Tohrment rode shotgun into town with Butch, and neither of them said a thing. When they got to the garage, they left the R8 in its parking space, checked in with Manny, and hit the streets.
And almost immediately . . .
. . . Butch knew which direction to go in.
When Syn got back to the mansion from Jo’s, he went around to the side wing and knocked on one of the French doors of the billiards room. He didn’t use the front entrance because he had no interest in crossing paths with anyone. He’d said his piece to Xcor about removing himself from the fighting, and now he was going to pack up his shit and get out of the house. Out of the way. Out of this world of war he had been in all his life.
He had no idea where to go. But he’d spent centuries living off his wits, surviving night to night, nothing permanent to ground him or sustain him. So hey, this change in living situation was not going to be a news flash.
Out west, he was thinking. Or maybe to the south. Staying in Caldwell was a big, fat not-it.
And he had to leave right now. If he didn’t, he was likely to go back to Jo and beg or something. For what, though, he didn’t know. She’d found out about that shit with the mob, and it had validated everything he had not told her—
The French door was unlatched and opened, but the male who did the duty was not a servant. Vishous was more like a force of nature, and his mood, which was snarky on a good night, was sharper than those blades he made for everyone.
“Thank you,” Syn muttered as he entered.
V shut things up, the cold getting cut off. “I was going to come find you.”
Eyeing the archway on the far side of the pool tables, Syn crossed his arms over his jacket. “You’re not talking me out of leaving.”
“Like I would bother?” V cocked a brow. “Your business isn’t mine, and you haven’t been conscripted or anything. Everyone is free to go. You’re not required to fight—”
Syn turned away. “I just wanted to be clear. That’s all—”
“—but you’re a pussy if you don’t.”
Pivoting back sharply, Syn felt his upper lip twitch. “What did you say?”
The Brother shrugged and walked around behind the bar where the bottles of top-shelf alcohol were lined up, soldiers ready to be called into service. He casually got one of the tall glasses from where the crystal was kept, but instead of pouring himself his usual strong dose of Goose, he hit the fruit juice. Six inches of fresh orange.
He tested the lip of his glass and swallowed. “Mmm, tasty. And you heard me. You’re a pussy if you quit.”
Syn stalked over to the bar, images of picking the Brother up and throwing him into all those glass bottle testing his impulse control. “What gives you the right to judge that?”
“The fact that I’m staying in the war and not expecting other people to do my work for me. The fact that my best friend is out facing the Omega right now. The fact that my brothers are with your cousins and comrades, in the field, trying to save the race. Meanwhile, you’re standing here in front of me, worried about yourself, thinking about yourself, butt hurt over some female you met how many days ago? ’Scuse me if I’m not impressed with your special snowflake routine. I’m too busy living in the real world and worrying about who’s going to die tonight.”
“You have no idea what I’ve been through.”
“I held my dead shellan in my arms. So I’m pretty sure that’s Yahtzee. But whatever, you do you—”
“You don’t understand what my sire was like.”
V pointed to his own chest. “Bloodletter. You want to compare résumés with that shit?”
“I can’t orgasm.”
Vishous opened his mouth. Then shut it. “Okay, you win. And this is coming from a guy who’s only got one nut.”
“It’s not a contest.” But Syn felt his temper abate a little. Although what a triumph, right? “And I’m tired of the killing.”
“So you’re giving up.” V shrugged and put out his palms. “Hey, don’t glare at me, true? You need to stare at your decision in the bright light of conscience and own that shit. Hating my ass is not going to help you with that.”
“I’m not quitting. I’m just done.”
One black eyebrow lifted. “You’re going to have to explain how those two are different to me.”
Syn walked around, and then stopped at one of the pool tables. He considered flipping the thing to release some pent-up energy, but then he just trailed his fingertips in between the scattered, colorful balls, the green felt offering a soft resistance.
“I wasn’t in the war for the species,” he heard himself say. “I was in it because I liked to kill. For the sport. For the cruelty. For the outlet. And I don’t have that drive anymore.”
“What’s changed?”
“I saw myself through another’s eyes. And the reflection was too close to my father’s for my liking. I was always determined not to be like him. I made rules and safeguards to guide that side of me. I had standards. In the end, though? The result was the same. I was killing him over and over again by proxy—but it wasn’t helping me and I became him in the process.”
“I heard that you were taking side jobs even here in Caldwell.”
“I did.”
Vishous poured himself more orange juice, the sound of the liquid filling his glass loud in the silence. “Past tense.”
“I’m giving up a lot of things as of tonight.” Syn picked up the cue ball and rolled the white weight around in his palm, wiping off a smudge of blue chalk. “No more of that.”
And it wasn’t just word service. Something was fundamentally different for him. Ever since his transition, his talhman had always been inside of him, a monster prowling the fence line of its enclosure, looking for signs of weakness, opportunities for escape, lapses in oversight.
No more. There was . . . a strange silence in the center of him.
But he wasn’t numb. Oh, no, he was definitely not numb. He had a constant, weighted pain on his heart, to the point where he struggled to take a deep breath. It was the loss of Jo, of course—and he had a feeling the mourning was going to stick with him for the rest of his life. True love, after all, could be expressed in many different ways, but the one commonality to it was that it lasted. It was a permanence, in whatever form it took.
Especially when it was lost.
“You told Xcor, then?” V asked.
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“Not much.”
“How’d you feel when you were telling him?”
Syn stared at the perfectly smooth surface of the cue ball. “It is what it is.”
“You’re not bothered at all that he and your cousins are out there without you?”
“You’re trying to lead me to a conclusion.”
“No, I’m trying to make you see past yourself.” V came around from the bar, glass of OJ in hand. “But yeah, I was going to come and find you. I have the answer to the question you asked me yesterday. About that female you knew from the Old Country.”
Syn looked up with a jerk. “You found her? Is she here? In the New World?”