There was a pause. “And?” Jo prompted.
That pale stare narrowed again. Then the voice dropped low. “Annnnnnd sometimes people need to be taught a lesson. It’s amazing how losing something you care about can reprioritize things. I do not apologize for that one. Ever.”
Jo blinked. And then found herself nodding. “Okay.”
She looked at Syn. He had taken a step back so that he was mostly hidden in the darkness outside the reach of the building’s security lights. And when he took another, he was nearly invisible, nothing but an outline in black blending in with the night.
“Your brothers will be there,” Balthazar said gently. “And Doc Jane will come so you have medical support. You will never be alone with me and there will be nothing sexual about it. I swear this on my honor— which, okay, fine, I don’t have a lot of, but what I do have is yours. You can trust me. All right?”
Jo searched that lean, hard face. And for some stupid reason, she got teary.
No, wait. She knew why.
In spite of everything that had gone down, and everything she knew about Syn . . . she still wanted it to be him.
“All right,” she said in a hoarse voice.
With that response, Syn took a final step away, the darkness enveloping him so completely that it was as if he disappeared—
“Syn?” she said.
Jo lurched forward and waved her hands around where he had been standing—well, waved one of her hands and then the gun she was still holding. There was nothing there. Not even the scent of him lingered. As her heart pounded, she turned to Balthazar.
“What happened to him?”
“Oh, hasn’t anyone told you? We have tricks. Poof! Bye-bye. And you know the whole bats, garlic, and crosses stuff is for crap, right? That’s only in the movies.”
“Will I be able to . . .”
“Dematerialize? It depends. Not everyone who’s a half-breed can.” He made a face. “Do you find that term derogatory? I mean, I don’t want to disrespect you.”
Jo glanced at the male and felt as helpless as a heroine in a Bruce Willis movie. At least the ones from the late eighties.
“I don’t know what to think or feel, about anything.”
She went back to staring at where Syn had been—and felt like the sudden absence of him was a great metaphor for their relationship. Poof! And he was gone.
She should be grateful. Relieved. Liberated.
Instead, she hurt. All over.
“So you love him back, huh.”
Wheeling around, Jo recoiled. “What did you say?”
The following night, the night when the war ended, there was no moon in the clear velvet sky over Caldwell, New York. No stars twinkling from their heavenly perch, either. The galaxy itself seemed to hunker down, taking cover to avoid shrapnel.
As Butch stepped out of the Pit’s front door, he glanced up and felt a dread he had never known. Then he looked to the mansion’s grand entrance. The heavy panels that locked tight to protect those inside swung open, and one by one, the Brotherhood emerged. Z was the first out, his skulled trimmed hair and brutal, scarred face the kind of thing Butch had gotten used to seeing. Phury was, of course, behind his twin. Then it was Tohrment. Murhder. And Rhage. Qhuinn and John Matthew. Blay was with them. After that, the Band of Bastards emerged, led by Xcor—
“I love you.”
At the sound of his shellan’s voice, Butch turned. Marissa stood behind him, terror in her eyes, as if she knew, without him saying, what he sensed was true. This was it.
Touching her soft cheek, all kinds of things went through his mind. But as before, as always, none of the promises he wished he could make to her were under his control, and he was not going to have the last thing he told her be a lie.
“I love you, too.”
Leaning in, he was aware of his black daggers biting into the pads of his chest as he kissed her.
“I’m going to stay home tonight,” she said.
The reason why went unspoken. She never missed work, but this was a “never” kind of night.
“Beth asked me to come over to the big house.” Marissa’s beautiful eyes searched his face like she was looking for which way the winds of fate were blowing. “You know, to watch a movie.”
“Can I suggest a comedy?”
“We’re going with Fockers. The whole series.”
“Stiller and De Niro. Excellent choice.”
They fell silent. Sometimes, between married people who had remained connected after the nuclear bright glow of sexual attraction dimmed, there were no words needed. No words that could be enough. The emotions went too deep.
“I’ll call you,” he said.
“Please.”
They kissed again, and it was a long one—it reminded him of the way they had made love before he had gotten up to get showered, get dressed, get armed. And then she stepped away . . . and walked across the courtyard, her head down, her arms wrapped around herself.
A widow walking.
The brothers parted as she mounted the great stone steps and approached the open door, and as she passed through them, the huge males bowed to her in respect. Before she went inside, Marissa looked back at Butch and raised her palm.
He raised his own in return.
And then she was gone, the heavy door into the vestibule closing behind her, cutting off the sight of her slender form as well as the light that spilled out into the night.
“I dreamed of you,” Vishous said from back inside the Pit.
Butch shut his eyes and cursed—although he couldn’t say he was surprised. His roommate’s visions of the future were only ever about death, and everyone’s grave was close by this evening.
“Did you.” Butch glanced over his shoulder. “You going to tell me?”
V was dressed for war, in his leathers and with all his weapons on his body, but he was staying back on the home front. He and Rhage, as well as Rehvenge, with all his symphath traits, plus Payne and Xhex, were going to guard the mansion. Meanwhile, Manny was in the field already, down at the garage with the mobile surgical unit on standby, and Doc Jane, who, thanks to her ghostly status, could get anywhere in the blink of an eye, was preparing for a mass casualty event in the training center.
As Vishous came forward to the Pit’s open doorway, his lithe body moving like the predator he was, Butch was aware of bracing himself like he was about to be punched in the gut.
“The cross,” V said gravely. “The cross will save you.”
Butch fumbled into his muscle shirt in a panic. But like he would leave home without the damn thing? It was his fucking existential AmEx.
As he pulled the heavy gold weight out, he rubbed the cross with his thumb. “Right here.”
V nodded. “Keep it on.”
“Always.”
There was a pause. And then the hug came. As they embraced, Butch wished his roommate was coming out with him. As much as he respected the rest of the brothers and fighters, there was nobody he’d rather have at his six.
“I can be to you in a heartbeat,” V said roughly.
Butch nodded as they parted. And then he stepped off the stoop and crossed over to the R8. The plan was in place. The responsibilities defined. The territories assigned and the weapons and ammo apportioned.
There was nothing else to talk about.