Lover Avenged (Black Dagger Brotherhood 7)

"I'm not sure how long it's going to take," Tohr said, not wanting to even talk about the female. "You know, until I'm ready to fight. I'm going to have to spar some. Hit the shooting range. Physically? No clue how my body's going to rebound."

"Don't worry about time. Just get yourself healthy."

Tohr looked down at his hands and curled up a pair of fists. There was no meat on the bones at all, so his knuckles poked through the skin like a relief map of the Adirondacks, nothing but jagged peaks and hollow valleys.

It was going to be a long trip back, he thought. And even once he was physically strong, his mental deck of cards was still missing all of its aces. No matter how much he weighed or how well he fought, nothing was going to change that.

There was a sharp knock and he shut his eyes, praying it wasn't one of his brothers. He didn't want to make a big deal out of returning to the land of living.

Yay. Rah. Whoo. Hoo.

"What's doing, Qhuinn?" the king asked.

"We found John. Kinda."

Tohr's lids popped wide and he shifted around, frowning up at the kid in the doorway. Before Wrath could speak, Tohr said, "Was he missing?"

Qhuinn seemed surprised to see him up and about, but the guy gathered himself quickly as Wrath demanded, "Why wasn't I told he was gone?"

"I didn't know he was." Qhuinn came in, and the redhead from the training classes, Blay, was with him. "He told both of us he was off rotation and going to crash out. We took him at his word, and before you fist my balls, I stayed in my room the entire time because I thought he was in his. As soon as I realized he wasn't there, we went in search of him."

Wrath cursed under his breath, then cut off Qhuinn's apology. "Nah, it's cool, son. You didn't know. Nothing you could do. Where the f**k is he?"

Tohr didn't hear the answer for the roar in his head. John out in Caldwell alone? Gone without telling anyone? What if something had happened?

He cut through the conversation. "Wait, where is he?"

Qhuinn held up his phone. "He won't say. His text is just that he's safe, wherever he is, and he'll meet us out tomorrow night."

"When's he coming home?" Tohr demanded.

"I guess"-Qhuinn shrugged-"he's not."

Chapter THIRTY-SIX

Rehvenge's mother passed unto the Fade at eleven eleven a.m.

She was surrounded by her son and her daughter and her sleeping granddaughter and her fierce son-in-law and attended by her beloved doggen.

It was a good death. A very good death. She closed her eyes, and an hour later she gasped twice and let out one long exhale, as if her body were sighing in relief as her soul flew free of its corporeal cage. And it was strange...Nalla woke up at that moment and the young focused not on her granhmen, but above the bed. Her little chubby hands reached high, and she smiled and cooed as if someone had just stroked her cheek.

Rehv stared down at the body. His mother had always believed she would be reborn unto the Fade, the roots of her faith planted in the rich soil of her Chosen upbringing. He hoped that was true. He wanted to believe she lived on somewhere.

It was the only thing that eased the pain in his chest even slightly.

As the doggen began crying softly, Bella embraced her daughter and Zsadist. Rehv stayed apart from them, sitting alone on the foot of the bed and watching the color drain out of their mother's face.

When a tingle bloomed in his hands and feet, he was reminded that his father's legacy, like his mother's, was ever with him.

He stood up, bowed to them all, and excused himself. In the bathroom off the room he stayed in, he looked under the sink and thanked the Virgin Scribe that he'd been smart enough to tuck a couple of vials of dopamine in the back. Turning the heat light in the ceiling on, he took off his sable duster and stripped his Gucci jacket from his shoulders. When the red glow from up above freaked his shit out, because he thought the stress of the death was bringing out his bad side, he shut the thing off, cranked the shower on, and waited until the steam rose up before continuing.

He swallowed another two penicillin pills as he tapped his loafer.

When he could stand it, he rolled up his shirtsleeve and studiously ignored his reflection in the mirror. After he filled a syringe, he used his LV belt to loop around his biceps, pulling the black leather over and holding it against his ribs.

The steel needle slipped into one of his infected veins and he hit the plunger-

"What are you doing?"

His sister's voice jacked his head up. In the mirror, she was staring at the needle in his arm and his red, rancid veins.

His first thought was to bark at her to get the f**k out. He didn't want her to see this, and not just because it meant more lying. It was private.

Instead, he calmly pulled the syringe free, capped it, and tossed it. As the shower hissed, he pulled his sleeve down, then put on his jacket and his sable coat.

He turned off the water.

"I'm diabetic," he said. Shit, he'd told Ehlena he had Parkinson's. Damn it.

Well, it wasn't like the two were going to meet anytime soon.

Bella lifted her hand to her mouth. "Since when? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He forced a smile. "Are you okay?"

"Wait, since when has this been going on?"

"I've been injecting myself for about two years now." At least that wasn't a lie. "I see Havers regularly." Ding! Ding! Another truth. "I'm managing it well."

Bella looked at his arm. "Is that why you're always cold?"

"Bad circulation. It's why I need the cane. Bad balance."

"I thought you said that was because of an injury?"

"The diabetes compromises how I heal."

"Oh, right." She nodded sadly. "I wish I'd known."

As she stared up at him with her big blue eyes, he hated lying to her, but all he had to do was think of his mother's peaceful face.

Rehv put his arm around his sister and led her out of the bathroom. "It's no big deal. I'm on it."

The air was cooler in the bedroom, but he knew this only because Bella wrapped her arms around herself and hunkered in.

"When should we do the ceremony?" she asked.

"I'll call the clinic and have Havers come out here at nightfall and wrap her. Then we have to decide where to bury her."

"At the Brotherhood compound. That's where I want her."

"If Wrath will let the doggen and me come, that's fine."

"Of course. Z's on the phone with the king now."

"I don't think there's much of the glymera left in town who'd want to say good-bye."

"I'll get her address book from downstairs and put together an announcement."

Such a factual, practical conversation, illustrating that death was indeed part of living.

When Bella let out a soft sob, Rehv pulled her against his chest. "Come here, sister mine."

As they stood together with her head on his chest, he thought of the number of times he'd tried to save her from the world. Life, however, had happened anyway.

God, when she had been small, before her transition, he had been so certain he could protect her and take care of her. When she was hungry, he made sure she had food. When she needed clothes, he bought them for her. When she couldn't sleep, he stayed with her until her eyes closed. Now that she had grown up, though, he felt like his repertoire was restricted to nothing but placations. Although maybe that was the way it worked. When you were young, a good lullaby was all you needed to ease the stress of the day and make you feel safe.

Holding her now, he wished there were such a quick fix for grown-ups.

"I'm going to miss her," Bella said. "We weren't very much alike, but I always loved her."

"You were her great joy. Always."

Bella pulled back. "And you as well."

He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Would you and your family like to have a rest here?"

Bella nodded. "Where do you want us?"

"Ask mahmen's doggen."

"Will do." Bella gave his hand a squeeze that he couldn't feel and left his room.

When he was alone, he went over to the bed and took out his cell phone. Ehlena never had texted him the night before, and as he retrieved the clinic's number from his address book, he tried not to worry. Maybe she had done the overday shift. God, he hoped she had.

Chances were small something bad had happened. Very small.

But he was calling her next.

"Hello, clinic," came the voice in the Old Language.