"In the meantime, we shall hunt for lessers and keep a tally of our killings. So that when they ask after our health and well-being, which the aristocracy is wont to do, we can inform them that although prime-bred horses are pretty in the stables ... a pack of wolves is what you want guarding your back door."
The glymera were worthless on so many levels, but they were as predictable as a pocket watch; self-preservation was what made their hands, big and small, go 'round and 'round ... and 'round once more.
"Best go get your rest," Xcor drawled. "Or are you already on the hunt for one of your diversions." When there was no answer, he frowned at the reply hidden within the lack of response. "You have a purpose above and beyond what passed our fighting hours previously. The human dead are of far less concern than the living enemy of ours."
"Aye."
Read: Nay.
"Do not tarry in other pursuits to the disadvantage of our goals."
"Have I ever let you down?"
"There is still time, old friend." Xcor stared at the male from beneath half-masted lids. "There is always time for your bleeding-heart nature to get you into trouble. And lest you disagree, may I remind you of the circumstances you have found yourself in for the last two centuries."
Throe stiffened. "No. You need not. I am perfectly aware of where I am."
"Good." Xcor nodded. "That is rather important in this life. Carry on."
Throe bowed. "I bid you good sleep, my leahdyre."
Xcor watched the male depart, and as he found himself alone once again, the burning in his body annoyed him. Sexual need was such a waste of time, for it neither killed nor nourished, but on a regular basis, his cock and balls needed something other than a rough tugging session.
When darkness fell this coming night, Throe was going to have one other thing to procure for the band of bastards, and this time, Xcor was going to be forced to have his fill of it.
And they were going to need blood, as well. Preferably not human, but if they had to make do for now?
Well, they'd just have to get rid of the bodies, wouldn't they.
Chapter Thirty-four
THIRTY - FOUR
Back in the training center, Manny woke up on the hospital bed, not in the chair. After a momentary confusion, hazy memories brought it all back: After the butler had shown up with the food, Manny had eaten in the office, as Jane had told him to do - and that, as opposed to inside his car, was where he'd found his cell phone, wallet, keys, and briefcase. The little collection of Manellomentos had been right out in full view, just sitting on a chair, and the lack of security surprised him, given how locked-down everything else was.
Except then he'd turned his cell phone on and found that the SIM card was gone.
And he'd been willing to bet that he'd need an atomic bomb to get into or out of the garage without their permission. So his keys were immaterial.
Briefcase? Nothing but a PowerBar and some paperwork that had absolutely nothing to do with underground facilities, vampires, or Payne.
Guess all the why-bother explained the out-in-the-open.
He'd been ready to throw in the proverbial towel when it came to checking his voice mail, but then he'd taken a flyer and reached for the AT&T office phone at his elbow. Picking up the receiver, he'd hit 9 ... and the dial tone had been a total shocker. Although, really, what were the chances that anyone would be left unattended down here? Slim to none.
Except on a day when ninety percent of them had been injured fighting, and the other ten percent were worried about their brothers.
In short order, Manny had run through three voice mail systems: home, cell, and office. The first had had two messages from his mother. Nothing specific - house repairs were needed and she'd bogeyed the dreaded ninth hole. The cell had had one from the vet that he'd had to listen to twice. And the office ... had been just as depressing as the Glory shit: There had been seven messages from colleagues around the country and it was all so shatteringly normal. They wanted him to fly out and do consults or give papers at conferences or make spaces in his residency program for their kids or family friends.
The sad truth was, those run-of-the-mill requests lagged behind where his life was