get naked. Even though they were all his size, this was straight out of every high school nightmare he'd ridden out until he'd quit the system when he was sixteen. And right now he was just too flat-out exhausted to deal with the scene.
He figured it was about midnight by now, but he felt as though it were four A.M... like, the day after tomorrow. Training had been grueling for him. None of the other guys was strong, but all of them could keep up with the stances Phury and then Tohr introduced. Hell, a few were even naturals. John was a mess. His feet were slow, his hands were always in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he had no physical coordination. Man, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find his balance. His body was like a shifting, lurching bag of water; if he moved in one direction, the whole thing flopped over on him.
"You'd better hurry," Blaylock said. "We've only got eight more minutes."
John eyed the shower's doorway. The jets were still on but there was no one in it as far as he could see. He stripped out of the ji and the jockstrap and walked quickly into the -
Shit. Lash was in the corner. Like he'd been waiting.
"Hey, big man," the guy drawled. "Really showed us a thing or two out - "
Lash stopped talking and just stared at John's chest.
"You little kiss-ass," he snapped. And then stormed out of the shower.
John looked down at the circular mark over his left pectoral, the one he'd been born with... the one that Tohr had told him members of the Brotherhood received on their initiations.
Terrific. Now he could add that birthmark to the growing list of stuff he didn't want to hear about from his classmates.
When he came out of the shower with a towel around his waist, all the guys, even Blaylock, were standing together. While they looked him over as a solid, silent unit, he wondered whether vampires had pack instincts, like wolves or dogs.
As they continued to stare at him, he thought, Um, yeah. That would be a big affirmative.
John ducked his head and went to his locker, desperate for the day to be over.
Around three A.M., Phury walked quickly down Tenth Street to ZeroSum. Butch was waiting outside the club's glass-and-chrome entrance, lounging casually in spite of the cold. In his full-length cashmere coat and with his Red Sox hat pulled down low, he looked good. Anonymous, but good.
"What's doing?" Butch asked as they clapped palms.
"Night was for crap on the lesser side. No one found any. Hey, man, thanks for company, I need it."
"No problem." Butch tugged his Sox cap down even more. Like the Brothers, he kept a low profile. As a homicide detective, he'd helped send a number of drug-trade folks to jail, so it was better for him not to be too conspicuous.
Inside the club, the techno music was annoying. So were the flashing lights and all the humans. But Phury had his reasons for coming, and Butch was being polite. Sort of.
"This place is just too frickin' precious," the cop said, eyeing a guy dressed in a hot pink leisure suit with makeup to match. "Give me rednecks and home-grown beer any day of the week over this X-culture bullshit."
When they got to the VIP section, the satin rope was lowered immediately so they could pass.
Phury nodded to the bouncer, then looked at Butch. "I won't take long."
"You know where to find me."
As the cop went for their table, Phury walked to the back of the high-ticket area, stopping in front of the two Moors who guarded the Reverend's private door.
"I'll tell him you're here," the one on the left said.
A split second later Phury was let in. The office was a cave, dimly lit with a low ceiling, and the vampire behind the desk dominated the space, especially as he got to his feet.
The Reverend was a jacked-up six foot six, and the tight mohawk he wore his hair in suited him as well as his fancy-ass Italian threads did. His face was pitiless and intelligent, placing him rightfully in the dangerous business he was in. His eyes, though... his eyes didn't fit. They were curiously beautiful, the color of amethysts, a deep purple that glowed.
"Back so soon?" the male said, his voice low, deep, harder than usual.
Get the product, then get a move on, Phury thought.