There was one and only one way to kill them.
Xcor drew his right forearm across over his left shoulder and buried the blade of his dagger square in the chest of the one who had been behind the wheel. Turning his head aside and shutting his eyes so he wasn’t blinded again, he waited for the pop and flash to fade before leaning over the seat and doing the same to the passenger.
Then he turned to go over and dispatch the beheaded, squirming corpse…that had tire tracks across its chest, thanks to the car’s path through the alley.
Stalking through black-stained slush, he lifted his dagger hand again over his shoulder and buried the blade into the sternum with such power, the point of the weapon went into the asphalt.
When he rose to his feet once again, his breath left his nose in locomotive puffs. “Search the vehicle, and then we must needs depart.”
He checked the time. The Caldwell police were disappointingly responsive, even in this part of town—and the constant threat of human involvement that he lived under was, as always, a bore. But with all luck, they would be gone as if they had never been in a matter of minutes.
Sheathing his blade, he glanced up to the sky, cracking his neck and loosening his shoulders.
It was impossible not to think of that Council meeting which had been scheduled; it had been on his mind all night long. Had Wrath shown? Or had it only been Rehvenge and representatives of the Brotherhood? If the king had in fact been in attendance, Xcor could well imagine the agenda: show of strength, warning, then a quick departure.
As mighty as the Brotherhood was, and as much as Wrath would want to flex his muscle before that group of faithless aristocratic sycophants, it was hard to imagine that a male who’d nearly been killed so recently was going to take any chances: If solely through self-interest, the Brotherhood would want him alive, as that was their seat of power, too.
And that was why he’d chosen to stay away.
There was no harm in letting Wrath attempt to regain some of his lost stature, and much to lose in a direct confrontation with the Brotherhood in front of that particular audience: The potential for collateral damage was too great. The last thing he wanted was to spook the glymera into retreating from him…or kill them off altogether in the process of taking out the king.
But he had in fact discovered, thanks to Throe’s contacts, exactly where and when the assembly was occurring. Which would be now…and at that female’s estate, the one from whom his soldiers had fed in that little cottage.
Evidently, she was willing to allow others the use of not only her garden, but her halls as well.
And soon enough, he would have a transcript of what had transpired provided to him by the mouthpiece that was Elan—if for no other reason than that the male would want to enjoy the access that he’d had and show off a bit—
A whistle of appreciation by the back end of the ruined car brought his head around.
Zypher was standing by the open trunk door, his brows high as he bent in and brought out…a cellophane-covered brick of something white.
“’Tis quite a bounty they have,” he said, holding it high.
Xcor marched over. There were three more like it, just tossed into the back loose as if the pair of slayers had been more concerned with their physical safety than the disposition of the drugs.
At that moment, sirens began to sound from the east, mayhap related to the crash, mayhap not.
“We take the packages with us,” Xcor ordered. “And depart the now.”
FIFTY-FOUR
All in all, the date wasn’t half-bad.
As Sola got up from her chair and started to put her coat on, Mark came in behind her and helped settle the wool on her shoulders.
The way his hands lingered suggested he was more than open to this being the end of dinner, but the beginning of the rest of the night. He wasn’t pushy, though. He stepped back and smiled, indicating the way to the exit with a gallant hand.
Moving in front of him, it seemed like some kind of mental-health felony that he didn’t make her blood boil…and yet that highly aggressive, dominating man from the night before did.
She was going to have to give her libido a pep talk. Or maybe a spanking…
Perhaps from that other guy, part of her suggested.
“No,” she muttered.
“Sorry, what?”
Sola shook her head. “Just talking to myself.”
After wending their way through the crowd, they got to the restaurant’s door, and wow, what a sinus-clearer when they stepped out into the night.
“So…” Mark said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his well-developed torso bunching up—and yet still not managing to get close to the size of—
Stop it.
“Thanks for dinner, you didn’t have to pay.”