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So much for tying her up. Why did I trust Crichton to guard her? He has been on her side from the moment they met. There's something very strange going on, and in this moment, very socially awkward. Anita unleashes on Bryn with predictable fury.
“Do tell me how you really feel. A filthy slattern? You cradle-robbing dirty old man! Keeping that poor American girl locked up here like some kind of fuck toy. Ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
“Anita!” I snap her name.
“No. Fuck him.”
Bryn takes out his phone.
"What are you doing?”
“I am telling the police where she is.”
“No. You're not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“What’s so ridiculous about turning in a wanted criminal who has committed arson and murder in the last week? You're not thinking straight, Thor. You're blinded by lust. I've seen it happen before, and I will not see it happen again. We protect the bloodlines. We do not provide sanctuary for murderous locals. Hey! Give that back!”
Crichton has materialized just in time to snatch the phone out of Bryn’s hand. A full-bore mutiny is taking place now, and Bryn is not well pleased.
“It would not be proper to turn her into the human authorities,” Crichton says. “I believe there is some essence of demon in her…”
“I am bound to slay demons, Crichton. Something you might want to remember,” Bryn threatens.
“Very well,” I say, before matters can get out of hand even more than they already have. “I will take Anita home with me. She is mine to take care of. We’ll vacate the premises, as so many others have done before us. Your temper and your inability to accommodate the needs of others is doing damage to the Brotherhood, and to you, Bryn.”
11
Anita
Apparently, I’m a little demonic. That's not surprising. It's not even a current topic of conversation. The argument between Thor and Bryn was verbal, but brutal. I’m sure they both said things they’re going to regret, but they’re both still too angry to regret them yet.
I’m sitting on Thor’s bed, watching him pack his suitcases. He has two. One big, one smaller. Everything goes into them perfectly folded. The chests and wardrobes are being divested of their contents. He’s working methodically and quietly. Strange, for him. I’m used to him raging at me.
“How are you so calm?”
“I’m not calm.”
“He called me a slattern.”
“He did, but don’t take it personally. He doesn’t know you. And he is not angry at you. He’s furious at himself. It’s not easy bearing all the conflicting responsibilities we must bear.”
“Like what?”
“For one, we protect those who have angel blood. It is very rare.”
“And it’s Nina. Isn't it. He’s obsessed with keeping her pure.”
“Yes. And then, on the other side of the equation, there is Fleish. The man you called Craig was in league with them. They are traders of blood, occult cultists. A group of lost souls who believe that they have the flesh of Christ.”
“What do you mean the flesh? You mean the body?”
“Yes.”
“The literal body”
“Yes.”
“The whole body? Like a mummy?”
“On that, they’re not entirely specific. But if they have even a sliver of flesh, or a piece of hair, it is possible that they will achieve their goal.”
“Which is?”
“They are trying to unite the blood of angels with the flesh of Christ to genetically engineer the apocalypse," he sighs, as if it is a minor annoyance.
“Sounds mental.”
“It’s utterly mad. But it’s also possible that it will one day work. Never underestimate the power of someone with a mad enough idea and the motivation to make it happen.”
It sounds like good advice.
“So where are we going, exactly?”
“I am taking you somewhere far from everybody and everything. I need to make you mine so completely you can never again get yourself into this much trouble.”
“How am I going to get out of the country? I’m wanted. And I don't have a passport. I doubt they issue passports to people who are wanted.”
“A private plane.”
“You’ve got a private plane? You didn’t have a thousand pounds for your hammer, but you have a private plane?”
“It’s not my plane. It belongs to a friend.”
“Should have asked the friend.”
“Friend may be the wrong word.”
Speaking of friendship… “I feel bad I made you and your friend fight.”
“Bryn is Bryn. Have no fear, we are as strong allies as ever. Direview is rarely occupied by the Brotherhood, though it is our home. We are difficult men, and our personalities rarely mesh. Of all the things you can comfortably be blamed for, this is not one of them.”
I find myself admiring Thor. I’ve pushed him to the limits of his patience and perhaps even sanity, and now we’re running off because Bryn has basically banished him over me, but he doesn't hold grudges. At all. That's not to say he’s warm and snuggly. He is as dictatorial and dominant as ever, but he’s not angry. His rage does not control him.
