been formed were not out of some artifact of prescribed duty, but the fact that Wrath had stood beside them all in the field and saved their asses personally at one time or another.
The king smiled a little. “I appreciate the support.”
“He needs to die.” When everybody looked at Rehvenge, the guy shrugged. “Plain and simple. Let’s not bullshit around with protocol and meetings. Let’s just take him out.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little bloodthirsty, sin-eater?” Wrath drawled.
“From one king to another, know that I’m giving you the middle finger right now.” And he was, with a smile. “
Symphaths
are known for efficiency.”
“Yeah, and I can feel where you’re coming from. Unfortunately, the law provides that you have to make an attempt on my life before I can bury you.”
“That’s where this is headed.”
“Agreed, but our hands are tied. My ordering the assassination of what is otherwise an innocent male is not going to help us in the eyes of the
glymera
.”
“Why do you need to be associated with the death?”
“And if that bastard’s innocent,” Rhage spoke up, “I’m the fucking Easter bunny.”
“Oh, good,” someone quipped. “I’m calling you Hop-along Hollywood from now on.”
“Beasty Bo Peep,” somebody else threw out.
“We could put you in a Cadbury ad and finally make some money—”
“People,” Rhage barked, “the point is that he is
not
innocent and I’m
not
the Easter bunny—”
“Where’s your basket?”
“Can I play with your eggs?”
“Hop it out, big guy—”
“Will you guys fuck off? Seriously!”
As various cottontail comments were lobbed like Jell-O at a food fight, Wrath had to pound the desk another time or two. It was obvious where the humor was coming from: The stress was so high, if they didn’t blow off a little steam, shit was going to get grim fast. It didn’t mean the Brotherhoodwasn’t focused; if anything, they all felt like Qhuinn did—socked in the gut.
Wrath was the fabric of life, the basis for everything, the living, breathing structure of the race. After the brutal raids by the Lessening Society, what was left of the aristocracy had fled Caldwell to their safe homes out of town. The last thing the vampires needed was further fragmentation, especially in the form of a violent overthrow of the rightful ruler.
And Rehv was correct: That was where this was going. Hell, even Qhuinn could see the path: Step one, create doubt in the minds of the
glymera
about the Brotherhood’s ability to protect the race. Step two, fill the “void” in the field with those soldiers of Xcor’s. Step three, create allies on the Council and stir up anger and lack of confidence against the king. Step four, dethrone Wrath and weather the storm. Step five, emerge as the new leader.
When order in the study was finally reestablished, Wrath looked downright nasty. “Next one of you mouthy assholes makes me pound my desk again, I’m throwing you the fuck out.” On that note, he reached down, picked up the cowering ninety-pound retriever, and settled George in his lap. “You’re freaking out my dog and it’s pissing me off.”
As the animal put his big boxy head in the crook of the king’s arm, Wrath stroked all that silky, blond fur. It was absolutely incongruous, the tremendous, cruel-looking vampire calming that handsome, gentle dog, but the two had a symbiotic relationship, trust and love thick as blood on both sides.
“Now, if you’re ready to be reasonable,” the king said, “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. Rehv is going to stall the guy for as long as he can.”
“I still think we should put a knife in his left eye,” Rehv muttered, “but in the alternative, we’ve got to hold him in place. He wants to see and be seen, and as
leahdyre
of the Council, I can stonewall him up to a point. His voice in the ears of the
glymera
is not what we need.”
“In the meantime,” Wrath announced, “I’m
The king smiled a little. “I appreciate the support.”
“He needs to die.” When everybody looked at Rehvenge, the guy shrugged. “Plain and simple. Let’s not bullshit around with protocol and meetings. Let’s just take him out.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little bloodthirsty, sin-eater?” Wrath drawled.
“From one king to another, know that I’m giving you the middle finger right now.” And he was, with a smile. “
Symphaths
are known for efficiency.”
“Yeah, and I can feel where you’re coming from. Unfortunately, the law provides that you have to make an attempt on my life before I can bury you.”
“That’s where this is headed.”
“Agreed, but our hands are tied. My ordering the assassination of what is otherwise an innocent male is not going to help us in the eyes of the
glymera
.”
“Why do you need to be associated with the death?”
“And if that bastard’s innocent,” Rhage spoke up, “I’m the fucking Easter bunny.”
“Oh, good,” someone quipped. “I’m calling you Hop-along Hollywood from now on.”
“Beasty Bo Peep,” somebody else threw out.
“We could put you in a Cadbury ad and finally make some money—”
“People,” Rhage barked, “the point is that he is
not
innocent and I’m
not
the Easter bunny—”
“Where’s your basket?”
“Can I play with your eggs?”
“Hop it out, big guy—”
“Will you guys fuck off? Seriously!”
As various cottontail comments were lobbed like Jell-O at a food fight, Wrath had to pound the desk another time or two. It was obvious where the humor was coming from: The stress was so high, if they didn’t blow off a little steam, shit was going to get grim fast. It didn’t mean the Brotherhoodwasn’t focused; if anything, they all felt like Qhuinn did—socked in the gut.
Wrath was the fabric of life, the basis for everything, the living, breathing structure of the race. After the brutal raids by the Lessening Society, what was left of the aristocracy had fled Caldwell to their safe homes out of town. The last thing the vampires needed was further fragmentation, especially in the form of a violent overthrow of the rightful ruler.
And Rehv was correct: That was where this was going. Hell, even Qhuinn could see the path: Step one, create doubt in the minds of the
glymera
about the Brotherhood’s ability to protect the race. Step two, fill the “void” in the field with those soldiers of Xcor’s. Step three, create allies on the Council and stir up anger and lack of confidence against the king. Step four, dethrone Wrath and weather the storm. Step five, emerge as the new leader.
When order in the study was finally reestablished, Wrath looked downright nasty. “Next one of you mouthy assholes makes me pound my desk again, I’m throwing you the fuck out.” On that note, he reached down, picked up the cowering ninety-pound retriever, and settled George in his lap. “You’re freaking out my dog and it’s pissing me off.”
As the animal put his big boxy head in the crook of the king’s arm, Wrath stroked all that silky, blond fur. It was absolutely incongruous, the tremendous, cruel-looking vampire calming that handsome, gentle dog, but the two had a symbiotic relationship, trust and love thick as blood on both sides.
“Now, if you’re ready to be reasonable,” the king said, “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. Rehv is going to stall the guy for as long as he can.”
“I still think we should put a knife in his left eye,” Rehv muttered, “but in the alternative, we’ve got to hold him in place. He wants to see and be seen, and as
leahdyre
of the Council, I can stonewall him up to a point. His voice in the ears of the
glymera
is not what we need.”
“In the meantime,” Wrath announced, “I’m
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