for. The barrage of bullets went haywire, sparks flying as lead slugs ricocheted back at them instead of penetrating through the panels.
He had to stop shooting. If he could keep going, he might be able to sieve shit up enough for him to bust through with his shoulder, but it was too risky. He was going to fill Jo and him full of fucking holes first.
“Damn it,” he bit out.
And of course, now those lessers outside knew that there was somebody on the property who was armed.
As much as he hated everything in this moment, as much as he dreaded what he had to do, Jo’s life was more important than absolutely everything.
Including whatever future he had secretly been deluding himself into believing they might have.
Syn sent out a distress call to all the fighters on duty.
No, I’m telling you the bruises weren’t there.” Butch felt like he was pleading in front of a jury. Except given V’s nodding head, the brother at least agreed with the version of events being described. “I just didn’t notice it at the time—”
“Because you were trying not to notice—”
“So many other things—”
As Butch’s phone started to vibrate in his pocket, he jumped and then went on a hand dive to get the thing—while V did likewise without the jerk of alarm. When they both read the same message, they looked at each other.
“The outlet mall,” Butch said as he started texting fast.
“Where the induction we cleaned up was.”
“What the fuck is Syn doing out there?” Butch grabbed V’s arm. “And you’re not going on this call. No fucking way—”
“There are slayers. So it’s time for you and me to go to work—”
All at once, Lassiter appeared, a milkshake in one hand, a TV remote in the other. As he finished sucking the bottom of the old-school soda fountain glass, the slurping noise was loud as—well, Vishous dropping seven f-bombs in a row.
“You rang?” the fallen angel said in a pleasant tone.
“No.” V punched at Butch’s pecs. “You did not text him.”
“He did.” Lassiter gave the straw another suck. Then he metronomed his head back and forth, his blond and black hair swinging. “He did, he did, he did.”
To the tune of Hocus Pocus’s “amuck, amuck, amuck.”
Vishous jabbed a finger in the angel’s face. “I’m not going back with you, asshole.”
“Okay, that is really hurtful.” More with the sucking. “I mean, what’d I ever do to you?”
“Your presence is enough.” V confronted Butch. “And you are a traitor.”
Butch shook his head and put his phone away. “No, I’m making sure you stick to the plan we agreed to.”
“Fuck you both—”
Just as V went to dematerialize, Lassiter closed his eyes and nodded like I Dream of Jeannie. All at once, a containment barrier formed around V’s entire body, the translucent prison the kind of thing that cut off his yelling and levitated him a good six inches off the floor.
For a moment, all Butch could do was stare at the spectacle of Vishous, son of the Bloodletter, blooded borne son of the Scribe Virgin . . . pounding mutely on the inside walls of his floating mini-prison.
“He looks like a bumblebee caught under a glass,” Lassiter remarked.
Butch glanced over at the angel. “I know you’re immortal and shit, but you better run like a motherfucker when you let him out.”
“You know, I’m inclined to agree with you.” Suddenly, the angel’s odd-colored eyes got really fucking serious. “You let me know if you need him, though. And be careful. Things are so close to the end, and that’s always when the parachute fails.”
With a nod, Butch said, “I will be. But can you tell me anything? About where we’re at? What’s going to happen next?”
Lassiter seemed distraught as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s not my place—and even I have rules I need to follow if I want to stay in the game.”
Butch studied those handsome features, usually so lighthearted and laughing. “So it’s going to get really bad, huh.”
The angel ignored that happy little comment and focused on V. “Come on, Sparky. I’m taking you home.” With his open hand, he summoned the V-bubble, and it came forward like it was on a leash. “Should I try and dribble him?”
Butch shook his head as he got a load of the furious flush on his roommate’s goateed mug. Plus, hello, there was all that hopping around that was still happening.