It took him two tries to get the latch mechanism to catch, and the nausea that had come upon him threatened to return as soon as forward momentum resumed. As he sank into the fine leather, a misery entered his system that he had not felt since…
Well, ever. Throughout the course of his life, he had enjoyed going from triumph to triumph, and bringing others along. The plot against Wrath was supposed to be in this same vein.
But how he felt now was… not enjoyable, at all.
He had males waiting to hear of yet another success, such that their sacrifices were bolstered, and the promise of the future—which he had spoken of, which he had vowed to lead them unto—would be closer to being made manifest.
Except at the moment, he felt very mortal. Very, very mortal. And as if he had not just failed them all, but sentenced the lot of them to death at the hands of the Black Dagger Brotherhood.
“What about the slayer, then?” Conrahd glanced across the interior. “We were going to go give the order to release him at the neutral holding location. That was the plan. You were going to meet with Lash, and then we were going to personally tell the guards to release thelesser.”
Yes, he’d meant to go there and free the thing himself because he would have been protected by its master. He had played the scene out in his mind’s eye many times, before they’d even abducted that particular undead.
The performance was supposed to be so that Conrahd could see it happen and carry the details back to the others, evidence of Whestmorel’s growing seat of power.
How naive he’d been. How ignorant. Riding on a wave of surety that had been not destiny or fate, but… mere ego.
As another wave of nausea hit him, Whestmorel returned to that moment, when he had stood before the master of all evil—and felt thatcrushing weight in his chest. He had been fine until he was not, and the next thing he had known was being down in the snow.
No breath that he could draw, nothing but the agony of a heart-seizing known unto him—
“No,” he said roughly. “We do not go near that thing. Not now, not ever.”
Conrahd stared over with disbelief. “We’re just leaving it then? That location is secure, but there are limits. What if a human finds him?”
“Then the human will deal with it.” He glared over at Conrahd. “Do not go back there. Do not goanywherenear that slayer.”
The male frowned. “What happened in the park, Whestmorel.”
“All is going according to plan,” he said with exhaustion. “Worry not on that. Let us continue forth to the safe house. I will rest and we will reconvene at nightfall next.”
“When are you going to take Lash unto the Audience House?”
As he groaned and closed his eyes, he was once again all too well aware of Conrahd’s ambitions, and he found himself ruing his decision to go with one who was so competent: If he himself showed any further weakness the now, he was quite confident it would be exploited in favor of an insurrection.
“Just drive,” he commanded. “I alone know the when of it, and it shall stay as such until I say differently.”
With his nausea returning, he went to wipe his mouth—
There was a stain on the maroon silk of his scarf… a black stain. With a shaking hand, he touched his mouth, then dipped his fingertips to his tongue.
When he brought them out again, he gasped at the black oily substance upon them.
“What is it,” Conrahd demanded.
“Nothing,” he muttered as he wiped his hand off. “Nothing a’tall.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The following evening, Lyric was back at the Wheel, sitting on her bed in a bathrobe with wet hair. As she stared off into space, she decided it had been the longest twelve hours of her life. Fifteen. Whatever.
And now she was here, in familiar pastel surroundings that looked strange, a hollow feeling where her heart needed to be, a headache spearing into her left eyebrow. The fact that every time she so much as blinked, all she saw was that final breath of hergranmahmen’s? That just made everything worse.
Putting her head in her hands, she replayed the immediate aftermath in her mind. After she left the bedroom, the first people she’d gone to had been hermahmenand Xcor. Her other parents had been waiting just outside the door, and the way the two of them had hugged her, hugged Rhamp, hugged Blay and Qhuinn, and her grandfather, had made her feel proud of her family. Always supporting each other, through good times and bad, both sets of parents steady and true.
And then there had been all her uncles and their mates, the fighters who came by, plus other members of the community, including Fritz.
The only people who had gone into the bedroom had been Doc Jane and Dr. Manello. The decision for cremation back at the trainingcenter had been made years ago, and though it had been hard watching the body be removed, there had been closure in that, too.
