Lassiter, page 35
It was a while before the summons was answered, and the butler who dragged open the heavy oak door looked worn out.
When he saw who was in the drive and on the stoop, his brows went high and he stumbled his footing.
The Brother Tohrment spoke softly in a language Eddie couldn’t translate, but the servant clearly understood what was being communicated. The butler bowed low and motioned for them all to enter the home.
Eddie and Ad were the last inside, and right before he stepped in, Eddie took one last look around. He couldn’t sense evil anywhere on the property, but that didn’t mean shit couldn’t go south at a moment’s notice.
When they were all in the receiving area, the servant bowed again and spoke in that language. Tohrment nodded, as did the others, and then the lot of them were taken farther back into the home. As they went along, Eddie checked out the interior. Every mirror was covered with black draping and so were all the hearths—and when he caught sight of a maid, he realized what he’d failed to notice right off the bat: The butler didn’t have any white in any component of his uniform, and neither did the female servant who scurried out of sight as soon as she saw what had come into the household.
Eddie wasn’t exactly an expert in staff dress, unless it came to what people wore behind the counter at McDonald’s or Burger King. But he was pretty sure most butlers wore white button-downs and most maids had white aprons. Like he’d seen on Downton Abbey.
Mourning had been made manifest at all levels of the residence.
The room they were shown into was all dark wood and shelves of leather books with gleaming gold lettering on the spines. There were no mirrors to be covered in the masculine space, but the pall that was around the house had nevertheless managed to change the weight of the air somehow.
The Brothers lined up against the far wall, standing shoulder to shoulder, clasping their hands together in front of their hips, and setting their heads to face forward.
Ad wandered over there as well, but Eddie couldn’t stay still. He paced down to the partner’s desk by the cold hearth. The blotter was marked with fine old accessories made of green stained glass and weathered brass overlays in an ivy pattern. The inkpots, trays, and bowls were part of a set, and he picked one up, even though it was rude.
Turning the box over, he read the tiny inscription on the bottom.
Tiffany & Co.
He was just replacing the thing exactly where it had been when footsteps approached.
Stepping away from the desk, he did not join the others, for a reason he couldn’t quite figure out. Maybe it was the need to pace around that had dogged him since the second he’d set foot on the property.
The male who entered the library was accompanied by the butler and was obviously the head of everything, and as soon as he was through the doorway, the latter stepped back and closed the library up.
The master of the household’s fine clothes were likewise all black, no color in the tie, the pocket square, even the socks. With his dark hair slicked back, he looked suave. With the dark circles under his eyes, he looked tragic.
“Forgive me,” the male said to his guests as he came forward. “But we offer no libation or fortification unto you as we are in mourning.”
Tohrment stepped out of the lineup and nodded. “We completely understand.”
Good, they’re doing this in English, Eddie thought.
The male went around behind the desk. The carved chair had already been pulled out, as if in anticipation of him sitting down, but he did not lower himself, though he got into position like he was going to…
On the verge. Similar to the way the guy seemed to be almost ready to break down into tears.
“Your loss is an unimaginable tragedy,” Tohrment said. “The King would like to extend his personal sorrow unto you and your shellan.”
The male inclined his head. “I thank you for your expression of condolence. And for his majesty’s.”
Tohrment approached the desk and took out a small envelope. Placing it on the blotter, he slid it forward.
There was writing on the front, in a heavy black script, and the male’s hands trembled as he picked up the missive and turned it over. On the back, securing the flap, there was a round red wax seal with a crest on it.
On account of the shaking, it was an effort for the envelope to be opened—
The gasp was so loud, Eddie jumped even as the male himself seemed incapable of movement. And then after what seemed like an eternity, the sire of the vampire who had been killed closed his eyes, put the envelope to his heart, and sagged into his chair.
“The King has a son,” Tohrment said roughly. “He wanted to convey to you—”
The Brother had to clear his throat, and it was weird. All of a sudden the others came forward to back up their leader—but not as a show of solidarity for the benefit of the head of house. Rather, it was for Tohrment, who took several deep breaths like he was suffocating.
As the head of the household opened his eyes again, and Vishous placed his hand on Tohrment’s shoulder, the Brother’s voice was nearly inaudible. “Forgive me my lack of… decorum. I, too, lost a son… so I find composure at the moment a bit difficult to summon.”
The male’s face slowly lifted. Then he was getting out of his chair and coming around the desk. The Brothers made room for him.
“You have lost…”
“I have lost… a son. Yes.” Tohrment cleared his throat again. “I am… so very sorry… I know how you are suffering right now.”
With a choked noise, the male stepped in and embraced the Brother—and Tohrment wrapped his arms around what was a stranger by acquaintance, and kin by happenstance. As Eddie watched them stand together, he reflected how you never knew what someone had been through. He’d never have guessed the Brother who appeared to be the most put together had such a fault line in his life.
When they finally parted, Eddie had to wipe his eyes. He wasn’t the only one.
“I shall treasure this always,” the male said as he held up the envelope. “I… it was most unexpected.”
“As I said, the King himself has a son,” Tohrment murmured.
The male nodded. And then gripped the heavy arm of the fighter in front of him. “And may I say that I am sorry for your loss.”
With that, they both composed themselves, the male returning to the far side of the desk to blot his face with a handkerchief, Tohrment looking up at the ceiling, around at the books, down at the floor, as he blinked fiercely. And as the Brothers receded back to where they had been in their lineup, there was this very guy-thing where everybody pulled-it-the-fuck-together.
This time, the head of the household sat down in his chair with control, and he reopened the envelope. Sliding out the contents, Eddie was interested to find that it was a pressed satin bow made up of a pair of red and black lengths, secured by a diamond cluster. The reverence with which the gift was handled was clear, and as he placed it on the blotter and stared, he shook his head.
“Most unexpected, indeed. And my shellan, who suffers so, will pin this unto her mourning dress.”
“Your mourning is the King’s, and he would have come himself, but the times are fraught.”
“Yes, indeed they are.”
Tohrment glanced back at the others. “And that is why, I am sorry to say, you and your remaining bloodline and all your staff must depart from these premises right now.”
The male looked up in alarm. And before he could ask, the Brother Vishous stepped up and took over. “We have reason to believe that the Omega’s son was in this neighborhood last evening. We’re not entirely sure how or why he was here, but his presence was irrefutable.”
Tohrment continued, “There is a very real possibility that he’s already aware of your home. He may have even been on your premises. We cannot urge you with any greater gravity to relocate right now. Further, we would request that you allow us to remain on-site.”
“The Omega? Here?”
“We think he might have followed the remains of your son,” Vishous said. As the male blanched, the Brother shook his head. “We can’t be sure, but it’s a logical inference. And what we don’t want happening is him showing up again, maybe even tonight, with slayers.”
“Please,” Tohrment said, “take your mate, whatever other family you have, and all the staff under this roof, and dematerialize immediately to your safe location.”
“N-n-n-now?” the male stammered.
“Don’t take a car, don’t take your things, just go,” Vishous echoed. “Now.”
With a shuddering breath, the male seemed unable to process anything. But then he fumbled his hand toward a phone that sat beside a brass lamp with a green glass shade.
Picking up the receiver, he punched three buttons and rose unsteadily to his feet. When he spoke, his voice was sharp. “We need to leave the house—don’t ask any questions. Tell your mistress I am coming the now. Get her ready—then find Marls, Twina, and the other maids and inform them we’re departing. I’ll gather Charle and the cooks, the chauffeurs, too. We’re leaving. Right now.”
When he went to end the call, the receiver clattered around its cradle so badly, Vishous stretched out an arm and was the one who put it back where it belonged.
Then his eyes bored into the male’s. “We want to stay here. In case they come—and we think they will eventually. If they do, there will be fighting. Do you understand? And though we’re not going to worry about what gets damaged if we engage, I will promise that we’ll fix whatever gets broken.”
The male blinked a couple of times.
And then his fine features darkened into pure vengeance. “I care not about this house or anything under my roof. Just kill the bastards. Kill them all.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
The night passed very pleasurably indeed for Rahvyn, and ’twas not all exploits of a carnal nature—although much of it was. Lassiter and she very much enjoyed the bathing temple, and several romantic strolls. Further, his private quarters were so cozy that she felt instantly at ease, and the fountain outside of them was enchanting.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked her.
Standing in the marble courtyard, in front of a beautiful blooming fruit tree, she reached up and touched one of the branches. Then she looked over her shoulder. On the far side of the colonnade, the doors to his chamber were open and the messy bed with its white sheets and pillows made her flush.
A smile haunted her lips as she measured the zebra print on the walls. Pink and black. They had laughed that he had put things as such just to get a rise out of the Brother Vishous.
As Lassiter came in behind her, she leaned back against his chest and wished they could stay. The day was soon approaching down below, and she knew he was eager for an update on the night from those who had been out in the field.
“We’ll come back as soon as the ceremony’s over,” he said, as if he were reading her mind. “The humans call it a honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon. I like that word.”
They were in agreement that the mating ceremony should happen immediately. There was no reason to wait, and every reason to move forward with the official part of it all: Nothing was going to change her mind, and he was likewise settled and resolved—and though he wouldn’t put it into words, she could tell he was holding back his worry over the future. The tension was in him whenever she caught him unawares, the moments of unbidden revelation spiking her own anxiety.
They had spoken of none of it, however. Why would they. The threats down below existed whether they were talked of or not, and this time up here was precious and short.
“We need not do anything elaborate in terms of celebration,” she said. “The Brotherhood have been so kind and generous as it is—”
“Are you kidding me? That butler loves a good party and it’s the kind of challenge Fritz lives for.”
“For certain?”
Lassiter stepped around in front of her. “Okay, that doggen literally advised the King, when he was trying to pick out a service dog, to get a golden retriever because it meant more vacuuming.”
“No. Verily, you jest me.”
He put his hand over his heart. “On my immortal life. Rhage told me. So we’ll just let them do whatever they’re going to.”
“Far be it from me to argue with the King and his household.”
They laughed some and then kissed a little more… and then it truly was time to go. Just before she removed her corporeal form back down unto the training center, she took a last look around—
No, she corrected herself. Not a last time.
“Let us go the now,” she said as she closed her eyes.
Traveling between the Sanctuary and the earth was like going between any two planes of existence, and there was a funny reassurance that Lassiter had been doing regularly what she had thought was so unusual and exceptional.
Once they re-formed back in the training center’s break room, they grabbed some food in the form of sodas and chips, and following his lead, she snacked her way down the corridor, through the little office she’d spied earlier, and out into a long tunnel that she felt a bit vulnerable in.
“Does this go forever in each direction,” she asked as she glanced back and was unable to see any terminus.
“No, there’s an escape hatch down that way, and way up here there’s the Pit, an outbuilding where V and Butch live with their mates.”
“The First Family’s house… I never pictured myself thusly.” She wadded up an empty bag of pretzels. “Are you sure I shall be welcome therein?”
Lassiter brought up her hand and kissed the back of it. “You’re going to be my shellan and it’s where I live. Of course you will.”
“So you have a bedroom within the larger home?”
“Better.” He stopped in front of a steel door. “I have a couch, a TV, and a remote.”
As he put in a code and opened things up to reveal a narrow staircase, she frowned. “And that is enough for you—not that I judge. I shall be happy wherever I am, as long as I am with you.”
“When The Golden Girls is on and I have orange juice? It’s a palace, trust me.”
As he indicated the way through the entry, she ducked even though she didn’t need to and entered a compartmentalized set of steps. He had to press by her to put in a code at the top, and her hands lingered around his waist as he passed her by.
They were kissing again as he opened the second portal, and as a result of their preoccupation, they all but spilled out into wherever they were.
“Master! Mistress!”
At the exclamation, they jerked apart. The butler who stood before them was one she recognized from her times down in the training center, the elderly, proper male as ebullient and natty as ever.
He cleared his throat and wrung his hands—and she got the impression he had been awaiting their arrival. “Forgive my temerity, but would you, by chance, have news?”
Lassiter put his arm around her and the way he puffed up with pride was positively endearing. “My good male, we have a mating ceremony to prepare for! We’re going to need you to take care of everything.”
The butler gasped. And then clapped his palms together with the kind of glee one would assume he should reserve for tidings of the greatest joy imaginable—as opposed to a raft of work.
“Indeed?” He clapped again. “For truth?”
Glancing down at her, Lassiter smiled. “And I have even better news.” He looked back at the butler. “We must needs be prepared by nightfall this evening.”
There was a reverent inhale. And then tears formed in those wrinkled eyes.
Just as Rahvyn was about to protest the incredible rudeness and incomprehensibly bad manners of it all, the butler burst into a cry of triumph.
“Yes! Upon the nightfall! All shall be perfection!” He flushed with joy, as if it were his birthday and he had been presented with a wish list’s worth of gifts. “Whatever should you like to serve for your mating meal? Do you prefer beef? Chicken? A mix? Prior to that, we shall need hors d’oeuvres. A French theme perhaps? What is your color scheme, so that I may set upon gathering proper flowers, and what music do you prefer? We shall require a cake choice as well. Are you mating in the foyer? We have done that before and it is quite beautiful when the female comes down the grand staircase. Will we need garments tailored? Do you have a dress in mind? Are there jewels that require cleaning? What special guests are we including?”
The butler paused, and Rahvyn assumed it was to take a breath so that he did not require resuscitation following an event with his heart.
But no, it was worse than an emergency requiring the Brotherhood’s very competent healers: The expectant look upon that wrinkled face… suggested he actually was looking for answers.
To what some distant, stupid part of her had hoped were rhetorical inquiries.
When only silence came back at him, Fritz looked to Lassiter. Then looked to her once more. “Perhaps my lieges have not considered any of the particulars as of yet?”
The words were spoken very delicately, as if he feared they might faint—and he might join them as he clearly did not like pushing them.
Lassiter glanced at her and shrugged. And then both males seemed to be waiting for her to respond.
Clearing her throat, she said, “You are most gracious, and forgive me—us—our indecision, but given our utter unfamiliarity with events of this nature”—she looked at Lassiter, and the relief coming over him gave her the sense he understood where she was heading—“perhaps, in light of your considerable faculties and knowledge of this most beautiful home’s staffing and facilities, you would be in the best position to remove from us the burden and stress of choice?”
Rahvyn glanced at Lassiter once more, all how-did-I-fare.
As he gave her a discreet thumbs-up, the butler got teary all over again. Then he bowed so deeply, Lassiter actually reached forward, as if in concern.
“My lieges, it is the honor of my station to perform such a service for you both!” He put his hands to his face in delight as he straightened back up. “Please, permit me my departure. I must needs remove myself this very moment—there is much to do, much to do! Rest assured, it shall be the very most perfect ceremony ever—”
