Lassiter, page 36
“Wait!” Rahvyn interjected. “Before you go—how shall we remunerate you for the costs?”
She made the inquiry because a sudden worry was going through her. She had no funds, and had never spoken to Lassiter about his financial prospects. There were always ways, of course, but—
The butler’s shock was not the good kind: He had a horrified look on his face, as if she had just set the First Family’s house on fire.
“I meant no offense,” she rushed in. “Please know—I am a stranger in your midst and it would be unforgivably rude for me to make any assumptions. My sire and mahmen raised me better than that.”
“Oh,” the butler said, clearly relieved by the explanation. “But of course. And rest assured, my master the King provides for all under his roof, whatever the occasion. So there is no cost to you as an extension of his beneficence and grace to those whom he rules and protects. Now, I must needs attend to the festivities! Blessings unto the new couple!”
At that, the butler all but skipped away.
In his wake, Lassiter turned to her. “You are a miracle worker with him. That could have gone badly.”
“I do feel a bit like I have bested a gauntlet.”
When he put his arm around her, she followed alongside him as they stepped out from behind some kind of stair—
“Dearest Virgin Scribe,” she blurted.
The splendor before her was unimaginable and her eyes bounced around the majestic foyer and the grandiose rooms she could see through archways and open doors—and then she realized something.
Turning to Lassiter, she put her hand to her temple. “I must needs stop praying to her—it is just that I feel a bit odd sending entreaties unto you.”
Lassiter’s lids lowered and he dropped his mouth to her ear. “I can think of plenty of begging you were quite happy to do earlier.”
She was laughing and batting at him, when the grand doors of the front entrance opened. All at once, escorted by a gust of cold spring air, the Brotherhood streamed in, their voices filling the space as much as their bodies did. But both the movement and the talk halted when they saw Rahvyn holding hands with Lassiter.
There was a shuffling of the males, and Sahvage stepped through the sea of broad shoulders.
His expression was reserved, and for a split second, she wondered if there was going to be trouble.
“Sahvage,” she told her cousin. “I love him. I want to be his shellan, properly—”
A sudden cheer exploded all around, and as Sahvage broke out into a smile and came in for a hug that swung her around, she glanced upward.
There were females all along the gold-leafed balcony. Some of them she recognized from when they’d visited Luchas House, others were not known—but as they rushed down the grand staircase, it was as if they were friends of hers: They were all so happy.
Just like the Brothers, who were busy high-fiving Lassiter.
Beth, the Queen, was the first of the females to step off the stairs, and as she reached for Rahvyn, the embrace was spontaneous—and a little overwhelming.
The Queen.
As Rahvyn held on tight and blinked away tears, she thought, At least I still have your pants on, Your Majesty.
When Beth pulled back, she took Rahvyn’s hands. Her face was so open, so gleeful, her clothing so casual, it was possible to forget who she was. Until that ruby winked.
“Do you have a dress?” the female asked.
“Ah, no?” Rahvyn looked down at the jeans and fleece. “But there need not be any—”
“Let’s get you one, come on!”
Immediately, the other females circled, all hugging and laughing and clapping, Sahvage’s shellan, Mae, chief among them. Before she knew it, Rahvyn was swept up the red-carpeted steps in a wave of friendship.
Unable to fight the ascension—and not inclined to argue, for it had been so very long since she had had friends, perhaps never—she glanced down to the foyer.
Lassiter picked that moment to look up at her through the congestion of powerful males.
For a moment their eyes met, and Rahvyn thought… at long last, everything was falling into place. Though the war was beginning again, and there were losses and stress, she knew, deep within herself, that as long as they were together…
… they could get through anything.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
The daylight hours were a blur of pre-celebration, and Lassiter was all for it. He also knew why the buzzing levity was front and center. The Brotherhood was gearing up to go against the enemy for God only knew how many new decades or centuries, and the stress needed to be burned off: The mating ceremony gave them an excuse to laugh and play billiards and eat and drink all day long.
An unexpected shift off, when no one knew when the next one was going to be.
And people thought he wasn’t like GE, bringin’ good things to life? Come on.
On his side, because he was worried about exactly the same thing they were, he participated in all of it. Meanwhile, Rahvyn got pampered by the females of the house; and sure, traditional sex roles shouldn’t be taken seriously, but as he yukked it up with the guys, it was nice to think she was with a group of females getting her properly ready for the ceremony.
Then it was noon. With the sun at its peak, he broke off from the partying and snuck through the kitchen, ooh’ing and ahh’ing at the doggen who were frosting the biggest cake he had ever seen. There were also roasts in the ovens, and the aroma of baking breads, and enough green beans to feed an army—to say nothing of the silver polishing that was going on.
Jeez, his tennis elbow got triggered just walking by the lineup of three servants chatting happily as they worked the Gorham’s paste over forks, knives, spoons, candelabra.
You kind of worried that if you interrupted them for too long, you might get buffed like a platter.
Heading through the mudroom, where the boots were lined up and the parkas and windbreakers hung on pegs, Lassiter found the door into the garage and used it. Striding past the mowers, snowplows, and trucks, he exited into the backyard.
As soon as he felt the sun, he closed his eyes. The golden rays penetrated through his clothes and his skin, and replenished strength he hadn’t been aware of doing without—and though he’d intended to walk down the house to where the terrace had just been set up with patio furniture, he stayed right where he was, leaning up against the great gray stone wall.
He thought about how Rahvyn touching him was just like this… the feeling of warmth and kindling was the same. In fact, it was almost as if she were with him—
He knew the moment he wasn’t alone anymore.
“Go away,” he murmured. “Not that I mean to be rude.”
Eddie’s voice was full of irony. “You? Never.”
Turning his head, Lassiter looked at the other angel—and he was about to tell the guy off when it dawned on him. “You don’t need to protect me out here. I’m perfectly safe.”
“Circling the wagons seems prudent. Don’t you think?”
“Where’s Adrian?”
“Getting taken for five hundred bucks by that Butch guy.”
Lassiter whistled under his breath. “If the angel is smart, he’ll pull out now. That former human is a shark at the billiards table.”
“And here I thought the bastard was just a Red Sox fan.” Eddie leaned back against the rear of the garage, too. “God, it’s so nice out here.”
“Creator, you mean.”
“Amen.”
As they both took deep breaths at the same time, Lassiter felt a rare moment of communion with the guy. They were so different. Eddie with his rules and his reserve, him with his no rules and blaring lack of reservation. But here, standing together and drawing in the sunlight, he was reminded of everything they had in common, as opposed to all they did not share.
“So now you know,” Lassiter said.
“Know what.”
“How hard it is not to help.” When there was no response, Lassiter looked over, and he had to blink a couple of times as his eyes focused. “It also feels good. Like you’re doing something right with your immortal life.”
After a moment, Eddie said, “What can I say—I felt the Omega’s son by the Audience House. And I want to fight.”
“I’m glad you’ve come around and joined the team.”
Eddie shrugged. “You know what, me, too. We’ve been on ice for far too long.”
They went back to sunning themselves…
And as was the way, what felt like no time at all was actually—
“Five o’clock,” Eddie exclaimed. “What the hell?”
Lassiter looked over again. The angel was staring at his phone—and then texting madly.
“Nah, it’s not late.” Except Lassiter checked the angle of the sun and frowned. “Holy crap.”
“They’re saying it’s time for you to go in and get ready.” Eddie stood up off the wall. “I’m supposed to tell you that there’s a traditional robe for you if you want it? That’s what the Butch guy just texted to the loop. But everyone… they seem to think you’re putting an Elvis suit back on? What the hell?”
“You’re on a text loop with them now?” Lassiter put his arms over his head and stretched his back. “Look at you, with your new buddies. And no, I already used that getup for Wrath’s marriage ceremony. I don’t want to wear it twice.”
Eddie’s brows lifted. “What are you doing with an Elvis suit in the first place?”
“There are things you don’t know about me, angel.”
“Yeah, and I’m comfortable with it staying that way. So what do you want to wear?”
“The traditional robe is great.”
Besides, he didn’t want to be a jackass. Not in front of Rahvyn, not during their mating ceremony. But for sure he wasn’t giving up his zebra-print tights altogether.
Eddie opened the side door of the garage. “Are you really going through the whole deal? Like… what vampire males do in this kind of thing?”
“Yup.” He stepped into the cool interior and smelled the faint mix of oil and gas he hadn’t noticed before—proof that the recharge had been necessary. “So yeah, the robe’s great.”
“Wow. Intense.”
“It’s her tradition and she’s my mate. I want her to know I’m embracing the way things are done for her people—I will say, it’s a damn shame I don’t have my jesses, though.”
They walked across the concrete floor together, sidestepping a John Deere mower the size of a car.
“You never did find them, huh.”
He thought of that lovely Indian couple, from the shelter. “No, I didn’t.”
“Pity.”
This time, he got the door for Eddie, standing aside so the other angel could enter the mudroom first. “What am I going to do? They should technically be given, not bought—and anyway, I threw away all my gold.”
The kitchen smelled even better now, the roasts out and resting, doggen mashing potatoes at the stove, green bean casseroles everywhere.
“Butch says the fighters are all waiting for you in the billiards room,” Eddie murmured as he held up his phone.
“Let’s do this.”
They wandered out through the dining room—and what a spread, crystal and china on everything, arrangements of imported roses and peonies down the center of the highway-long table, a forest of candles ready to be lit. In the foyer, he glanced at the table that had been set up. Draped in black and red cloth, there was a sterling silver pitcher of water and a large sterling silver bowl of salt on it. And there were more candelabras on stanchions set up all around—and other preparations, with music, too.
Someone was playing an acoustic guitar.
Following the gentle strains of notes, he went into the billiards room.
And stopped dead in his tracks.
Lined up on the far side of his favorite couch, the Black Dagger Brotherhood, as well as all of the other fighters and males of the house, were dressed in long black robes. And in front of them, another table, of similar size to the one in the foyer, had been set up and was draped in black cloth.
“Hey,” he said, looking toward the music.
Seated on a chair, Zsadist was playing the tune, a quiet blend of harmonious notes that Lassiter didn’t recognize.
Clip. Clip. Clip—
He glanced behind himself to see Wrath and George coming in. The great Blind King was also in a black robe, and the golden had a collar made of flowers.
“Good, you’re here,” Wrath said briskly. “Come with me.”
Lassiter glanced back at Eddie. When the angel just smiled knowingly, he realized he’d been managed by the other guy, purposely monitored and kept out of this room for a while, not that it had been a hard job, what with the recharging.
Walking down to the table with the King, Lassiter looked at the warriors and tried to read their serious faces. “What’s going on—”
“We understand that you’re missing something. We didn’t have time to do it all the way right, but we’re making do with what we’ve got.” Wrath put his hand in the pocket of his robe, and when he took something out, Lassiter couldn’t see what it was. “This is from my shellan to you. Well, from me, too. But it’s hers.”
The King put something on the table—
A necklace. A gold necklace that was thick as his thumb and as yellow as the sun.
Lassiter frowned sharply. “What is this—”
Rhage was the next one who came forward. “This is the gold Rolex my Mary wears. I took it off my wrist and gave it to her as a present. This is from us.”
Qhuinn and Blay stepped up, and the former nodded at his hellren. “This was his mahmen’s. When Lyric was named after her, she gave it over.”
A gold bracelet now, ornate and Victorian.
One by one, the males came forward, adding to a pile that grew and grew. There were gold chains that were as long as an arm, and chunky-linked chokers, signet rings and dainty bands, earrings that were hoops and studs and danglers, bracelets that were braided, or solid, or…
When the last male came through, all Lassiter could do was just stand there and stare down at the gleaming load.
“Okay, time to get you robed up,” someone said. “Who brought the slacks?”
“I got ’em.”
“Here we go.”
He stood there as he was stripped and helped into a loose pair of pants that tied at the waist. When they were secure, a black robe was draped on his shoulders and not zipped up.
“I can’t… accept this all,” he choked out helplessly. “It’s too much.”
“They’re loaners,” Wrath announced. “Borrowed, blue, old, bought. I don’t know what the fuck the human saying is. But what we’re clear on is that you’re not getting mated without having a boatload of gold on your body. So let’s get started putting it on—”
“Wait,” someone else said. “We have that other thing.”
“Oh, shit. Right.” Wrath nodded to the assembled. “We did one other thing.”
All of a sudden, the notes Zsadist was playing changed, morphing into…
Lassiter recoiled and looked over at the guy. “What are you—”
The entire lineup of males parted to reveal—
Four life-sized cutouts of Rue McClanahan, Estelle Getty, Bea Arthur, and Betty White as Blanche, Sophia, Dorothy… and the great Rose Nylund.
“How did you…” Lassiter started to laugh.
“Fritz is a genius,” the King said. “For real.”
“And there’s nothing you can’t find on the Internet,” V tacked on.
Zsadist’s incredible voice started to sing, “Thank you for being a friend…”
The others instantly picked up on the words. “… traveled down the road and back again…”
Eddie put his arm around Lassiter’s shoulders. “… your heart is true…”
Even V walked over and muttered along, “… you’re a pal and a confidant…”
Lassiter stared at all the gold, all the pieces of the lives he had endeavored to serve, to protect, to save. And suddenly things got wavy.
But not because he was sad.
As they continued to sing, the voices rising and falling as Zsadist strummed the chords, he picked up the first of the chains with shaking hands… and put it around his throat.
CHAPTER FIFTY
I think it’s time.”
Rahvyn looked away from the reflection in the mirror before her. “I cannot thank you enough for this.”
The Queen smiled. “It’s my pleasure, trust me. And you look amazing. I mean, you were good in the jeans, but this is next level.”
Glancing down at the gleaming, silver dress, with its long skirting and lovely bodice, Rahvyn flushed. “I’ve never worn a proper ball gown before.”
“If that male of yours doesn’t cry, I’m the Easter Bunny.”
“You would become a rabbit?”
Beth laughed. “It’s just a silly expression. Come on—only watch where you step. Fritz is going to be so happy that we’ve trashed this room with such abandon.”
The sitting area on the second floor had become the locus for all the females in the household to get ready, and there were clothes, dresses, crinolines, stockings, shoes, makeup, curling irons… everywhere. As she measured the mess, she remembered the fun that had created it, the dressing and undressing, the consultations on hairstyles, the joking.
The other females—including dear Mae, who as Sahvage’s shellan, had taken an extra special interest in it all—had departed to the foyer, but she could picture them with such clarity, it was as if her memory were the actual experience.
“Rahvyn? You okay?”
She glanced back at the female, who was still the King’s beloved shellan, but now also a friend. Beth was stunning in her red and black gown, her brunette hair falling down her back, a set of large diamond earrings twinkling on her lobes.
Rahvyn thought of the little cottage she had been raised in, the small, joy-filled life she had led before her parents died… and the changes had come unto her. There had been so many years of sorrow and then all that trauma. She had never expected happiness to return.
