willing to bet it had been put there on purpose and when it was warm: Some of the stuff had dripped down inside the inscribed letters that spelled out CHRISTIANNE ANDREWS.
"You get this?" he asked.
The photographer glared at him. Then uncapped, snapped, and recapped.
"Thank you," he said. "We'll call you if we need anything else." Or find any other guys hacked up like this.
She glanced back down at Grady. "My pleasure."
Obviously, he thought, taking a drink from his coffee and grimacing. Old. Cold. Nasty. And not just the photographer. Man, station-house java was the absolute worst, and if he hadn't been at a crime scene he would have ditched the swill and crushed the Styro cup.
Jos¨¦ looked around the scene. Trees to hide behind. No lights other than on the road. Gates locked at night.
If only he'd stayed a little longer...he could have stopped the killer before they castrated Grady, fed the SOB his last meal, and no doubt enjoyed watching him die.
"Goddamn it."
A gray station wagon with a county crest on the driver's door pulled up and stopped, a guy with a little black bag getting out and jogging over. "Sorry I'm late."
"No problem, Roberts." Jos¨¦ clapped palms with the medical examiner. "We'd love to get an estimated time of death whenever you can."
"Sure thing, but it's only going to be rough. Maybe a four-hour window?"
"Whatever you can tell us would be great."
As the guy sat on his haunches and got to work, Jos¨¦ looked around again, then went over and stared at the footprints. Three different kinds, one of which would match Grady's. The other two would have to be cast and researched by the CSI types who were due any moment.
One pair of the unknowns was smaller than the others.
And he would be willing to bet his house and car and the college funds of both his daughters that they would turn out to be a female's.
In the study at the Brotherhood mansion, Wrath was sitting upright in his chair with a death grip on both of the arms. Beth was in the room with him, and he could tell by her scent that she was scared shitless. There were other people, too. Talking. Pacing.
He could see nothing but blackness.
"Havers's coming," Tohr announced from the double doors. His voice quieted the room like a mute button, cutting off every voice and all the sounds of movement. "Doc Jane's on the phone with him now. They're going to bring him in one of the ambulances that has a blackout screen, because its faster than Fritz picking him up."
Wrath had insisted on waiting for a couple of hours before even Doc Jane was called. He'd hoped his vision would come back. Was still hoping.
Praying was more like it.
Beth had been so strong, standing at his side, holding his hand as he struggled against the darkness. But a little bit ago, she'd excused herself. When she'd come back, he'd smelled her tears even though she'd no doubt wiped them clean.
That was what had made him pull the trig on the calling the white coats.
"How long?" Wrath asked roughly.
"ETA twenty minutes."
As silence reigned, Wrath knew the other Brothers were around him. He heard Rhage unwrap yet another Toostie Pop. And V light up with the rasp of flint and an exhale of Turkish tobacco. Butch was chewing gum, the subtle snaps coming rapid-fire, like his molars were tap shoes on a hardwood floor. Z was there, and Nalla was in his arms, her sweet, lovely smell and occasional coos coming from the far corner. Even Phury was with them, having elected to stay the day, and he was standing with his twin and his niece.
He knew they were all there...and yet, he was alone. Utterly alone, sucked down deeply into his body, imprisoned in blindness.
Wrath cranked down onto the chair's arms so he didn't scream. He wanted to be strong for his shellan and his brothers and his race. He wanted to drop a couple of jokes, laugh this off as an interlude that was going to pass soon, show that he still had his sac and shit.
He cleared his throat. But instead of something along the lines of, This man walks into a bar with a parrot on his shoulder... what came out was, "Is this what you saw."
The words were guttural, and everyone knew who they were addressed to.
V's answer was low. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Bullshit." Wrath was bathed in blackness, his brothers around him, no one able to reach him. It was what Vishous had seen. "Bull. Shit."
"You sure you want to do this now?" V said.
"Is it the vision." Wrath released the chair and slammed his fist onto the desk. "Is it the fucking vision?"
"Yes."
"The doctor's coming," Beth said quickly, her hand smoothing down his shoulder. "Doc Jane and Havers will talk. They'll figure this out. They will."
Wrath turned to where the sound of Beth's voice had come from. As he reached out for her hand, she was the one who found his palm.
Was this the future, he thought. Relying on her to take him when he needed to go somewhere? Lead him like a fucking cripple?
Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it...
He said those three words over and over again until he didn't feel so much like he was going to explode.
And yet the impending detonation came right back when he heard Doc Jane and Havers enter the room. He knew who it was by the fact that everyone else once again stopped in the middle of what they were doing: No more smoking, no more chewing, no wrappers unfurling.
All quiet except for breathing.
And then the male doctor's voice. "My lord, may I examine your eyes?"
"Yes."
There was a shifting sound of clothes moving... Havers was no doubt taking off his coat. And then a soft bump, like a weight had been put down on the desk. Metal against metal-the lock of a doctor's bag being released.
Havers's well-modulated voice came next: "With your permission, I'm going to touch your face now."
Wrath nodded, then flinched when the soft contact came, and for a moment, he had hope as he heard the click of a penlight. Out of habit, he tensed, preparing for the light to hit whatever retina Havers was going after first. God, ever since he had memories, he could remember squinting at light, and after his transition, it had gotten much worse. As the years had gone by-
"Doc, can you get on with the exam?"
"I've...my lord, I've finished." There was a click, presumably Havers turning off his light. "At least with this part."
Silence. Then Beth's hand gripping his harder.
"What's next?" Wrath demanded. "What can you do next."
More silence, which somehow made the darkness even blacker.
Right. Not a lot of options. Although why he was surprised he hadn't a clue. Vishous...was never wrong.
Chapter FIFTY-FOUR
As night fell, Ehlena crushed her father's pills into the bottom of his mug, and, when the powder was fine and consistent enough, she went to the refrigerator, got the CranRas, and poured. For once, she was grateful for the order that her father required, because her mind was not on what she was doing.
In her current state, she was lucky to know what state she was in. New York, right?
She checked the clock. Not much time. Lusie would be arriving in about twenty minutes, and so would Rehv's car.
Rehv's car. Not him.
About an hour after she had called and left her message about his ex, a voice mail had come back from him. Not a phone call. He'd dialed directly into the system, put her number in, and left the recording.
His voice had been low and serious: "Ehlena, I'm sorry that you were approached like that, and I'll make sure it never happens again. I'd like to see you at nightfall, if you're free. I'll send my car for you at nine unless I hear back from you that it doesn't work." Pause. "I'm so sorry."
She knew the message by heart because she'd listened to it about a hundred times. He sounded so different. Like he was speaking in another language.
Naturally she hadn't slept during the day, and in the end she figured there were two ways to take it: Either he was horrified she'd had to deal with the female at all, or he'd had a really shitty meeting.
Maybe it was a combination of both.
She refused to believe that nut with the crazy eyes had any credibility. Hell, the female reminded Ehlena too much of her father when he was in one of his delusional episodes: fixated, obsessive, in another reality. She had wanted to do damage and had calibrated her words accordingly.
Still, it would have been good to talk to Rehv. She could have used the reassurance, but at least she didn't have to wait any longer to see him.
After she was certain the kitchen was left in exactly the same arrangement as it had been when she'd come up, she took the stairs to the basement and went to her father's room.
She found him in bed with his eyes closed, his body still. "Father?" He didn't move. "Father?"
CranRas splashed as she all but threw the mug onto the table. "Father!"
Those eyes opened and he yawned. "Verily, daughter mine, how fare thee?"
"Are you all right?" She looked him over even though he was mostly covered by the velvet duvet. He was pale and his hair was all Chia Pet, but he seemed to be breathing easily. "Is there anything-"
"English is rather coarse on the ear, is it not?"
Ehlena paused. "Forgive me. I just...Are you well?"
"Indeed I am. I was up well into the day thinking of another project, which is why I dallied longer than usual upon this bed. I do believe I shall let the voices in my head wander onto the page. I believe I would benefit from giving them an outlet other than myself."
Ehlena allowed her knees to loosen and she sat without grace on the bed. "Your juice, Father. Would you care for it now?"
"Ah, lovely. The maid is so thoughtful to prepare it for you."
"Yes, she is very thoughtful." Ehlena handed him his meds and watched him drink, her heart rate slowing.
Lately, life had been nothing but a series of Batman BANG!s, POW!s, and CRACK!s, with her pinballing around her comic-book page until she was dizzy. Guess it was going to take some time before every little thing stopped getting blown up in her mind into mad drama.
When her father was finished, she kissed his cheek, told him she was going out for a bit, and took the mug back upstairs. By the time Lusie knocked about ten minutes later, most of Ehlena's brain was back where it needed to be. She was going to see Rehv, enjoy his company, then resume her job search when she got home. Everything was going to be okay.
As she opened the door, she straightened her shoulders with resolve. "How are you?"
"I'm fine." Lusie glanced over her shoulder. "Did you know there's a Bentley parked outside your door?"
Ehlena's brows shot up and she leaned around the jamb. There was indeed a brand-new, super-shiny, spectacular Bentley parked in front of her shitty little rental, looking as out of place as a diamond on the hand of a bag lady.
The driver's-side door opened and an incredibly beautiful, dark-skinned male rose from behind the wheel. "Ehlena?"
"Ah...yes."
"I'm here to pick you up. I'm Trez."
"I'll...I need a minute."
"Take your time." His smile revealed fangs and she was reassured. She didn't like being around humans. Didn't trust them.
She ducked back inside and put her coat on. "Lusie...would you be able to continue coming here? It looks like I'll be able to keep paying you."
"Of course. I'd do anything for your father." Lusie flushed. "I mean, both of you. Does this mean that you've found another job?"
"Money has loosened up a little bit more than I expected. And I hate his being here alone."
"Well, I'll take good care of him."
Ehlena smiled and wanted to hug the woman. "You always do. As for tonight, I'm not sure how long I'll be-"
"Take your time. He and I will be fine."
On impulse, Ehlena gave the female a quick embrace. "Thank you. Thank...you."
Grabbing her purse, she hit the door before she made a fool out of herself, and as she emerged into the cold, the driver came around to help her into the Bentley. Dressed in his black leather trench coat, he looked more like a hit man than a chauffeur, but when he smiled at her again, his dark eyes flashed an extraordinarily brilliant green.
"Don't worry. I'll get you there just fine."
She believed him. "Where are we going?"
"Downtown. He's waiting for you."
Ehlena felt awkward as the door was opened for her, even though she knew it was courtly manners among equals on his part and not anything to do with serving her. She was just out of practice at being attended to by a male of worth.
Jesus, the Bentley smelled good.
While Trez went around and got in behind the wheel, she stroked the fine leather of the seat and couldn't remember feeling anything so luxurious.
And as the car eased out of the alley and down onto the street, she barely felt the potholes that usually left her hanging on to the door handle in taxis. Smooth ride. Expensive ride.
Where were they going?
As a gentle, warm breeze suffused the backseat, that voice message from Rehv played over and over again in her head. Doubt flickered in her mind, like the brake lights of the cars in front of them, going off and on, slowing her everything's-okay roll.
It got worse. Downtown was not a place she knew very well, and she tensed up as they passed the part where the luxury high-rises were. Where she had met Rehv at the Commodore.
Maybe he was taking her out dancing.
Yeah, because you did that without telling the female to wear a dress.
The farther they went down Trade Street, the more she stroked the seat beside her, although not for the feel of it. Things got seedier and seedier, the lineup of all-right restaurants and the offices of the Caldwell Courier Journal giving way to tattoo parlors and bars that looked as if they'd have grizzled drunks on stools and dirty bowls of peanuts at their counters. Then it was the clubs, the loud, flashy kind she never, ever went to because she didn't like the noise, the lights, or the people in them.
As the black-on-black sign for ZeroSum came into view, she knew they were going to stop in front of it, and her heart dropped into her lower gut.
Strangely, she had the same reaction she'd had to seeing Stephan in the morgue: This can't be right. This can't be happening. This is not how things are supposed to be.
The Bentley didn't pull up in front of the club, though, and for a moment hope flared.
But of course. They went into the alley on the far side, stopping at a private entrance.
"He owns this club," she said in a dead voice. "Doesn't he."
Trez didn't touch the question, but he didn't have to. As he came around and opened the door for her, she sat frozen stiff in the back of the Bentley, staring at the brick building. Absently, she noted that there was grime dripping down its flank from the roof, and crud splashed up on it from the ground. Tarnished. Dirty.
She thought of standing at the foot of the Commodore and staring upward at all the sparkling-clean glass and chrome. That was the facade he had chosen to show her.
This one with the filth was what he had been forced to show her.
"He's waiting for you," Trez said gently.
The side door of the club opened wide, another Moorish male appearing. Behind him, everything was dim, but she heard the thumping bass.
Did she really need to see this, she wondered.
Well, she needed to tell Rehv off, that was for sure, assuming this train wreck was going in the direction it appeared to be. And then it dawned on her: If all this was true, she had a bigger problem. She'd had sex...with a symphath.
She'd let a symphath feed from her.
Ehlena shook her head. "I don't need this. Take me h-"
A female appeared, one who was built tough and hard as a male, and not just on the outside. Her eyes were icy cold and utterly calculating.
She came over and leaned into the car. "Nothing is going to hurt you inside here. I swear it."
Whatever-the hurt was already happening, Ehlena thought. She was getting chest pains like you would with a heart attack.
"He's waiting," the female said.
What got Ehlena out of the car was her backbone, and not just because it straightened her from a sitting position. The thing was, she didn't run. In all her life, she hadn't run from the hard stuff, and she was not starting now.
She walked in through the door and knew for sure that she was somewhere she wouldn't ever choose to be. Everything was dark, and the music banged into her ears like fists, and the smell of too much hot skin made her want to plug her nose.
The female led the way, and the Moors flanked Ehlena, their huge bodies carving a path through a human jungle she had no wish to be a part of. Waitresses dressed in tight black uniforms carried around endless variations on alcohol, and half-nude women rubbed up against men in suits, and every person Ehlena passed had eyes that were looking somewhere else, as if whatever they'd ordered or whoever was in front of them couldn't satisfy them.
She was led over to a reinforced black door, and after Trez spoke into his wristwatch, the thing opened and he stood to the side-as if he expected her to walk right in, like it was just someone's living room.
Yeah...not.
Staring into the darkness beyond, she saw nothing but a black ceiling and black walls and a shiny black floor.
But then Rehvenge stepped into her line of sight. He was exactly as she knew him to be, a big male dressed in a sable duster who had mohawked hair and amethyst eyes and a red cane.
He was, however, a total stranger.
Rehvenge stared at the female he loved and saw on her pale, strained face exactly what he had sought to put there.
Revulsion.
"Will you come in?" he said, needing to finish the job.
Ehlena glanced over at Xhex. "You're security, right?" Xhex frowned, but nodded. "Then you're coming in with me. I don't want to be alone with him."
As her words hit, Rehv might as well have been sliced through the throat, but he showed no reaction as Xhex came forward and Ehlena followed.
The door shut and the music was buffered away and the silence was as loud as a scream.
Ehlena looked at his desk, on which he'd deliberately left twenty-five thousand dollars in cash and a brick of cocaine that was wrapped in cellophane.
"You told me you were a businessman," she said. "Guess it was my fault for assuming it was legitimate."
All he could do was stare at her-his voice had left him, his shallow breath nothing that could sustain words. The only thing he could do, as she stood stiff and angry before him, was memorize her, from the way her strawberry blond hair was pulled back to her toffee-colored eyes to her simple black coat to the way she kept her hands in her pockets, as if she didn't want to touch a thing.
He didn't want this to be how he remembered her, but as it was the last time he would see her, he couldn't help but focus on every detail.
Ehlena's eyes flipped from the drugs and the cash back to his face. "So it's true? Everything your ex-girlfriend said."
"She is my half sister. And yes. Everything."
The female he loved took a step back from him, fear bringing her hand out of her pocket and up to her throat. He knew exactly what she was thinking of: him feeding from her vein, them being naked and alone in his penthouse. She was recasting the recollection, coming to terms with the fact that it hadn't been a vampire at her neck.
It had been a symphath.
"Why did you bring me down here?" she said. "You could have just told me over the phone-no, never mind. I'm going home now. Don't ever contact me again."
He bowed slightly and choked out, "As you wish."
She turned away and went to stand in front of the door. "Will someone please let me the fuck out of here."
After Xhex reached over and opened the way to freedom, Ehlena all but bolted away from him.
As the door shut, Rehv locked it with his mind and stood there, where she had left him.
Ruined. He was utterly ruined. And not because he was turning himself and his body over to a sadistic sociopath who was going to enjoy every minute of torturing him.
When his vision clouded with red, he knew it wasn't his bad side coming out. Not a chance. He'd pumped enough dopamine in his veins over the last twelve hours to choke a horse, because otherwise he didn't trust himself to let Ehlena go. He'd needed to cage his bad side one last time...so he could do the right thing for the right reason.
So, no, this red wasn't going to be followed by flat vision and sensation returning all over his body.
Rehvenge took one of the handkerchiefs his mother had ironed out of the inside of his suit jacket and pressed the folded square beneath his eyes. The bloodred tears leaching out of him were for so much more than just Ehlena and himself. Bella had lost her mother no more than forty-eight hours ago.
And she was going to lose her brother by the end of the night.
He took a single, great breath, one so deep that his ribs strained. Then he tucked the handkerchief away and got on with putting his life into its grave.
One thing was certain: The princess was going to pay. Not for the shit she'd done to him and was going to do to him. Fuck that.
No, she had dared to approach his female. For that, he would cripple her, even if it killed him.