had the address.”
Blay linked his arms over his chest and shook his head. “He wanted to go alone. And I’d like to respect that.”
“He will be alone.”
“No offense, but if we’re on the property, that happens how?”
“He doesn’t see us.” Z leaned in, the ambient light of the city making the black daggers holstered over his heart gleam. “You honestly aren’t worried about him?”
“Of course I am. But we lived apart from each other for the last week, even as we were sleeping in the same room. We just got back on track. I don’t want to mess that up.”
“If you check on him because you’re concerned for his welfare, do you really think he’ll hold that against you?”
“I don’t know.”
Blay let his head fall back on his spine and looked to the sky. But if he was expecting any help with the decision from the muted show of stars, he didn’t get any. Besides, there was only one thing to do, wasn’t there.
So, yup, he told Z the address, and one after the other, they dematerialized to the street in question. As they re-formed on a sidewalk that had been snow-blown with ruler-worthy precision, Blay had chills—and not from the below-zero temperature.
“It’s okay, son,” Z murmured. “Let’s just gather the breath, shall we.”
It was a long moment before Blay could speak.
“The last time I was here . . . was the night I identified the bodies.” As he turned and faced the estate’s driveway, the treads of his shitkickers squeaked on the snow pack—and with every blink of his eyes, the past came back with greater and greater clarity. “The lessers had slaughtered everyone in the house, staff included. I found his mahmen and his sister upstairs in a maid’s closet. They were slumped together in each other’s arms. They had been shot in the head.”
“I’m sorry you had to see that, son.”
“His father . . .” Blay cleared his throat. “I found his father out in the back garden. He’d tried to run to escape, but he’d been wounded. There was a trail of blood leading to where his body was. His throat was sliced so deep that he was basically decapitated, and he had gunshot wounds all over him.”
Blay could still remember the male’s fine suit. Full of holes that smelled like lead, and stained with fresh red blood.
“And where was Luchas.”
“In his room. Over by his bureau.” Blay winced. “That’s where he told Qhuinn he’d hidden whatever it is. He’d probably been stashing it there when they got to him.”
“How’d they kill him.”
“Does it matter now?”
“Finish the story, son. It’s why you started talking. You need to get this out. It’s the other reason you’ve come here. You want to see your part in the story—and your identifying and burying the bodies is where so much of Luchas’s narrative began.”
Blay looked over at Z, a pit in his stomach. “Does that mean it’s my fault?”
“You didn’t do the killing on either night, son.”
“It feels like I did.”
The Brother shook his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not that powerful. Some things are inevitable, both for joy and for pain. Be honest. If Luchas was so weak, don’t you think he would have done what he did last week a while ago? He was a strong male of worth. In the end, though, the injuries were too much—and I’m not just talking about the physical ones. You weren’t responsible for his pain, and the choice was one he made for himself.”
Blay took a deep breath. “But what if I got him to thinking?”
“About what?”
“Where he was in his life. Whether he was ever going to get out of the clinic. If he had a future other than swimming in that pool, getting treatments for pain, and having hunks of him cut off to control infection?”
“You don’t think all of that shit wasn’t on his mind every second of every night and all the hours of each day? You really think that his reality was some kind of revelation he was avoiding—up until you said two words to him and all of a sudden he was like, ‘Fuck me, I’m here and it’s awful’?”
“I told him Qhuinn had been promoted to private guard in the Brotherhood.”
“So?”
“What do you mean, so. It clearly changed something for him.”
At that moment, an SUV drove past, its heavy tires carving a fresh track in the snow pack. Of course it was a Range Rover. Instinctually, Blay put his hand