Lover Unveiled, page 11
“Tallah . . .”
“What, dearest one?”
She pictured Rhoger in that cold water. “I don’t know how much more time we have.”
It wasn’t that the body was decomposing—yet. But it would. And more than that, she wasn’t sure how many more nights she could hit that Shell, and buy that ice, and go to that tub to drain the water and refill things . . .
Oh, who was she kidding. She would keep doing the job until there were only pieces of him left, nothing but a body-fluid soup in that bathroom—provided there was hope. And maybe that was what was dying for her at this moment.
She pushed the teacup away. “Tallah, this is hard for me to say.”
“Please.” The older female leaned forward and put her hand on Mae’s arm. “You can tell me anything.”
Mae focused on the flower print of the housecoat’s sleeve, the little yellow and white flowers set off in the sea of blue.
“This Book, whatever it is.” Mae looked into those watery eyes, and tried to keep the demand out of her voice, out of her expression. “I mean, what are we really doing here. I don’t want to doubt you, but I can’t . . . I’m finding it hard to keep going on this goose chase. You said the Reverend was our last hope, and we’ve come up dry. Again.”
Well, and then there was the larger issue of what she’d been told the Book would do for her. She so needed to believe resurrection was possible, but she was beginning to worry that this was how urban legends set up shop and propagated: Someone in a vulnerable state, who needed to believe there was a metaphysical solution for their problems, got served up a hoax.
Desperation could mold truth out of any lie. And even if it was from a well-intended source, there was a cruelty to the false promise of help.
With a nod, Tallah took a sip from her cup. Then she sat back, holding the tea between her gnarled hands as if they were cold. “I thought that my losing my station would be the lowest ebb of my life. But watching all that you have endured these past few years . . . it surmounts even my saddest moments. How could I not help you?”
Mae had never asked for specifics, but at one point, Tallah had been at the highest level of the aristocracy, mated unto a member of the Council. Mae’s mahmen, Lotty, had worked for her as a maid. Something had happened, though, and when Tallah had come here, Lotty had insisted on cleaning the house for free on the side—and soon enough, the whole family was involved in taking care of the older female.
How ironic that that fall from grace had ultimately saved the female’s life. If she had still lived in that grand house? She would have been killed during the raids on the property, just as Mae’s parents had been.
“The Reverend’s real name is Rehvenge,” Tallah said. “He is a member of the glymera—or was. I’m not exactly sure how many are even left the now. As I told you, I knew his mahmen very well. She used the Book herself once, and she told me of its power. That is how I first learned of it. It will provide you with what you need. I swear this on what little is left of mine own life.”
Mae ducked her eyes. “Don’t talk like that.”
“It is the truth and we both know this. I shall die soon—but unlike your brother, my time to go is as it should be. I have lived my allotment of nights. His life was taken far too soon, however, and that is a wrong that must be righted.”
Tallah reached across to the draping at the end of the table. As she pulled back the bath towel, what was revealed made no sense: White vinegar. A silver dish. Salt. A sharp knife. A lemon. A candle.
Okay, fine, if you were making salad dressing, the collection was handy, but why Houdini the stuff?
“What’s all that for?” Mae asked.
“We’re going to bring the Book to you.” Tallah nodded at the ingredients. “If it will have you.”
Up north, in the majestic foyer of the Black Dagger Brotherhood’s mansion, Rehvenge strode over the mosaic depiction of an apple tree in full bloom. As he came to the grand staircase, he ascended at a good clip, his Bally loafers eating up the blood red runner, his mink flaring out in his wake. When he got to the top landing, the double doors of the Blind King’s study were open, and at the far end of the pale blue, French-antique’d room, Wrath, son of Wrath, sire of Wrath, was in prime position—i.e., sitting behind a carved desk that was big as a grizzly bear on all fours, his ass planted in his father’s throne. With all that jet black hair falling from a widow’s peak, and his cruel face with those wraparounds, and his warrior’s body, Wrath looked exactly like who should be running the vampire race.
And then there was the fact that even without his sight, he saw things very clearly, and he suffered no fools. Ever.
To Rehv, King of the symphaths, the pair of them were powerful allies. And for fuck’s sake, they were going to need to be after tonight.
“His Excellency is early,” Wrath murmured as those black wraparound sunglasses looked up from the golden retriever in his lap.
George, his guide dog, was in a glorious lounge on his back, his white belly hair all over everything, his head in a loll like he was at a spa. As he scented Rehv, his boxy head lifted briefly and he offered a wag. But then there was a prompt return to being adored.
“That dog’s the real king around here,” Rehv said as he entered and willed the doors closed.
As they clicked into place, one of the Blind King’s brows lifted over the rims of those sunglasses.
“So you’ve come with good news,” Wrath muttered. “How refreshing.”
Rehv stalled things by going on a pace, his travels taking him on a little loop around the silk sofas and the collection of bergère chairs. When he finally lighted on the armchair opposite the carved desk, the retriever looked over again, this time with worried eyes.
And didn’t that prove George had great instincts.
“Wow,” Wrath said as he ran his fingers through blond chest fur that would have counted as shoulder-length hair on a biped. “Uncle Rehv’s wound up. This is gonna be a good one.”
“I would have come last evening.” Rehv arranged the folds of his mink so they covered his legs. “But I had shit to deal with.”
“More fun with your citizens?”
“Humans this time.” All those refunds for that aborted fight. “It was a long night.”
“Why do you fuck with them?”
“It’s a character defect. But one of my less deadly ones, so I give in to it. Living a life of perpetual denial is like being in a coffin aboveground. And please don’t tell me that I already have enough money. There is never enough.”
As the King chuckled, Rehv glanced to the unlit fireplace and wondered if it was worth setting a flame to the preset logs. Even though it was a yeah-sure-fine seventy degrees in the room, he was perpetually cold, the dopamine he took to keep his evil side in check driving down his internal temperature.
Thus the full-length mink. Which he wore even in the summer.
And on that note, pause. Long pause.
Wrath turned in his throne and lifted up the golden like he intended to put George on the floor. The dog had other plans, however, shimmying around in his master’s huge arms and wrapping his big front paws about Wrath’s neck to hold on. Like he was about to be lowered into a lava pit.
Wrath chuckled as he eased back into place. “Guess that’s a no, huh.”
The King shuffled the dog around so that he was back to cradling George like a big baby. As he resumed the petting routine, Rehv focused on the inner-forearm tattoos that depicted Wrath’s impeccable, purebred lineage.
“Start talking, symphath, you’re fucking up my dog.”
Rehv nodded even though his comrade in royal arms couldn’t see it. “We’ve got problems, you and me.”
“And here I thought you were coming to talk fashion. I was going to redirect you to Butch.”
“Listen, there’s only so much you can do with this black-muscleshirt-and-leathers rut you’ve been in for a hundred years. I keep telling you this.”
“Yeah, my goal’s to get on the cover of fucking GQ. Now talk.”
“Print is dead.”
“That’s a line from Ghostbusters. And a deflection.”
Rehv settled his cane between his knees and batted it back and forth with his palms. “I had a female approach me tonight.”
On a laugh, Wrath said, “Ehlena is totally secure in your relationship. And I know you better than to think you’d ever do something stupid.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Good, ’cuz I ain’t no Ann Landers.”
“The female was looking for something neither of us wants her to find.” He forced himself to lean back in the chair. “Have you ever heard of the Book?”
“I’ve heard of the humans’ Good Book. You talking about the Bible?”
“The opposite. The one I’m referring to is a conduit to the dark side. It’s bound in flesh and I have no idea what the pages are made out of—and I don’t want to know the answer to that one. It’s traveled through history, finding people and wreaking havoc.”
“So it’s a book of spells or some shit?”
“The Book of spells. Capital-B time.”
Wrath frowned. And this time, when he went to set George onto the floor, he didn’t take no for answer. As the dog collapsed in defeat at his feet, the King sat forward—and his expression as he looked across the desk at Rehv was so intense, you could forget he was blind.
“I’ve heard rumors about magic throughout the centuries.” Wrath shrugged his powerful shoulders. “But I’ve been too fucking busy with the Omega and the Lessening Society to worry about hocus-pocus bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit.”
“So you’ve seen this thing? Or have you used it.”
“Neither.” Rehv dropped his eyes to the blotter. “But I had a . . . friend . . . who told me about the damn thing and what it could do.”
“Friend” was not the right word for the symphath Princess who had blackmailed him into fucking her for decades. The fact that the sex had always nearly killed him had been only part of her fun; fuck knew there had been so many other amusements to the relationship for her. But he’d settled that score, and then some.
The sandman had come for her.
Still, he should have known she wouldn’t be done with him, and this Book shit was the kind of blast from the past that made a male want to give himself a concussion.
You know, for the amnesia.
Wrath’s eyebrow lifted again. “A ‘friend’ told you. This sounds like a confession on the Internet.”
“Not even close. And before you ask, yes, she’d used it.”
“To do what.”
“Nothing good. I don’t know specifics, but considering who she was? You can bet it was a rotten fucking idea.”
“Okay, so a female came up to you and asked you for the Book. Do you know where it is?”
“Nope. It left my ‘friend.’”
“Left her? Like, the goddamn thing called an Uber and headed out of Caldwell? Or wherever it was?”
“Something like that. From what she told me, it chooses its way in this world.” Rehv rubbed his eyes. “Look, you can use the spells in it to do all kinds of shit you shouldn’t. And the fact that this female knew to come to me? It’s bad news, all the way around.”
“So she knows your friend?”
“She was referred to me through an old acquaintance of my mahmen’s. I followed the female so I could get her license plate number—not that it’s going to help us much. Still, I gave it to V in case she’s registered her human alias in a species database somewhere. And as for why she’s looking for the Book? I saw her grid. She’s desperate to the point of insanity. It’s the worst combination—incredible dark power mixed with that kind of despair.”
Wrath went silent.
“You know I’m not an alarmist,” Rehv said. “This is very dangerous. I don’t know what else to—”
“You don’t have to tell me any more.” Wrath lowered his head, and those blind eyes glowed behind the wraparounds. “The answer is easy. We get the Book before the female does and destroy it. End of.”
Like it’s going to be that simple, Rehv thought.
Still, at least Wrath was on board and taking shit seriously.
“We’ve got to find it first.” Rehv stroked a palm over his Mohawk. “And as for part two of that plan? Something tells me it’s not going to go without a fight.”
“We’ll use all the resources we have—and you know I hate losing.”
Rehv cursed under his breath. “I feel like this is the part in the action movie when I say, ‘This is unlike anything you’ve gone after before, Indy.’”
“Well, you’ve got that out of the way, then,” Wrath muttered. “Good on ya.”
“And as for the locating shit, there’s only so much V can look up on the Internet, as smart as he is. And something tells me this ancient source of evil is not going to be Google-able.”
“You leave the GPS’ing to me. I have an ace in the hole when it comes to finding things like that.”
Rehv stared off at the cold fireplace and pictured the Princess, with her triple-jointed fingers and those scorpions in her ears. The memories of her perverted shit made his stomach churn, but he had to go there. He had to try to remember everything he could about the ancient tome.
“It’s okay,” Wrath murmured. “You’ve done enough coming forward.”
“I’ll check in with my people. See what else I can find out.”
“That’ll be good.”
With a groan, Rehv got to his feet. “I was ready for a break, you know. The Lessening Society gone, the Omega outta here. It was supposed to be the start of a fresh chapter.”
“Unfortunately, it’s just the same ol’ horror story, my friend. Life demands the battle for survival. That’s just the way it is. And as for this Book, I’ll call the Brotherhood in, tell them what you’ve said. You should be at the meeting.”
“Fine. Let me know when?”
“How’s now sound.”
“I’ll go get Tohr for you. He’s in the billiards room.”
“Perfect.”
Rehv nodded and headed for the doors. As he went to step out of them, he paused in the archway. Wrath was back to focusing on his dog, the great Blind King crammed down underneath the desk and whispering to the animal, like he was explaining to George that everything was going to be okay, and he was a good boy, a very good boy, yes, yes, he was.
“Hey, Your Lordship.”
Wrath’s head popped up over the desk. “Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. But fair warning—if you want my opinion, you’re going to get it, and it’s rarely generous. Or so I’ve been told. Actually, the brothers made me a t-shirt.”
Rehv lifted his brows. “Really?”
“The front says, ‘Ask Me Anything.’ The back says, ‘Well, That’s Fucking Stupid.’ Apparently, I’m supposed to pivot around after they’re finished speaking—it’s so fucking stupid.” Wrath looked off to the side and frowned to himself. “Damn it.”
Pulling the halves of his mink together, Rehv cleared his throat and tugged at his cuff links. “Do you think I look like a cross between Liberace and Hannibal Lecter?”
Wrath shook his head as if he hadn’t heard that right. “What?”
“You know. Like Liberace and Hannibal Lecter. Had a baby.”
“Wow.” There was a pause. “That’s a lot of—first of all, why the hell would you ask a blind male what you look like?”
“Good point and never mind.” Rehv turned away. “I’ll get your boys ready.”
“Tell them to leave the Chianti downstairs.” Wrath raised his voice. “Unless you’re feeling thirsty.”
“Not funny,” Rehv muttered as he walked to the head of the stairs.
“Come on, that’s a little funny,” Wrath called out of the study. Beat of silence. “Fine, bring a candelabra with you if you’re feeling bitchy. Maybe it’ll light a fire under your funny bone.”
As booming laughter rippled free of the study and echoed around the entire fucking mansion, Rehv muttered his way down the steps. Note to self: Don’t give the great Blind King that kind of ammunition.
He really should have known better.
That’s right, put your wrist over the silver dish.”
Mae frowned and leaned across Tallah’s kitchen table for a closer look. Not that it changed the milky soup that had been made with the white vinegar, the lemon juice, the candle wax, and the salt.
Wrinkling her nose, she said, “You want me to cut myself?”
“Not deeply. But it has to be on your palm and across your lifeline.”
“I thought palm reading was a human thing.”
“It’s a universe thing.” Tallah extended the clean paring knife. “It has to cross your lifeline. And when you do it, imagine the Book coming to you. Finding you. Helping you as you need it to.”
“I don’t know what the Book looks like.”
“If it hears you, you will see it.” Tallah wiggled the knife. “Take this.”
Mae almost shook her head and made an excuse to get up and go to the loo. But then she thought about how vampires sank in water when they were dead. And how she never would have known that if not for Rhoger being—
She carefully took the blade from the elder female. But she didn’t put it to use. She thought of hoaxes. And Ouija boards. And crystal balls.
And how desperate she was not to be alone in this world.
“Tallah, you need to be honest with me. How are you so sure about all this?” When the female didn’t immediately answer, Mae kept a curse to herself. “It wasn’t just from what the Reverend’s mahmen told you, was it.”
Tallah’s myopic stare dropped down to her tea, and there was a long silence. “I did use it once.” Those watery eyes lifted. “But just so we are clear, I received the information about its power from Rehvenge’s mahmen—and she told me how to ask for its presence. Which is how I know about this.”
As the female indicated the silver dish, Mae sat up straight in her chair. “What did you use it for? Did it work? Did you . . .”
“It was not to bring someone back, no.” Tallah worried the little blue bow on the end of her long, white braid. “In truth, I wanted to disappear somebody. I wanted the female who was taking my hellren from me to disappear.”
“What, dearest one?”
She pictured Rhoger in that cold water. “I don’t know how much more time we have.”
It wasn’t that the body was decomposing—yet. But it would. And more than that, she wasn’t sure how many more nights she could hit that Shell, and buy that ice, and go to that tub to drain the water and refill things . . .
Oh, who was she kidding. She would keep doing the job until there were only pieces of him left, nothing but a body-fluid soup in that bathroom—provided there was hope. And maybe that was what was dying for her at this moment.
She pushed the teacup away. “Tallah, this is hard for me to say.”
“Please.” The older female leaned forward and put her hand on Mae’s arm. “You can tell me anything.”
Mae focused on the flower print of the housecoat’s sleeve, the little yellow and white flowers set off in the sea of blue.
“This Book, whatever it is.” Mae looked into those watery eyes, and tried to keep the demand out of her voice, out of her expression. “I mean, what are we really doing here. I don’t want to doubt you, but I can’t . . . I’m finding it hard to keep going on this goose chase. You said the Reverend was our last hope, and we’ve come up dry. Again.”
Well, and then there was the larger issue of what she’d been told the Book would do for her. She so needed to believe resurrection was possible, but she was beginning to worry that this was how urban legends set up shop and propagated: Someone in a vulnerable state, who needed to believe there was a metaphysical solution for their problems, got served up a hoax.
Desperation could mold truth out of any lie. And even if it was from a well-intended source, there was a cruelty to the false promise of help.
With a nod, Tallah took a sip from her cup. Then she sat back, holding the tea between her gnarled hands as if they were cold. “I thought that my losing my station would be the lowest ebb of my life. But watching all that you have endured these past few years . . . it surmounts even my saddest moments. How could I not help you?”
Mae had never asked for specifics, but at one point, Tallah had been at the highest level of the aristocracy, mated unto a member of the Council. Mae’s mahmen, Lotty, had worked for her as a maid. Something had happened, though, and when Tallah had come here, Lotty had insisted on cleaning the house for free on the side—and soon enough, the whole family was involved in taking care of the older female.
How ironic that that fall from grace had ultimately saved the female’s life. If she had still lived in that grand house? She would have been killed during the raids on the property, just as Mae’s parents had been.
“The Reverend’s real name is Rehvenge,” Tallah said. “He is a member of the glymera—or was. I’m not exactly sure how many are even left the now. As I told you, I knew his mahmen very well. She used the Book herself once, and she told me of its power. That is how I first learned of it. It will provide you with what you need. I swear this on what little is left of mine own life.”
Mae ducked her eyes. “Don’t talk like that.”
“It is the truth and we both know this. I shall die soon—but unlike your brother, my time to go is as it should be. I have lived my allotment of nights. His life was taken far too soon, however, and that is a wrong that must be righted.”
Tallah reached across to the draping at the end of the table. As she pulled back the bath towel, what was revealed made no sense: White vinegar. A silver dish. Salt. A sharp knife. A lemon. A candle.
Okay, fine, if you were making salad dressing, the collection was handy, but why Houdini the stuff?
“What’s all that for?” Mae asked.
“We’re going to bring the Book to you.” Tallah nodded at the ingredients. “If it will have you.”
Up north, in the majestic foyer of the Black Dagger Brotherhood’s mansion, Rehvenge strode over the mosaic depiction of an apple tree in full bloom. As he came to the grand staircase, he ascended at a good clip, his Bally loafers eating up the blood red runner, his mink flaring out in his wake. When he got to the top landing, the double doors of the Blind King’s study were open, and at the far end of the pale blue, French-antique’d room, Wrath, son of Wrath, sire of Wrath, was in prime position—i.e., sitting behind a carved desk that was big as a grizzly bear on all fours, his ass planted in his father’s throne. With all that jet black hair falling from a widow’s peak, and his cruel face with those wraparounds, and his warrior’s body, Wrath looked exactly like who should be running the vampire race.
And then there was the fact that even without his sight, he saw things very clearly, and he suffered no fools. Ever.
To Rehv, King of the symphaths, the pair of them were powerful allies. And for fuck’s sake, they were going to need to be after tonight.
“His Excellency is early,” Wrath murmured as those black wraparound sunglasses looked up from the golden retriever in his lap.
George, his guide dog, was in a glorious lounge on his back, his white belly hair all over everything, his head in a loll like he was at a spa. As he scented Rehv, his boxy head lifted briefly and he offered a wag. But then there was a prompt return to being adored.
“That dog’s the real king around here,” Rehv said as he entered and willed the doors closed.
As they clicked into place, one of the Blind King’s brows lifted over the rims of those sunglasses.
“So you’ve come with good news,” Wrath muttered. “How refreshing.”
Rehv stalled things by going on a pace, his travels taking him on a little loop around the silk sofas and the collection of bergère chairs. When he finally lighted on the armchair opposite the carved desk, the retriever looked over again, this time with worried eyes.
And didn’t that prove George had great instincts.
“Wow,” Wrath said as he ran his fingers through blond chest fur that would have counted as shoulder-length hair on a biped. “Uncle Rehv’s wound up. This is gonna be a good one.”
“I would have come last evening.” Rehv arranged the folds of his mink so they covered his legs. “But I had shit to deal with.”
“More fun with your citizens?”
“Humans this time.” All those refunds for that aborted fight. “It was a long night.”
“Why do you fuck with them?”
“It’s a character defect. But one of my less deadly ones, so I give in to it. Living a life of perpetual denial is like being in a coffin aboveground. And please don’t tell me that I already have enough money. There is never enough.”
As the King chuckled, Rehv glanced to the unlit fireplace and wondered if it was worth setting a flame to the preset logs. Even though it was a yeah-sure-fine seventy degrees in the room, he was perpetually cold, the dopamine he took to keep his evil side in check driving down his internal temperature.
Thus the full-length mink. Which he wore even in the summer.
And on that note, pause. Long pause.
Wrath turned in his throne and lifted up the golden like he intended to put George on the floor. The dog had other plans, however, shimmying around in his master’s huge arms and wrapping his big front paws about Wrath’s neck to hold on. Like he was about to be lowered into a lava pit.
Wrath chuckled as he eased back into place. “Guess that’s a no, huh.”
The King shuffled the dog around so that he was back to cradling George like a big baby. As he resumed the petting routine, Rehv focused on the inner-forearm tattoos that depicted Wrath’s impeccable, purebred lineage.
“Start talking, symphath, you’re fucking up my dog.”
Rehv nodded even though his comrade in royal arms couldn’t see it. “We’ve got problems, you and me.”
“And here I thought you were coming to talk fashion. I was going to redirect you to Butch.”
“Listen, there’s only so much you can do with this black-muscleshirt-and-leathers rut you’ve been in for a hundred years. I keep telling you this.”
“Yeah, my goal’s to get on the cover of fucking GQ. Now talk.”
“Print is dead.”
“That’s a line from Ghostbusters. And a deflection.”
Rehv settled his cane between his knees and batted it back and forth with his palms. “I had a female approach me tonight.”
On a laugh, Wrath said, “Ehlena is totally secure in your relationship. And I know you better than to think you’d ever do something stupid.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Good, ’cuz I ain’t no Ann Landers.”
“The female was looking for something neither of us wants her to find.” He forced himself to lean back in the chair. “Have you ever heard of the Book?”
“I’ve heard of the humans’ Good Book. You talking about the Bible?”
“The opposite. The one I’m referring to is a conduit to the dark side. It’s bound in flesh and I have no idea what the pages are made out of—and I don’t want to know the answer to that one. It’s traveled through history, finding people and wreaking havoc.”
“So it’s a book of spells or some shit?”
“The Book of spells. Capital-B time.”
Wrath frowned. And this time, when he went to set George onto the floor, he didn’t take no for answer. As the dog collapsed in defeat at his feet, the King sat forward—and his expression as he looked across the desk at Rehv was so intense, you could forget he was blind.
“I’ve heard rumors about magic throughout the centuries.” Wrath shrugged his powerful shoulders. “But I’ve been too fucking busy with the Omega and the Lessening Society to worry about hocus-pocus bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit.”
“So you’ve seen this thing? Or have you used it.”
“Neither.” Rehv dropped his eyes to the blotter. “But I had a . . . friend . . . who told me about the damn thing and what it could do.”
“Friend” was not the right word for the symphath Princess who had blackmailed him into fucking her for decades. The fact that the sex had always nearly killed him had been only part of her fun; fuck knew there had been so many other amusements to the relationship for her. But he’d settled that score, and then some.
The sandman had come for her.
Still, he should have known she wouldn’t be done with him, and this Book shit was the kind of blast from the past that made a male want to give himself a concussion.
You know, for the amnesia.
Wrath’s eyebrow lifted again. “A ‘friend’ told you. This sounds like a confession on the Internet.”
“Not even close. And before you ask, yes, she’d used it.”
“To do what.”
“Nothing good. I don’t know specifics, but considering who she was? You can bet it was a rotten fucking idea.”
“Okay, so a female came up to you and asked you for the Book. Do you know where it is?”
“Nope. It left my ‘friend.’”
“Left her? Like, the goddamn thing called an Uber and headed out of Caldwell? Or wherever it was?”
“Something like that. From what she told me, it chooses its way in this world.” Rehv rubbed his eyes. “Look, you can use the spells in it to do all kinds of shit you shouldn’t. And the fact that this female knew to come to me? It’s bad news, all the way around.”
“So she knows your friend?”
“She was referred to me through an old acquaintance of my mahmen’s. I followed the female so I could get her license plate number—not that it’s going to help us much. Still, I gave it to V in case she’s registered her human alias in a species database somewhere. And as for why she’s looking for the Book? I saw her grid. She’s desperate to the point of insanity. It’s the worst combination—incredible dark power mixed with that kind of despair.”
Wrath went silent.
“You know I’m not an alarmist,” Rehv said. “This is very dangerous. I don’t know what else to—”
“You don’t have to tell me any more.” Wrath lowered his head, and those blind eyes glowed behind the wraparounds. “The answer is easy. We get the Book before the female does and destroy it. End of.”
Like it’s going to be that simple, Rehv thought.
Still, at least Wrath was on board and taking shit seriously.
“We’ve got to find it first.” Rehv stroked a palm over his Mohawk. “And as for part two of that plan? Something tells me it’s not going to go without a fight.”
“We’ll use all the resources we have—and you know I hate losing.”
Rehv cursed under his breath. “I feel like this is the part in the action movie when I say, ‘This is unlike anything you’ve gone after before, Indy.’”
“Well, you’ve got that out of the way, then,” Wrath muttered. “Good on ya.”
“And as for the locating shit, there’s only so much V can look up on the Internet, as smart as he is. And something tells me this ancient source of evil is not going to be Google-able.”
“You leave the GPS’ing to me. I have an ace in the hole when it comes to finding things like that.”
Rehv stared off at the cold fireplace and pictured the Princess, with her triple-jointed fingers and those scorpions in her ears. The memories of her perverted shit made his stomach churn, but he had to go there. He had to try to remember everything he could about the ancient tome.
“It’s okay,” Wrath murmured. “You’ve done enough coming forward.”
“I’ll check in with my people. See what else I can find out.”
“That’ll be good.”
With a groan, Rehv got to his feet. “I was ready for a break, you know. The Lessening Society gone, the Omega outta here. It was supposed to be the start of a fresh chapter.”
“Unfortunately, it’s just the same ol’ horror story, my friend. Life demands the battle for survival. That’s just the way it is. And as for this Book, I’ll call the Brotherhood in, tell them what you’ve said. You should be at the meeting.”
“Fine. Let me know when?”
“How’s now sound.”
“I’ll go get Tohr for you. He’s in the billiards room.”
“Perfect.”
Rehv nodded and headed for the doors. As he went to step out of them, he paused in the archway. Wrath was back to focusing on his dog, the great Blind King crammed down underneath the desk and whispering to the animal, like he was explaining to George that everything was going to be okay, and he was a good boy, a very good boy, yes, yes, he was.
“Hey, Your Lordship.”
Wrath’s head popped up over the desk. “Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. But fair warning—if you want my opinion, you’re going to get it, and it’s rarely generous. Or so I’ve been told. Actually, the brothers made me a t-shirt.”
Rehv lifted his brows. “Really?”
“The front says, ‘Ask Me Anything.’ The back says, ‘Well, That’s Fucking Stupid.’ Apparently, I’m supposed to pivot around after they’re finished speaking—it’s so fucking stupid.” Wrath looked off to the side and frowned to himself. “Damn it.”
Pulling the halves of his mink together, Rehv cleared his throat and tugged at his cuff links. “Do you think I look like a cross between Liberace and Hannibal Lecter?”
Wrath shook his head as if he hadn’t heard that right. “What?”
“You know. Like Liberace and Hannibal Lecter. Had a baby.”
“Wow.” There was a pause. “That’s a lot of—first of all, why the hell would you ask a blind male what you look like?”
“Good point and never mind.” Rehv turned away. “I’ll get your boys ready.”
“Tell them to leave the Chianti downstairs.” Wrath raised his voice. “Unless you’re feeling thirsty.”
“Not funny,” Rehv muttered as he walked to the head of the stairs.
“Come on, that’s a little funny,” Wrath called out of the study. Beat of silence. “Fine, bring a candelabra with you if you’re feeling bitchy. Maybe it’ll light a fire under your funny bone.”
As booming laughter rippled free of the study and echoed around the entire fucking mansion, Rehv muttered his way down the steps. Note to self: Don’t give the great Blind King that kind of ammunition.
He really should have known better.
That’s right, put your wrist over the silver dish.”
Mae frowned and leaned across Tallah’s kitchen table for a closer look. Not that it changed the milky soup that had been made with the white vinegar, the lemon juice, the candle wax, and the salt.
Wrinkling her nose, she said, “You want me to cut myself?”
“Not deeply. But it has to be on your palm and across your lifeline.”
“I thought palm reading was a human thing.”
“It’s a universe thing.” Tallah extended the clean paring knife. “It has to cross your lifeline. And when you do it, imagine the Book coming to you. Finding you. Helping you as you need it to.”
“I don’t know what the Book looks like.”
“If it hears you, you will see it.” Tallah wiggled the knife. “Take this.”
Mae almost shook her head and made an excuse to get up and go to the loo. But then she thought about how vampires sank in water when they were dead. And how she never would have known that if not for Rhoger being—
She carefully took the blade from the elder female. But she didn’t put it to use. She thought of hoaxes. And Ouija boards. And crystal balls.
And how desperate she was not to be alone in this world.
“Tallah, you need to be honest with me. How are you so sure about all this?” When the female didn’t immediately answer, Mae kept a curse to herself. “It wasn’t just from what the Reverend’s mahmen told you, was it.”
Tallah’s myopic stare dropped down to her tea, and there was a long silence. “I did use it once.” Those watery eyes lifted. “But just so we are clear, I received the information about its power from Rehvenge’s mahmen—and she told me how to ask for its presence. Which is how I know about this.”
As the female indicated the silver dish, Mae sat up straight in her chair. “What did you use it for? Did it work? Did you . . .”
“It was not to bring someone back, no.” Tallah worried the little blue bow on the end of her long, white braid. “In truth, I wanted to disappear somebody. I wanted the female who was taking my hellren from me to disappear.”
