Lover Avenged

SIXTY-SEVEN

As Ehlena materialized up north along with the Brothers, she couldn’t get Bella out of her mind. The female had seemed strangely transparent as she’d stood in that grand, regal foyer, surrounded by males who were strapped with weapons. Her eyes had been vacant, and her cheeks pale and hollow, as if her will had been tested horribly.

But she wanted her brother back.

The nature of lying was such that its working components were always the same: The objective truth was twisted or hidden or downright overwritten with the intent to deceive. What was murkier were the motivations behind the falsifications, and Ehlena thought of what she’d done in getting those pills for Rehvenge. She had intended to do good, and although that didn’t make her actions right or proper or get her out of deserving the consequences, at least she hadn’t had malice in her heart. The same was true with Rehvenge’s choices. They weren’t right or proper, but he’d been protecting Ehlena and his sister and the other people in his life, given what the Old Law mandated and how destructive the princess was.

This was why Ehlena chose to forgive Rehvenge-and she hoped his sister would do the same.

Of course, that forgiveness didn’t mean Ehlena was going to end up with the male-the stuff about Rehv being her hellren had been to make sure she went to the colony; it didn’t reflect reality. Besides, who knew whether they were even going make it back to Caldwell in one piece.

Lives could be lost tonight.

Ehlena and the Brothers took form in the lee of a thick stand of pines, a protected spot chosen after Xhex had detailed the area. Up ahead, just as the female had described, was a picturesque white farmhouse with a sign that read, TAOIST MONASTICAL ORDER, EST. 1982.

On the surface, it was hard to believe anything other than jam and quilt making went on inside those pristine clapboard walls. Harder still to think that the charming place was the entry to the colony of symphaths. But there was something very wrong about the whole setup, as if a force field of dread surrounded all the come-on-in.

As Ehlena looked around, she could feel that Rehv was close, and just before Xhex spoke, she focused on an outbuilding that was about a hundred yards away from the farmhouse. There…yes, he was there.

“We’ll enter through that barn,” Xhex said quietly, pointing where Ehlena was drawn to. “It’s the only way into the labyrinth. Like I said last night, they’ll already know we’re here, so when we go face-to-face, our best shot is to approach this in an ostensibly diplomatic fashion-we’re merely taking back what is ours and want no bloodshed. They’ll understand and respect the reasoning-before they start fighting-”

A stench of sweetness drifted over on the cold breeze.

As all heads turned, Ehlena frowned at the sight of the male who had appeared out of nowhere on the farmhouse lawn. His blond hair was slicked back from his forehead, and his eyes glowed with an odd shining blackness. As he strode toward the front porch, his gait was anger in motion, his powerful body tight, as if he were ready for battle.

“What the fuck,” V breathed. “Is that Lash I’m looking at?”

“Apparently,” Butch answered.

Xhex cut in. “You didn’t know?”

All the Brothers stared back at her as V said, “That he was alive and a lesser? Er, that would be a hell no. And why are you not surprised?”

“I saw him a couple of weeks ago. Just assumed the Brotherhood knew.”

“Ass. You. Me.”

“That would be just you-”

“Cut the crap,” Z hissed. “Both of you.”

Everyone went back to focusing on the male, who by now had leaped up onto the porch and was banging on the door.

“I’m calling the others in,” V whispered. “The lesser presence has to be neutralized before we can go in.”

“Or it could create a diversion that helps us,” Xhex said with a lot of duh.

“Or we could call for backup and not be idiots,” V snapped.

“That would be tough for you.”

“Fuck y-”

Z forced a phone into V’s gloved hand. “Dial.” Then he pointed at Xhex. “Stop pushing his buttons.”

As V talked and Xhex shut up, daggers and guns were unsheathed, and a moment later, the others appeared.

Xhex stepped over to the Brother Tohrment. “Look, I really think we should split up. You guys take care of Lash and I’ll go in for Rehv. The chaos of the fighting will split the colony’s attentions. It’s better this way.”

There was a pause as everyone looked at Tohr. “I agree,” he said. “But you don’t go in alone. V and Zsadist are with you and Ehlena.”

There was a collective nod and…holy shit, they were on the move, out in the open, jogging across the snow.

As Ehlena headed for the barn, the boots she’d been given crunched over the ground, her palms sweated in her gloves, and the backpack full of medical supplies she wore grabbed at her shoulders. She did not arm herself, having agreed not to draw her gun unless there was a good reason to. Made sense. You wouldn’t want an amateur manning an emergency room; there was no reason to complicate the situation with her trying to pretend she was as comfortable at the trigger as Xhex and the Brothers so clearly were.

The barn was a good-size one, with a pair of front doors that slid back on well-oiled runners. Xhex didn’t take the obvious way in, though, leading them around the side to a squat door instead.

Just before they filed into the lofty, empty space, Ehlena glanced back at the farmhouse.

The blond male was squared off at a circle of Brothers, the guy as calm and cool as someone at a cocktail party might be, his smug smile suggesting big trouble, in Ehlena’s opinion: Only somebody with a lot of weapons at his disposal looked like that when he was confronting a wall of muscle.

“Hurry up,” Xhex said.

Ehlena ducked inside and shivered, even though she was out of the wind. Man…this was all wrong. Like the farmhouse, there was something off about everything: no hay, no feed, no harness or tack. There was no horse in the stall, either. Natch.

The urge to flee choked her, and she clawed at the collar of her parka.

Zsadist put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s their equivalent of mhis. Just breathe. It’s an illusion that stains the very air, but what you’re feeling is not real.”

She swallowed and looked up into the Brother’s scarred face, drawing strength from how steady he was. “Okay. Okay…I’m all right.”

“Good girl.”

“Over here,” Xhex said as she headed for the stall and opened its two-part door.

The floor inside was concrete and marked with an odd geometric pattern.

“Open sesame.” Xhex bent down and lifted what turned out to be a slab of stone, the Brothers coming forward to help her with the weight.

The staircase that was revealed was lit with a soft red glow.

“I feel like I’m walking down into a porn movie,” V muttered as they took the steps with care.

“Wouldn’t that require more black candles for you,” Zsadist cracked.

At the bottom of the landing, they looked left and right down a corridor carved out of stone, seeing nothing but row after row of…black candles with ruby-colored flames.

“I take that back,” Z said, eyeing the display.

“We start hearing chick-a-wow-wow shit,” V cut in, “can I start calling you Z-packed?”

“Not if you want to keep breathing.”

Ehlena turned to the right, overwhelmed by a sense of urgency. “He’s down here. I can feel him.”

Without waiting for the others, she took off at a jog.

Of all the miracles that could have been granted on the planet, of all the, OMG, you’re alive!s, or, Thank you, Scribe Virgin, he’s cured!s, the resurrection John was staring at was a total nut-buster.

Lash was standing in front of a Martha Stewart white colonial, dressed in slick clothes, looking like he was not only perfectly alive and as impressed with himself as ever, but as if he’d been turbocharged somehow: He smelled like a lesser, but as he stared down from the porch it was as if he were the Omega itself-nothing but evil power that was unimpressed by any mortal displays of strength.

“Hey, John-boy,” Lash drawled. “I can’t tell you how great it is to see your pansy-ass face again. Almost as good as my rebirth.”

Jesus…Christ. Why couldn’t Wellsie have been the recipient of this kind of gift? But no…psychotic ass-wipe with the narcissistic disorder got fingered to do the Lazarus shuffle.

The irony was that John had prayed for this. Shit, immediately after Qhuinn had sliced the guy’s throat, John had prayed that somehow Lash would live through the massive blood loss. He could remember getting down onto the wet tile in the training center’s shower and trying to plug up the wound with his shirt. He’d begged God, the Scribe Virgin, whoever would listen, to somehow fix the situation.

Lash’s becoming the vampire equivalent of the Antichrist was not exactly what he’d been going for, however.

As snow started to ease down from the cloudy sky, some words were exchanged between Rhage and Lash, but the buzzing in John’s head drowned most of them out.

What he did hear clearly was Qhuinn’s voice right behind him: “Well, look at it this way. At least we get to kill him again.”

Then the world exploded. Literally.

From out of nowhere, a meteor formed in Lash’s palm and went flying, coming straight at John and the Brothers, a metaphysical bowling ball from hell. As it made contact, its glowing shock waves knocked all of them off their feet, a full strike.

Flat on his back with the others, John struggled to catch his breath as flakes settled softly on his cheeks and lips. The next blast was coming. Had to be.

Either that or something worse.

The roar that lit off across the landscape originated from in front of him, and at first he assumed Lash had transmogrified into some kind of five-headed horror that was going to eat them all alive.

Except…well, it was a beast, but as purple scales flashed and a barbed tail swept through the air, John was relieved. It was their Godzilla, not the Omega’s: Rhage’s alter ego had come out of him, and the massive dragon was good and pissed off.

Even Lash seemed a little surprised.

The dragon inhaled with a great dragging pull on the night air, and then it stretched its neck forward and let out a burst of fire that was so intense the skin on John’s face tightened like shrink-wrap-even though he was well out of range.

When the flames dissipated, Lash was standing between porch supports that were singed, his clothes steaming, his body otherwise unharmed.

Great. Fucker was flame-retardant.

And ready to serve up another round of H-bomb. Like something out of a video game, he palmed up another serving of hot-and-heavy and sent the energy rolling right at the beast.

Who took it like a man. Rhage’s other half stayed strong against the onslaught and gave the rest of them the break they needed to get on their feet and be ready to shoot. It was a bold, sweet move-but then again, when you could spit out a bonfire, you had to be able to stand the heat or your burps were going to immolate your ass.

John started shooting, as did the others, even though he suspected that they were going to need more than bullets to take down the new and improved Lash.

He was slipping another clip in when two carloads of lessers showed up.