"I'm going to get Doc Jane," Wrath said, stroking the flank of the dog.
"Who?"
"My private physician. Stay here."
"As if . . . I'm going anywhere?"
There was the jangle of a collar and then the king left, his hand on a harness that connected him with the beautiful dog, the animal's paws clipping on the floor when they reached the edge of the rug and hit hardwood.
He truly was blind. And here on this side, he needed someone else's eyes to function.
A door shut and then she thought of naught but the pain. She was floating, rendered buoyant by the agony in her body--and yet, in spite of the incredible discomfiture, she was aloft on a strange peacefulness.
For no evident reason, she noted that the air had a lovely smell here. Lemon. Beeswax.
Just lovely.
Fates be, her time on this side had been long ago and, going by how strange things looked, in a different world. But she remembered how much she had liked it. Everything had been unpredictable and therefore captivating . . .
Sometime later, the door opened and she heard once more the jangle of the dog's collar and caught Wrath's powerful scent. And there was someone with them . . . who didn't register in a way that Payne could process. But there was definitely another entity in the room.
Payne forced open her eyes . . . and nearly recoiled.
It was not Wrath standing o'er her, but a female . . . or at least it appeared to be a female. The face had feminine lines--except the features and the hair were translucent and ghostly. And as their stares met, the female's expression shifted from concerned to shocked. Abruptly, she had to steady herself on Wrath's arm.
"Oh . . . my God . . ." The voice was rough.
"Is it that obvious, Doc?" the king said.
As the female struggled to respond, it was not the sort of reaction one hoped to engender in a physician. Verily, Payne had thought that she was well aware of how injured she was. However, it might well be that she was unclear as to the gravity of her condition.
"Verily, am I--"
" Vishous."
The name froze her heart.
For she had not heard it in well over two centuries.
"Wherefore speaketh thou of my dead?" she whispered.
The physician's ghostly face took tangible form, her forest green eyes revealing a deep confusion, her flesh carrying the pallor of someone fighting emotions. "Your dead?"
"My twin . . . is long passed unto the Fade."
The physician shook her head, her brows dropping low over that intelligent stare. "Vishous is alive. I'm mated to him. He's alive and well here."
"No . . . it cannot be." Payne wished she could reach up and grab the doctor's solid arm. "You lie--he is dead. He is long--"
"No. He is very much alive."
Payne couldn't understand the words. She had been told he was gone, lost to the Fade's tender mercies--
By her mother. Of course.
Verily, had the female cheated her out of knowing her own brother? How could one be so cruel?
Abruptly, Payne bared her fangs and growled low in her throat, the fire of anger displacing her agony. "I will kill Her for this. I swear I will treat Her as I did our blooded sire."
SIXTY-SIX
John took off after Xhex the instant she left the group and started running. He didn't like the independent thinking or her direction--she was heading into an alley where no one knew whether there was an exit or a brick wall at the end.
He caught up with her, taking her arm to get her attention. Which got him exactly nowhere. She didn't stop.
Where are you going? he tried to sign, but it was tough to do that to a person who was ignoring you while you were gunning full tilt. . . .
He would have whistled but that was too easy to ignore, so he tried again to get her arm, but she shook him off, focused solely on a destination he could neither see nor sense. Finally, he just jumped in front of her and blocked her way; then forced her to see his hands.
Where the hell are you going?
"I can feel him . . . Lash. He's close."
John went for his dagger as he mouthed, Where?
She jogged around him and resumed her pursuit, and as he followed, Tohr fell in step with them. When the others started to come along, John shook his head and motioned for them to stay put. Additional support in the field was a smart thing, but too many weapons in this sitch were not a value-add: He was going to take Lash out, and the last thing he needed was more trigger-happy fingers pointed at his target.
Tohr understood, though. He knew viscerally why John had to avenge his female. And Qhuinn had to come along. But that was it, no more cups and saucers welcome at the tea party.
John stuck close to Xhex--who seemed to have chosen wisely when it came to alleys. Instead of a dead end, the uneven lane rolled around to the right and wheedled in between other vacant warehouses as it headed down to the river. He knew they were getting really close to the water when the smell of dead fish and algae wafted up into his nose and the air seemed to grow colder.