much louder.
As the suck and gag was repeated, Wrath laid the dead out in the back of the Escalade and went through the pockets. There was nothing…no wallet, no phone, not even a gum wrapper.
“Fuck.” Wrath pivoted around and sat on the SUV’s back bumper. One of the lessers had cleaned him out already in the course of the fighting…and that meant that as all the slayers had just been inhaled, the civilian’s ID was ashed.
As Butch came weaving down the alley toward the Escalade, he was like an alkie on a bender and the cop didn’t smell like Acqua di Parma anymore. He stank of lesser, as if he’d lined his clothes in Downy dryer sheets, taped a pair of fake-vanilla car fresheners under his armpits, and done a dog roll in some dead fish.
Wrath got up and shut the Escalade’s back.
“You sure you can drive?” he asked as Butch carefully eased himself behind the wheel, looking like he was about to throw up.
“Yeah. Good to go.”
Wrath shook his head at the hoarse voice and glanced around the alley. There were no windows going up the buildings, and having Vishous come right away to heal the cop wouldn’t take a lot of time, but between the fights and the cleanup there had been a lot going on here for the last half hour. They needed to get out of the area.
Originally, Wrath’s plan had been to take a picture of the slayer’s ID with his camera phone, enlarge it enough so he could read the address, and go after the jar of that fucker. He couldn’t leave Butch on his own, though.
The cop seemed surprised when Wrath got into the Escalade’s shotgun seat. “What are you—”
“We’ll take the body to the clinic. V can meet you there and take care of you.”
“Wrath—”
“Let’s fight on the way, shall we, cousin mine?”
Butch put the SUV in gear, reversed out of the alley, and turned around at the first cross street they came to. When he hit Trade, he took a left and headed for the bridges that stretched over the Hudson River. As he drove, he white-knuckled the steering wheel—not because he was scared, but because he was no doubt trying to hold down the bile in his gut.
“I can’t keep lying like this,” Butch mumbled as they got to the other side of Caldwell. A little gag was followed by a cough.
“Yeah, you can.”
The cop looked over. “It’s killing me. Beth needs to know.”
“I don’t want her to worry.”
“I get that—” Butch made a choking sound. “Hold on.”
The cop pulled over onto the iced-up shoulder, popped open the door, and dry-heaved like his liver had received evacuation orders from his colon.
Wrath let his head fall back, an ache setting up shop behind both his eyes. The pain was so not a surprise. Lately he had migraines the way allergy sufferers had sneezes.
Butch reached back and patted around the center console, his upper body still arched out of the Escalade.
“You want the water?” Wrath asked.
“Ye—” Retching cut off the rest of the word.
Wrath picked up a Poland Spring bottle, cracked it open, and put the thing in Butch’s hand.
When there was a break in the throwing up, the cop glugged some water, but the shit didn’t stay down.
Wrath took out his phone. “I’m calling V now.”
“Just give me a minute.”
It took more like ten, but eventually the cop got himself back in the car and put them on the road again. They both were silent for a couple miles, Wrath’s brain racing while his headache got worse.
You’re not a Brother anymore.
You’re not a Brother anymore.
But he had to be. His race needed him.
He cleared his throat. “When V shows up at the morgue, you’re going to say you found the civilian’s body and did the nasty with the lessers.”
“He’ll want to know why you’re there.”
“We’ll tell him that I was on the next block meeting with Rehvenge at ZeroSum and I sensed that you needed help.” Wrath leaned across the front seat and locked a hand on the guy’s forearm. “No one is going to find out, understand?”
“This is not a good idea. This is so not a good idea.”
“The fuck it isn’t.”
As they fell silent, the lights from cars on the other side of the highway made Wrath wince, even though his lids were down and his wraparounds in place. To cut the glare, he turned his face to the side, making like he was staring out his window.
“V knows