Chapter Nineteen
"A female..." The Omega's soft, echoing voice carried farther than its volume would have suggested, the two words suffusing every corner of the smooth stone room that formed his private chamber.
Lash did his best to appear unconcerned as he lounged against one of the black walls. "I need her to service me for blood."
"Do you."
"It's biology."
In his white robing, the Omega cut a stunning figure as he circulated around the space. With his hood up in place, his arms crossed, and his hands tucked into his billowing sleeves, he resembled a bishop in the game of chess.
Except, of course, he was the king down here.
The evil's receiving area was about the size of a ballroom and decked out like one, with plenty of black chandeliers and stanchions that supported legions of black candles. It was far from stark, however. For one thing, those wicks were spouting red flames. And to top it off, the walls and floor and ceiling were made of the most extraordinary marble Lash had ever seen. From one angle it was black, from another it was metallic bloodred, and given that the source of illumination was constantly flickering, you got both colors at once all around you.
It wasn't hard to figure out the why of the decor. Given the Omega's wardrobe, which was limited to those driven-snow drapery things, he was the prime focal point, the only thing that stood out. The rest was window dressing.
He ran his world like that, too.
"And would this be a mate for you, my son?" the Omega asked from way across the room.
"No," Lash lied. "Just a blood source."
You did not give the Omega more information than you had to: Lash was well aware of how fickle his father could be and off-the-radar was key.
"Have I not given you enough strength?"
"My vampire nature is what it is."
The Omega turned and faced Lash. After a pause, that distorted voice whispered, "Indeed. I find that to be true."
"I'll bring her to you," Lash said, straightening from the wall. "To the farmhouse. Tonight. You turn her and I'll have what I need."
"And I cannot provide that to you?"
"You would be providing it to me. You induct her and I have the blood source required to give me power."
"So you say that you are weak?"
Damn him to hell, but it must be obvious that he was. The Omega could sense things and surely it had been apparent for some time now.
When Lash stayed quiet, the Omega drifted forward until they were eye to eye. "I have never inducted a female."
"She wouldn't have to be in the Lessening Society. She would just be for me."
"For you."
"No reason to have her out there fighting."
"And this female. You have chosen her already."
"I have." Lash laughed shortly, thinking of Xhex and the damage she was capable of. "I'm sure you'll approve of her."
"You are so certain."
"I have very good taste."
All around, the red flames trembled on their wicks as if a breeze had ruffled them.
Abruptly, the Omega's hood lifted, revealing the shadowy, translucent face that had angles just like Lash's flesh-and-blood version did.
"Return from whence you came," the Omega pronounced as his dark, smoky hand rose up. With a stroke down Lash's cheek, the evil turned away. "Return from whence you came."
"I'll meet you at nightfall," Lash said. "At the farmhouse."
"Night. Fall."
"You want it later? How about one. We'll see each other then."
"You shall see me, indeed."
"Thank you, Father."
As the Omega drifted across the floor, that hood settled back into place of its own volition, and a panel slid open across the way. A moment later, Lash was alone.
Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his face and looked around at all the red flames and the spectacular walls. The place was kind of like a womb.
With a flash of will, he shot himself out of Dhunhd and back to the nasty little ranch house he'd had to use as a launching pad. As he came awake in his corporeal form, he hated the fact that he was stretched out on a couch that had cheesy autumnal leaves on its slipcover. And God, the nap of the fabric was like a buzz cut on a dog... and smelled the same, really.
Assuming said four-legged f**ker had rolled in a damp ashtray.
Lifting his head up, he pulled his shirt to his neck. Still there. The lesions were still there and getting larger. And he felt like ass.
His hands shook as he got himself vertical, and when he checked his phone, he saw nothing from anybody. No voice mail back from Mr. D and no other slayers checking in. Both made sense. Everyone and everything was routed through his second in command so if the SOB had bit it, the Society couldn't find Lash.
Maybe the little Texan had been too good as a PA.
With hunger spurring him on, he shuffled into the kitchen and peeled open the refrigerator door. Empty. Except for a box of Arm & Hammer baking soda that should have been used on that couch.
Slamming the Frigidaire shut, he absolutely despised the world and everyone in it--although that was mostly a function of not having his eggs and bacon already waiting for him.
Plus crappy real estate did that to a guy. The ranch house was a new acquisition and one he'd been to only once before--hell, not even Mr. D knew the Society owned it. The thing was, Lash had bought it out of foreclosure because they were going to need places to make meth and the POS had a large basement. Stunning that whoever had owned it hadn't been able to cover the mortgage cost. The bitch was one step up from an outhouse.
Maybe half a step.
He headed out into the garage and it was a frickin' relief to be back in the Mercedes... although it galled him to have to hit a McDonald's drive- through for an Egg McMuffin and a coffee. He'd even had to wait in line along with a bunch of guys in trucks and moms in minivans.
As he went back to his brownstone, his attitude sank further into Man- son territory--and then shot completely into the sewer as he pulled up to the garage. The door was still up, but the Lexus was gone.
Parking the Mercedes under cover, he shut the thing in with the remote and got out. The garden in the back was relatively undisturbed, but he could smell the lesser the instant he--
Stopping on the terrace, his eyes shot to the second floor. Oh, God...
Energized by panic, Lash started to run full tilt and he took the back steps on a oner, bursting through the door--
His loafers skidded to a halt as he saw the carnage. Jesus...
Christ... his kitchen.
The place looked like it had been hit with an oil shower. And duh, there wasn't much left of Mr. D. The slayer's torso was in the middle of the room, by the island, but his arms and legs were scattered all around... and his digestive tract was like macrame hanging from the pulls on the cupboards.
By some miracle, the guy's head was still attached and his eyes opened wide, his mouth starting to move as he saw he was no longer alone; a guttural plea came out of lips glossy with congealed black blood.
"You f**king pu**y," Lash spat. "Look at you. For f**k's sake!"
And goddamn it, he had bigger problems than his second in command getting shredded. He leaped over the mess, tore through the dining room, and raced up the stairs.
Bursting into the bedroom he'd shared with Xhex, he found nothing but a whole lot of empty... and a window with a hole in it.
"Motherfucker!"
Wheeling around, he looked through the open door and saw the mark outside on the hall wall. Stalking over, he pressed his nose against the silk wallpaper and inhaled. Her scent was in the fibers of the weave.
She had broken out physically.
Yet she'd still been in the room after Mr. D had been attacked. Had the Brothers come back and helped her get out?
A quick run through the house and Lash's mood went from nasty to toxic. Laptop gone. Cell phones missing.
Motherfucker.
Down in the kitchen, he headed into the pantry to get the--
"Oh, f**k me!" Kneeling down, he checked out the panel that had been torn open. His stash was gone, too? How the hell had they found it?
Then again, Mr. D looked like an anatomy class had had at him. Maybe he'd spilled. Which meant Lash couldn't be sure what other addresses had been compromised.
On a burst of rage, he threw his fist out, winging it hard and catching whatever he did.
A massive glass jar of olives.
The thing shattered, juice going everywhere, those little eyelike rollers hitting the floor and making bids for freedom in all directions.