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As he forced his eyes to focus better, Trez, one of Rehv's personal guard, opened the double doors on the porch that faced the lake and raised his palm in greeting.
Wrath and V walked up the frosty, crunchy lawn and though they kept their weapons holstered, V took the glove off his glowing right hand. Trez was the kind of male you respected, and not just because he was a Shadow. The Moor had the muscled body of a fighter and the smart stare of a strategist, and his allegiance was to Rehv and Rehv only. To protect the guy? Trez would level a city block in the blink of an eye.
"So how you doing, big man," Wrath said he mounted the porch steps.
Trez came forward and they clapped palms. "I'm solid. You?"
"Tight as always." Wrath knocked the guy in the shoulder. "Hey, you ever want a real job, come soldier with us."
"I'm happy where I am, but thanks." The Moor grinned and turned to V, his dark eyes flicking down to V's exposed hand. "No offense, but I'm not shaking that thing."
"Wise of you," Vishous said as he offered his lefty. "You understand, though."
"Abso, and I'd do the same for Rehv." Trez led the way to the doors. "He's in his bedroom waiting for you."
"He sick?" Wrath asked as they entered the house.
"You want anything to drink? Eat?" Trez said as they headed to the right.
As the question remained unanswered, Wrath glanced at V. "We're okay, thanks."
The place was decorated right out of Victoria and Albert's back pocket, with heavy Empire furniture and garnet and gold everywhere. True to the Victorian period's affection for collection, each room had a different theme to it. One sitting parlor was full of antique clocks ticking away, from grandfathers to brass windups to pocket watches in display cases. Another had shells and coral and centuries-old driftwood. In the library, there were stunning Oriental vases and platters, and the dining room was kitted out in medieval icons.
"I'm surprised there aren't more Chosen here," Wrath said as they went through empty room after empty room.
"The first Tuesday of the month, Rehv has to come up. He makes the females a little nervous, so most of them go back over to the Other Side. Selena and Cormia always stay, though." There was no small measure of pride in his voice as he tacked on, "They're very strong, those two."
They took a grand set of stairs up to the second floor and went down a long hall to a pair of carved doors that positively screamed master of the house.
Trez paused. "Listen, he is a little ill, okay. Nothing contagious. It's just...I want you both to be prepared. We've given him everything he needs and he's going to be fine."
As Trez knocked and opened both doors, Wrath frowned, his vision sharpening on its own as his instincts pricked.
In the midst of a carved bed, Rehvenge was lying still as a corpse, a red velvet duvet pulled up to his chin and sable folds draped over his body. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, his skin pasty and tinged with yellow. His close-cropped mohawk was the only thing that looked remotely normal...that and the fact that standing at his right hand was Xhex, that half-breed symphath female who looked like she performed castrations for fun and profit.
Rehv's eyes opened, and the amethyst color was dulled to a murky bruised purple. "It's the king."
"S'up."
Trez shut the doors, parking it to the side and not in the middle to block the way as a measure of respect. "I already offered them libations and eats."
"Thanks, Trez." Rehv grimaced and made a move to push himself off the pillows. When he just sagged, Xhex leaned in to help him, and he shot her a glare that smacked of don't-even-think-about-it. Which she ignored.
After he was settled upright, he pulled the duvet up to his neck, covering the red stars tatted on his chest. "So I have something for you, Wrath."
"Oh, yeah?"
Rehv nodded at Xhex, who reached into the leather jacket she was wearing. The instant she moved, V's gun muzzle flipped up quick as a blink, aimed square at the female's heart.
"You want to slow that roll?" she snapped to V.
"Not in the slightest. Sorry." V sounded about as sorry as a wrecking ball in midswing.
"Okay, let's just relax," Wrath said, and inclined his head toward Xhex. "Go ahead."
The female pulled free a velvet bag and tossed it in Wrath's direction. As it came at him, he heard the soft whistle of its flight and caught the thing not by sight, but by sound.
Inside were two pale blue eyes.
"So, I had an interesting meeting last night," Rehv drawled.
Wrath looked at the symphath. "Whose blank stare do I have in my palm."
"Montrag, son of Rehm. He came to me and asked me to kill you. You got deep enemies in the glymera, my friend, and Montrag's only one of them. I don't know who else was in on the plot, but I wasn't taking any chances at finding out before we took action."
Wrath put the eyes back in the bag and closed his fist around them. "When were they going to do it."
"At the council meeting, the night after tomorrow."
"Son of a bitch."
V put his gun away and crossed his arms over his chest. "You know, I despise those motherfuckers."
"Speaking to the choir," Rehv said before refocusing on Wrath. "I didn't come to you before I solved the problem because I'm kind of sweet on the idea of the king owing me something."
Wrath had to laugh. "Sin-eater."
"You know it."
Wrath jogged the bag in his hand. "When did this happen?"
"About a half hour ago," Xhex answered. "I didn't clean up after myself."
"Well, they'll certainly get the message. And I'm still going to that meeting."
"You sure that's wise?" Rehv said. "Whoever else is behind this will not come to me again, because they know where my loyalties appear to lie. But that doesn't mean they won't find someone else."
"So let them," Wrath said. "I'm down with mortal combat." He glanced at Xhex. "Montrag implicate anyone?"
"I slit his throat from ear to ear. Talk was tough."
Wrath smiled and glanced at V. "You know, it's kind of a surprise you two don't get along better."
"Not really," they said at the same time.
"I can postpone the council meeting," Rehv murmured. "If you want to do recon yourself to see who else was involved."
"Nope. If they had balls of any size, they'd have tried to kill me themselves, not get you to do it. So one of two things is going to happen. Since they don't know whether Montrag outted them before he became visually impaired, they're either going to go into hiding, because that's what cowards do, or they're going to shift the blame to someone else. So the meeting goes on."
Rehv smiled darkly, the symphath in him obvious. "As you wish."
"I want an honest answer from you, though," Wrath said.
"What's the question."
"For real, did you think about killing me? When he asked."
Rehv was a silent for a bit. Then he slowly nodded. "Yeah, I did. But like I said, you owe me now, and given my...circumstances of birth, as it were...that's far more valuable than what any smarmy-ass aristocrat can do for me."
Wrath nodded once. "That's logic I can respect."
"Plus, let's face it"-Rehv smiled again-"my sister's married into the family."
"That she has, symphath. That she has."
After Ehlena put the ambulance in the garage, she went across the parking lot and down into the clinic. She needed to get her things from her locker, but that wasn't what was driving her. Usually at this time of night, Havers would be doing charts in his office, and that was where she headed. When she came up to his door, she took her scrunchie out, smoothed back her hair, and tightly knotted it at the base of her neck. Her coat was still on, but even though it hadn't been that expensive, it was made of black wool and looked tailored, so she figured she looked okay.
She knocked on the jamb, and when a cultured voice called out, she went in. Havers's former office had been a splendid old-world study, filled with antiques and leather-bound books. Now that they were at this new clinic, his private workspace was no different from anyone else's: white walls, linoleum floor, stainless-steel desk, black rolling chair.
"Ehlena," he said as he glanced up from the charts he was reviewing. "How fare you?"
