among those who had been so instrumental in getting him to the Brotherhood: Beth, with whom, as her blooded brother, he had always had some kind of special connection. Mary, who had answered his call at the Suicide Prevention Hotline. Bella, who had brought him to the training center because of that scar he’d been born with.
Only Wellsie was missing.
The females had no idea he was saying goodbye to them, Xhex thought.
But he did.
She took a step back. And another. When she hit the wall across from the doorway, she linked her arms around herself and felt her heart pound with pure terror. It was one thing to read his grid and see into his soul. It was another altogether to witness him begin to get his affairs in order.
He really was dying.
As Xhex felt a pressure on the lower half of her face, she realized that her palm had somehow known that it was a good idea to cover her mouth. In the event the anguish in the center of her chest somehow escaped.
Abruptly, John shifted his eyes and looked at her.
The three females continued to reminisce about the past and the mysteries of destiny. And they passed their young around. And they smiled.
John stared out of the happiness around him with sadness in his eyes.
As Xhex’s anger dematerialized as if it had never been, she reflected on the fact that when you were out of time, you found forgiveness and acceptance so much easier to give.
Bringing her hands up to the center of her chest, she moved through finger positions with deliberation.
I love you, she signed to him. Come find me when you’re ready.
He nodded, and she took off before any of the others saw her.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love the females.
It’s just, when you were trying on grief for size, you wanted privacy.
Kind of like when you tried on your own death.
So where are we going?”
As Sarah put the question out there, it was because she only knew part of the answer: She and Murhder were in a borrowed Volvo, and after they’d left the underground facility and proceeded through a series of very impressive gates—as well as a strange haze that was nearly impossible to see around—they were now headed toward a city which she understood to be smaller than the Big Apple, but much larger than Albany, the New York State capital.
She’d only ever driven past Caldwell before.
“The King has a place where he meets with people.” Murhder glanced over. “It’s in a nice part of town, don’t worry.”
“Is it like a court?” Images of Buckingham Palace went through her mind. “Does he have a throne and everything?”
As she pondered the possibilities, a childlike wonder came over her, but the flush of curiosity didn’t last. They were going by strip malls now, and the restaurant chains that anchored the lineup of stores—Panera, Zaxbys, Applebee’s, TGI Fridays—reminded her that real life was still happening, all around her.
She couldn’t keep her head in the sand. She had a house. Bank accounts. Bills. Taxes, insurance … a car—which was still in the parking lot at BioMed. If this worked, and she could stay in his world, she was going to have a lot to clean up first.
“Do they know we’re coming?” she said.
“It’ll be fine.”
She looked at him. “Are you sure about that?”
Eventually, they got away from the retail centers and into neighborhood territory—not that the houses on either side of the street had anything in common with where she lived in Ithaca. These were big places, set back a ways from the road, all kinds of brass fixtures hanging from porches with lots of molding and flourishes around them.
Not exactly the crib you’d expect a vampire king to hang out in, but not slumming it, for sure.
The house Murhder eventually stopped in front of was a Federal beauty that certainly looked authentic, as opposed to the result of modern builders copying the best of the past.
As Murhder turned off the engine, he stared out of the front windshield. His profile was striking, all the masculine lines of his cheek and nose and jaw an arresting composition of male beauty. And then there was his hair.
And everything he could do with his hips when they were—
Okay, not the time to think about that.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Even though she could guess. She had the feeling that he had “borrowed” the car—as in taken it without permission on the theory that apologizing would work if they were caught in