Chapter Text
With his three-piece Italian suit, skinny tie with the diamond neck tie Trez looked every inch the successful business man he was pretending to be. Butch was helping his fill out his closet. The man was more obsessed than a female. Him and Phury was all smiles when they came back from New York Fashion Week. Any other time Trez would have found their ministrations pleasant and submitted willingly. Now he didn’t give a shit how he looked. If he could he would have crawled into a vat a naphalm and kissed his ass goodbye, but that wasn’t an option. iAm made it perfectly clear if Trez went into the Fade iAm was going to follow.
Trez was a selfish asshole, but he wouldn’t do that to the male. He’d chew his own skin off with hot sauce before he caused his brother harm.
He stood in his office watching the rats without tails lining up outside his club. The eager co-eds, with their bouncing breasts and expensive little clutches, looking for something illicit and wholly dangerous. The guttersnips hoping some goddess would bless them with a night in the sack. The old heads hoping something young and firm would let me feel their tight skin for a little bit. The cougars on the prowl hoping to find a young cub that didn’t mind stretch marks. All of teased, fried, died and laid to the side. Their eagerness for an escape was palpable. It coated his tongue.
Trez hated them all. He hated how happy they looked, how easily they laughed. He hated the blissed out expression they achieved with his liquor, and other substances. He hated that they could escape. Trez tugged at the collar of his shirt. He fought the urge to tear the things form his chest. He hated being in his skin; he hated the press of life upon him. He knew now why the caged bird sang. He wanted to wail at the heavens to release him from his body. He wanted to be wherever Selene was. He wanted his happy back. He wanted his heart to beat again.
His man at the door opened the club and the partiers started to stream in. The DJ cranked up the music and got the lights strobbing through the refurbed warehouse. The working girls blended right in with the clientele. Soon several of them pulled johns into the private rooms. He couldn’t stand to look at them anymore; he retreated to his office and sat at his desk doing a whole lot of nothing. His crew was efficient and good at their jobs. They took care of everything.
~~X~~
Winter, and her twin sister Logan, with their group of friends stood in the line to the club freezing their collective tits off. It was early February in upstate New York and she was wearing a tiny little yellow dress that barely covered her butt, her sister in a similar dress in green.
She’d never worn so little clothing in public before. She wasn’t a Puritan, but being the science geek that she was she spent every waking moment in the lab working on various projects. The last thing you wanted was a chemical spill when you were wearing booty shorts and a belly shirt.
“Fuck it’s cold.” Jocelyn shivered and wrapped her arms around her midsection.
“Bitch you have on pasties and a mini skirt.” Sosan shot back. The group laughed. The line moved up a couple of people. They could almost make out the pimple on the bouncer’s face now.
“My rent is due next week.” Jocelyn stated simply.
“So this is marketing?” Winter asked, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
The fiery Latina fluffed her hair looking like the cat that caught the canary. “In a manner of speaking.”
“So your mattress really is your ATM?” Logan grinned.
“Better than a black card any day.” The girl winked. They fell into a fit of giggles that carried them through the line, past the bouncer who looked at the twin’s driver’s licenses for at least 5 minutes, and into the coat check area.
None of them had brought coats, it ruined the outfits they were rocking, but it was a nice spot to check makeup, hair, cellphones and condom count, the latter being Jocelyn’s favorite club accessory. Winter had no plans on taking anyone to her bed. She wasn’t a prude and she had a healthy appetite for sex, but she was dead tired of anonymous sex with Tinder dates. It was draining and lately the men she’d been bringing home were catching feelings for her and she didn’t have time for that type of entanglement. When did fuckbois start learning how to be boyfriend material, she wondered.
She was shoving love and all the shit that went with it on the back burner for now. Getting your heart yanked out and stomped on once was good enough for her. She was not looking for a repeat of Derek. Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice and I might think about yanking your throat out and shoving it up your ass, letting my crazy ass sister with the dagger fetish do it. Winter grinned at the imagery as they walked out into the dance floor properly. Logan bumped shoulders with her. “What’s got you grinning like a fiend?” She asked.
“Thinking about you castrating Derek.”
“Hell yeah but you had to go and had all my knives.”
“Logan they would have put your ass under the jail for slicing up that white boy.” Winter popped a piece of gum in her mouth.
“Too true twinny.”
The club was in an old industrial building and save for a clean up job and putting in a bar and dance floor the wide-open space of the club was untouched. Currently the floor and the walls were pulsing with sound, flashing lights and people. Dj Khalad was assaulting her ears with a vengeance, but it felt good. She needed to get out of the house and the lab and be around living breathing people. It was a good mix of suburban white folks and urban black folks. She even caught some Hispanic faces in the lights. Winter loved her people she really did but sometimes she needed a break from the black nightclubs. She got sick of ducking and trying to cover just so she could get her booty shaking on. Logan was the more ‘hood’ of the James twins.
The group sidled up to the long bar and ordered a round of cocktails. A few Long Islands, a Sex on the Beach and a Screwdriver. Winter wanted to get buzzed not drunk. Besides they had pre-gamed at Sosan’s house for three houses. Only a high tolerance for the drink kept all of them on their stilettos.
Drinks in hand they made their way onto the dance floor. Khalad bled into Big Sean, into some old school Monica and Brandy. Winter could feel the bass in the balls of her feet and it travelled up her spine, setting up shop in her sensory strip. It set her whole body to vibrating, blissing her out. She gave into the feeling, letting it envelop her like a thirsty lover.
~~X~~
A few minutes turned into nearly four hours, but finally Trez emerged from his office for a walk through. He stalled out at the edge of the dance floor.
sHaDoWs was teeming with the unwashed masses, and Trez wanted to firebomb the entire place. The crush of human bodies in the place was making his eyeball itch. They danced and rubbed up against each other, the lust so thick in the air he could choke on it. The lump of ice in his chest was starting to spread to the rest of his body and he could give a good goddamn about it.
Beyonce blared through the sound system and the crowd went apeshit.
Every able bodied chick in the joint raced to the dance floor, and every horny guy was right on their tails. Trez stayed in the shadows watching, not really tracking anything. Big Rob and Silent Tom moved through the dance floor, giving anyone looking for trouble the hairy eyeball.
A knot of girls in the center of the dance floor drew his eye. He couldn’t say what it was about them that got him to focus. It was a group of five girls, all of them dark skinned beauties. Ranging from six feet to four foot eight. Dressed to the nines and having the times of their lives. A few of them were drunk, but nothing serious or dangerous. They seemed to be dancing around a pair of twins in the center.
Their bodies moved fluidly in sync under the lights. They couldn’t have been more than four foot eight inches tall, but they captivated everyone on the dance floor. Most of the men orbiting around them kept rearranging their pants and looked at the pair with naked lust in their eyes. It was dangerous playing the seduction game with the meatheads that come to sHaDoWs. There wasn’t a night that passed that security didn’t have to break a few hands or arms or legs because someone guy didn’t understand that no meant not today motherfucker. Something at the throat of the twin in black flashed in the strobe lights. Trez blinked the stars out of his eyes and refocused on the twins. Both were thick in the thighs and the backside with a little more around the waist. He wouldn’t have called them fat they weren’t starving or shopping for a size six either. Their breasts bounced in time with the music and he cursed his dick for noticing. Fuck him he was a bastard, barely a year since sending Selene into the fade and he was thinking about getting nuts deep in a pair of twins.
His asshole of a libido was sidelined as a knot of drunken frat boys pushed their way through the crowd toward the group of girls.
The drunker of the group grabbed one of the twins around the waist, yanking her back into his body. She squirmed, but he held on tight, she twisted back and forth trying to get free.
The girl’s twin was having none of that. Quick as a snake she pulled her arm back and popped the grabby guy right in the nose. He dropped her sister, spitting mad and looking for a target. “Got a situation on the dance floor.” He said softly into his earpiece. This was a car crash looking for a guardrail. He lunged at her, narrowly missing her shoulder.
Silent Tom caught the idiot by the back of his jacket. He lifted the guy a few inches off the ground and shook him like a ragdoll. His buddies looked ready to defend him till Big Rob stepped out of the shadows. They wisely backed off and allowed the bouncers to escort them to the doors.
Trez marked his face for remembrance. The puny twins might not have been one of his girls but he didn’t take violence against any women or female very well. It would be his supreme pleasure to track the fucker down and introduce him to his own nuts.
Making sure everything was in hand one last time he retreated to his office. He checked on his girls, nodding and smiling at a few of them as he did. The door closed with a soft click, shutting out the noise of the dance floor.
~~X~~
Vishous stood back to admire his handwork. After the epic battle with the lesser his brothers were down on the daggers and he wanted to do something special for the BoB. Those assholes really came through on a pinch and savagery on that scale deserved to be rewarded. Five Aircobra throwing axes gleamed in the firelight. Xcor was a beast with his lady; V figured the others had taken the hand to the task of learning to wield axes. Lined up next to the axes were six sets of daggers. It was some of his best handiwork.
He was sore and sweaty from his work, but it was a good sore. The sore after a hard day’s grind and you’re ready to throw in the towel. His muscles were twitchy and ready for some relief. He rolled his shoulders a few times then cracked his next. The mansion really needed a physical therapist or a masseur in the ranks. He made a mental note to look through the vampire directory for some. He couldn’t ask any of the shellans to take a course. That surefire way to have a mansion full of pissed off bonded males looking for an empty grave.
He’d been in his forge for days. Not eating, no sleeping. Nothing to do but the work. He needed something for his mind to focus on. Not once did Jane come to check on him, not that he expected her to, but it would have been nice if she had. He could feel himself getting sucked under and there wasn’t a goddamned thing he could do to stop it. His hand itched, and he blinked. His vision blurred. He dragged his hand across his face; it came away wet.
He was crying. Vishous, son of the Bloodletter, the nastiest fucker in the Brotherhood did not cry. Especially not because he was feeling sorry for himself. He growled and banked the fire in forge. Starting the shutdown process.
He mentally kicked his own ass. He was not going to turn into a pansy who cried over spilt milk. After their slayer showdown there’d been a lot of hurting going on and she was needed, but everyone was stable, she could have come once. It wouldn’t have killed anyone.
V growled again and finished cleaning up and making sure his forge was cooling down. He was being a Grade A fuckwad about Jane he knew and he tried not to be but it was his nature. The Bloodletter beat and had others fuck any warmth right out of him. He was a hollow shell without nothing left. No wonder Jane threw herself head first into her work. Could he really blame her?
He didn’t need to be alone right now. He was in a dangerous place, his mood getting darker by the minute, and there was no telling where his mind was going to wander. Making a phone call was out of the question and he knew Butch would help if he asked, but he wasn’t there.
Yet.
Toweling off and slipping into a black muscle shirt he climbed out of the belly of the house into the kitchen. Preparation for First Meal was in full swing. The house was full of vampires and young. Vishous could feel all their brain patterns. And to think he missed having them in his head.
What a jackass.
The doggen were moving with military precision. Three of them were working the grills. Steaks, bacon, sausage links or every variety were flipped, removed from trays and placed on platters. Fruit was peeled and quartered quickly. Mounds of pancakes, French toast and waffles few in size every few seconds. The sound of dozens of eggs being cracked bounced around the kitchen every few seconds. Fritz ordered servants here and there as needed. V would have loved to get the old man out in the field. They might have had the war with the lesser licked a century ago under his command.
Bitty and Nalla were helping. Well Bitty was helping, slicing apples and oranges. Nalla was munching on whatever it was Bitty kept slipping her when no one was looking. Fitz saw. With a quick hand he whipped a small black bib with glittery skulls on it around the toddlers neck before Bitty handed her another piece of juicy fruit.
V crouched low, ducking behind of the three islands in the kitchen. He glanced around, none of the doggen noticed him, or they did and they figured he was doing something important. Neither Bitty nor Nalla looked up from their fruit. He crabbed walked forward, keeping his head below the countertop, silent as the grave. He stole around the second island and managed to make it to the stove across from the kids. Something must have alerted the toddler, a smell, or a sixth sense, her father was one of the better trackers in the Brotherhood, for she whirled around in her chair, yellow eyes searching for the source.
“Uncle Fish.” The toddler announced. V couldn’t help but grin. He suspected Nalla could pronounce his name but choose not to.
“You’re mine little one.” He grinned and sprang forward. She squealed and tore out of the kitchen. Her mad giggles rang out in the foyer as he chased her.
He could hear Bitty hot on his heels. “Run Nalla.” Bitty shouted jumping on V’s back. The girl weighed nothing, but V pretended to stagger under her weight, catching himself on the wall. Rhage came down the stairs with a mug of tea in his hands.
“What are you feeding this girl? She weighs almost as much as you true.” V reached back and swung Bitty around and threw her high into the air. She laughed, her arms pinwheeling before she sailed back into his arms.
“She’s built like her dad. Ford tough.” Rhage swallowed the rest of his tea eyeing his brother and his adopted daughter as they chased Nalla, the toddler terror, around the foyer.
Rhage leaned against the wall. It was good to see V smiling. The brother had been in such a black mood lately he’d been giving Z the creeps. And that took a lot of doing. Rhage wanted to ask V what was doing, but V wasn’t the sort of male you made personal inquiries of. Maybe he would talk to Mary.
Yeah and maybe unicorns could fart rainbow dust all over Caldwell.
~~X~~
Logan danced like a parole doing a dime out for good behavior. Sure she got a rush when she discovered some obscure historical fact hidden away in the library, but there was nothing like having panty sweat from dancing your ass off.
Her body was slick with sweat and her face flushed with exertion. There was a stitch at her side but she didn’t care. For six years she’d been buried in schoolwork or in a library coughing up dust bunnies, sure she still had fun, but nothing like the wonton abandoned of the past two weeks. It was a great day to be alive and she was going to enjoy every minute of it.
Her sister was likewise dancing up a storm. She was sweating her perm out and didn’t give a good damn about it.
“Want another round?” Shanique shouted at her. Logan nodded and rocked back in time with the music.
Her sister was twirling like a top around the group giggling the whole time. It was pressure release for both of them. There was only one way out of the hellhole their life had been and neither of them was going to pass it up.
She thought about getting up on one of the dancing platforms and shaking what her mother gave her, but she a few of those girls looked positively territorial and the last thing Logan wanted was to knock a bitch out and get booted from the club. Those bouncers had armed and dangerous stamped all over them. It would just crank her shit right out to get kicked out of the club. Plus it might ruin the night if she got arrested for popping someone in the mouth. That would be the feather in her graduation weekend. She would end up in jail with busted knuckles because she was a hot head. That’s why it was such a godsend when her teachers realized she was just as intelligent as she was vicious. She would have ended up six feet under, her sister a hollow shell without her.
Just as Kendrik Lamar blared from the speakers a hot flash tore through Logan’s body, her vision fitzing out on her. “Win.” She gasped. Winter doubled over with pain before the word left her lips. She thought they’d licked whatever virus was running rampant through their nervous system weeks ago, but she could feel that familiar rumble building in her stomach.
The twins grabbed onto each other for support. They were the only things keeping themselves off the floor.
“We’ll be back.” Logan all but shouted. They shuffled off before Sosun could say anything.
“I’m going to be sick.” Winter whimpered.
“Hold on twinny.” Logan, the stronger of the two dragged her sister through the knot of bodies on the dance floor. She got a few dirty looks and a shove or two, which earned the offenders an ocular fuck you. She was so not in the mood for a throw down. They managed to make it to the other side of the club in record time. The line to the ladies bathroom was ridiculous, she didn’t have time for this. Winter was going to blow chunks and it wasn’t going to be pretty, and she was going to be right on her sister’s heels. Her stomach was churning, her skin was burning and a headache was threatening to park itself right in her frontal lobe.
She pushed her way to the emergency exit at the back. “Oh please open,” she begged. She pumped the handle three times before the door released. She didn’t have time for this. Logan stumbled outside, dragging her sister by the arm at this point. They barely made it to a scant bush before throwing up. Her stomach squeezed and she threw up again. Logan braced herself against the wall as her body shook with the violence of her explosion. She couldn’t keep a hold of her sister who slumped to the ground, only managing at the last second to avoid face planting in her own vomit.
“When did I eat corn?” Came a muffled question that send Logan into a round of throwing up and laughing. Trust her twin to be a cornball when they were trying to get rid of their spleens by any means necessary.
~~X~~
He could feel it, the freight train barreling right through his frontal lobe.
“Fuck.” He was getting sick of this. “Goddamn.” He lurched up from his desk, scattering excel spreadsheets and liquor order forms. The room went all tilt-ta-world on him. The ringer on his phone going off barreled into his brain matter and took up resident. He didn’t need to look at the screen to know who it was. His brother was better than ESP when he was in trouble. Their bond wouldn’t have been stronger if they had been twins, but he didn’t want to talk to him right now. Didn’t want all the concern and shit in his head. There was enough going on in dome without his brother’s concern taking up space.
Right, move motherfucker. One step, shuffle, then it was two steps around the desk and then it was a all out lurch across the room. Two tries to get the hand of the door to turn, and then it was out into the wall of sound that was his club. He really was going to have to talk to someone about the volume of the speakers. He was seeing stars just from the sound alone. His balls tingled with the bass vibrating through them.
The migraines were getting more frequent. Used to be once every couple of months, more if he was stressed. Now he was averaging one a week. Fuck his life; fuck it straight to hell. He weaved down the hallway praying to a deity he didn’t believe in that no one saw him. He couldn’t handle the compassion right now. He was slowly splintering and he wanted to do that in peace. He threw his arm out to catch himself on the wall.
He felt movement at his back. Big Rob was right on his heels. “You ok boss?” Trez tried to push him away, but the pain was already spreading. He was going to need his strength to get home. iAm was at the colony with his mate, and he was not letting the motherfucker leave his mate to tend to his brother. He was so not doing that shit, and Xhex had the night off, probably with her mate as well.
Fuck him.
“Just need to get home.” He wheezed. His vision went on a little vacay. “Stay. Lock up.” Was all he could squeak out. Right, time to go. Any longer and he wasn’t going to make it. The last thing he wanted was one of his human staff to call for an ambulance. He all but threw himself toward the exit, practically kicking the door open.
The last of cold air took his breath away, but it cleared away some of the pain and he was able to focus for a few moments. He couldn’t drive himself. He needed to ghost himself home.
A pair of squeaks pulled his attention.
The twins from the dance floor were bent over throwing up. Well one was kissing asphalt and the other was barely hanging onto the side of the building, but she was headed to Gravelland any second now. The one standing looked at him, dried sick at the corner of her mouth, her hair wave of black hair mussed and standing on end.
His world spun for the second time tonight.
He collapsed face first in the dirt. “Ow.” He whimpered.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” One of the twins limped over to him, stopping to wipe the vomit from her cheek with tissue from her purse. She knelt down, struggling to roll him over. He could hear her grunt with the effort. The other one dragged herself over to help her sister. A pair of identical hands patted him down gently. His body jacked off the pavement as contact was made.
“Fucking hell what’s wrong with him?” One of them said.
“Overdose maybe. Get him on his side before he aspirates into his lungs.” The other offered.
They got him flat on his back and he sucked back the oxygen. It took a couple of tries but he managed to open his eyes, only to recoil. Two pairs of chocolate brown diamond eyes transfixed him. “Fuck.”
“No thanks.” The one on the right said.
“Not into crack heads.” The one on the left offered.
If he head wasn’t a pounding sore on top of his neck he would have bared his fangs and told the chippies to fuck off, but he was in no shape to boot his saviors in the ass. He inhaled deeply, pulling their scent deep into his nose. He could smell their change coming, and judging by the heavy smell of human over both of them they had no idea what was about to hit. They had days at the most.
He reached for one of them; either of them, well he needed to get both of them to safety, more to the point he needed to get both of them to the mansion. Even with his brain on scramble he could see their bloodline written on their face. This bomb was going to be bigger than Hiroshima.
A left hand and a right hand grabbed onto his. They had the same grip. “You on something?”
“No.” He croaked.
“What’s doing? You need an ambulance.” One of them started digging around in her purse. He got a flash of her iPhone screen before he grabbed their wrists. Twin masks of fury nearly immolated his face. “Don’t ruin both our nights asshole I’m only trying to help.” The one in black hissed. He could see the muscles in her arm contracting, preparing to let loose with a rabbit punch to the face. She tried to yank out of his grip.
“You better let us go. I’m the nice one and I carry mace.” The one in yellow said.
“You have to come with me.” Shit he was going to black out if he didn’t hurry.
“The hell we do. Let go.” They both braced their legs and tugged. They barely moved him an inch, but he respected the effort, even if he didn’t have the time nor the patience for it.
He closed his eyes, pulling in oxygen. He blocked out their squirming, before the one in black could ring his bell, he dematerialized.
Vampires couldn’t carry passengers when they went ghost, but shadows had no such restrictions. Though it was always nice when your head wasn’t in a vice grip and your tagalongs weren’t fighting you tooth and nail the whole way. He had to mentally knock out the feisty one, he had almost dropped her over the Hudson River, not that it would have been a total tragedy, but he figured her sire would put a boot up his ass once he found out.
Seconds later they fell out of the sky. He fell on top of one of them, her head bouncing off the driveway with a crack.
He cursed, rolled over and threw up. The other one landed in a heap and groaned. “What the actually fuck dude.” She moaned as she rolled over and threw up again.
Trez threw out a very loud and very pointed mental shout. He just hopped the asshole was in the mansion.
~~X~~
Vishous was in the process of depositing Bitty back on her feet when Trez’s mental SOS assaulted him. It just about drove him to his knees. Fucking shadows. They were worse than sympaths with the mental Kung fu. He stumbled into the wall, catching himself before he swan dived across the foyer.
“What the fuck. I mean hell. Damnit.” Rhage cursed grabbing for V.
V slapped at his hands. “Trez is in the driveway. Migraine.” He squeezed out. Rhage stopped by the billiards room and grabbed a few more hands. They beat feet outside.
The fucking shadow didn’t know how strong his mental game was. V’s eyes were rolling around in his head from the force of the shout. He was going to be sick. He stumbled into the bath under the stairs to throw up. He didn’t have much in his stomach but an apple and PB&J but it all came up just the same. He wiped his mouth, washed his hands and shuffled back out into the foyer. The door was still wide open, a cold breeze freezing his nuts in his leathers.
V was not interested in playing nurse mate to the shadow. He tried it once; he was still trying to get vomit out his shitkickers.
“Shit Vishous bust a move out here my brother.” Z shouted.
He wasn’t in the mood for this. “Fuck.” He jogged through the door out into the courtyard.
Outside Trez was flat on his back; the throw up around his head giving him a halo effect. But he wasn’t the Live at 6 even everyone was staring at. Sprawled out next to the guy were a pair of dark skinned human woman; he could smell human blood in the air.
One of them was in the process of throwing up again; the other was out cold with a slow moving pool of blood under her head.
Tohr stood guard over the moving one. She stopped vomiting long enough to glare up at him. The brother leapt back as if she shoved a Taser up his ass. “Shit.”
Why would Trez bring women back to the mansion, especially in his current state? Wrath was going to eat the shadows nuts for breakfast.
Tohr looked at him, his face going grey around the endges. “What’s doing my brother?” Rhage, never one to be left out of the loop stomped over to Tohr. He glanced down at the woman. “Holy fuck.”
Now all of them wanted to know what was doing. They gathered around the woman, each of them looking at her, and then glancing at the other one.
Zadist gently rolled over the bleeding betty. He lifted one eyelid. He hissed and would have dropped her if she weren’t already in bad shape.
“What the fuck Z?” V wasn’t in the mood for whatever shitshow was going down. The human’s eyes fluttered as if her brain were struggling to restart itself.
V’s heart stopped.
“No fucking way.” He pushed the peanut gallery out of the way and knelt down. He thumbed back the woman’s eyelid. An unfocused chocolate-rimmed diamond iris stared out into space. He glanced over at the other one. An identical pair of chocolate-rimmed irises glared at him.
He fell back on his ass. “Fuck me.”