When there was a lull, John checked his watch. Another fifteen minutes then it was time to have a light meal and hit the gym. He couldn't wait.
When he'd started school here, he'd hated the mixed martial arts training. Now he loved it. He was still last in the class in terms of technical skills, but lately he'd more than made up for that in rage. And his aggression had caused a realignment in social dynamics.
Back in the beginning, three months ago, his classmates had ridiculed him. Accused him of sucking up to the Brothers. Derided him for his birthmark because it looked like the pectoral star scar of the Brotherhood. Now the other guys watched it around him. Well, everyone except for Lash. Lash still rode him, singling him out, cutting him down.
Not that John cared. He might be in this class with the rest of the trainees, he might technically be living in the compound with the Brothers, he might supposedly be linked to the Brotherhood by the blood of his father, but ever since he'd lost Tohr and Wellsie, he was a free agent so far as he was concerned. Bound to no one.
So the other folks in this room were nothing to him.
He shifted his stare to the back of Lash's head. The guy's long blond hair was in a ponytail that rested smoothly down a jacket made by some fancy designer. And how did John know about the designer thing? Because Lash always told everyone what he was wearing when he walked in for class.
Had also mentioned tonight that his new watch was iced out by Jacob the Jeweler.
John narrowed his eyes, getting juiced up just thinking about the sparring the two of them would do in the gym. As if the guy felt the heat, Lash turned, his diamond earring sparkling. His lips lifted into a nasty little smile, then pursed as he blew John a kiss.
"John?" Zsadist's voice was hard as a hammer. "Mind showing me some respect here?"
As John flushed and looked up front, Zsadist continued, tapping the board with a long forefinger. "Once a mech like this is activated it's triggered by a variety of things, sound frequency being the most common. You can call in from a cell phone, a computer, or use a radio signal."
Zsadist started drawing again, the scratch of chalk loud in the room.
"Here's another kind of detonator." Zsadist stepped back. "This one is typical of car bombs. You wire the action box into the car's electrical system. Once the bomb's armed, whenever the car's started, tick, tick, boom."
John's hand suddenly gripped his pen and he started to blink fast, feeling dizzy.
The redheaded trainee named Blaylock asked, "Does it go off right away after ignition?"
"There's a delay of a couple of seconds. I'd note also that because the car's wiring has been redirected, the engine won't catch. The driver will turn the key and hear nothing but a series of clicks."
John's brain began firing in a rapid, flickering sequence.
Rain... black rain on a car's windshield,
A hand with a key in it, reaching forward toward a steering wheel column.
An engine turning over but failing to catch. A feeling of dread, that someone was lost. Then a bright light -
John flipped out of his chair and hit the ground, but he was unaware he'd gone into a seizure: Too busy screaming in his head, he didn't feel a thing physically.
Someone was lost! Someone... was left behind. He'd left someone behind...
Chapter Ten
As dawn arrived and the steel shutters came down all around the mansion's billiards room, Vishous bit into an Arby's roast beef sandwich. Thing tasted like a phone book, through no fault of the ingredients.
At the soft smack of pool balls, he looked up. Beth, the queen, was just straightening from the felt.
"Nice shot," Rhage said as he lounged against a silk wall.
"Careful training." She walked around the table, sizing up her next stroke. When she leaned down again and braced the cue on her left hand, the queen's Saturnine Ruby flashed on her middle finger.
V wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "She's going to beat you again, Hollywood."
"Probably."
Except she didn't get the chance. Wrath plowed through the doorway, clearly in a mood. His long black hair, which was down almost to his leather-covered ass now, flared behind him, then came to rest on his thick back.
Beth put her cue down. "How is John?"
"Who the hell knows." Wrath went over and kissed her on the mouth, then on both sides of her neck over her veins. "He won't go to see Havers. Refuses to get anywhere near the clinic. Kid's asleep in Tohr's office now, just exhausted."
"What was the trigger for the seizure this time?"
"Z was doing a class on explosives. Kid just whacked out, ended up on the floor. Same as before when he saw you."
Beth wrapped her arms around Wrath's waist and leaned into her hellren's body. Their black hair mixed together, his straight, hers wavy. God, Wrath's was so damn long now. But word had it that Beth liked the stuff so he'd grown it out for her.
V wiped his mouth again. Weird, how males do shit like that.
Beth shook her head. "I wish John would come stay in the house with us. Sleeping in that chair, staying in the office... He spends so much time alone and he doesn't eat enough anymore. Plus Mary says he won't talk about what happened with Tohr and Wellsie at all. He just refuses to open up."
"I don't care what he talks about as long as he goes to the damn doctor." Wrath's wraparound sunglasses shifted over to V, "And how's our other patient? Christ, I feel like we need an in-house physician around here."
V reached for the Arby's bag and took out sandwich number two. "Cop's healing up. I think he'll be out in a day or so."
"I want to know what the f**k was done to him. The Scribe Virgin's giving me nothing on this one. She's silent as stone."
"I started the research yesterday. Began with the Chronicles." Which were eighteen volumes in the Old Language, of vampire history. God, talk about your wallbangers. The damn things were about as much fun as reading an inventory list for a hardware store. "If I don't find anything, there are some other places to check. Compendiums of oral tradition that were reduced to writing, that kind of shit. It is highly improbable that in our twenty thousand years of taking up space on the planet something like this hasn't happened before. I'm going to spend today working on it."
Because as usual there'd be no sleep for him. It had been over a week since he'd REM'd out, and there was no reason to think things were going to be any different this afternoon.
Holy hell... being up for eight days straight was not good for his brain wave activity. Without going into a dream state regularly, psychosis could easily take root and rewire your circuit. It was a wonder he hadn't lost it already.
"V?" Wrath said.
"Sorry? What?"
"You okay?"
Vishous bit into his roast beef and chewed. "Yeah, fine. Just fine."
When night fell some twelve hours later, Van Dean stopped his truck underneath a maple tree on a nice, tidy little street.
He did not like this situation.
The house on the other side of the shallow lawn wasn't trouble on the surface, just another whatever Colonial in this whatever neighborhood. The problem was the number of cars parked in the driveway. Four of them.
He'd been told he was meeting Xavier one-on-one.
Van cased the place from inside his truck. Shades were all down. Only two lights on inside. Porch light was off.
But there was a lot on the line. Saying yes to this gig meant he could kick the construction shit to the curb, reducing the wear and tear on his body. And he could make more than he did now by double so he could save something to survive on when he couldn't fight anymore.
He got out and walked up to the front stoop. The ivy-themed welcome mat that he planted his boots on was just too frickin' creepy.
The door swung open before he hit the bell. Xavier was on the other side, all big and bleached-out looking. "You're late."
"And you said we'd be meeting alone."
"Worried you can't handle company?"
"Depends on what kind it is."
Xavier stepped to the right. "Why don't you get in here and find out?"
Van stayed on the mat. "Just so you know, I told my brother I was coming here. Address and everything."
"Which brother, the older or the younger?" Xavier smiled as Van narrowed his eyes. "Yes, we know about them. As you say, their addresses and everything."
Van put his hand into the pocket of his parka. The nine-millimeter he was packing slid into his palm like the thing was finding home.