Authors: J.R. Ward
Lover Mine (57 page)
Rhage followed, poofing it right into the farmhouse while Butch took a more labor-intensive approach, hotfooting it across the scruffy lawn, with gun drawn and down at his thigh. He looked in the windows until V let him in the back.
“You going in?” Xhex asked.
John signed carefully so she could read his hands.
You’ve already reported what’s doing inside. I’m more interested in who’s going to show up at the front door.
You’ve already reported what’s doing inside. I’m more interested in who’s going to show up at the front door.
“Agreed.”
One by one the Brothers came back.
V spoke softly. “Assuming that Lash isn’t just showing off his induction efforts, and assuming Xhex is right—”
“No assumption there,” she bit out. “I am.”
“—then whoever turned the poor bastards has to come back.”
“Thank you, Sherlock.”
V glared in her direction. “You want to dial back the attitude, sweetheart?”
John straightened, thinking that however much he loved the Brother, he was so not appreciating that tone.
Xhex evidently agreed. “Call me sweetheart one more time and it’ll be the last word you ever speak—”
“Don’t threaten me, swee—”
Butch stepped behind V and clapped his palm over the guy’s piehole while John put his hand on Xhex’s arm, urging her to calm down as he glared in Vishous’s direction. He’d never understood the enmity between the pair of them, even though it had been there since he could remember—
He frowned. In the aftermath of the flare-up, Butch was looking at the ground. Xhex was focused on a tree over V’s shoulder. V was growling and staring at his fingernails.
Something is off with all this, John thought.
Oh . . . Jesus . . .
V had no reason to dislike Xhex—in fact, she was precisely the kind of female he’d typically respect. Unless, of course, she happened to have been with Butch . . .
V was known to be possessive about his best friend with everyone but the guy’s
shellan
.
shellan
.
John stopped his extrapolations right there; he so didn’t need to know any more. Butch was one hundred percent about his Marissa, so if anything had happened with Xhex . . . it was a lifetime ago. Probably before John had even met her—or maybe when he’d been just a pretrans.
Past was the past was the past.
Besides, he shouldn’t—
Any further thoughts on the sitch were mercifully derailed as a car drove by the farmhouse. Instantly, all their attention was crosshaired on a ride that was done up like an outfit some twelve-year-old girl might have wanted to find in her closet. In, like, 1985.
Gray and acid yellow and hot pink. Really? You really think that’s hot? Man . . . assuming that was a slayer behind the wheel, John just had another reason to kill the Flock of Seagulls motherfucker.
“That’s the souped-up Civic,” Xhex whispered. “That’s it.”
All at once there was a subtle shift in the scenery, like a screen had been pulled into place from above. Fortunately, visual acuity suffered only until what shielded them was settled; then everything was clear again.
“I’ve fired up the
mhis
,” V said. “And what a fucking asshole. That ride is too flashy to be in this part of town.”
mhis
,” V said. “And what a fucking asshole. That ride is too flashy to be in this part of town.”
“Ride?” Rhage snorted. “Please. That thing is a sewing machine with an air dam taped to it. My GTO could dust the fucker in fourth gear from a dead stop.”
When there was an odd sound from behind, John looked back. So did the three Brothers.
“What.” Xhex bristled and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can laugh, you know. And that’s . . . pretty damn funny.”
Rhage beamed. “I knew I liked you.”
The sewing machine went past the house and then came back . . . only to turn around and do a third drive-by.
“I’m getting really bored with this.” Rhage shifted his weight back and forth, his eyes flashing neon blue—which meant his beast had a case of the snores and was getting twitchy as well. Never a good thing. “Why don’t I just hood-ornament it and drag the fucker face-first out the windshield.”
“Better to chill and lay the trap,” Xhex murmured just as John thought the very same thing.
The guy behind the wheel might have been color-blind when it came to car paint, but he wasn’t a total moron. He drove on and about five minutes later, just as Rhage was practically pulling a split personality he was so itchy, the slayer who’d been doing the drive-bys came striding out across the rear cornfield.
“That kid’s a ferret,” Rhage muttered. “A little, shifty ferret.”
True enough, but the ferret had a pair of reinforcements with him, of a size that wouldn’t have fit in his ride. Clearly, they’d met up elsewhere and dumped another car.
And they were smart about their approach. They took their time and looked all around the lawn and house and forest. But thanks to V, when they saw the stand of trees their enemy was among, their eyes wouldn’t register anything but landscape: Vishous’s
mhis
was an optical illusion that effectively fogged out the shitstorm the enemy was walking into.
mhis
was an optical illusion that effectively fogged out the shitstorm the enemy was walking into.
As the trio went to the back of the house, their boots made a crunching sound over the cold, stiff grass. A moment later, there was a shattering sound . . . glass breaking.
To no one in particular, John signed,
I’m going to close in.
I’m going to close in.
“Wait—”
V’s voice didn’t slow John in the slightest and neither did the cursing he left behind as he dematerialized right to the side of the house.
Which meant he was the first to see the bodies as they became visible.
The instant the ferret climbed through a window in the kitchen, the house shivered and . . .
Hello,
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
.
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
.
Stretching from the living room to the hall to the dining room, there were some twenty guys lined up with their heads facing the rear of the house and their feet toward the front. Dolls. Grotesque naked dolls with black vomit on their faces and slowly pinwheeling arms and legs.
John felt Xhex and the others take form right behind him at the window just as the ferret strode into view.
“Fuckin A!” the kid hollered as he looked around.
“Yes!”
“Yes!”
His triumphant, skittering laughter bordered on hysteria—which might have been disturbing, except for the fact that he was surrounded by blood and guts and gore. As it was? The keening cackle was a bit of a snooze—a horrible cliché.
But then, so was the bastard’s car. Vin Diesel much?
“You are my army,” he shouted at the bloodied guys on the floor. “We are gonna rule Caldwell! Getcha asses up, it’s time to go to work! Together we are . . .”
“I can’t wait to kill this little shit,” Rhage muttered. “If only to shut him up.”
Too. Right.
The fucker was on a serious Mussolini kick, all blah-blah-taking overblah, which was all well and good for the ego but ultimately didn’t mean shit. The response from the sorry sons of bitches on the ground was the critical thing. . . .
Huh. Maybe the Omega had chosen well: The dolls appeared to be drinking the Kool-Aid. The assembled drained, butchered, reanimated, and now soulless former humans stirred, lifting their torsos up off the floorboards, struggling to their feet at the ferret’s command.
Too bad for them it was going to be a wasted effort.
“On three,” Vishous whispered.
Xhex was the one who counted it down. “One . . . two . . .
three
—”
three
—”
FIFTY-FOUR
A
s soon as night fell o’er the landscape and granted its dark grace upon the good earth, Darius dematerialized from his modest abode and took form on the shore by the ocean with Tohrment. The “cottage” the
symphath
had described was in fact a stone manse of some size and distinction. There were candles lit inside, but as Darius and his protégé tarried amid an outcropping of foliage, there were no overt signs of life: No figures walked past the windows. No dogs barked a warning. No scents from the kitchen wing wafted on the cool, calm breeze.
s soon as night fell o’er the landscape and granted its dark grace upon the good earth, Darius dematerialized from his modest abode and took form on the shore by the ocean with Tohrment. The “cottage” the
symphath
had described was in fact a stone manse of some size and distinction. There were candles lit inside, but as Darius and his protégé tarried amid an outcropping of foliage, there were no overt signs of life: No figures walked past the windows. No dogs barked a warning. No scents from the kitchen wing wafted on the cool, calm breeze.
There was, however, a horse turned out in the field and a carriage by the barn.
As well as a crushing sense of foreboding.
“A
symphath
is therein,” Darius murmured as his eyes probed not just the visible, but the shadowed.
symphath
is therein,” Darius murmured as his eyes probed not just the visible, but the shadowed.
There was no way to know whether there was more than one sin-eater within the walls, as it took only a single of them to create the barricade of fear. And no way to ken whether it was the
symphath
they sought.
symphath
they sought.
At least, not as long as they stayed on the periphery.
Darius closed his eyes and let his senses penetrate what they were able of the scene afore him, his instincts beyond that of sight and hearing focusing to ascertain danger.
Verily, there were times when he trusted what he
knew
to be true more than what he beheld.
knew
to be true more than what he beheld.
Yes, he could feel something inside. There was frantic movement within the stone walls.
The
symphath
knew they were here.
symphath
knew they were here.
Darius nodded at Tohrment and the two of them took a chance and tried to dematerialize into the living room.
Metal embedded in the masonry itself prevented them penetrating the stout walls and they were forced to re- form at the house’s cold flank. Undeterred, Darius lifted his leather-covered elbow and smashed the leaded glass of a window; then he gripped the dividers and pulled out the frame. Tossing it aside, he gusted in with Tohrment, becoming corporeal in the living room—
Just in time to catch a flash of red ducking through an internal door down toward the back of the house. In silent accord, he and Tohrment took off in pursuit, reaching the exit that had been taken as the pins of the lock were turning.
Copper mechanism. Which meant there was no moving it mentally.
“Stand aside,” Tohrment said as he leveled the muzzle of his gun.
Darius briefly stepped clear as a shot rang out, and then he shoulder- rushed the door, forcing it wide.
The stairs down below were dark except for a jostling, ever-fading light.
They descended the stone steps with pounding boots and sprinted over the packed-dirt floor, running after the lantern . . . and the scent of vampire blood that was in the air.
Urgency thundered in Darius’s veins, wrath warring with desperation. He wanted the female back . . . Dearest Virgin Scribe, how she must have suffered—
There was a slamming sound and then the underground tunnel went pitch-black.
Without losing his stride, Darius powered onward, putting his hand out against the walling to keep straight on his path. Tight on his heels, Tohrment was with him in pursuit, and the echoes of their clamoring boots helped Darius determine the termination of the passageway. He pulled up short just in time, using his hands to locate the latch on the door.
Which the
symphath
hadn’t taken the time to lock behind himself.
symphath
hadn’t taken the time to lock behind himself.
Ripping open the heavy wooden panels, Darius got a deep lungful of fresh air and caught sight of the jangling lantern up ahead, across the grasses.
Dematerializing and re-forming up close, he caught the
symphath
male and the vampire female next to the barn, blocking their escape such that the abductor was forced to halt.
symphath
male and the vampire female next to the barn, blocking their escape such that the abductor was forced to halt.
With shaking hands, the sin-eater held a knife to his captive’s throat.
“I shall kill her!” he screamed. “I shall kill her!”
Up against him, the female didn’t struggle, didn’t try to pull away, didn’t beg to be saved or set free. She just stared ahead, her haunted eyes listless in her bleak face. Indeed, there was no paler skin to behold than that of the dead by moonlight. And verily, the daughter of Sampsone might have possessed a beating heart betwixt her ribs, but her soul had passed away.
“Let her go,” Darius commanded. “Let her go and we shall let you live.”
“Never! She is mine!”
The
symphath
’s eyes glowed red, his evil lineage shining in the night, and yet his youth and his panic evidently rendered him incapable of using his race’s most powerful weapon: Although Darius braced himself for a mental onslaught, an invasion of his cranium did not ensue from the sin-eater.
symphath
’s eyes glowed red, his evil lineage shining in the night, and yet his youth and his panic evidently rendered him incapable of using his race’s most powerful weapon: Although Darius braced himself for a mental onslaught, an invasion of his cranium did not ensue from the sin-eater.
“Let her go,” Darius repeated, “and we shall not kill you.”
“I have mated with her! Do you hear me! Mated with her!”
As Tohrment leveled his gun right at the male, Darius was impressed by how calm he was. First time in the field, captive situation,
symphath
. . . and the boy was right in the midst without being consumed by the drama.
symphath
. . . and the boy was right in the midst without being consumed by the drama.
With deliberate composure, Darius continued trying to reason with their opponent, noting with vicious anger the way the female’s nightgown was stained. “If you release her—”
“There is nothing you can give me worth more than her!”
Tohrment’s low voice broke through the tension. “If you let her go, I won’t shoot you in the head.”
It was a good enough threat, Darius supposed. But of course, Tohrment wasn’t going to fire the weapon—too much risk to the female in the event his aim was off by even a fraction.
The
symphath
began walking back toward the barn, dragging the vampire with him. “I shall slice her open—”
symphath
began walking back toward the barn, dragging the vampire with him. “I shall slice her open—”
“If she’s so precious to you,” Darius said, “how could you bear the loss?”
“Better she die with me than—”
Boom!
As the gun went off, Darius shouted and jumped forward, even though he couldn’t possibly catch Tohrment’s bullet with his hands.
“What have you done!” he hollered as the
symphath
and the female landed in a heap.
symphath
and the female landed in a heap.
Racing over the grass and then falling to his knees, Darius prayed that she had not been hit. With his heart in his throat, he reached out to roll the male off of her. . . .
Other books
Fighting to Stay by Millstead, Kasey
The Name Jar by Yangsook Choi
Cruise Control by Terry Trueman
The Glimmer Palace by Beatrice Colin
The Man Who Loved Books Too Much by Allison Bartlett Hoover
Stars Between the Sun and Moon by Lucia Jang, Susan McClelland
Freedom is Space for the Spirit by Glen Hirshberg
Meeting Her Match by Clopton, Debra
Rick's Reluctant Mate by Alice Cain