The truth was . . . he was in love with her. Totally over-the-line, no-going-back, not-even-dead-would-he-part kind of shit. And although his hearts and flowers hadn't been unrequited, that didn't matter. He'd come to peace with the fact that the one he wanted didn't want him.
What he could not live with was her being tortured or dying a slow, excruciating death.
Or him not being able to give her a proper burial.
He was obsessed with her disappearance. Single-minded to the point of self-destruction. Brutal and unforgiving toward the one who'd taken her. But that was nobody else's biz.
The only good thing in the sitch was that the Brotherhood was likewise committed to figuring out what the hell had happened to her. The Brothers didn't leave anyone behind on a mission, and when they'd gone up to get Rehvenge out of that symphath colony, Xhex had been very much a member of the team. When the dust had cleared, and she'd disappeared entirely, the assumption was that she'd been abducted, and there were two possible ways to go: symphaths or lessers.
Which was kind of like saying, Do you want her to come down with polio or Ebola?
Everyone, including John, Qhuinn, and Blay, was on the case. As a result? It just looked as though finding her was part of John's job as a soldier in war.
The humming of the needle stopped and the artist wiped at his back.
"It's looking good," the guy said, resuming his work. "You want to do it in two sessions or just this one."
John glanced at Blay and signed.
"He says he wants it done tonight if you have the time," Blay translated.
"Yeah, I can do that. Mar? Call Rick and tell him I'm going to be late."
"Dialing as we speak," the receptionist said.
Nope, John wasn't going to let the Brothers see this ink--no matter how great it looked.
The way he saw it, he'd been born in a bus station and left for dead. Thrown into the human child welfare system. Picked up by Tohr and his mate, only to have her killed and the guy disappear. And now Z, who'd been the one assigned to reach out to him, was understandably busy with his shellan and their new young.
Even Xhex had shut him out before the tragedy.
So, whatever, he could take a hint. Besides, it was curiously liberating not to give a shit about anyone else's opinion. Freed him up to nurture his violent obsession with tracking down her abductor and ripping the fucker limb from limb.
"You mind telling me what this is?" the tattoo guy asked.
John lifted his eyes and figured there was no reason to lie to the human. Besides, Blay and Qhuinn knew the truth.
Blay looked a little surprised, but then translated. "He says it's his girl's name."
"Ah. Yeah, I figured. You two getting married?"
After John signed, Blay said, "It's a memorial."
There was a pause and then the tattoo guy put his gun down on the rolling table where the ink was. After yanking up the sleeve of his black shirt, he put his forearm in front of John. On it was the picture of a gorgeous woman, her hair breezing out over her shoulder, her eyes focused so that she looked out of his skin.
"That was my girl. She's not here anymore either." With a sharp tug, the guy covered up the picture. "So I get it."
As the needle got back to work, John found it difficult to breathe. The idea that Xhex was probably dead by now ate him alive . . . and what was worse was imagining the way she might have died.
John knew who'd taken her. There was only one logical explanation: While she had gone into the labyrinth and helped to free Rehvenge, Lash had shown up, and when he'd disappeared so had she. Not a coincidence. And though no one had seen anything, there had been about a hundred symphaths in the cave where Rehv had been and a lot going on . . . and Lash was not your garden-variety lesser.
Oh, no . . . he was apparently the son of the Omega. The very spawn of evil. And that meant the cocksucker had tricks.
John had seen a few of his fancy dancies up close and personal during the fight at the colony: If the guy could palm up energy bombs and go nose-to-nose with Rhage's beast, then why couldn't he snatch someone right from under everyone's noses. The thing was, if Xhex had been killed that night, they would have found a body. If she was breathing, but had an injury, she would have telepathically reached out symphath-to -symphath to Rehvenge. And if she was alive, but needed a little vacation, she would have left only after she was sure everyone else was home safe.
The Brothers were working off the same logical assumptions, so they were all out looking for lessers. And although most of the vampires had left Caldwell for out of state safe houses after the raids, the Lessening Society, under Lash's rule, had turned to drug dealing to make ends meet, and that went down mainly around the clubs here in town on Trade Street. Trolling seedy alleys was the name of the game, with everyone looking for things that were undead and smelled like a cross between a bled-out skunk and a Glade PlugIn.