Lover Mine(58)

"She wouldn't have to be in the Lessening Society. She would just be for me."

"For you."

"No reason to have her out there fighting."

"And this female. You have chosen her already."

"I have." Lash laughed shortly, thinking of Xhex and the damage she was capable of. "I'm sure you'll approve of her."

"You are so certain."

"I have very good taste."

All around, the red flames trembled on their wicks as if a breeze had ruffled them.

Abruptly, the Omega's hood lifted, revealing the shadowy, translucent face that had angles just like Lash's flesh-and-blood version did.

"Return from whence you came," the Omega pronounced as his dark, smoky hand rose up. With a stroke down Lash's cheek, the evil turned away. "Return from whence you came."

"I'll meet you at nightfall," Lash said. "At the farmhouse."

"Night. Fall."

"You want it later? How about one. We'll see each other then."

"You shall see me, indeed."

"Thank you, Father."

As the Omega drifted across the floor, that hood settled back into place of its own volition, and a panel slid open across the way. A moment later, Lash was alone.

Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his face and looked around at all the red flames and the spectacular walls. The place was kind of like a womb.

With a flash of will, he shot himself out of Dhunhd and back to the nasty little ranch house he'd had to use as a launching pad. As he came awake in his corporeal form, he hated the fact that he was stretched out on a couch that had cheesy autumnal leaves on its slipcover. And God, the nap of the fabric was like a buzz cut on a dog . . . and smelled the same, really.

Assuming said four-legged fucker had rolled in a damp ashtray.

Lifting his head up, he pulled his shirt to his neck. Still there. The lesions were still there and getting larger. And he felt like ass.

His hands shook as he got himself vertical, and when he checked his phone, he saw nothing from anybody. No voice mail back from Mr. D and no other slayers checking in. Both made sense. Everyone and everything was routed through his second in command so if the SOB had bit it, the Society couldn't find Lash.

Maybe the little Texan had been too good as a PA.

With hunger spurring him on, he shuffled into the kitchen and peeled open the refrigerator door. Empty. Except for a box of Arm & Hammer baking soda that should have been used on that couch.

Slamming the Frigidaire shut, he absolutely despised the world and everyone in it--although that was mostly a function of not having his eggs and bacon already waiting for him.

Plus crappy real estate did that to a guy. The ranch house was a new acquisition and one he'd been to only once before--hell, not even Mr. D knew the Society owned it. The thing was, Lash had bought it out of foreclosure because they were going to need places to make meth and the POS had a large basement. Stunning that whoever had owned it hadn't been able to cover the mortgage cost. The bitch was one step up from an outhouse.

Maybe half a step.

He headed out into the garage and it was a frickin' relief to be back in the Mercedes . . . although it galled him to have to hit a McDonald's drive-through for an Egg McMuffin and a coffee. He'd even had to wait in line along with a bunch of guys in trucks and moms in minivans.

As he went back to his brownstone, his attitude sank further into Man-son territory--and then shot completely into the sewer as he pulled up to the garage. The door was still up, but the Lexus was gone.

Parking the Mercedes under cover, he shut the thing in with the remote and got out. The garden in the back was relatively undisturbed, but he could smell the lesser the instant he--

Stopping on the terrace, his eyes shot to the second floor. Oh, God . . .

Energized by panic, Lash started to run full tilt and he took the back steps on a oner, bursting through the door--

His loafers skidded to a halt as he saw the carnage. Jesus . . . Christ . . . his kitchen.

The place looked like it had been hit with an oil shower. And duh, there wasn't much left of Mr. D. The slayer's torso was in the middle of the room, by the island, but his arms and legs were scattered all around . . . and his digestive tract was like macrame hanging from the pulls on the cupboards.

By some miracle, the guy's head was still attached and his eyes opened wide, his mouth starting to move as he saw he was no longer alone; a guttural plea came out of lips glossy with congealed black blood.

"You fucking pussy," Lash spat. "Look at you. For fuck's sake!"

And goddamn it, he had bigger problems than his second in command getting shredded. He leaped over the mess, tore through the dining room, and raced up the stairs.

Bursting into the bedroom he'd shared with Xhex, he found nothing but a whole lot of empty . . . and a window with a hole in it.