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I didn’t even try to act surprised at such an insight coming from the demon. Mostly because I suspected he was right.
I certainly wasn’t a stranger to hiding behind a facade to deal with things. Ironic, though that Brooks’s reaction to feeling vulnerable was to sink further into a persona many considered weak. While my own reaction was to deny any vulnerability whatsoever. Regardless of our differing methods, my heart went out to him. Yet another reason to find out what the hell had happened so I could make Lavinia and her goons pay.
I excused myself from Adam and Giguhl and went to talk to Brooks. “Hey,” I said, approaching the bed.
His head angled toward me, but I couldn’t see his eyes through the dark lenses. “How are you feeling?”
“Never better, honey.” He flashed his pearly whites, but tension shadowed the smile.
Mac stepped up. She turned her back to me and addressed everyone else. “He was just about to tell us what happened.”
“She,” the drag queen corrected. A knife’s edge of tension made his tone higher than usual
Several tense looks zinged among the rest of us. Zen recovered first and patted Brooks’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re ready? It can wait.”
“Actually, I feel amazing. If someone ”— he jerked his head toward Mac— “hadn’t threatened me, I’d already be out of this bed.”
“You’re gonna stay put, and that’s that,” the were said, crossing her arms. Brooks looked around for an ally in his bid to rise but found none. Instead of arguing further, he lay back against the pillows with a huffy breath.
“Fine,” he said. “The truth is I don’t remember much.”
Giguhl patted his arm. “Just tell us what you do remember. Start with what happened right after we left.”
“Mac called about ten minutes later and told me she was calling off the show. I was worried because she wouldn’t give me any details, but her voice sounded real strained and angry.” He looked up at Mac. “What happened?”
I’ll give Mac this— she’s got a convincing poker face. “It’s not important right now. Keep talking.”
Brooks’s lips puckered up. “Fine, be that way.” Obviously he thought Mac was hiding some juicy gossip. “Anyway, I’m ashamed to admit I threw a bit of a diva fit after I got off the phone. There I was all dressed up and no place to go. So I decided to fix myself a martini and call some of my girls to see if they were free to go out.”
Up until that point, his tone was breezy and bitchy— like Pussy Willow— but when he continued, the snark was gone. “I was on the second step when I heard the crash at the back door.” He swallowed hard. “At first I thought it might be you guys, but then I saw the hoods.”
I stepped forward. “What do you mean?”
“I mean some KKK shit.” He mimicked pulling a hood over his face. “Only these were red— except for one dude who wore black. Before I could figure out what the hell was going on, about a dozen of the ass**les swarmed me. I tried to run, but my Cleopatra costume was designed for lounging on a settee, not running from robed madmen. Anyway, I tripped. Lost my wig.” His voice cracked. I imagined if he’d removed the glasses, his pupils would be dilated with remembered fear. “A few split off and started tearing shit up in the store while the rest carried my livid ass up to the third floor. I fought them as hard as I could, but …..” He trailed off.
“Was there a female vampire with them? Lavinia?” I asked.
Brooks shook his head. “No, just the dudes. At least I think they were all dudes— hard to tell with the hoods and the no-talking thing.”
I frowned. “No talking?”
“Yeah. From the minute they came in until they finally stopped hurting me, none of the bastards said anything. The guy in the black robe, he seemed to be in charge. But he just stood to the side chanting something, never spoke to the others. The ones who ….. beat me, they didn’t look at him, either. Just moved real methodical. Like they were programmed or something.” Brooks shivered. “Creepy.”
“I hate to ask this,” I said, trying to keep my tone even, “but did any of them bite you?”
Another shake. “They weren’t vamps, I don’t think. No magic, either.”
“You said the one guy chanted. Were they doing some sort of ritual?” Adam asked.
The fae hesitated, swallowing hard. Paler than when we’d come in. I wasn’t sure if it was the emotional stress of rehashing things, or the physical toll of everything catching up, but I knew pretty soon Zen and Rhea would kick us out. Before that happened, I needed to know whose ass I needed to go medieval on.
I grabbed his clammy hand and gave him a reassuring smile. “I know this is hard, but it’s important. What exactly did they do to you?”
Mac lurched forward, her expression confrontational. But Rhea grabbed the were’s arm and shook her head.
Brooks missed the exchange because his gaze was on me. At least I think it was. Hard to tell with the sunglasses. “After they hit me for a while,” he began, pausing to collect himself, “they tied me to the bed. I couldn’t see much because of the blindfold.” He swallowed hard as the first tears spilled from under the glasses and onto his cheeks. “They cut me. Deliberate shallow slashes. It was the black-hood guy. I recognized the voice. And each time he cut, he’d say, ‘Master Mahan, accept this sacrifice.’ ”
The tears flowed freely now. I placed my other hand on his, trying to lend some of my strength.
“Who is Master Mahan?” Georgia asked.
“He’s the leader of the Caste of Nod,” Adam said. “Did they say anything else?”
Brooks sniffed and managed to get a hold of himself. “Just after they tied me up, one of the others came in and told the leader he couldn’t find the owl.”
I blinked. “They were trying to find Stryx?”
He nodded. “Black Hood seemed pretty pissed the owl wasn’t here. Knocked me around some more until I admitted you’d taken him with you. Then he seemed almost scared, like he was going to be in big trouble.”
My stomach clenched. If the robed terrorists were that worried about losing the owl, I couldn’t imagine Master Mahan would be too thrilled to learn I’d gotten his owl eaten by a zombie.
But something else bothered me, too. Despite the ritualized cutting, nothing in his story implied his attackers were members of any of the dark races. Vamps would have enjoyed the blood play more. Mages would have used magic to accomplish their aims. Weres or faeries didn’t fit, either. A new suspicion started forming in my mind.
