Chapter Fourteen
As Shuli sat on the white sofa in his white parlor, he held his cell phone like it was a sacred, fragile object, something that could break if not handled properly, something that, if he were to look away from its glowing screen, might disappear out of his hold.
Never to return or be replaced.
Over in the archway, he was aware that the King and Queen were staring at him in the same way he was focused on the phone.
The royal couple were standing side by side, without the dog who usually accompanied Wrath.
When they’d turned up again, with a pair of Brothers in tow as security, he’d been better prepared: Not sober, no, given the bowl he’d lit up as soon as L.W.
’s mumsey and daddy had taken off the first time.
But at least he’d put on satin pajamas as well as his favorite slippers, the ones with his monogram done in golden thread on black velvet.
So he wasn’t barefoot in a damp bathrobe for this visit.
L.W., on the other hand, had nope’d the fuck right out. The second the male’s parents had materialized at the front entrance and the security camera had announced their arrival, he’d taken off and gone God only knew where.
So, the fighter didn’t know what had happened outside of Bathe.
Yet.
“I was supposed to still be with them all at the club,” Shuli heard himself say. “They wouldn’t have gone out there…if I’d been with them.”
That wasn’t bullshit. The group would have stayed for as long as he wanted them to because that was the way things worked and he always wanted to stay way, way past midnight.
And then when it was time to go, they would have come back here.
Not fucked around in that alley doing fuck all with the fuck nuts with them.
Until something deadly came out of the shadows. Something that smelled like baby powder sprinkled on a corpse. Something that wanted to kill.
Or worse, torture.
“Neither of them are getting back to me.” State the obvious, why didn’t he. “I, ah…they always answer.”
“We need all the names,” the King said. “The families must be contacted in person before dawn comes.”
Shuli looked up—way up—to meet Wrath, son of Wrath, sire of Wrath in the black wraparounds.
Then with a totally disassociated numbness, he recited the formal names of the four who had died, picturing each the way he had seen them last. As he spoke, he typed out the strings of letters that had once identified living people.
When he was finished, he hit send to the Brotherhood’s group chat.
“And the two who are missing,” the King prompted as the phone let out a little chord of transmission.
A wave of sickening dread punched at his gut. Those who had been murdered and gone unto the Fade were important. The pair who might still be alive in the hands of the enemy were the priority.
“Rolhand, son of Rolhand the Elder. And Emile, son of Dresden.” As the Queen let out a soft gasp, he cleared his throat. “I want to go talk to their parents. I want to…I need to talk to everybody’s family. With you or the Brothers or whoever goes, of course. I want to talk...to everybody.”
He tacked on the qualifier because who was he to be giving orders. Even though these were his friends…or, at the very least, closest of acquaintances…the King and the Brotherhood were in charge.
“We’ll handle it for now.” Wrath’s voice dropped into grim territory. “You need to leave here. Right now.”
“Why?”
“Those males have been in this house, right?”
“Huh—oh, yeah. There’ve been to a lot of parties here, sure.”
God, who knew that the good ol’ days would be something marked by a matter of hours. The killings had instantly opened up a huge divide, a before and after that made it feel like he’d last been at Bathe with his boys ten years ago.
“Any address they’ve ever been associated with should be considered compromised.” Wrath’s head moved around as if he could see. “Do you have a safe house?”
His fangs started to tingle in his upper jaw. “I’m not leaving.”
“Yes, you fucking will. My son will not stay here anymore, and you’re his ahstrux nohtrum.”
Shuli glanced down at his absolutely-not-ringing cell phone once again. Not even a text was coming through on the damn thing, and he checked to make sure it still had service.
Of course it still had service. The reality was that Rols and Em were not going to get back to him. Ever. Fuck, what the hell was being done to them right now...
And no he wasn’t leaving. He wanted slayers to come here.
He was perfectly happy to meet them on his own turf, and his violent roommate with all the tattoos was going to feel the same.
“Do you honestly think anyone tells L.W. what to do?” he muttered with exhaustion. “Even you.”
Across the way, the Queen put her hand up to her forehead as if she had a headache, and goddamn, he felt badly. But come on. Who were they all kidding?
“Where is my son now,” the King demanded.
Shuli tilted his head and laughed on a short, hard burst. “I have no idea. He comes and goes as he pleases. And before you give me shit about that, we agreed I’d do my best to stay with him, remember. I’ve kept my word on that, but there are limits.”
There was a long silence.
“I’d like to see his room for just a moment?” Beth asked softly. “I won’t mess with anything, I just…”
“Want to connect with your son.” He pointed to the hall and felt even worse for the female. “It’s down that way. And mess with anything you like. You’re his parents.”
Wrath turned to the front foyer and said something quietly to Qhuinn and John Matthew, who were guarding the entrance. Then the Queen took her mate’s hand, and the pair walked off. In their wake, he expected the other two Brothers to go down there.
“Your entire house is surrounded,” Qhuinn said, like he knew what Shuli was thinking.
Shuli nodded. Looked down at his stupid phone. Looked back up.
The Brother who always colored his hair was going dark green at the moment, and in the black leather and with all the piercings, he looked like one of the canvases hanging on the white walls, all harsh, shocking, hard-angled.
Beside him, John Matthew was kind of all-American, but no one would mistake him for anything other than how dangerous he was given that he had two autoloaders out with the safeties off.
“You want anything?” he asked them. “Food, drink?”
Qhuinn shook his head. “What we need is nothing your butler can bring us.”
Nodding, Shuli texted the other two names out to the Brotherhood.
Then he put his Samsung aside and wondered where his emotions were—and not as in how he felt.
Rather, why he wasn’t reacting at all. His whole social circle, gone in one night to the enemy.
He should be weeping. Cursing. Throwing things.
Instead, he was flatlined in a way that had nothing to do with intoxicants.
What he was clear on, though? He and L.W.
and Rhamp might be going rogue behind the Brotherhood and the King’s backs, but it was absolutely the right thing to do.
If they got caught? Well, things were going to be complicated in a very bad way.
In the meantime, though, they were going to continue to cut down lessers, and fuck, he needed to tell both his co-conspirators what had happened.
Not until his visitors had left, however.
And Wrath was right. This place had to be considered compromised so Whillis was going to go out to the safe house. As for him? With the King mandating that he stay out of the way?
Fine. He’d cool his jets, but it was going to be here.
He was ready to fucking fight.
Down at the end of a hallway that had white marble floors and walls, Beth stopped on the threshold of their son’s room.
The bed was messy; the one-million-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets wadded up at the foot of the lawn-sized mattress, three of the pillows on the floor, one shoved up against the headboard.
Filling out the floor plan were various pieces of white padded furniture as well as mirrored dressers and tables.
It was like a hotel suite, chic, luxurious, unclaimed by anybody specific.
Just as the living quarters he’d grown up in had been.
“I can smell the blood,” Wrath muttered as he stepped inside.
“Watch the floor.” She followed him in. “There’s…well, actually, I guess there’s not too much clutter underfoot.”
Leathers and leather jackets had been draped over the couch—although not in a haphazard way.
L.W. had taken care with his clothes, laying them side by side over the high-rise back, and down along the dust ruffle, shitkickers were lined up as if a ruler had been used: Three pairs, with a space between the second and third as if he’d taken a set from the collection.
And…that was it.
Well, other than a lot of weapons over on a cheap folding table that did not go with the décor—and she had lived with fighters and Brothers for so long, the arrangement of handguns, chains, and grenades didn’t register as a shock at first. It was only when the math that they were her son’s added up that she went sweaty-palmed and nauseous.
Walking over, she crossed her arms and stared down at the deadly array.
“I need to tell you something,” she said roughly.
“The blood’s in here.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she turned away and crossed over to the bathroom. As she transitioned off the white carpeting and onto some kind of fancy black stone, her eyes shot to the black counter.
The pile of red-stained white towels between the two gold sinks nauseated her.
As she debated dry heaving, she pressed her hand to her mouth. Then dropped her arm. “I have to tell you what he’s doing.”
Wrath stretched out a hand and patted around. Picking up one of the terrycloth folds, he crushed it in his fist.
“You think I don’t know.” He glanced over his shoulder as if he could see her. “That he’s hunting lessers, even though I forbade him.”
“That’s what he told me earlier,” she confirmed with defeat. “When I saw him tonight. He’s consumed with anger, Wrath. He always has been…but lately…it’s gotten worse—and it’s going to get him killed.”
Wrath put the towel back where it had been. “That’s the second reason.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry?”
Behind those wraparounds, she could have sworn that those pale-green eyes narrowed on her. “I gave up the throne for you, but he was my second reason. He will be King, and then he won’t be able to fight. He’ll be totally protected and out of the field.”
Abruptly, the past and present funneled into her mind, mixing and expanding until she felt encapsulated by all that she couldn’t change. All she couldn’t manage.
“He’s not going to do it,” she said. “He’s going to refuse to take over. And good luck getting him to leave this house. He’ll figure that sooner or later slayers will show up, and if he knew these males, too? He’s going to want revenge—”
“He is going to sit on that throne,” Wrath snapped. Except the frustration wasn’t directed at her.
“No, he won’t.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t respond to calls of duty, and you can try imploring to some sense of loyalty in him, but he’s not motivated by that, either.
The only thing that drives him is hatred toward Lash and the Lessening Society.
It’s like that’s all he has. God, I failed as a parent. I totally failed—”
“You did not.” Wrath stepped up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I was just like him. Hostile, belligerent—for all the right reasons, and some wrong ones, too, just like he is. But the calling will not be denied.”
“You made that choice freely. When you decided to ascend, that was your decision, not something that was forced.”
“But like him, I never asked to be put in a position to have to choose. And fuck yeah, it’s unfair that he can’t get out of it, either—but that’s the way it fucking goes for this lineage of ours.”
“You need to think this through.” She gripped the lapels of his jacket. “I’m telling you, even if you scream in his face, he’s not going to budge. So are you going to put a gun to his head or something? Because I don’t think even that would do it.”
Wrath stayed silent for a long moment. Then he shook his head. “I have faith in him.”
Beth recoiled. “And I hate saying this about our own son, but why? How?”
Her hellren brushed at her hair, tucking a stray wave behind her ear. “There’s something under the anger, and that is what’s going to see him through.”
“How do you know this?”
Wrath’s head shifted so it was as if he were staring over her shoulder. “Because that’s the way it was for me. All he needs is something—or someone—to bring it out of him.”
“Even if that were true, what if he dies before that happens?” She squeezed her eyes closed. “Oh, God, what if I—we…what if we lose him now.”
As they both pulled into an embrace at the same time, the two-way support was what she had missed all those years.
What she had yearned for. What she had been cheated of.
They couldn’t change the outcome of so much, but at least she wasn’t alone anymore.
In fact, she was with the one person who understood exactly what she was feeling.
With that, she thought of the six families that were never going to be the same after tonight—
Footsteps quickly approaching cut her off, and she had a brief flare of hope that it was L.W., not just back, but making sense.
It wasn’t. Of course.
Qhuinn and John Matthew entered the bedroom, and God, she was getting so worn down seeing that grim expression on people’s faces.
“They found the two males,” Qhuinn said roughly.