of consumed by O'Neal. So when another slayer jumped into the fray and grabbed the Brother, Mr. X disengaged and disappeared into the periphery.
The Omega's call was a screaming demand now, that godawful tickling a roar across Mr. X's flesh, but he wasn't answering. He was going to get himself killed tonight. But only in the right way.
Butch lifted his head from his latest victim's ash pile and began to retch in horrid, full-torso heaves. His body felt as it had back when he'd just woken up in the clinic however long ago. Contaminated. Stained. Dirty beyond bleaching.
God... what if he'd taken in too much? What if he'd reached the point of no return?
As he vomited, he felt, though did not see, V come over. Forcing his head up, Butch groaned, "Help me..."
"I'm going to, trahyner. Give me your hand." As Butch held his palm up in despair, Vishous whipped off his glove and grabbed on good and hard. V's energy, that beautiful, white light, poured down Butch's arm and ripped through him in a blast, cleansing, renewing.
United by their clasped hands, they became again the two halves, the light and the dark. The Destroyer and the Savior. A whole.
Butch took all V had to give. And when it was over, he didn't want to let go, afraid if the connection was broken the evil would somehow come back.
"You okay?" V said softly.
"I am now." God, his voice was hoarse as hell from the inhaling. Maybe also from the gratitude.
V gave a yank and Butch shot upright to his feet. As he let himself fall back against the alley's brick wall, he discovered the fighting was over.
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"Nice work for a civilian," Rhage said.
Butch glanced to the left, thinking the brother was talking to him, but then he saw Rehvenge. The male was slowly bending over and picking up a sheath from the ground. With an elegant move, he took the red-bladed sword in his hand and slid it home to the pummel. Ah... that cane was also a weapon.
"Thanks," Rehv replied. Then his amethyst eyes shifted over to Butch.
As the two of them stared at each other, Butch realized they hadn't really met up since the night Marissa had fed.
"Hey, man," Butch said, putting his palm out.
Rehvenge walked over, leaning heavily on his cane. As the two of them shook, everyone took a deep breath.
"So, cop," Rehv said, "mind if I ask what you were doing to those slayers?"
A whimpering sound cut off any reply, causing them all to look at the Dumpster across the way.
"You can come out, boys," Rhage said. "Place is clear."
The hotshot blond pre-trans and his rented meat shuffled into the light. Both of them looked like they'd been put through a dishwasher: they were damp with sweat in spite of the cold, their hair and clothes all messed up.
Rehvenge's hard face registered surprise. "Lash, why aren't you in training now? Your father's going to have a shit fit that you were down here instead of-"
"He's taking a hiatus from classes," Rhage muttered dryly.
"To deal drugs," Butch added. "Check his pockets."
Rhage went in for some frisk action, and Lash was too shocked out to protest. The result was a wad of cash as big as the kid's head and a handful of little cellophane packets.
Rehv's eyes glowed with angry purple light. "Give that shit to me, Hollywood-the powder, not the green."
When Rhage handed the stuff over, Rehv cracked one of the packets, licked his pinkie, and stuck it inside.
After he put his finger on his tongue, he grimaced and spat. Then he jabbed his cane at the kid. "You're not welcome here anymore."
That little news flash seemed to shake Lash out of his stupor. "Why not? It's a free country."
"First of all, this is my house, that's why. Second, not that I need any other reason, the shit in those bags is contaminated and I'm willing to bet you're responsible for the rash of ODs we've had lately. So like I said, you're not welcome here anymore. I won't have punks like you spoiling my stream of commerce." Rehv stuffed the baggies in his coat pocket and glanced at Rhage. "What are you going to do with him?"
"Drive him home."
Rehv smiled coldly. "How convenient for us all."
Abruptly, Lash fell into whimper mode. "But we're not going to tell my father-"
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"Everything," Rehvenge snapped. "Trust me, your daddy's going to know fucking everything."
Lash's knees wobbled. And then the