as he lit a hand-rolled with shaky hands. When the brother exhaled, the tang of Turkish tobacco filled the air.
"Since when has he..." Butch turned back to the creature feature playing in the clearing. And totally lost his train of thought.
"Rhage pissed off the Scribe Virgin, so she cursed him. Gave him two hundred years of hell. Anytime he gets too worked up, presto-change-o. Pain can set it off. Anger. Physical frustration, if you feel me."
Butch cocked an eyebrow. And to think he'd gotten between that guy and a woman he wanted. Never pulling that kind of stupidity again.
As the carnage continued, Butch began to feel as if he were watching the Sci-Fi Channel with the sound on mute. Man, this kind of violence was out of even his league. In all his years as a homicide detective, he'd seen plenty of dead bodies, some of which had been hard-core gruesome. But he'd never witnessed a slaughter in live action before, and oddly, the shock of it removed the experience from reality.
Thank God.
Although he had to admit the beast was a smooth mover. The way it spun that lesser up into the air and caught the slayer with its...
"Does it happen often?" he asked.
"Often enough. That's why he goes for the sex. Keeps him calm. I'll tell you this, you don't screw around with the beast. It doesn't know who's a friend and who's lunch. All we can do is wait around until Rhage comes back and then take care of him."
Something bounced on the hood of the Escalade with a bang. Oh, God, was that a head? No, a boot. Maybe the creature didn't like the taste of rubber.
"Take care of him?" Butch murmured.
"How'd you like it if every bone in your body was broken? He goes through a change when that thing comes out, and as it leaves, he gets nailed again."
In short order, the clearing was empty of lessers. With another deafening roar, the beast wheeled around as if looking for more to consume. Finding no other slayers, its eyes focused on the Escalade.
"Can it get into the car?" Butch asked.
"If it really wants to. Fortunately, it can't be very hungry."
"Yeah, well... what if it's got room for Jell-o," Butch muttered.
The beast shook its head, black mane tossing in the moonlight. Then it howled and charged at them, running on two legs. The pounding of its stride called thunder and tremors out of the earth.
Butch checked the door lock one more time. Then thought about being a pansy and maybe hitting the floor.
The creature stopped right next to the SUV and fell into a crouch. It was close enough so its breath fogged Butch's window on the exhale, and up close, the thing was hideous. White narrowed eyes. Snarling jowls. And the full set of fangs in its gaping mouth was right out of a fever nightmare. Black blood ran down its chest like crude oil.
The beast lifted its muscled forelegs.
Jesus, those claws were like daggers. Made Freddie Krueger's set of fun and games look like pipe cleaners.
But Rhage was in there. Somewhere.
Butch put his hand to the window, as if he could reach the brother.
The creature cocked its head, white eyes blinking. Abruptly it heaved a great breath, and then the massive body started to shake. A high, piercing cry came out of its throat, cracking through the night. There was another flash of brilliance. And then Rhage was lying naked on the ground.
Butch threw open the car door and knelt by his friend.
Rhage shook uncontrollably on the dirt and grass, his skin clammy, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth moving slowly. There was black blood all over his face, in his hair, down his chest. His stomach was horribly distended. And there was a small hole in his shoulder where the bullet had hit him.
Butch yanked off his jacket and put it over the vampire. Leaning down, he tried to catch the words that were being mumbled. "What was that?"
"Hurt? You... V?'
"Nah, we're doing good."
Rhage seemed to relax a little. "Take me home... Please... get me home."
"Don't you worry about a thing. We're gonna take care of you."
O moved fast across the clearing, heading away from the slaughter, running low to the ground. His truck was parked down the road, about a mile away. He figured he had another three to four minutes before he got to it, and so far nothing was chasing him.
He'd taken off the instant that flash of light had ripped