eggs, but, goddamn it, he was not letting go. The longer he kept the lesser occupied, the more chance those females had to escape-Page 132
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Oh, shit, it was Tilt-A-Whirl time. The world spun and Butch hit the floor first, the lesser turtling over on top of him.
Bad place to be. Now he was the one who couldn't breathe.
He threw out a leg, kicked against the wall, and slid out from under, wrenching the lesser's torso.
Unfortunately, the bastard pulled a twist move, too, and the two of them started rolling around and around on the nasty orange carpet. Finally, Butch's strength wore out.
With little effort, the slayer flipped him over so they were face-to-face, then cranked Butch into a submission hold, immobilizing him.
Okay... now would be a great time for V to show up.
Except then the lesser looked down and met Butch's eyes, and everything just slowed down. Ground to a halt.
Stopped. Dead.
Another kind of vise action bolted them together, but this was a locking of stares and Butch was the one in control, even though he was on the bottom of the body pile. The lesser became transfixed and Butch followed his instincts.
Which meant he opened his mouth and began to inhale slowly.
But he wasn't taking in air. He was taking in the slayer. Absorbing him. Consuming him. It was as before in the alley, but now no one stopped the process. Butch just kept sucking in an endless draw, a streaming black shadow passing from the lesser's eyes and nose and mouth and going into Butch.
Who felt like a balloon filling up with smog. Who felt like he was assuming the mantle of the enemy.
When it was over, the slayer's body just disintegrated into ash, the fine mist of gray particles falling onto Butch's face, chest, and legs.
"Holy shit."
In utter despair, Butch shifted his eyes around. V was leaning in through the front door, holding on to the frame as if the house was the only thing keeping him standing.
"Oh, God." Butch rolled over onto his side, the ugly carpet scratchy on his cheek. He was wretchedly sick to his stomach, and his throat burned like he'd been hammering Scotch for hours. But worst, the evil was back in him, running through his veins.
As he breathed through his nose, he smelled baby powder.
And he knew it was him, not remnants of the lesser.
"V..." he said with desperation, "what did I just do?"
"I don't know, cop. I have no idea."
Twenty minutes later, Vishous shut himself and his roommate in the Escalade and hit all the locks. As he Page 133
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dialed his cell phone and put it up to his ear, he eyed Butch. The cop was looking multifactorial ill in the passenger seat, like he was seasick and jet-lagged and coming down with the flu all at the same time. And he reeked of baby powder, as if he were sweating out the scent through every one of his pores.
While the phone rang, Vishous started the SUV, threw it into drive, and thought back to Butch working some kind of mojo shit on that lesser. To steal a phrase from the cop, Holy Mary, Mother of God.
Man... that suck job was a hell of a weapon. But the complications were legion.
V glanced over again. And realized it was to reassure himself that Butch wasn't eyeing him as a lesser would.
Fuck.
"Wrath?" V said as his call was answered. "Listen, I-shit... our boy here just consumed a lesser. No... not Rhage. Butch. Yes, Butch. What? No, I saw him... consume the thing. I don't know how, but the lesser disappeared into dust. No, no knife involved. He inhaled the damn thing. Look, just to be conservative, I'm going to take him to my place and let him sleep it off. Then I'm coming home, true? Right... No, I have no clue how he did it, but I'll give you the blow-by-blow when I get to the compound. Yup. Right. Uh-huh. Oh, for God's-yes, I'm fine and quit asking me that. Later."
As he hung up and tossed the phone onto the dash, Butch's voice drifted over, all weak and hoarse. "I'm glad you're not taking me home."
"Wish I could, though." V took out a hand-rolled and lit it, drawing hard on the thing. As he blew smoke, he cracked one of the windows. "Jesus Christ, cop, how did you know you could do that?"
"I didn't." Butch coughed a little, like his throat was bothering him.