one had been inducted within the last year or so: There was some trace of human still in him, although Butch wasn't sure how he knew this. The other two were far older in the Society and he was certain of this not just because their hair and skin had paled out.
He stopped when he was behind the three and stared through their big bodies at V and Rhage... who were looking like they'd watched a good friend die in their arms.
Butch knew exactly when the lessers were going to attack and he moved forward with them. Just as Rhage and V sank down into fighting stances, Butch grabbed the middle slayer around the neck and flipped him onto the ground.
The lesser hollered and Butch jumped on top of him, even though he knew he wasn't up to fighting. Sure enough, he was kicked off and the lesser took the driver's seat, sitting on him, choking him. The bastard was brutally strong and pissed off, nothing less than a sumo wrestler with rabies.
As Butch struggled to keep from getting his head ripped off his shoulders, he was dimly aware of a flash of light and a pop. And then another. Clearly, Rhage and V had cleaned house and Butch heard them pound it over. Thank God.
Except it was just as they arrived that the freak show started.
Butch looked deeply into the undead's eyes for the first time and something clicked into place, just locked the Page 99
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two of them up tight as if there were iron bars encircling their bodies. As the slayer went utterly still, Butch felt this overwhelming urge to... well, he didn't know what. But the instinct was strong enough to have him opening his lips to breathe.
And that was when the inhaling started. Before he knew what he was doing, his lungs began to fill in one long, steady draw.
"No..." the slayer whispered, trembling.
Something passed between their mouths, some cloud of blackness leaving the lesser and getting drawn into Butch-The connection was broken with a brutal attack from above. Vishous grabbed the slayer and yanked the undead free, throwing the thing against a building headfirst. Before the bastard could recover, V fell upon it, black blade slicing down.
As the spark and sizzle faded, Butch's arms fell limp against the asphalt. Then he rolled over onto his side and curled in on himself, arms linking tight against his stomach. His gut was killing him, but more to the point, he felt nauseous as shit, a nasty echo of what he'd struggled with when he'd been at his sickest.
A pair of shitkickers came into his line of sight, but he couldn't bear to look up and see either one of the brothers. He didn't know what the hell he had done or what had happened.
All he knew was that he and the lessers were kin.
V's voice was as thin as Butch's skin. "Are you okay?"
Butch squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "Think it's best... that you get me out of here. And don't you dare take me home."
Vishous unlocked his penthouse and muscled Butch inside while Rhage held the door open. The three of them had taken the cargo elevator up the back of the building, which made sense. The cop was a dead load, weighing more than he looked like he did, as if the pull of gravity had singled him out for special attention.
They laid the cop flat on the bed and he eased over onto his side, bringing his knees up until they hit his chest.
There was a long stretch of silence, during which Butch seemed to pass out.
Like he was walking off anxiety, Rhage started pacing around, and shit, after that showdown, V was all up in his head, too. He lit up and inhaled hard.
Hollywood cleared his throat. "So, V... this is where you go with the females, huh." The brother went over and fingered a pair of chains bolted into the black wall. "We heard stories, of course. Guess they're all true."
"Whatever." V headed to his bar and poured a long/tall of Grey Goose. "We've got to hit those lessers' houses tonight."
Rhage nodded toward the bed. "What about him?"
Miracle of miracles, the cop lifted his head. "I'm not going anywhere right now. Trust me."
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V narrowed his eyes on his roommate. Butch's face, which normally got all Irish ruddy if he exerted himself, was utterly blushless. And he smelled... faintly sweet. Like