"Then bring one with him."
She wondered how Mary would feel about getting tangled up in their world. "The female he's using tonight is a human."
"We'll take care of her memory."
"How do I get to you?"
"We will send a car for you. At nine o'clock."
"My address is - "
"We know where you live."
As the phone went dead, she shivered a little.
Okay. Now she just had to get John and Mary to agree to see the Brotherhood.
When she got back to Mary's barn, John was sitting at the kitchen table while the female ate some soup. They both looked up as she approached, and she tried to be casual as she sat down. She waited a little bit before throwing the ball out.
"So, John, I know some folks who are into the martial arts." Which wasn't exactly a lie. She'd heard the brothers were good at all kinds of fighting. "And I was wondering, would you have any interest in meeting them?"
John cocked his head and moved his hands around while looking at Mary.
"He wants to know why. For training?"
"Maybe."
John signed some more.
Mary wiped her mouth. "He says that he can't afford the cost of training. And that he's too small."
"If it were free would he go?" God, what was she doing, promising things she couldn't deliver? Heaven knew what the Brotherhood would do with him. "Listen, Mary, I can take him to a place where he can meet... tell him it's a place where master fighters hang out. He could talk to them. Get to know them. He might like to - "
John tugged on Mary's sleeve, signed some, and men stared at Bella.
"He wants to remind you that he can hear perfectly well."
Bella looked at John. "I'm sorry."
He nodded, accepting the apology.
"Just come meet them tomorrow," she said. "What do you have to lose?"
John shrugged and made a graceful movement with his hand.
Mary smiled. "He says okay."
"And you'll have to come, too. To translate."
Mary seemed taken aback, but then stared at the boy. "What time?"
"Nine o'clock," Bella replied.
"I'm sorry, I'll be working then."
"At night. Nine o'clock at night."
Chapter Five
Butch walked into One Eye feeling like someone had pulled the stoppers out of a number of his internal organs. Marissa had refused to see him, and though he wasn't surprised, it still hurt like a bitch.
So it was time for some Scotch therapy.
After sidestepping a drunken bouncer, a knot of floozies, and a pair of arm wrestlers, Butch found the troika's regular table. Rhage was in the far corner behind it, up against the wall with a brunette. V was nowhere in sight, but a glass filled with Grey Goose and a knotted drink stirrer were in front of a chair.
Butch was two shots in and not feeling much better when Vishous came out from the back. His shirt was untucked and wrinkled at the bottom, and right on his heels was a black-haired woman. V waved her off when he saw Butch.
"Hey, cop," the brother said as he sat down.
Butch tipped his shot glass. "What's doing?"
"How - "
"No go."
"Aw, hell, man. I'm sorry."
"Me, too."
V's phone went off and he cocked it open. The vampire said two words, put the thing back in his pocket, and reached for his coat.
"That was Wrath. We've got to be back at the house in a half hour."
Butch thought about sitting and drinking alone. That plan had bad idea written all over it. "You want to poof it or ride back with me?"
"We got time to drive."
Butch tossed the Escalade's keys across the table. "Bring the car around. I'll grab Hollywood."
He got up and headed for the dark corner. Rhage's trench coat was flared out around the brunette's body. God only knew how far things had gone underneath.
"Rhage, buddy. We gotta bounce."
The vampire lifted his head, all tight lips and narrowed eyes.
Butch held his hands up. "I'm not cock-blocking for kicks and giggles. The mother ship called."
With a curse, Rhage stepped back. The brunette's clothes were disarranged and she was panting, but they hadn't gotten to showtime yet. Hollywood's leathers were all where they should be.
As Rhage retreated, the woman grabbed at him as if realizing the orgasm of her life was about to walk out the door. With a smooth movement, he passed his hand in front of her face and she froze. Then she looked down at herself as if trying to figure out how she'd come to be so aroused.
Rhage turned away with a glower, but by the time he and Butch were outside, he was shaking his head ruefully.
"Cop, listen, I'm sorry if I gave you the evil eye back there. I get a little... focused."
Butch clapped him on the shoulder. "No problem."
"Hey, how did your female - "
"Not a chance."
"Damn, Butch. That rots."
They piled into the Escalade and headed north, following
Route 22 deeper into the countryside. They were going at quite a clip, Trick Daddy's Thug Matrimony thumping like a jackhammer, when V hit the brakes. In a clearing, back about a hundred yards from the road, there was something hanging from a tree.
No, someone was in the process of hanging something from a tree. With an audience of pale-haired, black-clothed tough guys watching.
"Lessers," V muttered, easing off onto the shoulder.
Before they came to a full stop, Rhage exploded out of the car, running flat-out toward the group.
Vishous looked across the front seat. "Cop, you might want to stay - "
"Fuck you, V."
"You armed with one of mine?"
"No, I'm going out there naked." Butch grabbed a Glock out from under the seat, flipping off the semi's safety as he and Vishous jumped to the ground.
Butch had seen only two lessers before, and they freaked him out. They looked like men, they moved and talked like men, but they weren't alive. One look in their eyes and you knew the slayers were empty vessels, the soul gone somewhere else. And they stank to high heaven.
But then again, he never could stand the smell of baby powder.
Out in the clearing, the lessers assumed attack positions and reached into their jackets as Rhage covered the yards of meadow grass like a freight train. He fell upon the group in some kind of suicidal surge, no weapon drawn.
Jesus, the guy was nuts. At least one of those slayers had taken out a handgun.
Butch leveled the Glock and tracked the action, but couldn't get a clean shot. And then he realized he didn't need to play back-up.
Rhage handled the lessers by himself, all animal strength and reflexes. He was ripping some kind of martial-arts hybrid, his trench coat flaring out behind him as he kicked heads and punched torsos. He was deadly beautiful in the moonlight, his face twisted into a snarl, his big body pummeling the tar out of those lessers.
A holler lit off to the right and Butch wheeled around. V had taken down a lesser who'd tried to run, and the brother was all over the damn thing like white on rice.
Leaving the Fight Club stuff to the vampires, Butch headed over to the tree. Strung up from a thick branch was the body of another lesser. The thing had been worked over but good.
Butch loosened the rope and lowered the body, checking over his shoulder because the smacks and grunts of fighting were suddenly louder. Three more lessers had joined the fray, but he wasn't worried about his boys.
He knelt down to the slayer in front of him and started going through its pockets. He was pulling out a wallet when a gun went off with an awful popping sound. Rhage hit the ground. Flat on his back.
Butch didn't think twice. He shifted into firing position and aimed at the lesser who was about to plow another slug into Rhage. The dock's trigger never got pulled. From out of nowhere, there was a brilliant flash of white, like a nuke had gone off. Night turned to day as everything in the clearing was illuminated: the autumnal trees, the fighting, the flat space.
As the brilliance receded, someone came running at Butch. When he recognized V, he lowered the gun.
"Cop! Get in the f**king car!" The vampire was hauling ass, legs pumping like he was about to get served.
"What about Rhage - "
Butch didn't get the rest of the sentence out. V hit him like a piledriver, doing a grab and drag that ended only when they were both in the Escalade and the doors were shut.
Butch turned on the brother. "We're not leaving Rhage out there!"