“Wrath, this is important,” the guy said.
“Okay, I’m coming right now.” Wrath clipped his phone shut and looked at Vishous. “I’m-”
“Phury’s out hunting tonight. You can’t go there alone.”
“The Chosen are in the house.” And had been staying off and on at Rehv’s Great Camp since Phury had taken the reins as Primale.
“Not exactly the kind of protection I had in mind.”
“I can handle myself, fuck you very much.”
V crossed his arms over his chest, his diamond eyes flashing. “Are we going now? Or after you waste time trying to change my mind?”
“Fine. Whatever. I’ll meet you in the foyer in five.”
As they left the study together, V said, “About those guns? I’m still working on the trace. Right now, I’ve got nothing, but you know me. That ain’t going to last, true. I don’t care if the serial numbers are scrubbed, I’m going to find out where the hell they got them.”
“Confidence is high, my brother. Confidence is very high.”
After they were fully armed, the two of them traveled in a loose dance of molecules up north, zeroing in on Rehv’s Great Camp in the Adirondacks and materializing on the shores of a quiet lake. Up ahead, the house was a huge rambler of a Victorian, shingled and diamond paned, with cedar-post porches on both stories.
Lot of corners. Lot of shadows. And a lot of those windows looked like eyes.
The mansion was spooky enough on its own, but with it surrounded by a force field of the symphath equivalent of mhis, a guy could credibly believe that Freddy, Jason, Michael Myers, and that redneck crew with all the chain saws lived inside: All around the place, dread was an intangible fence made of mental barbed wire, and even Wrath, who knew what was doing, was glad to get on the other side of the barrier.
As he forced his eyes to focus better, Trez, one of Rehv’s personal guard, opened the double doors on the porch that faced the lake and raised his palm in greeting.
Wrath and V walked up the frosty, crunchy lawn and though they kept their weapons holstered, V took the glove off his glowing right hand. Trez was the kind of male you respected, and not just because he was a Shadow. The Moor had the muscled body of a fighter and the smart stare of a strategist, and his allegiance was to Rehv and Rehv only. To protect the guy? Trez would level a city block in the blink of an eye.
“So how you doing, big man,” Wrath said he mounted the porch steps.
Trez came forward and they clapped palms. “I’m solid. You?”
“Tight as always.” Wrath knocked the guy in the shoulder. “Hey, you ever want a real job, come soldier with us.”
“I’m happy where I am, but thanks.” The Moor grinned and turned to V, his dark eyes flicking down to V’s exposed hand. “No offense, but I’m not shaking that thing.”
“Wise of you,” Vishous said as he offered his lefty. “You understand, though.”
“Abso, and I’d do the same for Rehv.” Trez led the way to the doors. “He’s in his bedroom waiting for you.”
“He sick?” Wrath asked as they entered the house.
“You want anything to drink? Eat?” Trez said as they headed to the right.
As the question remained unanswered, Wrath glanced at V. “We’re okay, thanks.”
The place was decorated right out of Victoria and Albert’s back pocket, with heavy Empire furniture and garnet and gold everywhere. True to the Victorian period’s affection for collection, each room had a different theme to it. One sitting parlor was full of antique clocks ticking away, from grandfathers to brass windups to pocket watches in display cases. Another had shells and coral and centuries-old driftwood. In the library, there were stunning Oriental vases and platters, and the dining room was kitted out in medieval icons.
“I’m surprised there aren’t more Chosen here,” Wrath said as they went through empty room after empty room.
“The first Tuesday of the month, Rehv has to come up. He makes the females a little nervous, so most of them go back over to the Other Side. Selena and Cormia always stay, though.” There was no small measure of pride in his voice as he tacked on, “They’re very strong, those two.”
They took a grand set of stairs up to the second floor and went down a long hall to a pair of carved doors that positively screamed master of the house.
Trez paused. “Listen, he is a little ill, okay. Nothing contagious. It’s just…I want you both to be prepared. We’ve given him everything he needs and he’s going to be fine.”
As Trez knocked and opened both doors, Wrath frowned, his vision sharpening on its own as his instincts pricked.