Peeling onto Eighteenth Street, he ran up a car that was parked on the sidewalk, pounding over the hood, the roof, and somersaulting into the air above the trunk. He landed in mid-stride and kept tooling, a barrage of self-inflicted criticism spurring him on.
Fucking half-breed, motherfucker, loser, piece of shit—
The last turn was one he lost traction on, the treads on his boots pried loose thanks to the centrifugal force of his body weight at an angle. As a result, he skidded into home on his ass, his feet out in front of him, his torso and legs continuing the trajectory while his head cranked to the side in the direction of what had called him.
The Omega was front and center in the middle of the alley, the evil’s presence like a stain on the night itself, the density of the bad news so great there was a warping of the air around it. Yet the master of all lessers was actually second on Butch’s list of things to worry about.
Qhuinn was a mere fifteen feet away from the Omega, standing frozen over the body of a slayer, his attention fixated on the dark deity like behind his mismatched eyes he was considering a defensive response—or worse, an offensive one.
As Butch did the math on any confrontation between the two, the only thing he thought of was those kids, Rhamp and Lyric… those beautiful kids that the brother shared with Layla. If Qhuinn died right here, right now, at the hands of the Omega, the adults of the Brotherhood household would mourn and move along, eventually. But that sweet little girl and that sturdy little guy? They would never know their sire. They would grow up with only the memories of other people filling the void of who their brave, strong, incredible father was.
Fuck. That. Shit.
As Butch back-flat’d into Qhuinn, he jumped up in the midst of his momentum, grabbed the brother by the jacket, and yanked them face-to-face.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Butch hissed. “Now!”
Qhuinn started to argue, of course. But nope. Not up for discussion. Shifting their bodies around, Butch made sure Rhamp and Lyric’s father was behind him—and then he torqued with every ounce of body weight and power he had, sending the huge male pinwheeling through the air away from the juncture of an alley, a vampire Frisbee.
There was a crash—like some trash bins had been bowling ball’d—and then Butch barked into his shoulder communicator.
“All clear,” he said. “All clear. Repeat… false alarm.”
Qhuinn stood up down the street and Butch glared at the guy, sending all kinds of GTFO in the male’s direction. And what do you know, something must have clicked. The brother dematerialized.
“Repeat, all clear,” Butch stressed as he refocused on the Omega—
Oh, looksee, looksee, there was another slayer right by the master, the Fore-lesser. A BOGO.
“Isn’t this lovely,” the Omega said in a voice that weaved through the unnaturally still air. “We meet again.”
“That’s a line from a bad movie.” Butch unsheathed both his black daggers. “I expect more from the likes of you.”
“Such credit. I’m tickled. And I’ve missed you.”
“Can’t say the same over here.”
“You downplay your emotions.”
“Not when it comes to hating you.”
The Omega drifted over, leaving the Fore-lesser behind. “You know, you are one of my few regrets. If I hadn’t made you, you wouldn’t be such a problem.”
“We’re almost done here. The prophecy nearly complete.” Butch knelt by the slayer Qhuinn had taken down. “You come any closer, I’m going to go to work. And not with these daggers.”
The Omega paused. “Do as you wish. I like to watch.”
“If you leave, right now,” Butch said, “I’ll stab this piece of shit back to you. You hang around? I’m going to suck him down like a milkshake on a hot summer night. And something tells me by the look of your robe you can’t afford to lose much more.”
An unholy growl rose up, emanating from under the dirty white folds. “You mortal scourge—”
“Enough trading insults.” Butch leaned down, putting his mouth over the still moving lesser’s. “So what’s it going to be?”
“You need to learn the real meaning of power.”
With surprisingly quick reflexes, the Omega curled back an arm-like extension, and cast a dense, shadowy projectile through the air, the buzzing sound of its flight like that of a wasps’ nest riled up, the dark magic coming fast and on-target. The force hit Butch like a ton of bricks, throwing him off the gurgling, useless