After he heard the report that an intruder had breached the wall, engaged a number of motion detectors in the backyard, and knocked out the power, Rehv told his people to turn all the interior alarms off. He wanted whoever was there to stay.
As soon as he saw Bella, he was heading straight for home.
"Something wrong?" Marissa asked while he clipped the phone shut.
"Oh, no. Not at all." Quite the contrary.
When the front door knocker sounded, Rehvenge stiffened.
A doggen passed in front of the parlor's doorway to go answer it.
"Would you like me to leave you two alone?" Marissa said.
The mansion's big door opened and closed. Soft voices were traded, one that of the doggen, the other... Bella's.
Rehv pushed into his cane and slowly rose to his feet as Bella appeared in the doorway. She was wearing blue jeans and a black parka, and her long hair was shiny on her shoulders. She looked... alive... healthy. But age showed in her face, new lines of stress and worry bracketing her mouth.
He expected her to race into his arms, but she just stared at him... insulated, unreachable. Or maybe she was just so numb after all she'd been through, she had no reactions left to show the world.
Rehvenge's eyes watered as he plugged his cane into the floor and went to her, rushing, though he couldn't feel the fine rug beneath his shoes. He caught the shock on her face as he pulled her against him.
Sweet Virgin. He wished he could feel the embrace he was giving her. Then it dawned on him that he didn't know if she was hugging him back. He didn't want to force her. He made himself let go.
As he dropped his arms, she clung to him, not moving away, but staying close. He embraced her again.
"Oh... God, Rehvenge..." She shuddered.
"I love you, sister mine," he said weakly, unashamed in the moment for being less of a male than he should be.
Chapter Forty-two
O walked right out the brick mansion's front door and he left the thing wide-open behind him. As he wandered down the driveway, snow swirled in the cold wind.
The sight of that portrait was an echo in his brain that wouldn't let up, wouldn't fade. He had killed his woman. Beaten her so badly she'd died. God... he should have taken her to a doctor. Or maybe if that scarred Brother hadn't stolen her, maybe she would have lived... Maybe she'd died because she'd transported.
So had O killed her? Or would she have lived if she'd been allowed to stay with him? What if?em>Oh, f**k it. The search for the sequence of truth was bullshit. She was dead and he had nothing to bury because that bastard Brother had taken her from him. Period.
Abruptly, he caught the lights of a car up ahead. As he got a little closer, he saw that a black SUV had stopped before the gates.
That goddamned Beta. What the hell was he doing? O hadn't called the slayer for a pickup, and that was the wrong place?ait, the car was a Range Rover, not an Explorer.
O jogged through the snow, staying in the shadows. He was a couple of yards away from the gate when the Rover's window came down.
He heard a female voice say, "With everything that's been going on about Bella, I don't know if her mother will be receiving. But we can at least give it a try."
O stepped up to the gates and took out his gun, hiding behind one of the pillars. He saw a flash of red hair as the female behind the wheel leaned out and rang the intercom. Beside her there was another female in the passenger seat, a short-haired blond. That one said something and the redhead smiled a little, revealing fangs.
As she pressed the intercom again, O spoke loudly. "Nobody's home."
The redhead looked up, and he leveled his Smith & Wesson at her.
"Sarelle, run!" she screamed.
O pulled the trigger.
John was deep in tactics, and ready to put his head through a plate-glass window from the brain strain, when someone knocked on his door. He whistled without looking up from the textbook.
"Hey, son," Tohr said. "How's the studying?"
John stretched his arms over his head, then signed. Better than the physical training.
"You don't worry about that. It'll come."
Maybe.
"No, really. I was the same way before my transition. All over the place. Trust me, it gets better."
John smiled. So, you're home early.
"Actually, I was going to go to the center and get some admin work done there. You wanna hang? You could study in my office."
John nodded and grabbed a fleece, then packed up his books. A change of scenery would be good. He was sleepy, and he still had another twenty-two pages to go through: Getting away from his bed was a great idea.
They were heading down the hall when Tohr suddenly swayed and banged into the wall. His hand went to his heart and he seemed to struggle for breath.
John grabbed for him, alarmed by the Brother's coloring. He'd gone positively gray.
"I'm cool..." Tohr rubbed his sternum. Winced. Took a couple of deep draws through his mouth. "No, I'm... I just got a pain or something. Probably the stuff I ate from Taco Hell on the way home. I'm okay."
Except the man was pasty and sickly as they stepped into the garage and went over to the Volvo.
"I made Wellsie take the Range Rover tonight," Tohr said as they got in her car. "I put the chains on it for her. I hate her driving in the snow." He seemed to be talking for the sake of talking, the words fast, pressurized. "She thinks I'm overprotective."
Are you sure we should be going out? John signed. You look sick.
Tohr hesitated before starting the station wagon, all the while rubbing his chest under his leather jacket. "Oh, yeah, no. I'll be fine. It's no big deal."
Butch watched Havers go to work on Phury, the doctor's hands steady and sure as they removed the bandage.
Phury was clearly not charmed about his role as patient. Sitting on top of the examination table, his shirt off, his huge body dominating the little room, he had a glower on him like an ogre. Right out of the Brothers Grimm.
"This hasn't healed as it should," Havers pronounced. "You said you were hurt last night, correct? So this should all be scar tissue. Instead it's barely closed."
Butch shot Phury a big old I-told-you-so stare.
The Brother mouthed back, Bite me, then muttered, "It's okay."
"No, sire, it's not. When was the last time you fed?"
"I don't know. A while." Phury craned around and looked at the wound. He frowned, as though he were surprised by how bad it looked.
"You need to feed." The doctor ripped open a gauze pack and covered the slice. After he taped the thick white square in place, he said, "And you should do it tonight."
Havers snapped off his gloves, stuffed them in a biohazard container, and made a note in his chart. He hesitated by the door. "Is there someone you could go to now?"
Phury shook his head while he put on his shirt. "I'll deal with it. Thanks, Doc."
When they were alone, Butch said, "Where'm I taking you, big man?"
"Downtown. Time to hunt."
"Yeah, right. You heard the man with the stethoscope. Or do you think he was playing you?"
Phury slid off the exam table, his shitkickers landing with a boom. He turned away, going for his dagger holster.
"Look, cop, it takes time for me to get someone lined up," he said. "Because I'm not... because of the way I am, I only like to go to certain females, and I have to talk with them first. You know, see if they're willing to let me take their vein. Celibacy is complicated."
"Then you make the calls now. You're in no shape to fight, and you know it."
"So use me."
Butch and Phury both wheeled toward the doorway. Bella was standing in it.
"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," she said. "The door was open and I was walking by. My, ah... brother just left."
Butch glanced at Phury. The male was still as a photograph.
"What's changed?" Phury asked in a voice that had gone hoarse.
"Nothing. I still want to help you. So I'm giving you another opportunity to accept."
"You couldn't have gone through it twelve hours ago."
"Yes, I could have. You were the one who said no."
"You would have wept through the whole thing."
Whoa. This was way personal.
Butch eased over to the door. "I'll go wait out - "
"Stay, cop," Phury said. "If you don't mind."
Butch cursed and looked around. There was a chair right next to the exit. He lowered his butt into it and tried to make like an inanimate object.