Blay let his head fall back on his spine and looked to the sky. But if he was expecting any help with the decision from the muted show of stars, he didn’t get any. Besides, there was only one thing to do, wasn’t there.
So, yup, he told Z the address, and one after the other, they dematerialized to the street in question. As they re-formed on a sidewalk that had been snowblown with ruler-worthy precision, Blay had chills—and not from the below-zero temperature.
“It’s okay, son,” Z murmured. “Let’s just gather the breath, shall we.”
It was a long moment before Blay could speak.
“The last time I was here… was the night I identified the bodies.” As he turned and faced the estate’s driveway, the treads of his shitkickers squeaked on the snow pack—and with every blink of his eyes, the past came back with greater and greater clarity. “The lessers had slaughtered everyone in the house, staff included. I found his mahmen and his sister upstairs in a maid’s closet. They were slumped together in each other’s arms. They had been shot in the head.”
“I’m sorry you had to see that, son.”
“His father…” Blay cleared his throat. “I found his father out in the back garden. He’d tried to run to escape, but he’d been wounded. There was a trail of blood leading to where his body was. His throat was sliced so deep that he was basically decapitated, and he had gunshot wounds all over him.”
Blay could still remember the male’s fine suit. Full of holes that smelled like lead, and stained with fresh red blood.
“And where was Luchas.”
“In his room. Over by his bureau.” Blay winced. “That’s where he told Qhuinn he’d hidden whatever it is. He’d probably been stashing it there when they got to him.”
“How’d they kill him.”
“Does it matter now?”
“Finish the story, son. It’s why you started talking. You need to get this out. It’s the other reason you’ve come here. You want to see your part in the story—and your identifying and burying the bodies is where so much of Luchas’s narrative began.”
Blay looked over at Z, a pit in his stomach. “Does that mean it’s my fault?”
“You didn’t do the killing on either night, son.”
“It feels like I did.”
The Brother shook his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not that powerful. Some things are inevitable, both for joy and for pain. Be honest. If Luchas was so weak, don’t you think he would have done what he did last week a while ago? He was a strong male of worth. In the end, though, the injuries were too much—and I’m not just talking about the physical ones. You weren’t responsible for his pain, and the choice was one he made for himself.”
Blay took a deep breath. “But what if I got him to thinking?”
“About what?”
“Where he was in his life. Whether he was ever going to get out of the clinic. If he had a future other than swimming in that pool, getting treatments for pain, and having hunks of him cut off to control infection?”
“You don’t think all of that shit wasn’t on his mind every second of every night and all the hours of each day? You really think that his reality was some kind of revelation he was avoiding—up until you said two words to him and all of a sudden he was like, ‘Fuck me, I’m here and it’s awful’?”
“I told him Qhuinn had been promoted to private guard in the Brotherhood.”
“So?”
“What do you mean, so. It clearly changed something for him.”
At that moment, an SUV drove past, its heavy tires carving a fresh track in the snow pack. Of course it was a Range Rover. Instinctually, Blay put his hand on the butt of his holstered gun as he tracked its velocity, direction, and driver.
After it had gone by, the icy, too-bright headlights fading, the glowing red brake lamps disappearing, Z shrugged.
“Forgive me for being harsh here, son, but you need to get real. Just because you fear something doesn’t mean it’s true. Just because you’re terrified you’re responsible doesn’t make you the driver of any of this. I want you to at least try on for size the idea that you were not responsible for any of it. Not the damage done to him by the Omega and Lash, not the success and good fortune enjoyed by his brother. It’s not about you, and yes, I know that can be a very hard lesson. I’m just hoping you learn it sooner rather than later because it’s clearly eating you up.”
“But I am responsible. We all are. He was part of our community and he was suffering. We all should have done a better job supporting him.”
“You may be right about that. And I am honestly and deeply sorry for everything he went through, everything that made his final choice seem like the only way forward for him. But I think you need to forgive yourself for what you perceive your role was in the whole thing. I have been where Luchas was. I’ve walked that path of crushing pain and hopelessness. I can assure you, when I was there? I wasn’t thinking about anyone else. My own suffering was all I knew.”
Blay looked up the drive. The mansion was barely visible from the street, but that was the way of the neighborhood, everything set back behind majestic gates, all kinds of land around the sprawling homes.