Blood Truth

by J. R. Ward

  He shook his head and cursed. “You make it sound like a car accident.”

  “It is one.”

  Abruptly, he rubbed his face. “Well, then, let’s go to the fucking clinic. Because isn’t that what one does when one is in a goddamn car accident?”

  Helania looked away sharply. And then the words she’d been holding in broke out of her. “I don’t want to be pregnant.”

  “Yes,” Boone muttered, “I believe you’ve made it very clear that you do not want my young. But be that as it may, Doc Jane is going to check you out and we are going to do whatever else she says because we’re adults in an adult situation of our own creation.”

  “You didn’t know I was going to go through my needing. So this is on me.”

  “Like you could control when it came? And besides, you did go through it, and I was with you right beforehand. And I’m not arguing about that or anything else about going to the clinic anymore.”

  The bitterness in his voice brought her eyes back to him. Boone’s face was taut, his brows down, his unfocused stare trained somewhere in front of him.

  The sight of him looking so unhappy made her feel even worse, and she knew, if she kept this attitude up, she was just going to destroy them both. Maybe right here and now.

  Besides . . . perhaps it was all over nothing.

  “Fine,” she said, “gimme a minute and we’ll go.”

  Boone just nodded without looking at her. “I’ll meet you in the car. It’s out front.”

  • • •

  Boone went out the back way of the apartment building so he could get some fresh air. As he walked around to where Fritz was waiting in the Brotherhood’s black Mercedes, his chest hurt so badly, he wondered whether emotional pain could cause a heart attack—and then didn’t particularly care about the answer.

  Because hey, if he dropped dead in a snowbank, at least he wouldn’t feel this shitty anymore.

  As he rounded the corner and saw the car, he was tempted to tell Fritz to drive away and then text Helania that he wasn’t going to make her do anything she didn’t want. After which he would go jump off a bridge and take a nice long swim in the Hudson.

  And following that, maybe he’d find some alcohol.

  What he was not going to do was take out his frustrations by mutilating a slayer or a human. While he’d been tossing and turning all day, determined not to call or text Helania because it was clear she wanted space, he’d been haunted by his own actions in that alley. The fact that that particular man, that assailant, had more than deserved what had come his way was beside the point—and the terrifying thing was the question that Boone had refused to voice to himself.

  But God, what if the man had not deserved it? What if Boone had crossed paths with an innocent human who just happened to be out walking the streets?

  He liked to believe he wouldn’t have done anything. He wanted to believe he would have kept going until he found a lesser or a shadow.

  Except he didn’t really trust himself on any of that, and it made him wonder if maybe Helania knew something about him that he didn’t. Maybe that was why she didn’t want his young.

  Approaching the Mercedes, he shook his head as Fritz got out from behind the wheel. “No, I’ve got my door. Thank you.”

  The butler’s face fell, sure as if Boone had called into question his mahmen’s worth.

  “Oh . . .” Boone rubbed his aching head. “Oh, okay. Sure.”

  “Right away, sire!”

  For an older male, the butler could move quick—then again, he seemed to do a lot of things fast. On the way over here, he drove as if traffic laws and speed limits were so other people were less in his way.

  “Where is your female?” the butler inquired politely as he held open the rear door.

  I don’t know where she’s gone, Boone thought to himself. Even when she’s right in front of me.

  “She’s coming.”

  Hopefully.

  A moment later, she did. Just as he settled in the far seat, Helania walked out the building’s front door. She hesitated when she saw the uniformed butler and the S 65, but then she squared her shoulders and walked over on the shoveled paths. She was in jeans and the parka she’d worn the night they went to Remi’s, and her boots were ankle-high and well-used. With her hair pulled back and no makeup on, she seemed fresh and natural.

  As well as someone he needed to protect—and he knew that she didn’t want that from him.

  “Greetings, mistress,” the butler said with a wide smile. Then he bowed lower. “It is my pleasure to be of service. I am Fritz Perlmutter.”

  “Um . . . thank you?” she murmured.

  “Please,” Fritz said cheerfully, “take a seat and we shall proceed with alacrity.”

  As Helania got in, Boone looked away. “This won’t take long.”

  Fritz jumped in behind the wheel and turned around to them. “I shall put the partition up now! Please attach your seat belts and let us go.”

  While the black glass lifted, panels also came up on all the windows, blocking the views outside the car. Great. He couldn’t pretend to be looking at the snowy landscape. But this was part of the security around the Brotherhood’s training center. Someday, maybe he and the other trainees would get unfettered access. It hadn’t happened yet, however, and even if it had, Helania was not cleared to know where the facility was.

  Trying to do something with his hands—other than compulsively crack his knuckles—Boone pulled his belt around his chest, and as he clicked it into place, there was a lurch and the subtle roar of a very powerful engine.

  So, how about those Mets, he thought to himself.

  “By the way,” he said, “Butch has set up an evidence room at the training center. After you’re finished at the clinic, he’d like you to stop by and see him.”

  “Okay.”

  As his phone vibrated in his leather jacket, he wanted to thank the Scribe Virgin for the valid distraction, but as he took it out, he frowned. Rochelle had texted him, but he’d have to look at the message later. He couldn’t focus on anything right now.

  “Were you able to stay at your house during the day?” Helania said.

  Boone’s heart pounded at the unexpected sound of her voice, and he glanced at her reflection in the divider’s pane of smooth glass. “Yes. I slept there. The King gave me a total of fourteen nights before I can go elsewhere.”

  “Where will you stay after that?”

  “Craeg and Paradise offered me their spare bedroom. But I’ll find something on my own.”

  There was a time, little more than twenty-four hours before, when he would have wondered if he could stay with her. That window of opportunity had closed, however. And as she herself had said, he didn’t know how to get back to that space.

  “I’m really sorry about your sire—”

  Boone jacked around and raised his voice. “Okay. We need to stop with the bullshit here. You and I have waaaay too much going on between us for you to be making any comments about my living situation or my goddamn dead father. I realize I am not handling this well, but to be honest with you, I don’t understand what’s wrong. I honestly don’t. I don’t get this mood you’re in, but frankly, that fact that I do not understand it is just a reminder that I really don’t know you. We had fantastic chemistry, and I was really looking forward to exploring that with you for like . . . well, for however long it lasted. But I don’t get this and I don’t get you, and it’s doing my fucking nut in. So excuse me if I can’t make small talk right now, especially about big things in my life.”

  He expected her to yell back at him. Accuse him of being some kind of emotional thug. Rail against the fact that she could be pregnant—again.

  Instead, she just nodded. “That’s fair. You’re right.”

  Boone looked away to the blacked-out window next to him. As he felt the car make a wide turn, and sunk into the bucket seat from acceleration to a fast speed, he knew they were getting on the Northway.


  “I was hoping you’d yell back,” he heard himself say.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  After a moment, he felt a soft touch on his arm and glanced over at her. “What.”

  “If I can’t take care of myself, how can I take care of a young.”

  Boone blinked. “What?”

  Helania retracted her hand and tucked it into her thigh. “I don’t want to go get checked out at the clinic because I don’t want to find out I’m pregnant. And I don’t want to be pregnant because I’m terrified of being responsible for a young.”

  Opening his mouth to say something, he shut himself up as she started talking in a rush.

  “I don’t have the skills necessary to cultivate friendships. I get scared to go out by myself to the supermarket. I live in terror of the humans upstairs lighting the building on fire during the day and me not knowing what to do to avoid the sunlight. I haven’t slept well for eight months because the truth is, I hate living alone. And I worry all the time about the fact that there’s no one for me to call if I need something.” She shook her head and looked down at her hands. “That is not the kind of parent a young needs. That is not the kind of person who is strong enough to be a mahmen.”

  Helania’s eyes swung back to his own. “And you’re right. I am in a ridiculous mood. Maybe it’s the hormones still working their way out of my system, but even if that’s a part of it, the needing stuff doesn’t change the reality I’m in. I mean, God, I still don’t know who killed my sister—all I have on that front is that whoever it was might have done it to another female. I am just . . . I’ve fucking had it, Boone, with everything—including myself. This is supposed to be the era of girl power, but you know what? I’m the opposite of a strong, resilient female, and I hate it. I hate it and I cannot get away from that reality because everywhere I go, there I am.”

  Boone blinked again. Then he cleared his throat. “I think you give yourself a helluva lot less credit than you deserve. There aren’t many people, male or female, who would go to Pyre every night and do what you’ve been doing.”

  “I wasn’t in time to save that other female’s life.”

  “But you didn’t get yourself killed in the process, either. And you brought the Brothers into it. You went where you had to go.”

  “It’s not enough,” she said, her voice cracking. “I couldn’t save that female. I couldn’t save Isobel.”

  Reaching out, he brushed a tear from her cheek and wanted to pull her into his arms. “You’re doing what you can. You’re helping with the investigation.”

  “I’m going back there. To the club. You need to know that.”

  Boone inclined his head. “I know. I never thought you wouldn’t.”

  “Even if I’m pregnant.”

  As his gut twisted in a knot, he refused to let his fear show—or allow the wave of protective aggression he felt to get any airtime. He was all too familiar with what it was like to live under the overhang of someone who thought they knew better than you did when it came to your own damn life. He was not going to share that wealth with Helania just because he was a male and physically stronger than her.

  “As long as it’s medically safe,” he said, “I wouldn’t try to stop you.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Yes, I do.” He leaned in toward her and wished he could take her hand. But he did not want to crowd her. “That’s how much I trust you. That’s how much I believe in you. You are braver than you realize and stronger than you know, and I support you.”

  As he spoke the words, he realized they were the dead honest truth. And sometimes, to have faith in yourself, you had to have someone light that path for you. He’d learned that from the Brothers. From his fellow trainees.

  “I thought you were going to want to me to stay home,” she whispered.

  “And then you would fail your sister, right?”

  Her eyes shimmered with tears. “I’m already having so much trouble with living with guilt. Adding to what I’m carrying right now by giving up on finding Isobel’s killer? I can’t fathom it.”

  “Makes sense to me.” Boone shook his head as he considered his own past. “Look, I’ve seen what the glymera turns females into. I’ve lived in that nightmare. I wouldn’t want someone lording over me—why would I think you’d want that? As I said, provided it’s medically safe, I have no right to turn you into a piece of furniture just because you’re pregnant—nor would I want to.”

  The softening started in her eyes, the hostile, separating light dimming. Then her features relaxed, followed by her shoulders and the arms she’d crossed over her chest.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I’m just speaking the truth as I know it.” He so wanted to pull her into his arms, but stayed where he was. “And I request only one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Next time, just ask me what I think instead of dub my opinion in with what you hope isn’t true. I promise, I will always be honest, and maybe you won’t like some of my positions on things, but at least we’ll be arguing over real differences instead of hypothetical ones.”

  Helania took a deep breath. “Do you remember when you took me to Remi’s?”

  “That was like, three nights ago,” he said with a short laugh. “So yes, I do. Although even if it were three years prior, I can assure you I would remember every second of being with you.”

  Helania flushed, and the color was lovely on her face.

  “When I told you I’m not good at this”—she motioned between them—“I really was being truthful. I can’t relate well to people.”

  Boone shrugged. “Is anyone good at it, though? Especially if attraction’s involved.”

  “I don’t know. Craeg and Paradise seemed totally in lockstep.”

  “Oh, my God, see, you’re catching them now. They had a huge amount of conflict in the beginning.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. And hey, you could ask them about it, but they probably wouldn’t get the story right. True love, when it clicks, is the great eraser. All the conflict and work to get a relationship up off the ground just disappears when people hit smooth sailing.” Boone shrugged again. “But what do I know.”

  Falling quiet, he let his head ease back on the rest and closed his eyes. He was nowhere close to drifting off, but maybe she’d figure he was sleeping—

  Helania’s hand snuck into his own.

  And the instant she made the contact, he looked over at her. She, too, had laid her head back, and her breathing was even and slow. But she wasn’t asleep, either.

  He knew this because as he squeezed her palm . . . she moved her head over in his direction and then leaned against the outside of his shoulder.

  “Helania?” he said softly.

  “Hmm?”

  “Just so you know, you don’t have to be good at relationships with me. Be yourself. I’ll be myself, and as long as we keep talking? We should be okay.”

  Her lids opened, her lashes raising up to reveal a light in her eyes that he had never seen before. “I would really like us to do that.”

  “Talk some more?” he murmured as he brushed a stray hair out of her face.

  “Be okay,” she said softly. “I would really like us . . . to be okay.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Helania dozed as they traveled, going in and out of a light sleep. It was a relief to have no dreams. She was frightened of what might come out of her subconscious. But at least she felt as though the air had been cleared to some degree with Boone.

  When a series of stops and goes began, she sat up from where she’d leaned against him.

  “Are we getting close?’ she said.

  Boone shifted around in his seat. “Yes.”

  Helania cracked her neck and stretched her arms. “So this is where you go for training.”

  “Yes, it is. The facility is pretty hardcore. They have everything.”

  “Well, it is the Brotherhood’s.”

 
; She was aware that they were chitchatting, avoiding a relapse into any emotional depths. Still, she felt a lot better after having spoken her worst fear out loud, and she marveled at how much vocalizing it to someone who she knew cared about her helped.

  And now she was able to reconnect with Boone so much better. Especially given that she knew he wasn’t going to stop her down at Pyre.

  Provided the doctors didn’t have a big opinion about things. Dearest Virgin Scribe . . . what if she were pregnant?

  “Thank you,” she said, “for letting me get all that out.”

  As he looked over at her, she drank in the handsome planes of his face . . . and wondered how they would appear on a little boy with her coloring and his body type.

  “I will always make time for you.”

  Putting her hand on her belly under her parka, she thought . . . well, that statement was kind of an I-love-you, wasn’t it.

  The Mercedes bumped to a stop and stayed in place, the engine sounds cutting off sharply. And then the butler with the hangdog face and the California-sunshine smile opened her door.

  “Mistress, we have arrived!” As if it were a miracle and a music concert and a sporting event all rolled up into one. “Welcome!”

  As she got out, she smiled back at him. “Thank you so much.”

  He bowed deeply and then frowned as Boone scooted across the seat and unfurled his huge shoulders and towering height out of the back.

  “I would have come around to your side, sire.”

  “Oh, I know. Thank you, Fritz, for bringing us here.”

  There was a moment of consternation as if the doggen were still stuck on the door-open fail. But then he snapped back into the happy.

  “Allow me to show you in,” the butler said before walking toward a heavy steel door. “May I please get you some victuals?”

  As if they would be doing him a favor to ask for something to eat.