“No,” Lassiter said, “I want you to say you’re sorry, Vishous.”
It was so weird. Like a camera lens that was suddenly focusing, Trez came back online, his senses sharpening, some shadow of his former self returning.
“I’m waiting.” There was a pause. “Good enough. And I want the remote for the next week—days and nights.”
Incredible grousing, and someone threw something at the guy, the coaster landing on the carpet outside the room.
“Well, if you’re going to get nasty again—”
Following an instinct, Trez dematerialized—at the very instant Lassiter dropped the asshole act and shot a shrewd glance in the direction of where Trez had been standing.
His presence had been sensed.
But he would not allow that to happen again.
Shadowing along the carpet, he seeped into the study as Lassiter stepped inside, closed the doors and addressed the Brotherhood.
“We got a map?” the angel said.
Being careful to stay out of the way of anyone’s feet, lest they tweak to his altered state, Trez pooled in the corner farthest away from Wrath’s dog. Fortunately, George was sound asleep by his master’s throne.
The Brotherhood clustered around Wrath’s desk as Butch flipped a blue-and-green, three-foot-by-three-foot square of paper out of its folds.
“Here,” the angel said, pointing with his forefinger. “This is where I found it. There’s a retaining wall that runs around the entire property. Dwellings are here and here. The palace . . . right here. Security is tight, and from what I was able to see, they are gathering their forces.”
Gathering forces? Trez thought.
“We need to get to them first,” Wrath muttered. “First strike is critical. We don’t want them coming into Caldwell.”
What the hell was going on?
“. . . can’t find this house. No one can find this house,” V said. “But yeah, I’ll stay behind. I don’t like it, but someone needs to be here on a just-in-case.”
Lassiter looked across the desk at the Brother and proved that he could get serious if he had to: “I gotchu. I’ll be here, too.”
There was a split second where the males stared into each other’s eyes. “Good,” V said. “That’s good.”
“Where’s iAm?” Wrath asked.
“Last I saw of him,” Rhage answered, “he was heading upstairs to check on Trez and crash.”
“We need to make sure he keeps Trez under this roof. I don’t want that Shadow getting kidnapped in the middle of this. I’m happy to fight—shit, I’m looking forward to it—but I don’t want them getting a hold of the poor bastard. That’s a complication I don’t want to have to worry about.”
What the fuck?
This was all about him?
Trez stayed in that French study, with those Brothers and fighters, until he learned everything he needed to know—and then he had to get gone before Rehvenge arrived from having readied his people up north in the symphath colony.
His old friend the sin-eater would have known he was in there.
When it was time to go, he didn’t take a chance. He shadowed out under the door and continued on down the grand staircase, across the foyer’s mosaic floor . . . and out farther, passing through the minuscule gaps in the jambs of the vestibule’s entrance and exit.
Outside, the sun was rising over the autumnal landscape, golden and pink rays hitting the yellow and orange and red leaves as well as the bristly dark green pine boughs and spiky cedar branches.
He did not reassume form until he was some distance away from the house, although the security cameras would no doubt register the appearance of his presence anyway. The good news, if you could call it that, was that the Brothers were all talking about the upcoming battle, so they weren’t going to be going ADT on shit. And if one of the doggen happened to see him out here? They would just assume he was out for a walk to clear his head.
He hadn’t put on a jacket, and he was glad.
The cold slapped him even further awake.
Even though it had been sinking in for a good hour, he still couldn’t believe any of it: the Queen declaring war on Wrath and the Brotherhood. Their refusing to turn him over. The sin-eaters joining in on the side of the vampires.
He couldn’t believe that there were so many prepared to rally to his cause.
“Selena?” he said, letting his head fall back so that he was looking at the heavens.
No stars because of the daylight.
No clouds, for that matter.
Nothing but pale blue.
Trez thought about that time he had tried to escape the palace and had ended up slaughtering all those guards in front of s’Ex. So much bloodshed.
Only back then, it had been strangers to him.
If he thought that had been bad, shit was going to be so much worse if the Brotherhood went into the Territory. They would ultimately prevail, with the sin-eaters at their backs . . . but there would be death. Maiming.
More lives ruined.
Turning around, he looked up at the great gray mansion.
However dour the exterior of the manse was, the interior was full of life and love and family.
If this war went forward, where he was in his mourning, this terrible stretch of pain, was going to rain down upon this house and the people in it.
He would not put someone he hated in his shoes, living with this loneliness and heartache.
He could not put those he loved where he was.
Not if there were a way to stop it.
At the very moment he made his decision, a ray of sunlight broke across the rooftop, that incredible light spilling down over the orderly rows of slate.
Selena had made him swear he would live without her, and he had given her that vow, but only because she’d forced him to.
It wasn’t as if he’d believed what he’d told her.
Now, though, as he imagined all the lives he could save, how he could protect these males and females and their young?
“This is as close as I can come, my queen,” he said to the sky.
SEVENTY-EIGHT
It took them forever to get to the sacred astrology chamber.
Or at least it seemed that way to Catra. Then again, with every corner they turned, and each straightaway traveled down, she expected to get jumped, arrested, sent to a prison cell.
Along the way, s’Ex revealed to her hidden rooms and passageways she’d had no clue about—and proved himself to be capable beyond measure: sure of foot, fleet of mind, both careful and aggressive.
Finally, however, they not only gained access to the palace and its grounds, but the innermost restricted areas of her mother’s compound where few were allowed and security was at its highest. They had one advantage, at least: The guards who were in search of her were preoccupied with looking on the exterior, convinced they had searched the Queen’s domain sufficiently—and the rest of s’Ex’s males were gathering in the center courtyard and preparing to fight.
It was a grim affair. The lot of it.
But they were able to move faster and with, thus far, no notice.
Part of her wanted to check to make sure her mother was following the rituals so that they would not be chanced upon in the astrology chamber, but there could be no risking a reveal of her presence.
They had one and only one chance to get to the records.
“Here,” s’Ex whispered as he stopped abruptly.
She frowned under her hood. “The entrance to the chamber is up farther ahead, is it not.”
“No, our entry is here.”
Freeing his hand from his robing’s voluminous sleeve, he placed his palm against the wall. Instantaneously, a pocket door slid open, disappearing into its slot.
The moment she smelled the incense, she knew they were close, and yet the space revealed was pitch-black.
She stepped in without hesitation, and felt s’Ex’s looming weight come in behind her. When the door shut itself, she might as well have been blindfolded.