Saxton patted at his jacket—and then took out the Holy Grail as far as Assail was concerned. “My car is outside—I had shopping to do this night, and thank the Virgin Scribe for that. Take it—but be quick. They asked me to step out as they argued. I don’t know how long they’ll be. Go! Go now!”
The solicitor lunged for the front door and held it wide as Assail hustled across the foyer, zeroing in on the cold night air that streamed into the mansion.
“I’ll delay them,” Saxton said. “For as long as I can.”
Assail paused for but a heartbeat as he took the key and stepped over the threshold. “My debt to you. For e’ermore.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He tore out, and would have leaped down the shallow steps if he’d been able. And dear God, those chains, those dreadful chains, they chimed and threatened to cut off his air supply as he crossed the distance to the BMW 750i.
He all but threw the male in the back.
No time to waste. Free of the weight, he bolted around to the driver’s side, jumped in, and started the engine. The temptation was to floor the accelerator, but he didn’t want to risk squealing out and causing attention to be garnered. He took off with alacrity, but no undue speed, and was soon cruising away, the mansion fading in the rearview mirror as he proceeded down a long, descending driveway.
Now, he was the one who was shaking as he took out his phone.
He used Siri to place the call. And when it was answered, he cut off the hello. “Vishous, I need medical help. Now. Where are you? Okay. Right. I can be there in fifteen minutes. Please. Hurry.”
Ending the connection, he tilted the rearview downward so he could see into the backseat. “Hang on. We’re going to get you help. Tell me, what’s your name?”
“I … don’t know,” came the weak response.
Stopping at the end of the drive, Assail went right, but did not take any deep breath that they were free. It was going to be a while for that. “Stay with me. You must … stay with me—you’re too close to safety to quit now. You stay with me!”
Aware that he was yelling, he forced himself to ease off on his voice.
“Do not die on me,” he muttered as he found himself lost.
Where was he going? Where…?
Vishous had told him to go to the northeast part of town, to—
He took his phone out again and hit up Siri once more. When Vishous answered, Assail didn’t recognize his own voice. “Where am I going? Tell me…”
Vishous started to speak.
“I can’t hear you … I can’t … see…” Assail wiped his eyes. Fates, was he crying? “Help me…”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Look for a sign. Look for a sign, Assail.”
Assail’s blurry eyes rose to the rearview, to the shivering naked male on the leather seats. Then he looked out the front windshield.
“Montgomery Place. The sign says … Montgomery Place.”
“Take a left. Now.”
Assail did what he was told without argument, wrenching the wheel, skidding on the pavement, cutting off a car in the opposite lane. As a horn sounded, Vishous kept talking.
“Two miles up, there’s a high-class shopping center. It’s got a real estate office in it. Hair salon. Restaurants. A jeweler’s. Go around to the back. I’ll be at the far end.”
Assail nodded, even though the Brother couldn’t see him.
And as he didn’t end the call, Vishous said calmly, “You got this, my man. Whatever it is, we’ll handle the shit.”
“All right. All right.” Assail looked back at the male again. “Stay with me…”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Vishous murmured. “I’m only going silent for a sec as I dematerialize. Okay, I’m back.”
Assail didn’t say anything further as he leaned in to the wheel and waited for the—how many miles did he have to go? two?—shopping center to appear. And then there it was, its glowing signs and mostly empty lot a beacon of hope, a symbol of salvation.
“I’m here, I’m here.”
He punched the accelerator, shooting beside the real estate office and skidding around to the rear of the building. The back was all utilities and Dumpsters, staff parking and loading docks for the stores. The BMW gathered speed, surging ahead like a missile.
In the headlights, at the far end, a single dark figure was standing with feet planted.
Assail stomped on the brakes, and then relented as he heard a clunking and a groan of pain from the back seat. As the car jerked to a stop, he got out without putting the engine in park and had to duck in again to toggle the gearshift.
“What are you doing with Saxton’s car—”
He cut off the Brother. “Help me—”
“Have you OD’d—”
Assail ripped open the rear door. “Help him! Please!”
He had to wipe his eyes again—indeed, they were leaking all over the place.
Vishous took out a gun and approached the open car, peering in. “What. The. Fuck.”
“He-he-he—” Shit, he couldn’t speak. “I found him. Behind the lock. He was in the basement. I couldn’t leave him.”
The male cowered away from Vishous, retracting his spindly body into the far side of the backseat, that stringy hair all over his thin arms and boney back.
“Shit.” Vishous straightened and looked over. “I can’t even start treating him here. We gotta bring him in. Christ—the chains—okay, get in—not behind the wheel. I’m driving. You can explain on the way.”
Assail stumbled to go around to the passenger side in the front. But then he stopped, re-thought things and slid into the back with the male. Taking off his jacket, he laid it over the slave’s nakedness.
“It’s all right.” The car began to move, streetlights flaring in the dark interior as Assail tried to get a hold of himself. “We’re going to be … all right.”
FIFTY-FIVE
Layla returned to Earth and regained consciousness in her physical form, her eyes opening to focus on the low ceiling of her hospital room. Her hands went immediately to her belly, and as she shifted her legs and took a deep breath, there was movement there, reassuring, strong, vital movement.
She’d left the light on in the bathroom with the door mostly closed, as was her habit whenever she tried to sleep, and her stare gravitated to the illumination. Then she looked at the clock. Eleven thirty-four p.m.
She had been up in the Sanctuary for quite a while.
When she had proceeded from the Temple of the Sequestered Scribes to the library, it had taken her a while to find what she was in search of. And then she had studied the particular volume for some time. As well as others.
Pushing herself up higher on the mattress, she rubbed her temples.
She should not have gone into Xcor’s history.
Then again, if his story had been different, if his true sire’s identity had proven to be that of another, it wouldn’t have mattered as much, she supposed. Such a shock. Indeed, she had even cross-referenced what she had found, going into the sacred annals of the Black Dagger Brotherhood, pulling out volumes, searching for some inconsistency, some contradiction in the sire’s records.
There had been nothing of the sort. In fact, there had been a confirmation.
And now she could not un-learn what she had discovered.
With a groan, she sat up further, swung her legs off the side, and noted that her ankles were so swollen, it was as if her calves ran directly down into her feet.
She should not have gone hunting for any information.
For now what did she do? How did she explain why she had looked?
Pushing herself onto her feet, she pulled her nightgown down and moved her hair back behind her shoulders. With a curse, she took one step forward—
Wetness. Down the insides of her legs again.
Great. Just what she needed in the middle of all this.
Waddling forward, she was preoccupied with Xcor and irritated with her bladder. But at least she could take a shower and relax knowing that everything was okay with the young. And didn’t they make adult diapers for this sort of thing?
She was pivoting around to shut the bathroom door when she looked back—
Blood. Blood on the floor … bloody footprints on the floor.
Lifting her gown, there was blood on the inside of her legs.
As she screamed, someone came running—and Ehlena burst in.