"Missed what."
"That pissed-off expression you wear so often. Reminds me of the good old days." She regarded him steadily. "Is V going to be okay?"
"If I don't kick his ass for f**king with you - yes."
"So gallant." And she meant that. "You were amazing tonight."
She meant that, too.
He put the Kleenex aside on a counter. "So were you. That happen a lot?"
"Not really. But I have a feeling that may be changing."
Getting back to work, she made some perfunctory passes with the mop, not really improving the condition of the floor, but just moving the blood around. At this point, she probably would have more luck hosing the place down.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door and Fritz put his head in. "Your repast is ready. Where would you wish to dine?"
"He'll take it in the office," Jane answered. "At the desk." She glanced over at her former colleague. "Better go before it gets cold."
The look in Manny's eye was the ocular equivalent of a middle finger, but she just waved bon voyage. "Go. And then get some rest."
Except no one told Manny Manello what to do. "I'll be right there," he said to the butler.
As Fritz ducked out, her old boss put his hands on his hips. And although she braced herself for an argument, all he said was, "Where's my briefcase."
When Jane blinked, he shrugged. "I'm not going to berate you into talking to me."
"So you've turned over a new leaf."
"Go, me." He nodded over at the phone that was mounted on the wall. "I'm going to have to check my messages, and I want my damn cell phone back."
"Ah ... okay, your car has to be in the parking garage. Just go down the corridor. Maybe it's in your Porsche?"
"Thanks - "
"Are you thinking of leaving?"
"All the time." He turned and went for the door. "It's all I can think about."
Well ... didn't that make two of them. But then, Jane had never imagined that she'd not be here.
Proof positive that it wasn't helpful to have a lot of bright ideas about your future.
Chapter Thirty-three
Traditionally, in and among the glymera, when one entered the house of another, a calling card was to be placed upon a silver tray that was held out by the butler doggen of the host. The card was to have one's unique name and lineage listed, and the purpose was to announce the visitor, whilst at the same time pay homage to the social mores that shaped and defined the upper classes.
However, when one could not write or read ... or more to the point, when one preferred methods of communication that were more visceral and less viceroy?
Well, then one left the bodies of the dead he'd rendered in an alley for his "host" to find.
Xcor got up from the table he had been sitting afore and took his mug of coffee with him. The others were asleep below, and he knew he should join them, but there would be no rest. Not this day. Mayhap not the next.
Leaving those split yet writhing lessers behind had been a calculated risk. If humans found them? Trouble. And yet it was worth it. Wrath and the Brotherhood had too long ruled this continent, and to what end? The Lessening Society persisted. The vampire population had scattered. And those arrogant, flabby, feckless humans were everywhere.
Xcor paused in the downstairs hallway and looked around his permanent accommodations. The house that Throe had secured was indeed appropriate. Made of stone, it was old and on the outskirts, two measures of value that were highly appropriate for their purposes. At some point in its life, it had been quite a showplace, but that time had faded and so had its gentility. Now, it was a shell of what it had been, and all of what he required: stout of wall, sturdy of roof, and more than big enough to house his males.
Not that anyone would be up in these aboveground rooms or the seven bedrooms on the second floor very often. Even though heavy drapery was pulled o'er every window, the countless panes of glass needed to be bricked in before things were really safe enough during the daylight hours.
Indeed, all stayed underground, in the cellar.
It was the good old days returned, he thought, for only in modern times had the conception of separate accommodations taken root. Afore they had eaten together, f**ked together, and taken their repose as a group.
As soldiers should.
Mayhap he would require them to remain beneath the earth. Together.
And yet he was not down there with them and had not been. Antsy and unsettled, ready to pursue but lacking prey at the moment, he'd been going from empty room to empty room, stirring dust along with his desire to conquer this new world.
"I have them. All of them."
Xcor stopped. Took a grab off the lip of his mug. Turned around. "How clever of you."
Throe entered what had once been a rather grand parlor room, but was now naught but cold and empty. The fighter was still dressed in leather, except somehow he gave off an elegant appearance. Not a surprise. Unlike the others, his pedigree was as perfect as his golden hair and his sky blue eyes. So too were his body and visage: No defects dwelled upon him or within him.
He was, however, very much one of the bastards.
As the male cleared his throat, Xcor smiled. Even after all these years together, Throe was uncomfortable in his presence. How quaint.
"And ..." Xcor prompted.
"There are remnants of two families in Caldwell at present. What is left of the other four main bloodlines is scattered around what is classed as New England. So some are mayhap up to five hundred to seven hundred miles away."
"How many are you related to?"
More with the throat clearing. "Five."
"Five? That would fill your social calendar rather quickly - planning on dropping by for any visits?"
"You know that I cannot."
"Oh ... indeed." Xcor finished off his coffee. "I had forgotten you'd been denounced. Guess you shall have to tarry with us heathens herein."
"Yes. I shall."
"Mmm." Xcor took a moment to enjoy the awkward silence.
Except then the other male had to ruin it: "You have no grounds to proceed," Throe said. "We are not of the glymera."
Xcor flashed his fangs in a smile. "You worry o'ermuch about rules, my friend."
"You cannot call a meeting of the Council. You do not have standing."
"True enough. It is, however, another story to present them with a reason to convene. Was it not you yourself who said there were grumbles about the king following the raids."
"Aye. But I am well aware of what you seek, and the end goal is treason at best, suicide, at worst."
"Such a narrow thinker you are, Throe. For all of your practical education, you have a gross lack of vision."
"You cannot depose the king - and surely you are not thinking of trying to kill him."
"Kill?" Xcor cocked a brow. "I do not wish him a coffin for a bed. Not a'tall. I bid him a long life ... such that he may stew in the juices of his failure."
Throe shook his head. "I know not why you hate him so."
"Please." Xcor rolled his eyes. "I have nothing against him personally. It is his status that I covet, pure and simple. For him to be alive whilst I sit upon his throne is just an added spice for my meal."
"Sometimes ... I fear you are mad."
Xcor narrowed his eyes. "I assure you ... I am neither enraged nor insane. And you should walk carefully the line you stand upon with comments like that."
He was fully capable of killing his old friend. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. His father had taught him that soldiers were no different from any other weapon - and when they were in danger of misfiring? They had to go.
"Forgive me." Throe bowed slightly. "My debt to you remains. As does my loyalty."
Such a sap. Although in truth, Xcor murdering the male who had defiled Throe's sister had been a very worthwhile investment of time and blade, for it had tied this steadfast and true fighter to him. E'ermore.
Throe had sold himself to Xcor to get the deed done. Back then, the male had been too much of a dandy to commit the murder with his own hand, and so he had forced himself into the shadows to seek what he would never have invited in through even the service entrance of his mansion. He had been shocked when the money offered had been turned down, and had started to walk off when Xcor had made his demand.
A quick jogging of the memory as to the condition his sister had been found in had been enough to get a pledge out of him.