Chapter Seventeen #2
Abruptly, there was a beeping alarm. Then a series of bolts unlocking. After that, a metal-on-metal trundling as the big bay door opened. The air that rushed in was cold and bracing, and it cleared out some of the engine scents.
“Fritz is here,” Beth offered softly.
“Take me to the car.”
Without hesitation, she hooked her arm through his and piloted them through the space, even as the quiet purr of the Mercedes’s engine oriented him.
“My Lord, allow me,” the butler said as he opened a door.
“Thanks, Fritz.”
After he shuffled Beth forward so she got in first, Wrath joined her, and the faithful doggen shut them in. Leather, the vaguely chemical fragrance of new carpet, and a twinkle of window cleaner entered his nose as he reached out for his shellan’s hand.
The partition was up. He could tell by the muffled sounds of the butler getting back behind the wheel.
“I have the addresses, my Lord.” A tinny version of Fritz’s voice came through the intercom speaker. “We shall be at the first of the families’ homes in about twenty minutes. There are fresh waters in the refrigerator compartment, should you wish for them.”
A bumping and a little descent told Wrath that they were backed out of the garage, and then the stop-and-go ride through the grid of streets and avenues began. He tried to think of what to say to make things better, but there were no words that could do that.
Ending fucking Lash would.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he muttered gruffly.
There was a deceleration as they came up to what was obviously another red light.
“It’s so much worse for the families,” she murmured sadly.
“That’s true.”
Forward motion again. A couple of turns. Then an incline and a brisk increase of speed. They were on the Northway now, the purring engine and whoosh of speed making him think of the accident on the highway. Of V and Tohr who were soldiering on. Of all the Brotherhood and the fighters.
And all the risks they faced every time they went out into the field.
“Wrath?” she whispered softly.
He knew what she was going to say before she spoke. Still, he replied, “What?”
“You can’t step down from the throne.”
Closing his eyes, even though he didn’t use them, he let his head fall back on the rest. “That decision’s been made, leelan.”
“So why are you going to these people’s homes and talking to them about their dead sons.”
His exhale was partially air, mostly the word fuck drawn out like it had a hundred syllables. “I’m still a member of the Black Dagger Brotherhood. That hasn’t changed.”
“They are going to want to see their King. And that is who they will honor when you walk through their door on the worst night of their lives.”
Passing his thumb back and forth over her wrist, he shrugged. “Well, I can’t offer that anymore. A brother is what they’re getting.”
“It’s not enough.”
He cranked his head toward her and strained to see her, even though that was such a useless effort. “I’m not living the last week between us again. Ever. I’m just not going to have that as part of our lives.”
“Brothers go out and fight,” she said. “Is that what you’re prepared to do now? Is that what you’re going to go back to?”
“I…don’t know.”
“That’s a yes, if I ever heard one.” As Wrath braced himself for an argument, instead, his mate took a deep breath. “I’m never going to feel good about you in this war.”
When she paused, there were all kinds of things he could say to that statement, none of which were going to help her: I’m trained. I’ve been killing slayers since before you were born. I can handle myself even without sight—
“But all the other fighters are endangering their lives for the species.” The resignation in her voice held no bitterness. “And I don’t think I should be…special.”
He frowned as he interpreted her words a couple of different ways. “I’m sorry. What are you saying?”
“Why should things be different for me. The mates of all the fighters and the Brotherhood worry every night, and their spouses are just as important to them as you are to me. Why should I get a pass just because you’re King.”
“Was King—”
“Are King.”
He just shook his head again. There was a lot for them to argue about at the moment, but he decided to stick with the big one. “My mind’s made up on that, leelan.”
“The species needs you.”
“And I need you. So, there it is—and L.W. is going to come around.” When she didn’t respond, he squeezed her hand. “He truly is.”
“You don’t know him like I do.”
The resigned words sliced into him, threatening his neat-as-a-bow decisions, reminding him that the real world was fucking messy. Especially in Caldwell-goddamn-New-York.
They fell silent for the rest of the trip on the highway. And then Fritz was making lefts and rights again. As a familiar ache took up all the space in Wrath’s rib cage, the weight of why they were going where they were got even heavier when they finally rolled to a stop.
“We have arrived at the home of Dresden, son of Emile the Elder,” Fritz announced through the speaker.
Wrath glanced in Beth’s direction. “You sure you want to come with me? Because you can stay—”
“I’m coming.”
Fritz opened the rear door, and Wrath got out first so he could help his shellan into the snow that crunched under his shitkickers.
As she linked their arms again, she told him when to step over the drifts, and then they were on a shoveled walkway.
Up ahead, he heard a large door open, and the acrid scent of tears was so overpowering that the fact that he was in the open air and there was a breeze did nothing to dull the sting in his nose.
“My Lord,” came a choked male voice. “My Queen.”
He was sure there were bows going on. A curtsey, too, given that there was a female scent, along with the masculine one.
“It is an honor to have you—” The male’s voice cracked. “It is an honor to…”
As he couldn’t go on, Beth spoke up. “I am so sorry for the reason we have come.”
“Please,” came the invitation. “Our home is yours.”
Beth helped him navigate the threshold, and as the door was closed, he figured it was probably by a butler in the same formal dress that Fritz wore.
If these boys had been friends with Shuli, they had to be aristocrats, and sure enough, the scents indoors were of fresh flowers, even though it was winter.
That was the glymera for you—and chances were so very good that the night had started out with the same restrained elegance and purpose that every evening did for a couple like this.
It wasn’t ending in that vein.
“You found him,” the male said roughly. “Emile.”
Beth was the one who answered. “Yes, we did. I am so sorry—”
Weeping rose up, the mahmen clearly breaking apart.
“Have you brought—” The male cleared his throat. “Have you brought our son home?”
“No,” Wrath replied. “You will come to the training center in two hours and view him there. After which, he will be cremated following a formal blessing and consecration.”
As the words left his mouth, he cursed internally. And who the fuck was going to do that ceremony?
There was a long pause, the mahmen’s hitching breath suggesting that she was doing everything she could to recover her composure.
Meanwhile, Wrath made sure to focus on the space where the sire’s voice was coming from.
So much of communication was nonverbal, and you just had to trust that the other party would pick up on what you were trying to say without having to speak the words:
Don’t bring your mate in now. You do not want her to see your young in the condition he was found in.
The gentlemale spoke up in his perfectly accented voice. “We are…honored that you will pay our bloodline such respect. We will arrive two hours hence.”
At that point, there was an abrupt, high-pitched squeak and a scramble.
Undoubtedly it was the female of the house going down onto whatever fine flooring they were all standing on. And sure enough, a horrible weeping started, as if her soul was coming out in each and every heaving scream.
All Wrath could do was close his fucking eyes and vow that Lash was going to pay. Not just for what the sonofabitch had done to Beth and L.W., and all of the Brotherhood.
But for what he had done to these fine people right here.
And their dead son.