male and wasn't surprised when Qhuinn held his ground in spite of the throw-down in the car. When he stuck his hand out, there was a long pause.
"I'm not the enemy, John."
John nodded, focusing on that tattooed tear beneath the guy's eye. Retracting his palm, he signed, I know that. I just . . . I need to find her. And what if that slayer was the way?
"Maybe he was--but the sitch got critical and you're going to have to choose yourself over her sometimes. Because if you don't, there's no way you're ever going to find out what happened. You can't search for her from inside a coffin."
He couldn't find a way to argue with that.
"So listen up, you crazy fuck, we're in this together," Qhuinn said softly. "And I'm here to make sure you don't wake up dead. I get the drive, I do. But you've got to work with me."
I'm going to kill Lash, John signed in a rush. I'm going to hold his throat in my hands and I'm going to stare into his eyes as he dies. I don't care how much it costs me . . . but his ashes will be sprinkled on her grave. I swear on . . .
What did he have to swear on? Not his father. Not his mother.
. . . I swear on my own life.
Anyone else might have tried to placate him with a shitload of havefaith, you-gotta-believe crap. But Qhuinn clapped him on the shoulder.
"Have I told you how much I love you lately?" 110
Every night you come out with me to help find her.
"It's not because of the fucking job."
This time when John put his palm out, his friend used it to pull them into a hard embrace. Then Qhuinn shoved him away and checked the watch on his wrist. "We should head over to St. Francis Avenue."
"You got ten minutes." Trez put his arm around the guy and started walking for the back door into the kitchen. "Let's get you two cleaned up. You can leave the Hummer in our receiving dock and I'll switch the plates for you while you're gone."
Qhuinn looked over at Trez. "That's really fucking nice of you."
"Yeah, I'm a prince, all right. And to prove it, I'll even tell you all I know about Benloise."
As John followed them inside, the fact that he hadn't gotten anything out of the slayer focused him, steeled him, resolved him further. Lash wasn't going to leave Caldwell. He couldn't. As long as he was head of the Lessening Society, he was going to go toe-to-toe with the Brotherhood, and the Brothers weren't budging from the city--the Tomb was here. So although the civilian vampires had scattered, Caldie remained the focal point of the war because there would be no winning for the enemy if the Brothers still breathed.
Sooner or later, Lash was going to slip up and John was going to be there.
But goddamn the waiting could wear a guy out, it really could. Every dragging night with nothing new and nothing really to go on . . . was a forever in hell.
111
FOURTEEN
When Lash finally released Mr. D's vein, he pushed him away like a dirty plate after a meal. Sagging on the counter, he reveled in the fact that his hunger was sated and that his body seemed stronger already. But now he was logy as fuck, which was what always happened after he fed. He'd been taking Xhex's throat periodically just for kicks and giggles, but that clearly wasn't what he needed to fill his gut. Which left him living off of . . . lessers?
Nah, he didn't fly that way. Never had. No fucking way he was going to be latching onto the throats of guys with any regularity. Lifting up his arm, he checked his watch. Ten minutes of ten. And he looked like a homeless guy. Felt like one, too.
"Clean yourself up," he told Mr. D. "I have shit you need to do." As he started to give out the orders, his mouth tripped over the words he was speaking.
"You got that?" he said.
"Yes, suh." The Texan looked around the bathroom like he was searching for a towel.
"Downstairs," Lash snapped. "Kitchen. And you need to go get me a change of clothes and bring them here. Oh, and while you're at the brownstone, set some more food out in the bedroom." Mr. D just nodded and headed out, walking on loose legs.
"Did you get the new recruit