Lover Unveiled, page 43
With an abrupt surge of energy, he felt warmth, like sunshine. Acceptance, like from a mahmen who loved you. Peace, for a tortured soul.
You did the right thing, Lassiter said without moving his lips.
“It was my one and only chance, though.” Balz wasn’t sure how he knew this with such certainty. “I’m going to be eaten alive by her, from the inside out.”
No, there is another way.
All Balz could do was shake his head. But then Lassiter smiled.
True love is going to save you.
Balz almost laughed. “I don’t believe in true love.”
When was the last time you saw the sun?
“My transition.”
And yet it has continued to exist and warm the planet and sustain life, even without the benefit of your eyes. You’re less powerful than that, Balthazar. True love does not require your acknowledgment to be a force in this world.
Whatever. “They’re going to kill me, the Brothers and my bastards. I let Sahvage take the Book.”
No, that’s not what happened. There was a struggle, and you slipped and turned your ankle. As you released your hold on it, Sahvage made off with the Book—
“Ow, what the fuck?” Balz dropped hold of the angel’s hand and grabbed for the bottom of his right leg—which was suddenly killing him.
When he looked up again, Lassiter was gone, but the agony was so great, he couldn’t worry about the departure. Grimacing, he rolled over onto his back and wondered how in the hell the joint in question was screaming like he’d—
Well, like he’d slipped on something and twisted the shit out of it.
Fumbling for his phone, he triggered a call, and required no promise of an Oscar statue to grit out, “Motherfucker, he took the Book—I fell flat on my ass, I can’t fucking walk or dematerialize . . . you’re going to have to come evac me, and no, I don’t know where that asshole went.”
Immediately, whoever was on the other line started barking at him, and when he couldn’t stand the noise, he cut the connection and squeezed his eyes shut. The only good news, he supposed, was also the bad news: With the Book gone, it was less likely that brunette was going to show up and play halfsies again with anyone who mattered to Balz.
Or himself.
Sahvage, the lying sonofabitch, had a proverbial tiger by the tail. Chances were very, very good he wasn’t going to live to see another sunset, and not because of whatever the Brotherhood was going to do to him. But his destiny was his own damn fault.
And as Balz worried about his infected soul, he heard the angel’s voice in his head.
True love, Balz thought. What a fucking crock of—
From out of the white-hot agony claiming all of his attention, an image pierced through the veil, cutting the pain away.
It was of that human woman, the detective with the handgun and the cuffs, so orderly, so focused . . . so tired, like she’d been working a hard job for too many hours in a row. Too many years in a row.
But surely that was not his destiny.
Or hers.
Right?
Mae was sitting at her kitchen table, staring into space over her now soggy almost-Cheerios, when the phone started ringing. Thinking it was Tallah checking in, she took her cell out of her pocket—except no one was calling.
When the ringing continued, she got up and followed the sound to the top of the cellar stairs. Descending, she glanced around, and headed for the couch in the sitting area. Tucked behind it . . . was a black duffle. It was Sahvage’s, the one that was filled with guns—he must have gone back to the cottage and retrieved it so he was well-armed over day. As she looked at the closed zipper, things went silent—but almost immediately, the chiming started up again.
Cursing to herself, she knelt down and went into the bag, rifling through the—well, rifles, as it turned out. Down at the bottom of so many muzzles . . . was his cell phone.
The screen showed the number was restricted.
With a swipe, she answered the call—
Before she could say hello, a male voice growled, “You double-crossing motherfucker. You just signed your death warrant and we know where you are—”
“Who is this?”
There was a pause. “Who are you.”
“I’m a—” Friend? How the hell did she answer that. “I know Sahvage. What did he do?”
“Where is he?”
“He went out—” To get ice for my dead brother. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what’s going on here.”
And didn’t that cover so much.
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to identify yourself. And you need to know that we have a tracer on the phone you’re speaking into, so we are aware of your location. Sahvage is now an enemy of the Black Dagger Brotherhood. If you safe-harbor him in any way, or you attempt any deception on his behalf, you’re going to be on the wrong side of the ledger, you feel me?”
Mae straightened. “What’s he done.”
“He has something that is ours.”
Stepping to the side, she stared down at her bedroom and remembered them arguing.
As cold dread hit her head, she said baldly, “He has the Book, doesn’t he.”
“What do you know about the Book?”
Sonofabitch.
Hanging up the phone and keeping it with her, Mae took the stairs two at a time and went directly out into the garage—where she dematerialized free of the house. If the Brotherhood had the phone’s location, she didn’t want them anywhere near her home. They’d find Rhoger.
About five miles away, she re-formed behind a strip mall and tossed the cell into the dumpster in back. Then she up-and-outed once again.
Traveling in a scatter of molecules, she followed the blood signal Sahvage emitted, the kind of tracer that only she had access to. And as she zeroed in on it, she was taken to an old part of Caldwell, one that was right on the edges of downtown’s urban blight. Here, the houses were three-story Victorians, of which many had been converted into apartments or were being used as dorms for SUNY Caldwell because they were close to campus.
In order to properly orientate herself, she re-formed in the parking lot of one that had been renovated and turned into a museum. As she stood in a handicapped space and looked around, she was shaking badly, but not because it was chilly and she had no coat. Closing her eyes, she fought the distraction of her anger and concentrated on where Sahvage was. When she had a precise pinpoint on him, she ghosted off again, re-materializing in a unkempt backyard that was fenced in by six-foot-tall planks loose in their arrangement.
Off in the distance, a dog barked. Then she heard an ambulance.
Surveying the back of the house, she found two back doors. One led into a kitchen, given what she could see through some windows. The other was set down at the base of a shallow set of concrete steps.
That was where she sensed Sahvage.
• • •
One advantage to crashing in an old, drafty house that had been built before the turn of the last century, and that was currently owned by an old, dafty eccentric . . . was that there were a lot of old fashioned fixtures and shit in it. Like plumbing. Appliances. Light fixtures.
Heating systems.
As Sahvage walked down past his rented room, he could feel the warmth gathering in intensity, and had a thought that he was glad he’d squatted in upstate New York instead of, like, Florida or the Carolinas. No way they’d have their ancient coal-burning furnaces going on a night in April.
Pushing his way into the boiler room, he checked out the old school, fat-bellied, fed-by-fossil-fuels furnace that kept the three-story, multiroom sprawl warm.
Thanks to being a couple hundred years old himself, he was well familiar with how they worked. And yet as he stood in front of the iron behemoth, it was like he’d never seen one before.
Under his arm, he could feel the Book trembling, as if it were a small animal that was scared.
“Sorry,” he said roughly. “You got to go—and you know this. You cause too many fucking problems.”
As things got even more trembly, he glanced down. “Oh, come on. A little self-awareness, please.”
The Book stopped with a shudder of what seemed like resignation.
What the hell was he waiting for, Sahvage wondered.
On that note, he reached out for the latch to the belly’s door—
“Stop.”
At first, as he thought he heard Mae’s voice, he assumed it was his conscience talking. But then a red beam pierced him through the side of his right eyeball.
As he turned his head, the laser sight drilled him in the skull. And on the trigger end of that calling card? Mae was absolutely steady as she two-handed the gun he had gotten for her.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked in a voice that cracked.
He looked back at the boiler. “It’s the way things have to be—”
“Says who! This doesn’t involve you—it’s none of your goddamn business.”
“I’m trying to save you!”
Mae bared her fangs, her face screwing tight with anger, her body vibrating with emotion. “I do not need help from a coward like you.”
“Excuse me.”
“You got burned in your past, and I’m sorry about that—but you’ve been running ever since. No roots, no connections. Because you don’t have the balls to live life. Well, that’s your failing, not mine. And you’re not going to prevent me from walking my own path.”
“You don’t know me,” he said coldly. “You know nothing about me.”
“I don’t? You couldn’t even make love to me last night properly because you can’t handle any responsibility—even one that’s made up in your own fucking head. You don’t have the courage to be real—but whatever, I’m not going to let your failings fuck my life up. Give me the goddamn Book.”
Sahvage jerked forward. “Just so we’re clear, I didn’t have sex with you because I knew I was going to do this.” He jabbed a finger at the boiler. “And I knew you’d hate me for it. The last thing any female wants is a first time with someone she despises, so I held back for you, not for me.”
“Well, aren’t you a fucking hero.”
Holding up the Book, he said, “You don’t know what you’re doing, Mae. I’m just trying to make sure you—”
“I’m done talking. Give me the Book. It’s mine.”
“It’s no one’s.”
“I summoned it.” She shook her head and lowered that gun muzzle to the center of his chest. “It’s been trying to find me, and you’re in the way.”
How fitting, he thought. If she pulled the trigger, she would shoot him right in the heart.
“Mae—”
“No!” she yelled into the heat of the boiler room. “I don’t need you to tell me goddamn anything. You have no right to determine the life of a stranger—especially given the stand-up way you’ve run your own. This is not your business! We met by mistake and you’re already a regret of mine—I’m not going to add you to my list of tragedies!”
Sahvage narrowed his eyes . . . and told himself that she was right. They were strangers. Proximity and some really fucked-up shit had randomly brought them together. If she wanted to screw up her brother and herself? Why the hell did he care so much.
With a curse—at himself, this time—he tossed the Book over.
As Mae went to catch the goddamn thing, she fumbled with the gun and pulled the trigger by mistake, a bullet exploding out of the muzzle and ricocheting around the rough stone room in a series of pings!
Sahvage ducked and covered his head, bracing to get hit somewhere—
A high-pitched squeal, like that of a pig, marked the end of the lead slug’s free-flying trip.
Lowering his arms, he looked over at Mae. She had the Book up to her chest, and as she straightened from her own crouch, she turned the tome around.
In the dusty glow of the exposed light bulb over head, the small round hole in the center of the front cover was like any other wound in flesh—but the imperfection didn’t last long. As if the thing were capable of healing, as if it were alive, the bullet “wound” gradually sealed itself up.
Mae lifted her eyes, and as Sahvage met her stare, the ache in his chest was just like if he had been the one hit.
“Goodbye, Mae,” he said in a low voice as he stepped around her.
In the doorway out of the furnace room, he looked over his shoulder. “And I’m saying that because I want closure. It may come as a complete shock to you, but other people make choices, too.”
Balz was still crumpled on the floor of the triplex’s book room when Xcor strode in. He was accompanied by a number of Brothers, none of whom really registered, and nobody looked happy.
The leader of the Band of Bastards, the one Balz had pledged his life to long ago, knelt down and took his dagger hand. As the image of that harsh face, with its cleft lip and its familiar eyes, got wavy, Balz kicked himself in his own ass. But damn, the guilt stung.
“We’ll get you out of here and have that leg looked at.”
God, he felt awful, and not just because his ankle was on fucking fire. “Have you found Sahvage?”
“V’s tracing his cell phone.”
“Okay.” Shit. Shit. Shit— “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”
“You did your best. And don’t worry, we’re going to find him and we’ll get the Book. This is nothing that’s going to change our outcome. Come on, let me help you up.”
Balz continued cursing for a whole lot of reasons as he got onto the vertical, and he had to rely on Xcor’s shoulders to limp out of the apartment. Out in the corridor, he had to rest as the Brothers provided cover, casing the hallway.
Please don’t let that brunette show up, Balz thought. And then he shut that down real quick. The last thing he needed to add to this shit show was placing a mental phone call to the bitch.
“Manny’s downstairs waiting,” Xcor said.
“Can we use the elevator? I can’t dematerialize.”
“Of course.”
He had an all-armed escort down to where the arrowed buttons were, and by the time they came up to the bank of double doors, he was getting dizzy from the pain. When their elevator arrived, they shuffled into the mirrored confines. Well, three of them did. He, Xcor, and Butch made it inside. There wasn’t enough room for Z and Phury.
“We’ll meet you down there,” one of the two of them announced.
“Roger that,” Butch said.
As the panels slid closed, something moved in the corner of Balz’s eye. Jerking around, he only saw his reflection, the image of his pale, pain-etched face refracted back and forth, ad infinitum. And Xcor’s. And Butch’s—
There. There it was again, something moving around in one of the sets of reflections, a shadow, jumping up a level. And another level. And another level . . . closing in on reality.
“What is it?” Xcor asked.
“It’s coming for us—”
The lights flickered overhead. The car bumped to a halt.
Somewhere, an alarm went off.
“Close your eyes,” Balz commanded—even though he didn’t know why. “You have to close your eyes or she’ll get into you! Close your eyes!”
He tightened his hold on his leader and grabbed the front of Butch’s dagger holster, pulling the Brother in close.
“Don’t look, don’t open your eyes—”
A sound, like the hiss of a snake’s tongue, came to them, surrounding them, getting louder. And through his lids, he could tell that the lighting was blinking again. Panicked, all he could do was pray the other two males were as eyes-wide-shut as he was. But there was no checking—
Something brushed his bad ankle and seemed to probe his foot, like it was searching for, and had identified, his weakness. Then Butch moved against him, like he was trying to get away from a touch. Xcor growled.
But no one said anything.
With a squawk, all three of their communicators went off at once. “Engagement! Engagement, repeat—”
The snake-like hissing got louder and snapped up to Balz’s shoulder, like the entity, whatever it was, was checking out the noise.
Balz moved his hand up and silenced the emergency. As the others’ units went quiet as well, he assumed they had done likewise.
It sounded as if all of the fighters had suddenly been attacked. At once.
Fuck.
• • •
It was fine. She didn’t need him.
As Mae dematerialized back to her house with the Book, she was totally resolved and absolutely refusing to think about Sahvage ever again. Re-forming inside the garage, she walked right into the back hall, through the kitchen, and out the other side.
“I have what we need.” She ignored how her voice broke. “I’m going to take care of everything.”
Opening the way into the bathroom, she caught her breath for a moment. The ice from the night before was mostly melted, nothing but a cold pool surrounding her brother’s body.
“It’s going to be just fine.”
She had a feeling she was crying. She didn’t know why else her cheeks would be wet, but she didn’t care and that was the good thing about obsessions. They were utterly clarifying. Nothing else mattered, which made it all so much easier. Especially when your emotions got messy.
Kneeling by the tub, she put the Book down on the bath mat and stared at her brother’s face. Then she looked at the ancient tome. Its cover was so ugly, and every time she breathed in, her nose revolted. But beggars, choosers, and all that.
“It worked,” she said to the thing. “I didn’t believe in the summoning spell, but here we are.”
Reaching down to open it, she felt a surge of nausea as her fingertips made contact. And then, when she tried to lift the cover, she could have sworn there was resistance, as if the thing didn’t want the intrusion. But it was an inanimate object, right?
As one of her tears fell on the old leather, the droplet was absorbed as if consumed. And then, abruptly, the Book opened itself, the cover thrown back without any help from her. While Mae jerked in surprise, pages started to flip of their own volition, the parchment rifling through faster and faster, until all of a sudden, the movement stopped.
