The Sinner (Black Dagger Brotherhood 18)

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?”

His words came out fast, like a tommy gun.

V’s diamond eyes narrowed, his expression becoming remote. “She came over in the nineteen fifties. With her hellren and her young. A boy and a girl.”

Syn closed his eyes and pictured the female running in that meadow around her parents’ cottage with her pretrans brother. “So she mated. Who is her mate?”

“An aristocrat.”

Popping his lids open, he frowned. “Tell me it is a love match.”

“Yes.”

Syn exhaled in relief. “This is good news. I’ve always wondered what happened to her. If I had believed in a benevolent creator, I would have prayed for just what she got. Where did she settle?”

“Here in Caldwell.”

“Really. Well, that’s good. She’s safe here—”

“Sunnise was killed in the Raids.” As Syn looked over in horror, V continued, “Along with her hellren and both her young. Murdered. By the lessers.”

“You’re lying. You’re telling me this to—”

V looked bored. “You think I would waste a split second on making this shit up? They were slaughtered in their home about seven miles from here. In the death photograph I saw, which was taken by a blooded relation of hers, she was holding her daughter. She had tried to shield the young with her own body. The hellren and the son were decapitated.”

When Syn heard something crack, he looked down. The cue ball in his hand had split in half, powdering under the pressure he had exerted upon it.

“You asked me to find her.” V finished his OJ. “And I did. What you do with the information, like everything else in your life, is up to you.”

With that, the Brother left the billiards room, the sound of his shitkickers drifting away until all Syn knew was the dense silence around him.

And the agony in his chest.

CHAPTER SIXTY

At the base of the alley downtown, Mr. F grabbed the back of the slayer’s parka and yanked the other lesser around. Putting his face into his subordinate’s, he spoke in a voice he had never heard come out of his mouth before.

“We stay together.” He looked the other two dead in the eye. “The four of us stay the fuck together or I will kill you myself.”

That was not an empty threat. Even though they were all technically immortal, he was done with the whole fucking thing. The Omega had meted out such a punishment with dawn’s arrival that Mr. F could barely walk. He could also barely hear, the ringing in his ears the kind of background noise through which he couldn’t decipher anything softer than a scream.

He had been tasked with finding recruits.

He had been told that it was his last chance.

And he had been aware that the Omega had changed. No more stains on the white robe. No more weakness. Nothing but a horrible power that seemed to gather further strength as the hours had passed.

Mr. F had been used as a piece of exercise equipment, and his misery had fueled the abuse further. When he had finally been cast out of Dhunhd and sent back to this world, he had known that he was being toyed with and lied to. As soon as he got the recruits in order, he was going to be demoted.

Or whatever was worse than demotion.

Tonight was his one shot at survival—on his own terms. If he didn’t execute faultlessly?

“We stay the fuck together,” he snapped.

The other two seemed too overwhelmed to argue about anything, and that was good for them. And as for this one with the AWOL ideas? Mr. F was going to break him like a horse if he had to.

“Now, we are going this way.” He pointed in the direction the internal signal was coming from. “And you are going to go together.” us 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?”

His words came out fast, like a tommy gun.

V’s diamond eyes narrowed, his expression becoming remote. “She came over in the nineteen fifties. With her hellren and her young. A boy and a girl.”

Syn closed his eyes and pictured the female running in that meadow around her parents’ cottage with her pretrans brother. “So she mated. Who is her mate?”

“An aristocrat.”

Popping his lids open, he frowned. “Tell me it is a love match.”

“Yes.”

Syn exhaled in relief. “This is good news. I’ve always wondered what happened to her. If I had believed in a benevolent creator, I would have prayed for just what she got. Where did she settle?”

“Here in Caldwell.”

“Really. Well, that’s good. She’s safe here—”

“Sunnise was killed in the Raids.” As Syn looked over in horror, V continued, “Along with her hellren and both her young. Murdered. By the lessers.”

“You’re lying. You’re telling me this to—”

V looked bored. “You think I would waste a split second on making this shit up? They were slaughtered in their home about seven miles from here. In the death photograph I saw, which was taken by a blooded relation of hers, she was holding her daughter. She had tried to shield the young with her own body. The hellren and the son were decapitated.”

When Syn heard something crack, he looked down. The cue ball in his hand had split in half, powdering under the pressure he had exerted upon it.

“You asked me to find her.” V finished his OJ. “And I did. What you do with the information, like everything else in your life, is up to you.”

With that, the Brother left the billiards room, the sound of his shitkickers drifting away until all Syn knew was the dense silence around him.

And the agony in his chest.

CHAPTER SIXTY

At the base of the alley downtown, Mr. F grabbed the back of the slayer’s parka and yanked the other lesser around. Putting his face into his subordinate’s, he spoke in a voice he had never heard come out of his mouth before.

“We stay together.” He looked the other two dead in the eye. “The four of us stay the fuck together or I will kill you myself.”

That was not an empty threat. Even though they were all technically immortal, he was done with the whole fucking thing. The Omega had meted out such a punishment with dawn’s arrival that Mr. F could barely walk. He could also barely hear, the ringing in his ears the kind of background noise through which he couldn’t decipher anything softer than a scream.

He had been tasked with finding recruits.

He had been told that it was his last chance.

And he had been aware that the Omega had changed. No more stains on the white robe. No more weakness. Nothing but a horrible power that seemed to gather further strength as the hours had passed.

Mr. F had been used as a piece of exercise equipment, and his misery had fueled the abuse further. When he had finally been cast out of Dhunhd and sent back to this world, he had known that he was being toyed with and lied to. As soon as he got the recruits in order, he was going to be demoted.

Or whatever was worse than demotion.

Tonight was his one shot at survival—on his own terms. If he didn’t execute faultlessly?

“We stay the fuck together,” he snapped.

The other two seemed too overwhelmed to argue about anything, and that was good for them. And as for this one with the AWOL ideas? Mr. F was going to break him like a horse if he had to.

“Now, we are going this way.” He pointed in the direction the internal signal was coming from. “And you are going to go together.”