The female reached a hand up over her head. "Very tall. Big. He's got dark hair with a white stripe in front?"
Marissa jumped up so fast her chair let out a squeak on the floor. "Tohrment? He's alive?"
"I'm sorry?"
"I'll handle this. It's okay - you head back to the kitchen."
Marissa shot out of her office and went down the front set of stairs. Pausing by the main entrance, she checked the security monitor that V had installed, and then immediately yanked open the door.
She threw herself at the Brother without thinking. "Oh, God, where have you been! You were lost for nights!"
"Not really." He returned her embrace gently. "I was just taking care of some business. But it's all good."
She stepped back, but held on to both his thick biceps. "Are you okay?"
Everyone at the mansion knew that Autumn had gone through her needing, and she could imagine how hard that had been on him. And she'd hoped, as they all had, that the growing relationship between the Brother and the quiet, fallen aristocrat would heal him. Instead, he'd disappeared after she'd come out of her fertile time, and Autumn had moved out of the house.
Not a happy outcome, obviously.
"Listen, I know you take donations, right?" he said.
Respecting the fact that he hadn't answered her question, she stopped probing. "Oh, we absolutely do. We'll take anything - we're experts at adaptive reuse around here."
"Good, because I have some things I'd like to give the females, maybe? I'm not sure you can use any of it, but..."
He turned and led the way over to the Brotherhood's van, which was parked at the head of the driveway. Fritz was in the passenger seat, and the old butler hopped out as she approached.
For once, he did not have a cheery smile on his face. He did bow deeply, however. "Madam, how fare thee?"
"Oh, very well, Fritz, thank you."
She fell silent as Tohr slid the side panel back -
One look inside and she stopped breathing.
Illuminated by the van's overhead light were neat piles of what appeared to be clothes in laundry baskets, cardboard boxes, open duffels. There were also skirts and blouses and dresses still on their hangers, draped with care on the floorboards.
Marissa looked at Tohr.
The Brother was silent and staring at the ground - and clearly not about to make eye contact. "Like I said, I'm not sure you can use any of it."
She leaned in and fingered one of the dresses.
The last time she had seen it, it had been on Wellsie.
These were his shellan's clothes.
In a voice that cracked, she whispered, "Are you sure you want to give this away?"
"Yeah. Throwing it all out just seems like such a waste, and she wouldn't approve of that. Wellsie would want them to be used by others - that would be important to her. She hated waste. But, yeah, I don't know about the whole female-size thing, though."
"This is very generous of you." She studied the male's face, realizing it was the first time since he'd come back after the killing that she'd heard him say the name. "We will use all of it."
He nodded, his eyes still avoiding hers. "I included unopened toiletries, too? Like shampoo and conditioner, her moisturizer, that Clinique soap she liked? Wellsie was really fussy about that kind of stuff - she tended to find something she liked and stick to it - she was also big into backups, so there was a lot when I cleaned out our bathroom. Oh, and I also have some of her kitchen things - those copper pans she preferred, and her knives? I can take that to a human Goodwill if you - "
"We'll take anything you have."
"Here's the cooking stuff." Tohrment went around and opened the back to show her. "And I know you don't allow males inside, but maybe I could put it all in the garage?"
"Yes, yes, please. Let me go and get some extra hands to help us - "
"I'd like to carry it in myself, if you don't mind."
"Oh yes, of course... yes." Shaking herself, she jogged over and punched in the code on the keypad by the garage doors.
As the left side trundled open, she went over and stood by the butler as Tohrment went back and forth at a steady pace, carrying his mate's possessions with care, creating a tall, orderly pile right by the door that led into the kitchen.
"He's packing up the house?" she whispered to Fritz.
"Yes, madam. We've worked all night - John, Qhuinn, myself, and him. He did their rooms and the kitchen, whilst the other males and I worked on the rest of the house. He's asked me to return with him after this coming sunset so that all the furniture and the art can be moved to the mansion."
Marissa put her hand up and covered her mouth so that her shock was less apparent. But she needn't have worried about her reaction making Tohr uncomfortable; the Brother was solely focused on his task.
When the van was empty, he closed everything up and came around to her. Just as she was trying to marshal appropriate words of gratitude, of profound respect, of deepest sympathy, he cut her off by taking something out of his pocket - a velvet bag.
"I have one more thing. Give me your hand?" When she extended her palm, he loosened the cord at the neck of the thing. Tilting it upside down, he poured out -
"Oh, my God!" Marissa gasped.
Rubies. Big red rubies set with diamonds. Lots of them - a necklace - no, a necklace and a bracelet. Earrings, too. She needed both hands to hold it all.
"I bought these for her back in nineteen sixty-four. From Van Cleef and Arpels? It was supposed to be for our anniversary, but I don't know what the f**k I was thinking. Wellsie wasn't a big fan of jewelry - she liked art more. She always said that jewels were fussy. Anyway, you know, I saw these in a magazine at Darius's - in a Town and Country. I thought they would go well with her red hair, and I wanted to do something over-the-top and romantic just to prove I could. She didn't really care for them, but every year afterward, every single year without fail, she took the set out from the gun safe and put it on. And every year - every single year - I got to tell her that they didn't hold a candle to how beautiful she was - " He stopped short. "I'm sorry, I'm totally rambling."
"Tohr... I can't accept these. This is too much - "
"I want you to sell 'em. Sell 'em and take the money and use it to expand the house in the back. Butch was saying something about you needing more space? I think they've got to be worth a quarter of a million, maybe more. Wellsie would have loved what you're doing here - she would have supported it, volunteered with the females and the kids, really gotten involved. So, you know, there isn't a better place for these to go."
Marissa started to blink really fast - it was either that or have tears fall. It was just... he was being so brave....
"Are you sure," she said roughly. "Are you certain you want to do all this?"
"Yeah. It's time. Holding on to it hasn't brought her back and never will. But at least it can help the females in this house - so none of it's wasted. It's important to me that the things we bought together, had together, used together... aren't, you know, wasted."
At that, Tohr leaned in and gave her a quick hug. "Be well, Marissa."
And then he closed up the van, helped the butler into the driver's seat, and, with a final wave, dematerialized into the waning night.
Marissa looked down at the fortune in her hands, then back up at the van Fritz was cautiously reversing out of the driveway. As the doggen went, so she followed, walking down to the street, putting the gems back in their little bag. While he K-turned, she lifted her arm and waved. He did the same.
Wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill, she watched the tail lights fade.
With the weight of the gems still in her hands, she pivoted around toward the house and pictured the expansion she could do out into the rear yard, creating more rooms for more females and their young - especially underground, where it was safe during the day.
Her eyes misted over again, and this time there was no stopping the tears from hitting her cheeks. As the facility in front of her grew wavy, the future became clear: She knew exactly who she was going to name the new wing after.
Wellesandra had such a nice ring to it.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Layla had never been out close to dawn before, and she found it interesting to note that there was a real change in the air, a vitalization she could sense but not see: The sun was indeed powerful, capable of illuminating the whole world, and the gathering illumination made her skin prickle in alarm, some instinct bred deep in her flesh telling her now was the time to be heading home. Yet she did not want to go.
"How you doing?" Xhex asked from behind her.
For truth, it had been a long evening. They had been on the outskirts of Caldwell for hours, circling in the darkness, tracking Xcor and his fighters - which had proven easy enough to do. Her sense of the male was clear as a spotlighted location, her tie to him from that feeding months ago as yet unfaded. And on his side... Xcor appeared to be so caught up in his fighting that he did not know she was on the periphery; certainly if he was aware of her vicinity, he did not approach her, and nor did the other soldier.
"Layla?"
She glanced over at the female. "I know right where he is. He hasn't moved."
"That isn't what I'm asking about."
Layla had to smile a little. One of the big surprises of the night had been the symphath - whom she actually no longer felt comfortable defining as such. Xhex was razor-sharp mentally, and strong as a male physically, but there was a warmth to her that was at odds with those traits: She had never once left Layla's side, hovering like a mahmen over a young, ever solicitous and careful, as if she knew that so much of this was foreign work under troubling circumstances for her charge.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
As Layla refocused on the signal of her blood some two blocks away, she stayed quiet.
"I'm sure you're already aware of this," Xhex murmured. "But you really are doing the right thing here."
"I know. He's changing positions."
"Yeah, I can sense that."
Abruptly, Layla turned toward a lofty, glowing beacon to the west: the highest skyscraper in the city. As she focused on the lights that blinked white and red at its apex, she imagined him standing in the gusting cold atop the monument, staking his claim to the city.
"Do you think he's evil?" she asked roughly. "I mean, you can sense his emotions, yes?"
"To a point I can."
"So... is he evil?"
The other female exhaled long and slow, as if she regretted what she had to share. "He wouldn't be a good bet, Layla. Not for you, not for anyone - and not just because of the Wrath issue. Xcor's got some sinister shit in him."
"So he is a dark soul."
"You don't need to read him to know that. Just think about what he did to your king."
"Yes. Yes, indeed."
From Qhuinn to Xcor. Fabulous track record for picking males -
"He's moving fast," Layla said urgently. "He's dematerialized."
"This is it. This is where you come in."
Layla closed her eyes and shut out all of her senses except the instinct to find her own blood. "He's moving north."
As previously agreed, the two of them traveled a mile and reconvened; traveled another five miles and reconvened; traveled another ten, and another ten... with Layla's instincts acting as a compass, steering their course.
And all the while time was of the essence, dawn racing in, a dangerous glow lodging in the seat of the sky and getting stronger.
The final leg of their race found them in a wooded forest, a good mile to a mile and a half away from where he had stopped - and at last gone no farther.
"I can get you closer," Layla murmured.
"He's not going anywhere?"
"No, he's not."
"Then you go. Now - go!"
Layla took one last look in the direction he was in. She knew she had to depart - for if she could sense him, he could perhaps sense her as well. The expectation, of course, was that if he did, he would not be able to react fast enough, that her disappearance to the mhis-protected environment up north would stop her trail and stymie him completely, not just giving him no inkling of her destination, but scrambling his blood sense so totally, he would be sent in a different direction like light bouncing off the surface of a mirror.
Fear made her heart skip, and she held on to the sensation, recognizing it as more real than her assessment of the time they'd been together when he had fed from her.
"Layla? Go!"
Dearest Virgin Scribe, she had condemned him to death this night -
No, she corrected. He had done that to himself. Assuming that rifle was found in and among the Band of Bastards' living arrangements, and that it proved what the Brothers thought it would, Xcor had set the wheels of his doom in motion months ago.
She might be the conduit, but his actions were the electrical charge that was going to stop his heart.
"Thank you for giving me this opportunity to do the right thing," she told Xhex. "I'll go home right now."
With that, she dematerialized away from the wooded glen, zeroing in on the mansion, making it into the vestibule just as the light was beginning to sting her eyes.
It was not tears doing that. No, those were not tears - it was the coming dawn.
Tears shed for that male would be... wrong of her on too many levels to count.
* * *
"We need to go, buddy."
John nodded as Qhuinn spoke to him, but he didn't move. Standing in the middle of Wellsie's kitchen, he was suffering from a kind of culture shock.
The cupboards were bare. The pantry was empty. So were all the drawers and the two closets. The bookcases over the built-in desk. The desk itself.
Walking around, he circled the table that was in the alcove, remembering the dinners Wellsie had served on it. Then he ambled down the long stretch of granite countertop, imagining her bowls of bread dough draped with dish towels, her cutting boards with piles of diced onions or sliced mushrooms on them, her canister of flour, her crock of rice. At the stove, he almost bent down to breathe in the aroma of the stew and the spaghetti sauce and the mulled apple cider.