his parka, the two of them went out through the front
vestibule.
The night was the color of a dove, the stars faded by a thin saturation of clouds that was backlit
by a full moon. According to the calendar spring was coming, but it was just in theory, if you
went by the landscape: The fountain in front of the mansion remained out of commission for the
winter, empty and waiting to be refilled. The trees were like black skeletons reaching to the sky,
pleading with their bony arms for the sun to get stronger. Snow lingered on the lawns, stubbornly
hanging in over ground that was still frozen solid.
The wind held a cheek-slapping chill as he and Zsadist walked over to the right, the pebbles of
the courtyard shifting under their boots. The compound's security wall was off in the distance, a
twenty-foot-tall, three-foot-thick bulwark that encircled the Brotherhood's property.
The thing was strung with security cameras and motion detectors, a good soldier packing a
shitload of ammo. But all that was just small potatoes, really. The true keep-out was the 120
volts of electrical charge that ran across the top in curls of barbed wire.
Safety first. Always.
John followed Z down the snow-patched lawn, passing battened-down flower beds and the
drained swimming pool in the back. After a gentle decline they reached the forest edge. At this
point the monster wall hung a sharp louie and shot down the mountainside. They didn't follow it,
but penetrated the tree line.
Beneath thick pines and densely branched maples there was a pad of old needles and leaves and
not much undergrowth. Here, the air smelled like earth and cold air, a combination that made the
inside of his nose tingle.
As usual, Zsadist led. The paths they took each night were different and felt random, but they
always ended at the same place, a short-stack waterfall: The brook that came down the
mountainside threw itself off a little cliff, then formed a shallow pool some nine feet across.
John went over and put his hand into the gurgling rush. As his palm pierced the tumble, his
fingers numbed out from the cold.
In silence Zsadist crossed the stream, leaping from rock to rock to rock. The Brother's grace was
that of the water, flowing and strong, his footing so sure it was clear he knew precisely how his
body would react to each shift of muscle.
On the far side he walked up to the waterfall so he was across from John.
Their eyes met. Oh, man, Z had something to say tonight, didn't he.
The walks had started up after John had attacked another classmate and laid the kid out cold in
the locker room shower. Wrath had made them a condition upon John staying in the training
program, and he'd dreaded them at first, figuring Z was going to try to crawl all around his head.
Up until now, however, they had always been about silence.
That wasn't going to be the case tonight.
John retracted his arm, walked downstream a little, and crossed over without Zsadist's
confidence or dexterity.
As he came up to the Brother, Z said, «Lash is coming back.»
John crossed his arms over his chest. Oh, great, the asshole John had put on a gurney. Granted,
Lash had been beyond asking for it, coming after John, heckling and pushing him, turning on
Blay. But still.
«And he's gone through the change.»
Terrific. Even frickin' better. Now the bastard would be gunning for him with muscle.
When? John signed.
«Tomorrow. I've made it clear if he pulls any shit, he's out for good. You have problems with
him, you come to me, we clear?»
Shit. John wanted to take care of himself. He didn't want to be watched over like a kid.
«John? You come to me. Nod your damn head.»
John did so slowly.
«You will not aggress on the fucker. I don't care what he says or what he does. Just because he
gets up in your face doesn't mean you have to react.»
John nodded, because he had a feeling Z was going to ask him to again if he didn't.
«I catch you going all Dirty Harry, you're not going to like what happens.»
John stared into the rushing water. God . . . Blay, Qhuinn, now Lash. All changed.
Paranoia took root and he looked at Z. What if the transition doesn't happen for me?
«It will.»
How do we know for sure?
«Biology.» Z nodded at a huge oak tree. «That thing is going to leaf up when the sun hits it. Can't
help it, and the shit's the same with you. Your hormones are going to kick in hard-core, and then
it happens. You can feel them already, can't you?»
John shrugged.
«Yeah, you can. Your patterns
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