Xcor flashed his fangs in a smile. «You worry o’ermuch about rules, my friend.»
«You cannot call a meeting of the Council. You do not have standing.»
«True enough. It is, however, another story to present them with a reason to convene. Was it not you yourself who said there were grumbles about the king following the raids.»
«Aye. But I am well aware of what you seek, and the end goal is treason at best, suicide, at worst.»
«Such a narrow thinker you are, Throe. For all of your practical education, you have a gross lack of vision.»
«You cannot depose the king — and surely you are not thinking of trying to kill him.»
«Kill?» Xcor cocked a brow. «I do not wish him a coffin for a bed. Not a’tall. I bid him a long life. . such that he may stew in the juices of his failure.»
Throe shook his head. «I know not why you hate him so.»
«Please.» Xcor rolled his eyes. «I have nothing against him personally. It is his status that I covet, pure and simple. For him to be alive whilst I sit upon his throne is just an added spice for my meal.»
«Sometimes. . I fear you are mad.»
Xcor narrowed his eyes. «I assure you. . I am neither enraged nor insane. And you should walk carefully the line you stand upon with comments like that.»
He was fully capable of killing his old friend. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. His father had taught him that soldiers were no different from any other weapon — and when they were in danger of misfiring? They had to go.
«Forgive me.» Throe bowed slightly. «My debt to you remains. As does my loyalty.»
Such a sap. Although in truth, Xcor murdering the male who had defiled Throe’s sister had been a very worthwhile investment of time and blade, for it had tied this steadfast and true fighter to him. E’ermore.
Throe had sold himself to Xcor to get the deed done. Back then, the male had been too much of a dandy to commit the murder with his own hand, and so he had forced himself into the shadows to seek what he would never have invited in through even the service entrance of his mansion. He had been shocked when the money offered had been turned down, and had started to walk off when Xcor had made his demand.
A quick jogging of the memory as to the condition his sister had been found in had been enough to get a pledge out of him.
And subsequent training had done wonders. Under Xcor’s tutelage Throe had hardened o’er time, like steel forged in heat. Now he was a killer. Now he was useful for something other than playing social statue at dinner parties and balls.
Such a shame his bloodline hadn’t seen the transformation as an improvement — in spite of the fact that his father had been a Brother, for godsakes. You’d think the family would have been grateful. Alas, they had disowned the poor fucker.
It made Xcor positively weep every time he thought about it.
«You will write to them.» Xcor smiled again, his fangs tingling, his cock doing likewise. «You will write to all of them and you will announce our arrival. You will point out their losses, reminding them of the young and the females that were cut down that summer night. You will recall to their minds all the audiences they have not had with their king. You will express the proper outrage on their behalf and you will do it in a way they will understand — because you were once one of them. And then we shall wait. . to be summoned.»
Throe bowed. «Aye, my leahdyre.»
«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.
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 really at, kind of like he’d hung a tight louie and faked out the poor bastards who were calling him. And he had no idea, once these vampires worked on his brain again, whether there would be anything left to count to ten with, much less use to operate on a patient or run a surgical department. There was no way of knowing what condition he was going to be in when he came out of all this—
The sound of a toilet flushing had him bolting upright.
As the bathroom door opened, he saw Payne’s silhouette spotlit from behind, her johnny disappearing into nothing more than a filmy sheet.
Sweet. . baby. . Jesus. .
His morning hard-on started to pound, and didn’t that make him wish he’d slept in the damn chair. Trouble was, when he’d finally come back to her, he hadn’t had the strength to say no when she’d asked him to join her.