Zsadist was rock-still under the slayer. Dazed? Dead?
Bella screamed as Butch yanked her out of the way. The only place to go was against the stove, and he shoved her in that direction, shielding her with his body. Only now they were trapped in the kitchen.
Phury and Butch both leveled guns at the tangle of arms and legs on the floor, but the slayer didn't care. The undead lifted his fist and punched Zsadist in the head.
"No!" she roared.
Except, strangely, the hit seemed to wake Zsadist up. Or maybe her voice had done the trick. His black eyes flipped open and an evil expression came over his face. With a quick thrust he clamped his hands under the lesser's armpits and twisted so hard, the slayer's torso contorted into a vicious arch.
In a flash Zsadist was on top, straddling the lesser. He grabbed hold of the slayer's right arm and stretched it into a bone-cracking bad angle. Then he jammed his thumb under the undead's chin so far you couldn't see half the finger and bared long fangs that glistened white and deadly. He bit the lesser in the neck, right through the esophageal column.
The slayer hollered in pain, thrashing wildly between his legs. And that was only the beginning. Zsadist tore his prey apart. When the thing no longer moved, he paused while panting and pushed his fingers into the lesser's dark hair, splitting a section wide, clearly looking for white roots.
But she could have told him it wasn't David. Assuming she could find her voice.
Zsadist cursed and caught his breath, but stayed crouched over his kill, looking for signs of life. As if he wanted to keep going.
And then he frowned and glanced up, clearly realizing the battle was over and there had been witnesses.
Oh... Jesus. His face was marked with the black blood of the lesser, and more of the stain covered his chest and hands.
His black eyes shifted to hers. They were bright. Shiny. Just like the blood he'd spilled to defend her. And he quickly looked away, as if he wanted to hide the satisfaction he'd gotten from the kill.
"The other two are finished," he said, still breathing hard. He pulled out the bottom of his shirt and wiped his face.
Phury headed for the hallway. "Where are they? Front lawn?"
"Try the Omega's front door. I stabbed them both." Zsadist looked at Butch. "Take her home. Now. She's too shocked out to dematerialize. And Phury, you go with them. I want a call the moment she puts a foot in the foyer, we clear?"
"What about you?" Butch said, even as he was moving her around the dead lesser.
Zsadist stood up and unsheathed a dagger. "I'll poof this one and wait for others to come. When these f**kers don't check in, there'll be more."
"We'll be back."
"I don't care what you do as long as you get her home. So quit talking and start driving."
Bella reached out to him, though she wasn't sure why. She was horrified by what he had done and by what he looked like now, all bruised and beaten, his own blood running down his clothes along with the slayers'.
Zsadist slashed a hand through the air, dismissing her. "Get her the hell out of here."
John leaped from the bus, so damned relieved to be home he almost fell all over himself. Man, if the first two days of training were anything to go by, the next couple years were going to be hell.
As he came in the front door, he whistled.
Wellsie's voice drifted out of her study. "Hi! How'd it go today?"
While he took off his coat, he blew two quick whistles, which was kind of an okay, fine, all righty type of thing.
"Good. Hey, Havers is coming in an hour."
John headed for her study and paused in the doorway. Sitting at her desk, Wellsie was surrounded by a collection of old books, most of which were laid open. The sight of all those splayed, bound pages reminded him of eager dogs on their backs, waiting for belly attention.
She smiled. "You look tired."
I'm going to crash for a while before Havers comes, he signed.
"You sure you're okay?"
Absolutely. He smiled to give the fib some juice. He hated lying to her, but he didn't want to go into his failures. In another sixteen hours he was going to have to have them out on display again. He needed a break, and no doubt they were exhausted, too, from having had so much airtime.
"I'll wake you up when the doctor gets here."
Thanks.
As he turned away, she said, "I hope you know that no matter what that test says, we'll deal with it."
He glanced at her. So she was worried about the results, too.
In a quick rush he went over and hugged her, then headed for his room. He didn't even put his laundry in the chute, just dropped his bags and lay on the bed. Man, the cumulative effects of eight hours of derision was enough to make him want to sleep for a week.
Except all he could think about was Havers's visit. God, what if it was all a mistake? What if he wasn't going to turn into something fantastic and powerful? What if his visions at night were nothing more than an overactive Dracula fixation?
What if he was mostly human?
It would kind of make sense. Even though the training was just beginning, it was clear he wasn't like the other pretransitions in the class. He flat-out sucked at anything physical and was weaker than the other guys. Maybe practice would help, although he doubted it.
John closed his eyes and hoped for a good dream. A dream that would place him in a big body, a dream that would have him strong and...
Tohr's voice woke him up. "Havers is here."
John yawned and stretched and tried to hide from the sympathy on Tohr's face. That was the other nightmare about training: He had to screw up in front of Tohr all the time.
"How you are you doing, son - I mean, John?"
John shook his head and signed, I'm fine, but I would rather be son to you.
Tohr smiled. "Good. That's how I want it, too. Now come on, let's rip this Band-Aid off about the tests, okay?"
John followed Tohr to the living room. Havers was sitting on the couch, looking like a professor with his tortoiseshell glasses and herringbone jacket and red bow tie.
"Hello, John," he said.
John lifted a hand and sat in the wing chair closest to Wellsie.
"So I have the results of your blood test." Havers took a piece of paper out of the inside of his sport coat. "It took me a little longer, because there was an anomaly I didn't expect."
John glanced at Tohr. Then Wellsie. Jesus... What if he was wholly human? What would they do to him? Would he have to leave -
"John, you are a full-bred warrior. There is only the barest trace of nonspecies blood in you at all."
Tohr laughed in a loud burst and clapped his hands together. "Hot damn! That's great!"
John started to grin and kept going until his lips totally disappeared into a smile.
"But there's something else." Havers pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. "You are of the line of Darius of Marklon. So close you could be his son. So close... you must be his son."
A stony silence overtook the room.
John looked back and forth between Tohr and Wellsie. The two were frozen solid. Was this good news? Bad news? Who was Darius? Going by their expressions, maybe the guy was a criminal or something...
Tohr burst up from the sofa and took John into his arms, squeezing so hard the two became one. Gasping for air, feet dangling, John looked over at Wellsie. She had both hands over her mouth, and tears were rolling down her face.
Abruptly Tohr let go and stepped back. He coughed a little, eyes shimmering. "Well... what do you know."
The man cleared his throat a number of times. Rubbed his face. Looked a little woozy.
Who is Darius? John signed as he sat down again.
Tohr smiled slowly. "He was my best friend, my brother in the fighting, my... I can't wait to tell you all about him. And this means you have a sister."
Who?
"Beth, our queen. Wrath's shellan - "
"Yes, about her," Havers said, looking at John. "I don't understand the reaction you had to her. Your CAT scans are all fine, so too your EKG, your CBC. I believe you when you say she was what caused the seizures, though I have no idea why that would be. I'd like you to stay away from her for a while so we can see if it happens in another environment, okay?"
John nodded, though he wanted to see the woman again, especially if he was related to her. A sister. How cool...
"Now, about the other issue," Havers said pointedly.
Wellsie leaned forward and put her hand on John's knee. "Havers has something he wants to talk to you about."