"Do that. And tell them that I am ready to meet with them at any time. You just call upon me - I am your servant in this as in all things. In fact," he paused for effect, "it shall be an honor to associate with them under your introduction - and together, you and I may ensure that they understand adequately the vulnerable state they are in under the rule of the Blind King, and the safety that you and I can provide for them. "
"Oh, yes, indeed. . . yes. " The gentlemale perked up at all that verbiage - which was precisely why it had been used. "And I am very appreciative of your candor. "
Amazing when calculation was mistaken for that.
"And I for your support, Elan. " As Xcor hung up the phone, he glanced over his soldiers and then focused on Throe. "After sunset, we coalesce upon Assail's property once again. Mayhap it will come to aught this time. "
As the others growled their readiness, he mutely raised his cell phone. . . and inclined his head to his second in command.
"Sire, we have arrived. The door is shutting behind our vehicle. "
As Fritz's voice came through the van's intercom, the butler's report wasn't a news flash, even though Tohr couldn't see anything of where they were from his vantage point in the back.
"Thanks, man. "
Drumming his fingers on the floor's Duraliner, he was still buzzed from all those beers he'd had with Lassiter, and his stomach was a sour pit thanks to that marathon of plastic butter and Milk Duds.
Then again, maybe the nausea was more about where they were.
"Sire, you are free to extricate yourself. "
Tohr crab-walked to the double doors, and wondered why the hell he was doing this to himself. After he and Lassiter had finished their homage to John McClane, the angel had taken off to go crash, and Tohr had. . . come up with this great idea, for no apparent reason.
Opening the way out. . . he stepped into his darkened garage and closed things up behind him.
Fritz put his window down. "Sire, mayhap I shall just wait here. "
"No, you go. I'm going to hang until sunset. "
"Are you certain the drapes are pulled indoors. "
"Yup. That's protocol, and I trust my doggen. "
"Mayhap I shall simply go through and double-check?"
"That's really not - "
"Please, sire. Do not send me home to face your king and your Brothers without my knowing you are safe. "
Hard to argue with that. "I'll wait here. "
The doggen hustled his old bones out from behind the wheel and headed across the way with admirable speed - probably because he was worried Tohr would change his mind.
As the butler slipped into the house, Tohr wandered around, inspecting his old lawn equipment, his rakes, his salt for the driveway. The Stingray convertible had been relocated to the mansion's garage. . . back on the night he'd brought Wellsie's gown over for Xhex.
He hadn't wanted to return here to drop off the dress after it had been cleaned and pressed.
Wasn't sure he wanted to be here now.
"All is secure, sire. "
Tohr pivoted away from the empty space where the Corvette had been parked. "Thanks, man. "
There was no waiting for the butler to leave before he went in - too much sunlight on the other side of the garage doors. So with a final wave, he pulled himself together. . . and walked into the back hall.
As the door clamped shut behind him, the first thing he saw in the mudroom was their winter coats. The damn parkas were still hung up on pegs, his, Wellsie's, and John's.
John's was tiny, because he'd been just a pretrans back then.