His heart finally beat like it was supposed to. Yet from the moment he’d folded to the Cave with Medichi and caught sight of the bastard-from-hell, he’d been in a state. Even now, as he sat forward on the ratty brown leather couch nearest the bar—that bar with all the broken bottles—his left knee bounced. He’d tried to make it stop several times but he was so damn juiced, too much damn adrenaline and nowhere to put it.
Luken and Santiago worked to clear up the mess, which had to be done manually. Only Central, or maybe Endelle, had the power to clean up debris without a mop or a broom. However, a lake of combined alcohol and broken glass hardly qualified as a crisis demanding Central’s intervention. The boys were almost done anyway, although they might want to throw away the reeking mop afterward.
Whatever.
If only his foot would stop thumping on the cement.
“Are you in pain, Warrior?” Even the healer’s voice had a soothing quality.
“I’m fine.” His words came out clipped. He blew the air from his cheeks, leaned forward, and planted his forearms on his thighs. Horace moved with him, his hands still hovering above the wound.
“Almost done,” Horace said.
“Oh. Sorry,” Marcus muttered.
Marcus had spent the entire night at the downtown Borderland above the Trough, battling wave after wave of death vamps. Medichi had joined him just before dawn, thank God.
Marcus found himself grateful, beholden to the warrior. He wasn’t used to fighting and as much as he’d savored the first twelve or so engagements, after that his muscles ached in places he’d forgotten he had. So yeah, Medichi had saved his ass, something he hated to admit.
Who gave a f**k?
The rest of the warriors stood in a group not far from the upside-down pool table, shooting the breeze. Luken and Santiago, having finished their chore, joined them. His gaze skated beyond the group to a smashed-up TV hanging at a weird angle off its wall mount. If the TV had worked, he would have fired up the dimensional hookup to Mortal Earth and started running CNN. He kept the network on in his office, day in, day out, just to keep up.
Horace’s hands shifted to his face. He felt the soothing warmth travel through the fat lump over his eye. He glanced at him. The healer’s brown eyes had a gentle appearance, a kind expression. He tried to imagine being a tender sort of man. Impossible. He’d always have his hard abrasive edges. He was who he was. Though he had lived on Mortal Earth for two centuries, he was still a warrior.
Speaking of which, he sure as shit could use a little jugular time. He’d love a woman right now. He felt his iPhone vibrate, slid it from the deep pocket of his kilt, then scanned the text. He let a couple of obscenities fly. One of his corporations, the one that exported to Second, had just lost a major contract. He really needed to get the hell back to Mortal Earth before his empire turned to dust. His nerves shot off skyrockets and his muscles jumped and twitched.
He hated being hamstrung like this. After all these decades, he’d learned a goddamn thing or two about running massive businesses. Bottom line, they all depended on one thing—his f**king leadership.
Horace asked him to tilt his head back a little. Marcus complied, his gaze landing on the ceiling. There was one fine collection of spit wads up there, glued to the texture. He chuckled. Now, this was something he missed—the outer limits of male bonding.
The small bit of laughter eased something inside his chest.
As the bump above his eye lessened, he said, “You’re the man, Horace.”
“Thank you, duhuro.”
“Hey. Don’t use that address with me. Any of these warriors hear you say that to me, they’ll crucify you.”
Horace chuckled. “I think not, duhuro. And no matter what any of them say, you were battling death vamps when the rest of them were made up of trees, frogs, and daisies.”
Marcus met his eye. “That’s one helluva generous thing to say.”
Horace smiled as he kept the healing warmth flowing.
His gaze shifted back to the warriors. He still didn’t know the story about the pool table but he could imagine a dozen scenarios that would have provided the same result.
Every once in a while, the group of six hardened vampires burst out laughing. A drift of tobacco swirled to the ceiling. Zacharius had a cigar in hand. Yeah, he had forgotten the best part of being a Warrior of the Blood, sharing stories at dawn, having a last drink, a last smoke before heading home to bed.
At the sound of a feminine voice, he leaned his head sideways. When had the woman arrived? He couldn’t really see her. Just her legs and feet. Medichi and his massive shoulders and height blocked her from view. Luken ranged close, though, like he had some claim on her. She had on really conservative brown pumps, the kind a lot of his admins wore. Boring.
He closed his eyes. He drew in a deep breath. His nose was clear, finally. So clear that for just a moment, he caught a familiar scent, the one he had smelled at Endelle’s. Had all of Second started using Glade PlugIns laced with honeysuckle? Jesus.
The trouble was, his body really liked this particular smell. The small of his back developed a knot and his groin warmed up. He ground his teeth and worked at keeping himself under control or Horace here would get ideas that he was into men. What the hell was going on with him?
He breathed again. This time the scent was stronger and his eyes rolled back in his head. Oh. My. God.
He heard Thorne’s shredded-bark voice. “Havily, I don’t know why the hell Endelle hauled you out of bed and sent you over here at this hour. The ascendiate has gone to Queen Creek with Kerrick and is recovering from a serious wound. She probably won’t wake up until later this afternoon. I can call you when you’re needed. By the way, have you met the ascendiate yet?”
“No, not yet. You know, I think this is really odd. When I spoke with Endelle, she was adamant I come over here, right now, to get the details from you.”
The musical lilt to the woman’s voice affected Marcus, like he needed to hear more. A lot more.
“She sent you here … at dawn … to get details? I don’t get it. I don’t have any details. I met Alison for the first time about an hour ago and she was unconscious.”
“Well, I guess there’s been some mistake but I’m not sorry I came. I always like seeing you boys. Please tell me you’re done for the night.”
A general flow of affirmatives went around the group.
So the woman’s name was Havily. Didn’t sound familiar. None of the warriors had mentioned her. He supposed she was the ascendiate’s Liaison Officer. He still couldn’t see her, just her legs. Her ivory linen pants looked tailored from where he sat. They had a firm crease like his suits did.