Blood Vow

by J. R. Ward

  Peyton's baby blues gave her a don't-be-daft stare, but when he saw that she honestly didn't get what he was saying, he shook his head.

  "She should have been more like you."

  Elise winced, thinking that, given where she was headed at the end of the evening, she doubted she was half the paragon of virtue Peyton was giving her credit for.

  "Why did she go there?" she prompted.

  "Look, Allishon was always on the hunt for something new." Peyton reached for yet another Grey Goose bottle and poured some more into his tall glass. The ice cubes had melted long ago, but he hadn't seemed to notice--or maybe he just didn't care. "She was always searching. And a lot of the time, she found it there."

  "So she was drinking and doing drugs."

  "And having sex." He cursed as if he didn't want to go into it all. "She was fucking in public. With lots of different humans in lots of different ways. It was what she got off on--the real hardcore shit. And that club is where it happens in Caldie. She went there a lot."

  Elise couldn't help but recoil at the thought of a place like that. Nothing she could handle, that was for sure.

  No, she was into monogamy. With Axe, specifically.

  But she didn't judge, and again, she'd known that Allishon had different tastes than she did: "So...she went there, and someone found her and hurt her."

  "Anslam found her and killed her, you mean."

  Elise covered her mouth, her eyes popping wide. "Wait, Anslam--as in, hold on, our Anslam?" She'd known the male all her life. "But he was in the training program, wasn't he? I heard he died during a mission. That's what my father told me."

  "Not what happened." Peyton stared across at the football game. "Not even close. You sure you want me to go into this?"

  "Yes. I need to know."

  "Anslam was...hurting women and females...and taking their photographs while doing it. He hooked up with Allishon at some point, I don't know when, exactly--neither of them said anything to me. And you know, clearly, something went down between them...." Peyton trailed off, his head lowering, his voice going so soft, she could barely hear what he was saying. "I went to her apartment downtown after no one had heard from her for several nights. That's when I found...how badly she'd been hurt. What had been done to her."

  At that point, he choked up, and Elise had to force herself to give him space to get control of his emotions--she had the sense that if she tried to console him or hug him, he was going to pull out of whatever he was remembering.

  Peyton cleared his throat. "There was a lot of blood. On the sheets--I mean, the bed was stained with it. There were footprints of the stuff across the carpet, and the red smudges of handprints on the sliding glass door to the terrace. She didn't die in the apartment, however. Somehow, she was able to dematerialize out of there. She was found on the lawn of Safe Place, that domestic violence shelter? She was in bad shape. They didn't know who she was--took her to Havers. She passed there. But again...until I went to her apartment nights later, they didn't know who she was."

  "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

  "Me, too. She must have been in so much pain."

  Elise closed her eyes. "And it must have been very hard for you to find all that."

  "I'll be fine," he clipped out.

  Of course, he said this as he was pouring more liquor down his throat.

  "And then," Peyton continued, "see, one of those photographs fell out of Anslam's pack on the bus to the training center and Paradise found it. She was the one who put the whole thing together--and Anslam tweaked to the fact that she knew too much. He went to her house and attacked her--nearly killed her, too. But she and Craeg took care of business. He died in her foyer. When they found even more photographs on him, it all...came together."

  Elise rubbed her eyes. "My father...when you came over that night, what did you tell him and my aunt and uncle?"

  "It was fucking painful. Her parents were...frozen. I'll never forget it--they didn't show any...they were just emotionless. It was the shock. Clearly. Your father was the one who cried. Later, the Brotherhood visited them, after the rest of what happened came out. 'Cuz when I told them she had died, we didn't know who had done it yet."

  Elise's eyes teared up, as she pictured her father emotional.

  "I think her parents blamed Allishon," Peyton muttered. "Like it was her fault for getting herself killed. And you know...I felt like she was murdered all over again, with that attitude of theirs. I mean, someone offed her because they didn't recognize her rights and humanity, but then putting it all on her? You do that all over again. And Christ, it's her own parents."

  As they both fell silent, it was as if a pall settled in the suite.

  "I told you it was better not to speak of this," Peyton muttered.

  "And I disagree completely." She got to her feet and stalked around until she was right in front of the huge screen. Different teams were playing football now, the uniforms red and black and blue and white. "I think we need to talk about it. Not just as a family, but as a community."

  "When is the Fade ceremony?"

  "I don't think there is going to be one."

  "She has to be buried."

  "She was cremated. But I think that's as far as it's going to go."

  "Well, I still pray for her," Peyton murmured, holding his glass up. "Blessings upon her soul, may she rest unto the Fade, that kind of shit. Usually when I'm drunk, which has been most of the time lately."

  "Have you thought about speaking to a therapist?" Elise said as she turned back to him. "This is a lot to hold in."

  "NFW--I'm going into the business of war. If I can't handle blood and death, I might as well get out now--and I'm not going to do that."

  "But we're talking about a family member's death here. It wasn't the enemy."

  Peyton just shrugged. "I'll be fine."

  "Well, if you need someone, I'm always here."

  He smiled in an absent way. "You know...I'm proud of you, Dr. Elise."

  "You are?" She blushed. "And by the way, I don't have my doctorate yet."

  "You don't need one. Actually a friend of mine recently taught me that females are just as good as males."

  As that smile of his faded, she got the impression he was sad. "Who was that?"

  "No one special."

  That's a lie, Elise thought. But she respected the boundary.

  "I'm worried about you," she said softly.

  "Like I told you...I'll be fine."

  --

  For the first time since he joined The Keys, Axe sat back and watched the action from the sidelines.

  Novo was still in with Staff: Axe had left her alone in the interview room after giving the boys in red a synopsis of the human story she had concocted as a cover. Which made him think...he didn't even know how old she was, who her people were, what her background actually was. He had his suspicions that a lot of it hadn't been great.

  And that wasn't because she liked the same kind of sex he did.

  Or the sex he'd used to be into.

  The truth was, though, you could be perfectly well-adjusted and still like the fucking that happened here. That was what people outside of this lifestyle or whatever you wanted to call it didn't understand. Yeah, there were folks running from shit. And folks who were fucked in the head. And maybe a couple of sociopaths. But the vast majority of members were good to go.

  Hell, Tinder wasn't any different. eHarmony. Blind dates, office set-ups, bar-crawl meetings. You name it, you were going to find a mix of good and bad--

  A woman with bared breasts and a long leather skirt swanned by, her white hair piled up high on her head, her steampunk headgear making her look like the twenty-first century had gotten into a cage match with Victorian England--and the remnants of the conflict had fallen all over her face.

  She paused in front of him. Her nipples were covered thanks to two metal disks that were held in place by piercings, a delicate chain running between the tips.

  Axe had been
with her a number of times, once at the altar, then in other situations. He didn't know her name or her number. But he was well familiar with her sex.

  On any other night, he would have gone somewhere with her.

  But now, he was just counting down the minutes until he was meeting Elise--and no one here, or anywhere else on the planet, was going to come close to what was waiting for him at the end of the evening.

  He shook his head and she nodded and moved on.

  "Not your type?" Novo drawled.

  Axe looked over. The female had emerged from the back, and he hadn't even known she'd returned. "You want to go hang for a while? Or call it a night and come back?"

  If he remembered the way new membership worked, you had to wait awhile before you were approved. But you could come as a guest of the club until that happened.

  "You really weren't into her?" Novo stared after the female as if maybe she liked what she saw. "No?"

  "Not tonight."

  "Well, I know you're not saving yourself for me." This was said without bitterness. Which Axe appreciated. "You sure you don't want to get something off your chest--waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait a minute."

  "Let's go," he said, moving away.

  But she kept after it and him. "Peyton's little cousin. The one who showed up at the cigar bar. You're getting her, aren't you."

  "Nope."

  "Yeah, you are--"

  Axe stopped. Turned around. Met Novo right in the eye. "Why in the hell would a nice female like that have anything to do with me? Think about it."

  He could imagine the frown on Novo's face behind her mask.

  "Well," she said, "when you put it like that...I can't argue with you."

  Just his luck, he thought as they resumed their stroll through the sex rooms: He won that argument because he was a piece of shit.

  It was like getting a trophy because everyone else forfeited the race.

  'Cuz they didn't want to be on the track with the likes of you.

  But whatever...this thing with Elise was not going to last; he knew it down to his soul. The question was when and how badly it ended.

  Until then--he was in, though. Totally fucking in.

  hage almost would have preferred to hate the guy.

  He'd come into the Audience House ready to protect his shellan and defend his family. It was a war of sorts, with the field of battle being nature over nurture: Were two fit, non-biological adoptive parents better than a not-as-fit, but biologically related, potential parent? After all, even if Ruhn had had money, there was no way he lived in as safe a house or environment as Rhage and Mary did.

  Because, hello, the two of them bunked in with the First Family.

  And Ruhn was single, not very educated, and had no experience with kids of any age.

  So, yeah, Rhage had come into this library ready to fight.

  But instead...he found himself sitting across from what appeared to be a tragically calm, respectful, and reasonable male. And wishing the entire time that he could find fault with something--anything--about Bitty's uncle.

  "Well," Marissa said gently--there had been a lot of gentle prompts from the likes of her. "I think the next step...is for you, Ruhn, to meet Bitty."

  Rhage bared his fangs and then quickly hid the flash of dental art.

  Mary spoke up. "How do you suggest we proceed with that?"

  "I think it should be supervised, but not by either of you," Marissa murmured. "I just believe it's best for the two of them to have an introduction where Bitty's allegiances are not divided. She's going to want to align with you and Rhage out of loyalty."

  "How long has she been with you?" Ruhn asked.

  "Two months," Mary said.

  Rhage opened his mouth and spoke up before he could think. "But it feels like a lifetime. We love her like she's our own, and she feels the same about us and--"

  Mary elbowed him in the side.

  And helllllo, sound of crickets.

  "No one is doubting your love," Marissa said. Again, gently.

  Rhage burst up and marched around. "Well, good. Because it's there and it's going nowhere." He glared at Ruhn. "And even if you take her away from us, we're still going to love her. She's still going to be in our hearts and our heads. Just so we're clear, you leave with her and go back to wherever the fuck you're from? There is not going to be a night that she"--he pointed to Mary--"and I aren't going to think about her, wonder how she's doing, worry about her--"

  "Rhage," Mary said. "Rhage, calm down--"

  He stopped in front of the guy. "And I want you to remember this. If you ever hurt her--"

  V closed in, grabbing Rhage's biceps. "Okay, let's roll back--"

  "--I will field-dress you while you're still alive and eat your heart out of your chest--"

  There was a sharp whistle, and all of a sudden, Z and Butch were both in the room, coming in through the French doors. As they got in front of and behind him, he realized he'd been wrong. He'd assumed they were there to prevent an outside attack.

  With those doors unlocked as they had been? Clearly, folks had been a little more concerned with an inside killing, with him as the aggressor.

  And Rhage had to give Ruhn some credit. Instead of shrinking back in the sofa like a pussy...or going on a preemptive strike...

  The male simply rose to his full height and sank into a defensive stance.

  Just as he had two nights ago.

  "It's okay," the goddamn fucking uncle said as Rhage felt himself being moved out of range. "He can hit me if he wants."

  That stopped everyone in the room.

  V looked at the guy. "You didn't mention you had a fucking death wish."

  "I don't."

  "Then I want it in his file that he has very poor risk assessment," Vishous muttered dryly.

  "Let me go," Rhage demanded. "I'm not going to light him up. I'm just telling it like it is."

  Clearly, that was not very persuasive, as his brother-bodysuit stuck with him.

  "And I'm glad you feel that way," Ruhn said, "because it means you've treated her well while you've had her. Which is more than her sire ever did."

  Damn it, why did the SOB always say the right thing?

  Mary cleared her throat. "I think I would like Rhage and I to be the ones to tell Bitty. I want to make sure this is framed correctly. I don't want her to feel as though she is being wrong or bad if she wants to see him, be with him...go with him." She focused on Ruhn. "You, I mean."

  Ruhn's eyes didn't shift from Rhage. "That's kind of you."

  "It's really what's good for her." Mary pushed her hair back behind her ears. "And that's all that matters. On that note, we should probably get going. Rhage and I should go tell her in person and then...first thing tomorrow night? And this is neutral but safe territory--if we can put off the King's appointments for another evening?"

  "Consider it done," V declared.

  "Okay," Ruhn said as he reached into his pocket. "But, um, can you give her this for me? You can read it first, of course. It's just...I wanted to introduce myself. I can't read or write, so I dictated it."

  Something must have changed in Rhage's body, because suddenly he was on his own again, the holds on him released--not that his brothers went very far.

  Mary's hand shook as she took what turned out to be a couple of pages of lined paper that had been ripped out of a spiral notebook, the frayed edges fluffing up one side of the otherwise neat square.

  "I'd be happy to give this to her," his shellan murmured.

  "Like I said, you can read it. There's nothing much to it. It's not, like, well written or anything. I just wanted her to know who I am."

  "All right."

  "And the last page is, just, you know, nothing special."

  "Okay."

  Things kind of petered out at that point, Ruhn sitting back down and staring into the fire. Mary coming to stand next to Rhage, her arm linking through his.

  "There's one other thing," V announced as he addressed the uncle. "Th
e King wants to meet you. Before you can see Bitty, you will be required to sit in his presence."

  Ruhn nodded slowly. "All right. Whatever it takes."

  But the guy was obviously not looking forward to it. Because he had something to hide? Rhage wondered.

  "I'm going to be in on that," Rhage said. "I will be in on that audience."

  "Wrath wants it private." V shook his head. "And by that, he meant without you or Mary."

  "It really should be just between the two of them." Mary stroked his arm. "When will that meeting occur? We should wait to speak to her until it happens--"

  "He can sit in if he wants." Ruhn shrugged as all eyes swung back his way. "I have nothing to hide. I mean, I'm just a nobody, and I'm used to my lack of status. No reason to have airs if you've got nothing to back them up with, and if all you've done is live a simple, honest life? That's the kind of thing you can explain even to a King, with a straight back and a level eye--no matter who else is in the room with you."

  Rhage blinked. And then had a horrible thought.

  Fuck, under other circumstances, he might have liked the guy.

  "We appreciate that, Ruhn." Again, Marissa with her gentle way was easing things. "But it is better if it's just you and Wrath. And a guard."

  "Wrath said he could come here now," somebody interjected.

  "Then we should go." Mary looked at Rhage. "Let's just go, all right? And we'll hang out somewhere and wait for word about the meeting with Wrath before we head home."

  Someone said something--Marissa. And then Mary was talking. After that, people started nodding like there was some kind of consensus happening.

  Then it was time to leave--and Rhage put his arm around Mary's waist as they walked to the double doors. They paused as Z did the duty of letting them out.

  Just as Rhage was stepping from the room, he glanced over his shoulder. Ruhn was still sitting on that sofa in front of the fire, the mostly untouched tea service in front of him, his hands lying on his thighs, his eyes unfocused.

  He was nervous. But he wasn't backing away.

  "Come on," Mary said.

  Next thing Rhage knew, he was behind the wheel of the GTO, the engine was on, and the heater was going.

  "You want to get something to eat?" he asked, even though he wasn't hungry.

  "Sure. Let's go to that twenty-four-hour diner you like. The one with all the different kinds of pie."

  "Sounds good."

  Annnnnd so, some ten minutes later, he was parking between a heavy-duty pickup truck and a BMW. Snow was swirling in the air again, but not heavily--as if maybe the clouds above had separation anxiety and were reluctant to let their flakes fly.