The King

Ehric took out a set of handcuffs and clipped them to the “art dealer’s” wrists. Then it was a case of slapping the motherfucker awake.

When Benloise’s eyes opened, he recoiled like he was in a bad dream.

In grim tones, Assail finally answered the question that had been posed to him. “You have something that is mine. And you’re going to return it to me before dawn—or I will make you wish you were never born.”

A half an hour after the epic confrontation with her husband, Beth was in the back of the Brotherhood’s Mercedes S600 with her half-brother beside her and Fritz behind the wheel. The sedan was brand-new, the wonderful smell of fresh leather and varnish like aromatherapy for rich people.

Too bad the sniffy-good wasn’t doing a damn thing for her mood.

As she stared out the tinted window, the descent down the snowy mountain to the rural road at its base seemed to go in slow motion—although maybe that was because the sound track to the trip, which should have been Vivaldi or Mozart if you went by the ethos of car commercials, was the toxic tennis match of that happy little chat with Wrath.

Shit. Her hellren had always been autocratic—and again, that had nothing to do with his station in life: Screw the crown; it was his personality. And over the last couple of years, she’d watched him throw that attitude around in countless situations, whether it was with the Brothers, the glymera, the staff—hell, the TV remote. But with her, he’d always been … well, not subservient. Never that. She’d always had the sense, though, that he deferred to her. Whatever she wanted, when she wanted it—and God save the fool who got in his way.

So yes, she’d assumed the kid thing would be the same—that he’d cave, given how important having a baby was to her.

Instead? Total opposite—

A soft touch on her elbow reminded her of two things: One, she was not alone in the sedan’s vast backseat. And two, she wasn’t the only person who had problems.

“Sorry,” she said as she dropped hands she wasn’t aware of having brought up to her face. “I’m being rude, aren’t I?”

Are you okay? John signed in the dim interior.

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.” She patted his heavy shoulder, knowing this whole thing with the seizures had to be weighing on him: the trip into town, the MRI, the results that were going to follow. “More important, how are you?”

I guess Doc Jane made it to the medical center okay.

“Yup.” Beth had to shake her head, her gratitude to Jane and her human partner, Manny Manello, choking her up. “Those two are amazing. Human health care is expensive and tough to navigate. How the two of them pulled this off, I have no idea.”

Personally, I think it’s a waste of time. He turned his head away. I mean, come on. I’ve had the episodes for how long? Nothing’s ever come of them.

“It’s safer to get everything checked out.”

John’s phone went off with a bing! and he tilted the screen so he could see it. It’s Xhex.

“So she made it there okay, too?”

Yeah. He exhaled in a hard rush. This whole being-driven-in thing is ridiculous. I could make the trip in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, but if you’re just a regular human, you’d come by car. Easier to keep the lie up, you know.”

Even better, we could have scrapped this bullshit. He laughed a little. I’ll tell you, I’m sorry for whoever meets Xhex at the door. She was prepared to do a sweep of the entire hospital complex—and when she’s like that? You don’t want to tell her no.

The respect shining in his eyes was a stinger. Considering the way Wrath had acted.

“Xhex is one lucky female,” Beth said roughly.

It’s the other way around. Trust me—why are you looking like that?

“Like what?”

He seemed to flush. As if you’re going to cry.

She batted away the concern. “Allergies. I always get watery eyes this time of year. Maybe I’ll pick up some Claritin while we’re out tonight.”

In December? Really?

As she became the one who was looking away, Fritz picked up speed along the rural straightaway. Slowed down coming into a curve. Reaccelerated when they were out the other side. The Mercedes handled everything with total ease, the ultra-padded seat absorbing the shifts of her body, a gentle warmth being pumped onto her feet.

They should have put the tagline “Ambien Edition” on the car.

Although again, any rock-a-bye-Benz-y effect was wasted on her.

She had a feeling there was going to be no sleep at all until she and Wrath worked things out—or …

Another tap on her arm. You know, you can talk to me about anything.

Beth swept her hair back … only to pull it forward over her shoulders again. Where the hell to go with that. There were so many choices—but John had enough on his plate already.

Beth. Seriously.

“How about we get through this with you and—”

It’ll give me something else to think about, and I could use that right now. When she didn’t respond, he signed, Come on, please. I’m worried about you.

“You are a total love, you know that?”

And you’re not talking, are you.

She stayed quiet for a while. Up ahead, a sign for the Northway appeared, the “I-87” glowing in the headlights. If they got on and kept going, instead of taking the first of the downtown Caldwell exits, they could be in Manhattan in about an hour. Farther south than that would put them into Pennsylvania and then down to Maryland and …

“You ever wish you could just get away sometimes?” she heard herself ask.

Before Xhex came around? Sure. But now …

God, to think Wrath was the one she wanted to bolt from. Never saw that coming.

What’s going on, Beth.

There was another long silence, during which she knew he was hoping she’d string some nouns and verbs together for his benefit.

“Oh, you know, just a marital moment.”

He shook his head. Been there, done that. It sucks.

“Too right.”

Finally, he signed, You can use Darius’s house, you know. If you need some space. You gave it to me, which was great—but I always think of it as half yours, too.

She pictured the Federal-style mansion deep in human territory, and her chest burned. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”

And even if she wasn’t, the last place she wanted to go was where she and Wrath had fallen in love.

Sometimes good memories were harder to bear than bad ones.

Can you at least give me a topic? My head is running in all kinds of directions.

It was going to take them another fifteen, twenty minutes to get to the St. Francis medical complex. Long time to sit in this awkward silence. And yet it seemed a violation of her and Wrath’s privacy to talk about the baby thing … or maybe that was just an excuse to hide the fact that she didn’t want to burst into tears.

“Do you remember anything about your seizures. I mean, like, when you’re in them?”

I thought we were talking about you.

“We are.” As he glanced over at her, she met his eyes. “You were telling me something. Halfway through, you looked up at me … and you were mouthing something. Can you remember what it was?”

He frowned as though he were running a check of his memory banks, his gaze going unfocused. I really can’t … I just … I got up to the top of the stairs, looked into Wrath’s study, saw you … and then it wasn’t until Xhex took me down the hall to our room that my lights really came back on.

“They say it was in the Old Language.”

John shook his head. Not possible. I mean, I can read it some and understand a little if someone talks to me. But I can’t speak it.

She inspected the ends of her hair, even though she knew there were no split ends; one of the doggen had trimmed it just last week.

“Well, is there something you want to tell me anyway?” She glanced over. “You can be honest with me about anything. Wrath has, like, a dozen Brothers. I only have you.”

John frowned again. No, I—

A sudden trembling scrambled his hands, choking off whatever he was signing—and then he jerked back in the seat, his body going rigid.

“John!” Beth reached out to her brother. “John—oh, my God…”

As his eyes rolled back in his head, the whites flashed like he was dying. “John—come back…!”

Jerking forward, she knocked on the partition. “Fritz!”

As the butler dropped the smoky glass, she barked, “Hit it—he’s having another seizure!”

Fritz’s shocked eyes flipped up to the rearview. “Yes, madam. At once!”

The old butler stomped on the gas, and as the Mercedes torpedoed up the Northway’s entrance ramp, she tried to help John. The seizure had taken him over, though, his back straight and unforgiving as a ramrod, his hands curled up to his chest and cranked into Dracula claws.

“John,” she begged in a cracking voice. “Stay with me, John…”

THIRTEEN

“Tell me he’s coming around again.”

As Assail spoke, he stared out the front windshield of the Rover, the hilt of a dagger locked in the grip of his right hand. They were deep into the woody fringes of Caldwell’s zip code, no lights from dwellings twinkling through the tree line, no other vehicles coming or going along the icy, two-lane country road.

Benloise had roused briefly, only to “pass out” again. Which could well be a lie.

“Not yet,” Ehric muttered. “But he’s alive.”

Not for long.

“And na**d,” the fighter tacked on.

Assail wrenched around just as his cousin collapsed his hunting knife. Naked, indeed. Benloise’s bespoke suit had been beshredded, the fine navy fabric in tatters, the silk shirt underneath unfit even for a housecleaner’s use. All jewelry had been removed as well, from the Chopard diamond watch to the gold signet ring, from the link bracelet to the cross on a thick gold chain.

The booty was bundled into a cup holder, along with a cell phone that had had its battery removed so that any GPS signal would be cut off. The clothing had been left wherever it lay.

Mayhap he was indeed unconscious. Difficult to imagine the man not struggling through that.

“How much farther?” Assail demanded.

“Right about here would be sufficient,” Ehric said.

The male’s brother hit the brakes, threw the gearshift in park, and killed the engine. Immediately, Assail got out, looked around and reconfirmed their isolation. No lights from any dwelling. No sound of any traffic. No one anywhere.

“Shut off the headlights.”

With the flurries having abated and the moon making its appearance through spotty clouds, there was more than enough illumination coming through the pine trees.

Assail sheathed his dagger and then cracked his knuckles. “Get him up and out.”

Ehric manhandled the deadweight with admirable aplomb, given that Benloise was unclothed and limp, a piece of luggage that had no handles, as it were.

The drug wholesaler returned to consciousness just as he was mounted against the icy cold contours of the Rover, and the jerk that announced his wake up was carried through to all his limbs, his arms and legs jangling like those of a puppet.

The cousins pinned the man against the SUV—and the great Ricardo Benloise no longer seemed powerful at all: He’d always looked commanding in his fancy suits, but without benefit of those carefully constructed jackets and slacks, he was just a compilation of shrunken hollows, his ribs standing out in sharp relief, his soft belly protruding over bony hips, his knees wider than his thighs and his calves.

“Let us not waste time,” Assail said in a low tone. “Tell me where she is.”

No response. Benloise’s body might have been weak, but his mind, his eyes were sharp as ever: Though he was at a mortal disadvantage, his will was unbending.

That was not going to last.

Assail drew his arm across his own torso and cuffed the man with the back of his hand. “Where is she!”

Benloise’s head ripped to the side as the slapping sound rang out, blood speckling Ehric’s jacket.

“Where is she!” Assail hit the wholesaler again, his knuckles clapping hard enough to sting on the follow-through. “Where is she!”

The cousins hitched their prisoner up higher as he began to sag.

Assail snapped a hold onto the man’s throat and helped in the effort until Benloise’s feet dangled six inches off the snow. “I will kill you. Here and now. If you do not tell me where she is.”

Benloise’s eyes rolled around, but eventually met Assail’s. And yet he said absolutely nothing.

Assail tightened his grip until the airway compressed. “Marisol. You tell me where you have taken her.”

Benloise’s mouth cranked open as he fought for oxygen, his thin arms pulling against what held them, his legs kicking so his heels pinged into the quarter panel.

“Marisol. Where is she.”

Those eyes never left Assail’s—to the point where, under different circumstances, one might have respected the man’s obstinacy. Now it was a lightning rod for frustration.

“Where is she!”

With his free hand, Assail reached in between the man’s legs and twisted the balls that had tucked in tight to the torso.

The scream that rose up was caught at the throat, Assail’s hold silencing the sound. And he wanted to do so much more, but he couldn’t kill the bastard. Not yet. Ordering his hand to release the airway, it was a moment before the digits obeyed.

Benloise coughed and gasped, blood from his split lip falling upon his na**d chest.