No one said a thing.
And her eyes didn’t leave Syn.
“Is this what you apologized for?” she demanded.
“Yes,” he replied in a gravel voice.
“So what happens next if you’re not putting me in my grave?” As she spoke, she was aware she was asking about so much more than just the vampire revelation. “Tell me why I’m different.”
Before anyone could answer, a vehicle pulled up outside, the sound of the tires crunching over the debris coming through the hole in the building.
“It’s the doc,” one of the men—males—said. “And Syn, you need to get treated. We’ve also got a van coming to pick up the trash.”
“And what about me.” She wanted Syn to be the one who answered her. “What are you going to do with me.”
A vehicle door opened and closed with a thunch and then there were footsteps on the approach, a figure appearing in the explosion-created, ragged jambs of the building’s newest entrance. The backlighting made it impossible to see his features, but his voice, dry and deep in tone, was crystal clear.
“You guys been redecorating again?” The man—male, whatever—stepped over the threshold. “Can’t you do it with something other than C-4?”
When he made a shift in direction, the side of his face was illuminated—
And the world ground to a halt for Jo.
Dark hair. Dark brows. Deeply set eyes. Square jaw, high cheekbones—
“Manuel Manello,” Jo heard herself say. “Dr. Manuel Manello, former chief of surgery of St. Francis Medical Center. Missing and unaccounted for.”
The man stopped dead. “Do I know you?”
Heart pounding, breath short, head spinning, Jo said roughly, “I’m your sister.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
A lot can happen in twenty-two minutes.
Right after the second explosion of the evening had gone off—said bomb involving three words as opposed to a gas tank and a bullet with water from the Scribe Virgin’s fountain in it—Butch had looked at his watch for some reason. So yup, he was positive that it took exactly twenty-two minutes for Syn to get packed up into the mobile surgical unit with Manny, for the half-breed female, Jo Early, to be driven off by Phury, and for the box van to arrive.
“So where are we going with this load of trash?” Rhage asked as they went over to one of the downed slayers.
Butch took the head. Hollywood took the feet. And then they humped the leaking, smelly, still-moving bag of Omega juice over to the back of the van. While Balz and Syphon did the same. And so did the others.
Nine slayers. And the slowly moving bodies stacked nothing at all like orderly cordwood. To fit them in, they had to close the double doors in the rear and cram the last three in the back seat.
When the job was finally done, everyone needed a bath, and the sound of the limbs moving sluggishly against the inside walls of the van was enough to make the hairs on the back of the neck stand at attention.
Rhage shook his head. “I’ll drive. But it’s going to ruin my appetite.”
Qhuinn came over. “Shotgun.”
They all turned to Butch for a destination. Even Tohr.
Kicking his brain in its ass, he tried to think of a good place to go, and he didn’t have a lot of time to make the decision. This battle site needed to get cleaned up by V ASAP, for one thing—given that explosion, it was a miracle the human police hadn’t shown up already. But even more critically, although he didn’t sense the presence of the Omega at the moment, that could change at any time.
He glanced at the van. It was going to take a lot of time to inhale nine lessers and he wasn’t even sure he could do it all on a oner. V and he were going to need hours—and they had to be in an environment where they would be protected without Vishous putting any effort into sustaining a mhis shield. They needed somewhere… that already was protected.
Butch looked at Tohr. “The Tomb.”
The brother recoiled sure as if he’d been slapped. “Are you fucked-up? We’re not taking the enemy into our most sacred—”
“It’s the only place that’s safe enough. The Omega is getting weaker, and after I’m done with these? He’s going to be just about done, only a shadow of him left. The mhis that’s around the mountain? It’s the kind of thing the evil couldn’t get through when he was all-powerful. Now? The odds are only going to be worse for him. And V won’t have to do anything but cleanse me, and that’s going to be a really big fucking job in and of itself.”
Tohr was in full head-shake mode. “No, I can’t let you do that.”
Butch stepped up to his brother and met those navy-blue eyes baldly. “It’s the only way. You’ve got to trust me. You think I want them there anymore than you do? But sometimes the decision is between a bad choice and an even worse one. And Vishous and I exposed while we do what we have to do to end this war? Really, really, really worse-er.”
In the silence that followed, the tension rose within the group, thick and fraught in the night air. And as an abrupt wind weaved through the ring of trees behind the busted-up groundskeeping building, Butch looked over his shoulder and braced himself.
But it was not the Omega. Not yet.
“We gotta go,” he said in warning. “We need to leave here with the van and get to the mountain.”
Tohr cursed. “Can I talk to Wrath first?”
Butch refocused on his brother. “On the way. You go with Rhage and Qhuinn in the van. I need to be kept apart from the slayers in case the Omega shows up. He’ll come after me as a first priority, and if I die, you need to take those fuckers to the Tomb anyway and keep them there. You’ll want the evil to be as run-down as possible when someone else does the final takedown on the fucker.” He glanced at the other fighters. “For the rest of you, let’s confiscate these cars and bikes. It’ll give V less to toast. He has to come here first while we’re driving to the mountain.”
“If Wrath refuses access,” Tohr started.
“Then tell him to call me. There is no other option.”
Tohr caught Butch’s arm. “If Wrath says no, you’re going to find one.”
* * *
Sitting on the operating table in the mobile surgical unit, Syn let his boots dangle… and thought about the way Jo had sat on the countertop in that abandoned restaurant kitchen. It seemed like a lifetime ago since the pair of them had sought refuge from that police helicopter.
And now they were here. In two separate vehicles. Heading for the training center and God only knew what.
Up in front, behind the wheel, Manny didn’t have much to say either as they continued down the highway. Then again, shock’ll do that to a guy.
“How did you find her?” the human surgeon asked eventually.
The fact that the man might be Jo’s brother changed a lot of things. In the vampire tradition, bonded males always came first with respect to their females—and there was no one around who didn’t know Syn’s status after the little show he’d put on tonight.
Well… except for Jo that was.
Fuck.
But the next in line after a bonded male? The eldest male in the bloodline. Which, if what Jo alleged was true, meant that Manny deserved answers to questions no one but he had any right to ask. e said a thing.
And her eyes didn’t leave Syn.
“Is this what you apologized for?” she demanded.
“Yes,” he replied in a gravel voice.
“So what happens next if you’re not putting me in my grave?” As she spoke, she was aware she was asking about so much more than just the vampire revelation. “Tell me why I’m different.”
Before anyone could answer, a vehicle pulled up outside, the sound of the tires crunching over the debris coming through the hole in the building.
“It’s the doc,” one of the men—males—said. “And Syn, you need to get treated. We’ve also got a van coming to pick up the trash.”
“And what about me.” She wanted Syn to be the one who answered her. “What are you going to do with me.”
A vehicle door opened and closed with a thunch and then there were footsteps on the approach, a figure appearing in the explosion-created, ragged jambs of the building’s newest entrance. The backlighting made it impossible to see his features, but his voice, dry and deep in tone, was crystal clear.
“You guys been redecorating again?” The man—male, whatever—stepped over the threshold. “Can’t you do it with something other than C-4?”
When he made a shift in direction, the side of his face was illuminated—
And the world ground to a halt for Jo.
Dark hair. Dark brows. Deeply set eyes. Square jaw, high cheekbones—
“Manuel Manello,” Jo heard herself say. “Dr. Manuel Manello, former chief of surgery of St. Francis Medical Center. Missing and unaccounted for.”
The man stopped dead. “Do I know you?”
Heart pounding, breath short, head spinning, Jo said roughly, “I’m your sister.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
A lot can happen in twenty-two minutes.
Right after the second explosion of the evening had gone off—said bomb involving three words as opposed to a gas tank and a bullet with water from the Scribe Virgin’s fountain in it—Butch had looked at his watch for some reason. So yup, he was positive that it took exactly twenty-two minutes for Syn to get packed up into the mobile surgical unit with Manny, for the half-breed female, Jo Early, to be driven off by Phury, and for the box van to arrive.
“So where are we going with this load of trash?” Rhage asked as they went over to one of the downed slayers.
Butch took the head. Hollywood took the feet. And then they humped the leaking, smelly, still-moving bag of Omega juice over to the back of the van. While Balz and Syphon did the same. And so did the others.
Nine slayers. And the slowly moving bodies stacked nothing at all like orderly cordwood. To fit them in, they had to close the double doors in the rear and cram the last three in the back seat.
When the job was finally done, everyone needed a bath, and the sound of the limbs moving sluggishly against the inside walls of the van was enough to make the hairs on the back of the neck stand at attention.
Rhage shook his head. “I’ll drive. But it’s going to ruin my appetite.”
Qhuinn came over. “Shotgun.”
They all turned to Butch for a destination. Even Tohr.
Kicking his brain in its ass, he tried to think of a good place to go, and he didn’t have a lot of time to make the decision. This battle site needed to get cleaned up by V ASAP, for one thing—given that explosion, it was a miracle the human police hadn’t shown up already. But even more critically, although he didn’t sense the presence of the Omega at the moment, that could change at any time.
He glanced at the van. It was going to take a lot of time to inhale nine lessers and he wasn’t even sure he could do it all on a oner. V and he were going to need hours—and they had to be in an environment where they would be protected without Vishous putting any effort into sustaining a mhis shield. They needed somewhere… that already was protected.
Butch looked at Tohr. “The Tomb.”
The brother recoiled sure as if he’d been slapped. “Are you fucked-up? We’re not taking the enemy into our most sacred—”
“It’s the only place that’s safe enough. The Omega is getting weaker, and after I’m done with these? He’s going to be just about done, only a shadow of him left. The mhis that’s around the mountain? It’s the kind of thing the evil couldn’t get through when he was all-powerful. Now? The odds are only going to be worse for him. And V won’t have to do anything but cleanse me, and that’s going to be a really big fucking job in and of itself.”
Tohr was in full head-shake mode. “No, I can’t let you do that.”
Butch stepped up to his brother and met those navy-blue eyes baldly. “It’s the only way. You’ve got to trust me. You think I want them there anymore than you do? But sometimes the decision is between a bad choice and an even worse one. And Vishous and I exposed while we do what we have to do to end this war? Really, really, really worse-er.”
In the silence that followed, the tension rose within the group, thick and fraught in the night air. And as an abrupt wind weaved through the ring of trees behind the busted-up groundskeeping building, Butch looked over his shoulder and braced himself.
But it was not the Omega. Not yet.
“We gotta go,” he said in warning. “We need to leave here with the van and get to the mountain.”
Tohr cursed. “Can I talk to Wrath first?”
Butch refocused on his brother. “On the way. You go with Rhage and Qhuinn in the van. I need to be kept apart from the slayers in case the Omega shows up. He’ll come after me as a first priority, and if I die, you need to take those fuckers to the Tomb anyway and keep them there. You’ll want the evil to be as run-down as possible when someone else does the final takedown on the fucker.” He glanced at the other fighters. “For the rest of you, let’s confiscate these cars and bikes. It’ll give V less to toast. He has to come here first while we’re driving to the mountain.”
“If Wrath refuses access,” Tohr started.
“Then tell him to call me. There is no other option.”
Tohr caught Butch’s arm. “If Wrath says no, you’re going to find one.”
* * *
Sitting on the operating table in the mobile surgical unit, Syn let his boots dangle… and thought about the way Jo had sat on the countertop in that abandoned restaurant kitchen. It seemed like a lifetime ago since the pair of them had sought refuge from that police helicopter.
And now they were here. In two separate vehicles. Heading for the training center and God only knew what.
Up in front, behind the wheel, Manny didn’t have much to say either as they continued down the highway. Then again, shock’ll do that to a guy.
“How did you find her?” the human surgeon asked eventually.
The fact that the man might be Jo’s brother changed a lot of things. In the vampire tradition, bonded males always came first with respect to their females—and there was no one around who didn’t know Syn’s status after the little show he’d put on tonight.
Well… except for Jo that was.
Fuck.
But the next in line after a bonded male? The eldest male in the bloodline. Which, if what Jo alleged was true, meant that Manny deserved answers to questions no one but he had any right to ask.