Rosa de sangre | Blog de VaneCaos



CHAPTER 6

THIS CAN'T BE THE END

PART 1

Most psychology textbooks ensure that an individual goes through different phases to overcome a shock in life, whether the loss of a loved one, an assault or trauma: initial shock, denial, anger, grief and acceptance.

Clearly, there must be a difference between vampires and humans.

Because Butch had gone directly from shock to anger and stayed there.

The shutters weren’t still lifted and the digital clock said five hours had elapsed since the person who he loved fucked him. Literally and metaphorically. Contrary to what logic dictated under the circumstances, Butch had fallen asleep the moment his head had touched the pillow in his room. Rather, it was as if all systems had disconnected. He supposed it must be some sort of survival mechanism of his mind to help him cope the trauma, to pass it in the second plan to reduce it to more manageable proportions.

Yeah, well ... "Manageable" was a relative notion. Son of a bitch. Fucking son of a bitch. Butch grabbed with both hands at the bathroom marble sink, with his head down and dripping water all over the body after a shower meant to skin him alive, rubbing the skin to leave it red, in a failed attempt to erase Vishous’s bonding scent. Not to mention the time he used to clean himself between his legs. In front and behind.

He shrieked his jaws and the skin tightened on his knuckles while the sink began to crack.

Christ ... did he really let V do it? Fuck his ass? Come inside him? So low had he fallen into the trap? Judging by the slight discomfort that he had felt on his lower backside when he had awakened and the dry remains between his buttocks, the answer was yes.

And seeing it all, adding disgust to the huge pile of negative feelings? He had liked it. Until that moment when the castle in the air had suddenly collapsed, he had liked everything.

"What did you expect?"

How the hell did the bastard had the guts to mark him knowing that it was all a farce? To this kind of self-control the fucker was capable of, to order his glands to conjure something they secreted only when a male fell in love?

God, he had never believed that V could be so ... so ... cruel. No, sadistic. What did Butch expect from him? He didn’t saw that clearly until that morning. A partner. A mate. Someone he knew, trusted, someone to spend the rest of his life with, knowing that he accepted him, someone to make love to and feel that the world could be a stinking pit of violent shit as long as you had this treasure when you came home .

He had thought he knew V well enough and that he was looking for the same.

It had been a lie, a game of seduction from the beginning, to make him believe that he was wanted, that V needed him, that what they had was real…until the moment he’d let himself get fucked. So much comedy of "Oh, Butch, I'm alone, nobody loves me and they all abused me, I need you, you're my pyrocant, you're the only one who understands me."

Bastard son of a bitch.

Damn sadistic cocksucker.

The "crack" in the glass of the bathroom made Butch raise his head to meet the reflection of his own eyes, distorted by the crack that had climbed on a diagonal from one corner. They were red and swollen.

And watery.

That was what shattered his self-control. He never cried. Never. Tears do not solve anything.

He hadn’t cried for Janie, or for Marissa, but he was about to do it now.

For a bastard that had left him lying legs spread in his bed right after taking the cock off his ass.

When he shouted, the crack spread like a thin web on the glass. He ducked his head when the fragments were thrown everywhere, scratching his shoulders. He gasped, leaning over the marble, searching for breath now that he lost his dignity. The feeling of dizziness and weakness that his body felt waking up, that Butch couldn’t understand, didn’t help.

He wasn’t going to give Vishous that satisfaction. He would not let him see his wounds. He wasn’t going to go a thousand times over what they had in the past few days trying to figure out the clues that had been overlooked of V plan, and finding none.

Fuck him if he was going to let that animal take his pride.

He was going to grab his things and get out of the Pit with his head held high. He was never going to think about the times they shared. He would enclose all the fucking memories and cement the walls with rage. Marissa wanted him back again? Well, maybe it was time to consider it. He would be happy, have a shellan that would never use him as he had did, he will be a normal male of worth with the family he always wanted.

And Vishous could go to hell.

He listened to Wrath’s call to a general meeting over the intercom in the main room, blank eyes, knowing that V would be there. When he left the Pit wearing a clean pair of combat clothes, he felt as if the different parts composing his being were glued together with strips. Ready to discard.

And there was something missing. Something very important that was left on the black sheets in Vishous’s room.

Something like his heart.

OOO

V had seen "The Wizard of Oz" many years ago and never understood the fucking straw guy and the tin man moving as if alive. Until now. Leaning against the wall just outside the office of Wrath, he knew exactly how those two puppets worked, because that's how he felt: an empty shell that moved by the magic of a top puppeteer, no blood in the veins, mindless and, above all, with no heart.

That had been left between his sheets, shattered into pieces.

He hoped that Butch had left in his room only the pride he had broken, but keep his heart to find happiness in life. In truth, it sounded corny.

Damn, that had to be his solace after what he had done. But it was not. For the umpteenth time, V suppressed the need to bend on himself when the thing left in his chest seemed to waver. He heard no sound from Butch's room since he had left his room. No crashing of broken things in anger, no bang. Nothing. He hoped Butch would react with anger; that helped the forward motion.

In the end, he could not stand the silence, or the smell of Butch on the sheets and the pillow pressed against his face. After showering, the scent of his cop was still on his skin, somewhat attenuated, and V would have given half his life to make it indelible by time. In a fit of sentimentality, he had asked Fritz, when the man had asked if he could come in the Pit for cleaning, to change the sheets on his bed for clean ones, but let the used ones there, without washing them.

Just needed to keep something to remind him what they had, when Butch will hate him.

The hours passed since then, sitting on the floor of the forge, in the dark, after finally putting out the fire, convinced him that indeed, you could always fall even lower. And never leave the pit.

- Will you go in or you're imitating a salt pillar?

The sarcastic tone of Rhage approaching the king’s office, followed by Phury, didn’t even made him lift his head. He completely ignored him and entered the office without knocking.

-My home is your home, V, yup. Why knock?

Wrath’s sarcasm slipped over his living dead layer of self and he dropped on one side of the couch. Didn’t even lit cigarette. Phury and Rhage took a chair at the other end of the sofa and Vishous was forced to ignore the way they inhaled the air, catching the smell of Butch on him. Zsadist came next, Qhuinn, Blay and John trotted after him.

- Where the fuck is B ... - Wrath began to go over to the crowd.

-Here.

The cop came into the room closing the door.

Next to V, Rhage whistled softly.

-Today has to be a misalignment of the stars in his ascendant or something… Has anyone consulted the horoscope?

Vishous almost felt the volcanic look Butch dedicated to the blond. He kept his eyes lowered, fixed on his folded hands between his legs and saw Butch’s boots when the cop crossed the room to stand just on the other side. Far from him. Leaving a faint trace of V’s own bonding scent behind.

Several coughs rang.

A concert finished in laughs.

A pair of massive bodies stirred.

The sound of several vampires sucking in air, smelling Butch on him and him on the cop.

-Well, I didn’t knew we had something to celeb ...

-We will discuss the rounds of this night, ladies. I want you with ears open and mouth closed, are we clear?

Okay, Wrath's intervention to close the discussion had saved Rhage from slaughter. Because what Butch was giving off was pure Assassin perfume. Vishous pressed his hands together. It seemed that he did well, oh, yes. He got Butch to boil in hatred. For him.

And the office was now a cauldron of hell.

Do not raise your eyes. Do not raise your fucking sight, it’ll betray you. Butch will see that you don’t even have air inside. Do. Not. Look. At him.

The King’s huge weight made the wooden chair crack and he looked from under the eyebrows.

-Vishous, were you able to install surveillance cameras in some of the mansions yesterday?

-No.

If the king wanted some more elaborate oratory, he was waiting in vain.

-Shit. Okay, start today with Rahg family. Then with ...

-Then I'll do the surveillance cameras at the Refuge and after that I’ll make my own schedule for the rest of the night .- now he got the tobacco from his pocket. Just to have something to concentrate on.

Wrath sighed heavily.

-Jumpy today, huh? All right. V, you go with Phury .- the king head turned to the yellow-eyed brother-. I want you both to communicate with me by phone, at any time, to know what mansion you're watching and which one V is wiring. And inform me in real-time, to say to those families when they have to leave their homes and when they can come back. Capicci?

-Count on it, my lord, what about the others?

Phury always to mediate, the bastard. Vishous puffed on the cigarette he just lit, breathing both nicotine and Butch’s acid aura.

-The others have shit to do.- Wrath crossed his hands, drumming on the table-. At two o'clock it’s the appointment with the supposed dealer to buy that lesser shit Qhuinn and Blaylock are invited .- the dark head turned toward them-. Kids, you’re going to be the bait, which is not fun. Butch, Rhage, Z and John will cover you. We’ll get you bulletproof vests as best we can. Probably the lesser will try to incapacitate you, to take you with them, so I don’t think they’ll shoot to kill. Still ... I cannot guarantee you’ll get out of this in one piece .- Wrath let his words settle in the silence of the room-.You have time to change your minds.

The three boys exchanged glances, as if they continued in silence a conversation they had on. John was not yet one hundred percent with his new improved body, there was no point in exposing himself, seeing that he couldn’t have the reflexes or strength to engage in a fight. That left Qhuinn and Blay as the only possible baits. Qhuinn agreed on behalf of the three.

-We’re in.

Wrath nodded, acknowledging the gesture.

-All right. Now, the appointment is under the first bridge over the Hudson River. Outside Caldie, the best of each house: junkies, drunks and whores. If the exchange is done under the bridge itself, will be a bitch to cover you from a distance because we won’t have a good vantage point. We will have to engage in head to head.- he tilted his head over to Butch-. Anything else you can add to the description of the place, cop?

Vishous suck on the cigar again, focusing on the smoke from the tip.

- Cop? - The king insisted, with a hint of impatience.

-Buildings twenty yards from the bridge. Abandoned warehouses. Squats. Easy for a sniper to find a place. But easy to see him too. The problem is that if the exchange is under the bridge, the sniper can’t be in a house, won’t have a shooting angle. We’ll have to see where the hell he can stay.- there was something in Butch’s voice. Something like anger-. Apart from that, we'll all be more or less in the open field if we have to approach the lessers and the kids. It’ll be bullets over the head, without possible shelter.

-We must catch the sniper or he’ll fill us with holes.- Z looked to Butch with a frown.

-That's why we have RadarButch, right? - Rhage smiled from ear to ear.

The Irishman didn’t even bother to grunt, much less to respond.

-And we depend on him. Butch will coordinate the operation.- Wrath began toying with a dagger-shaped letter opener between the fingers, as if thinking to stab someone to ease the tension-. The cop will be watching the area two hours before you. This is the plan: those bastards have to reach by car, they have no choice. We expect Butch to locate them as they come into range and report their position to all others.- he turned to the Irishman-. In that part of town you cannot fucking stand guard in the Escalade, it’s too flashy. Will you having trouble …um, getting a vehicle that matches the environment?

-None.

Now, Butch’s delinquent past came in handy. He could steal cars for breakfast. Vishous continued smoking with his head down.

-John .- Wrath pointed him with the knife and the boy focused his attention in the seat-. You will drive the Escalade, and you’ll take Rhage and Zsadist. Park near the area where Butch tells you to. And, when you see that lesser with the cowboy hat, place a tracking device on his car as you give Butch his position.

- Does that mean we have to let him go alive? – Z whispered.

-You’re catching on fast, brother .- the small dagger still danced between the fingers of the king-. No matter what happens, you have to let Texas go.

-I thought the plan was to catch him, my lord .- Phury was frowning.

-If we let him go, he’ll get back to their headquarters. And with the GPS hooked by John on his car, he'll take us to the nest. Then we’ll catch more than one.- Wrath saw the expressions of the brothers darkened, as if they’ll pass a nice slaughter of lesser-. I like making you happy. Well. John, once you've placed the GPS, you get into the Escalade and stay there. You'll be the driver if any of them gets hurt, okay?

John nodded.

- And the sniper? - Zsadist still had one foot bent on the wall, arms over his chest and head tilted to one side.

-All yours.- Wrath smiled sideways, showing fangs-. You’re our best tracker. As soon as Butch gives you the lesser' position, go for him before he can shoot Qhuinn and Blay. Teach that son of a bitch he can’t touch a Brother- he looked over at Phury- or our kids.

Z smiled licking his lips and the surrounding air loaded with static electricity, as the atmosphere before a storm.

-It will be a pleasure.

Vishous almost pity the poor bastard. Being included in the “to kill” list of Zsadist was worse than anything the bastard with a rifle could have suffered. And after he had almost killed his twin…

- What about the other lessers that may come? – Rhage began to rhythmically move a leg, about to get out of his own skin-. We have to let Texas get away and Z’s in charge with the sniper, but those two won’t come alone. What about the others?

-Well, count on you to send them to hell.- Wrath raised his eyebrows over his glasses-. Feel free to show them it's not good to piss off Godzilla.

Rhage cracked his knuckles. V sucked deep looking at the ceiling. The municipal cleaning service in Caldwell was going to have to hire extras.

- What about us? - Blaylock had hip leaning against the chair Qhuinn was sitting in, near his shoulder.

-You two have enough with carrying quite a bulls eye painted on your backs.- Wrath signaled Z with the knife-. If Zsadist doesn’t stop the sniper in time, you can count on finishing the night with a few additional holes.- the boys lost all the color of their faces, but didn’t looked away-. You will get to the area in Qhuinn’s Hummer, I want you to be seen. You’ll go near the Texan and keep up the charade enough for Butch and Rhage to do their thing. Then you dematerialize in the Hummer and leave at full throttle. You'll go armed. If the Texan points a gun at you, you’ll respond to non vital body parts. I want that bastard alive to flee. If you shoot at any other lesser, you can make him another navel, I don't care. But then you turn away and leave, is it clear? – he pointed the tip of the dagger to the both-. The same goes for you, John. Place the GPS and get into the Escalade. At best, you are allowed to open fire from a distance only if the life of one of the Brothers is in serious danger, are we clear?

John clapped his hands to show his acceptance of the plan and his two colleagues murmured a "we are" response. Since they had been given the honor of helping the Brotherhood, they won’t push it by trying to be heroes.

-All right, kids, wait in the hallway. We have other matters to discuss. After that, Butch will give you a quick lesson on what a bulletproof vest and intercom is.- Wrath waited until the trio of recruits had left the office. Butch and V should have guessed what the king was about to say, because the air became loaded. What the king did not understand was the poison given off by the cop-. Butch, Vishous, yesterday I spoke with the Scribe Virgin.

Yeeeeeeaaahhh ... What the Irishman gave off, the air floating around him, was sulfuric acid mixed with TNT spray. Vishous squeezed his eyes for a moment, feeling Butch’s fury rip his skin.

- What about? – he murmured without opening his lips, looking askance at the king to avoid the silent shadow that was Butch.

-I asked her to leave you alone. To give up using you as Primale.- Wrath took off his glasses and pressed his eyelids. His eyes were two lighthouses-. She didn’t consent. All I got was her commitment to accept your replacement by another brother, which is not likely.- King's eyes went from V to Butch-. I’m sorry ... for the both of you.

Vishous didn't hear the murmurs of his brothers around him. In his mind, he didn’t imagine that Wrath could move the heart of the Scribe Virgin when she had clearly shown she was a cold hearted bitch. But hope ... ah, hope. That had been hidden in a corner, whispering that perhaps everything could be fixed and he would be free and could drag himself to apologize to Butch and the Irishman would accept him and have their happily ever after.

Sometimes hope was more cruel than the lack of it.

V tried to keep the ice walls where they were but couldn’t. He remembered everything he shared with Butch, with the impression that he broke down into molecules and started to disappear into blackness. At the end of the next night it would be the final farewell. The only thing he could think of, with all the strength of his despair, was in those three words he had given mentally to Butch.

-Actually, sir, I have been thinking ...

Phury was never able to finish what he was about to say.

Nobody had enough reflexes to stop the Irishman when he propelled from the other side of the room like a cannonball, maybe because everyone thought he would go to comfort V.

Nobody thought he would smash his face with a fist.

And surely, no one would have thought that V would simply put the back of his hand to his nose, wiping the blood that began to flow.

When he raised his face to look at Butch's eyes, he wished he hadn’t. He wished he could keep as last memory the expression of pleasure and desire on the cop when they had made love.

Not the hate. Not the rage. Not the… despair?

-Don't ever think about that .- Butch hissed bending over him, taking his shirt with his fists, nearly lifting him off the couch-. Do not ever think that again, you fucking shithole bastard. You know what? You deserve them to fuck you. I hope they’ll all do it. All the fucking Chosen and your own mother, one after another. SON OF A BITCH ...

Someone, perhaps Z, grabbed Butch from behind while Rhage interposed his enormous mass between the Irishman and him and Wrath was roaring something, but all were elements of a scene for V, faces blurred… All he saw were the angry eyes of Butch. How could he have heard what he was thinking? He was able to "see" his memories of the camp the night before probably because they had both bonded.

Vishous had believed that the bond would have been broken completely by Butch. He hoped so, for the cop’s sake.

But, despite what he had done, despite the anger, Butch, apparently, was still bonded to him.

Now he had to cover even his thoughts so as not to be heard.

V stood up slowly, rubbing the back of the glove over his nose to cleanse the blood. Butch had the strength of a bull and he had probably shattered his cheekbone as well. That was fair. Shit, V would have been happy to stay and get beaten, until Butch would make him bleed.

At least, he would have his marks on the body for longer.

He licked the blood of his glove with his eyes fixed on Butch, while the others kept the cop back.

-I'm going to prepare my bag .- he murmured.

Then he exited Wrath’s office without looking at anyone.

OOO

-Jesus, this is like playing the Crusades.

Mr. A glanced over to the crossbow’s arrow, stuck almost in the center of the target that was a heap of straw on the outskirts of the farm where the Lesser Society had its unofficial command center.

-The sight helps pinpoint.- M nodded at the result, taking the Barnett Quad 400 to recharge it. Not bad for a first timer to shoot with a crossbow-. C, you’re up.- A’s former junkie friend stepped from the wooden fence where he sat and took the crossbow. He examined it as if it were an unknown invention, instead of a gun with thousands of years of use-. Okay, have you ever hunted deers?

C looked over his shoulder.

- Do I look like someone who goes with dad into a cabin on weekends to hunt Bambi?

No, more like someone who flees from dad in search of a fix, thought M. The former Marine sighed, walking to the side of C, leading his hands to hold the gun properly.

-Take it like a shotgun. That is sit under the arch, right on the trigger ... Raise it to get the display to eye level ...

- What it the range on this crap? - C propped his feet on the ground, as if to fire a bazooka instead of a crossbow.

-Its operational range, in your case, is less than 37 meters.

-Shit. Why do we want to go to watch bloodsuckers houses with this thing? - C set the target and pulled the trigger. The arrow, a half inch long, flew through the air almost silently, like lightning, stabbing two circles from the center.- Shit!

-Among other things, because you can’t hear it.- M advanced to the target, the ground crunching under his boots-. Crossbows still make less noise than a rifle with a silencer. If you're forced to shoot a vampire when you're doing a raid on a mansion with more than one of these bugs, you can rest assured that the others will not hear anything. And what we’ll give them –he showed to the crossbow C was carrying - are the fastest: each arrow flies to 10 meters per second. No vampire can dodge that.

-That’s a plus.- A nodded, watching as M put the arrow he recovered again in the rail and tighten the rope .- But the reload is a bitch.

-In a raid you won’t need more. The distance you’ll shoot from will be from the bottom of a corridor. It doesn’t weight much, just over three kilos. And they have another advantage.- M pursed his lips-. You can coat the tip with your blood.

The two lessers looked at each other for a moment, without understanding. They had too little time in the Society and they were new for all the details of their new condition.

- What's that for?

-It’s deadly to vampires. A shot might not kill them. But a crossbow with an arrow dipped in blood, will. A slow and painful death.- M raised the reloaded crossbow-. This "crap" gives you more chances to kill a bloodsucker without getting a scratch than any other gun or hand to hand combat weapon.

It was like leaving a candy at the door of a school. A and C smiled like two schoolboys in shorts. Above all, A, whom D had already threatened to be the first to enter the front door of a mansion in assault case.

It was clear that D didn’t buy that the vampire boy had died from an overdose. He must have realized that M had poisoned him with lesser blood, otherwise he wouldn’t have devised the strategy of arming guards with crossbows and arrows dipped in the black thing that ran through his veins and putting them outside nobility mansions.

M should be careful. Mr. D was a real scumbag with Foreleasser aspirations. It was possible for him to think that M was plotting behind his back, lying, to steal power. Which would be equivalent to a death sentence that M had no desire to deal with, thank you very much.

In fact, he was a simple guy. All he needed to be happy were weapons and occasions to do the only job that satisfied him. He had no interest in power.

The old wooden door of the entrance to the farm opened with a shriek and dying rays of the sun illuminated the gaunt figure of the Mr. D, cowboy hat included.

-Get in. We’ll make the tonight’s plan.

M picked up the crossbow and arrows with the same affection of a mother ordering her children's toys. Unlike many of the lessers, that regretted joining the Society as soon as they guessed what they did, he was happy.

He planned to kill vampires for a long, long time. And others to do the plans for him.

OOO

- What the fuck is going on here?

Butch didn’t even hear the king's question. His eyes remained fixed on the door where Vishous had disappeared, as if he could stab stakes in his back. The son of Satan. The sadistic fucking bastard. He thought he didn’t humiliated him enough with what he did, noooo, he just had to send him that mental fake "I love you" to rub over the wound, to piss on his face, because Butch had taken his bait.

Rhage shook him like a rag doll when Z released him, but Butch kept his eyes on the door, updating his dictionary of insults seasoned with bitter bile. Until a steel paw closed around his neck and someone threw him against the couch like a broken doll. The huge black tower that was Wrath hovered before him like a fucking siege machine.

-Now you'll calm down.- he hissed through clenched teeth-. If something happens between V and you, let it go before heading out to the street or someone will get hurt because you don’t have your head in the game. All will depend on you, so do yourself the fucking favor to cool down, get it?

Butch raised his eyes very slowly to look at the king.

-Keep V away from me. Or by God he won’t need a lesser to send him to Hell.

- What happened? Yesterday you asked me to speak with the Scribe Virgin and today you virtually get his guts out when I smell ...

Wrath must have grasped, at last, something of the seed inside Butch, because he stood looking into his eyes, lips tight. Then he straightened his hair away from his face.

-Shit ...

Butch took the opportunity to get off the couch, straightening to his full height, his head held high.

-If you'll excuse me, I have to suit up three recruits.

OOO

Zsadist kept his eyes glued to the door when Butch had left the office of king, while Rhage, Wrath and Phury burst into stupid speculation about what might have happened between the two Brothers.

He didn’t need to speculate. He would bet his right hand that he could approximate what had happened there: Vishous and Butch bonded and V screwed up. All the way. Doing what, exactly? It didn't matter. The important point was the fact that the fool had crushed any possibility of leaving the shit he was in, letting go of a happiness he had at his fingertips.

As he had done when he believed he was unworthy of Bella and tried to send her away.

Z was lucky: Bella had returned to him and managed to see beyond his inability to express emotions, beyond the hurtful words, until she had reached the male who loved her. Vishous might not be so lucky. Whatever he had done, it had worked so well to receive what no one had thought possible: Butch’s hate.

Talking to V to straighten up this great mess wouldn’t help. The very bastard only listened to one person: Butch.

So either someone helped the cop to remove the band of anger in his eyes or the two Brothers would end up being miserable for the rest of their lives. Oh, there was the matter of the Primale, yes. But Z was sure that if two members of the Black Dagger Brotherhood would confront the Scribe Virgin, squeezing her hand -with a "release V from his promise or we’ll both leave the Brotherhood", for example- , the goddess would have no choice but to compromise. Or she would have to manage with so few warriors that the race would die out and that was something that the goddess would never tolerate. In fact, V and Butch were those who had the upper hand, although it seemed that they had not realized it yet.

But of course, for that, someone had to put some sense back into Butch.

Z spied on his brothers with a low look. Rhage was out. He was the cop’s friend more than he was, yes, but, basically, Hollywood was an old gossip-softy. As Butch would explain him the matters, he would not know how to react. And Phury ... Zsadist ran his hand through the skull trim looking at his twin. Phury had no fucking idea of what the relationship between two people could be.

Z guts twisted, as it always did when he saw that peculiar expression on Phury: that of someone consumed by a longing that would never come true. Zsadist was no fool, he knew what, or whom, Phury wanted. And he knew he couldn’t do anything about it.

But maybe he could help V and Butch.

-I'm going to talk to the cop.- he separated from the wall, ignoring the heated discussion of the other three-. If someone had the brilliant idea to go after V, forget it. He won’t listen.

Why, the King, Hollywood and Phury must think that Z had done some secret self-help course, judging by their faces.

Simply, he was up balls sick and tired of others insisting of fucking up their lives as he had fucked his own for so long.

OOO

Vishous entered his room to confirm that, in addition to a sadistic fuck, he was also a masochist. Because he wanted the pain of his bruised cheekbone not to fade so quickly. That was all he would have of Butch.

The vision of the neatly made bed, the sheets changed, burned his soul. It was as if the world was bent on erasing all evidence of what he had with Butch, as if those hours never existed.

Until he saw the folded black silk sheets they used at the head of the bed, along with the pillow kept the same. The pillow against which Butch supported himself while he made love to him. Fritz, of course, had respected his wishes and hadn’t changed a thing.

Feeling like a child of fifteen with the weariness of an old of a hundred, V dropped onto the bed, the black head on the pillow, fingers tangled in the used sheets. He inhaled deeply the smell of sex and the bonding scent of them both, whishing he could bottle it.

Hopefully, at least, Butch had enjoyed it. He had done everything he could to restrain his animal side and do things with the calm necessary for that first time. And he had liked it.

Butch had offered him, in addition to his male virginity, the only experience that made V feel like a lover, not a freak. God, he could not believe that Butch allowed him to ... Another gift from the cop: his confidence. That he shuttered.

V squeezed his eyes when the beast of the blame bit into his guts again, mixed with a generous dose of bitterness. Hell, Butch had believed his masquerade. Without question. The cop had blindly believed he was a fucking bastard capable of fucking him and then say he had been as any other bitch. With not even an iota of doubt.

Yeah, okay, he was the son of a bitch, so he had no right to feel hurt. But he did. he thought Butch knew him better, enough to wonder, at least, the reason for his charade. But no. V did something more or less in lines of the cold, heartless pattern of the male everyone thought he was, and even Butch bought it.

It made him want to stand in front of the cop and tell the truth just to rub in his face that Butch also condemned him with the first opportunity.

Damn, he was a real bastard. Of course Butch had believed him. One must feel pretty vulnerable when, as a convinced hetero, had his best friend's cock up his ass. He had no right to ask Butch to be an enlightened Buddha and see beyond his pantomime. In fact, he was in no position to ask anything from Butch.

Vishous wondered if he could sleep with those same sheets for the rest of the seven centuries of existence he had left.

OOO

John watched Butch O'Neal throw the bulletproof vests on the metal table in the armory, in the underground complex of the mansion, and it reminded him of someone piling corpses. The Brother had growled at them to follow him, soon after the three boys had heard, from outside the king’s office, what he had shouted to V and after the goateed male had left the office like a ghost of himself.

It seemed that the cop’s mood hadn’t improved shit since that.

- Have you ever had one of these on? - Butch put a vest over the cabinet, holding it in front of their noses.

Blaylock shrugged.

-Once, in practical classes. It weighed a lot and was bad in hand to hand.

-They weigh three kilos and they are semi-rigid, that’s why we don’t use them so often. To kill lessers you have to be close to them and the vests bothers you.- Butch nodded to them, his brow furrowed, lips pursed-. Take off your jacket, I’ll adjust yours, Blay. You two do what I do.

The Irishman put the blue vest over Blay’s head, leaving it to fall on the body at once, and John saw that his friend looked at the cop with caution, trying to figure out if he had done something wrong. They were accustomed to seeing Z’s bad temper. Also V’s and Wrath’s. But not Butch's. And for some reason, someone who never lost it…and then suddenly did, made them fear him more.

Butch adjusted the side straps on the redhead’s vest and Qhuinn and John were quick to follow putting their own.

-There are different types of vests, depending on how much you want to hide them under clothing and on the type of weapons is more likely to face. Some vests are so thin that can be worn under a shirt, but they only protect you from knives and bullets of small caliber. This ones –he banged his knuckles on Blay's chest and that made the redhead take a step back-, are in the highest category of protection, such as those used by SWAT. They can stop large-caliber bullets very effectively and may also save you from a direct stab. The bullet gets deformed when it hits the vest and the tip is flattened. - Butch made a gesture with his hands-. So they won’t pierce the body, but will inflict kick damage. That means that if they shoot, it may not kill you, but the bullet will break your ribs. You must be prepared so that the pain won’t stop you.

-They don’t seem very easy to …camouflage.- Qhuinn tried to move with that gizmo attached to the body. He looked like a GI Joe.

-Not unless you wear leather jackets zipped up .- Butch turned his back to them, removing more material from the closet-. But I'm going to add eight kilos more to the gear.

The three males changed looks. No wonder the special opps cops went to the gym, if they had to move around with those things. Butch turned to them with what looked like small oval shields in his hands. He held them up for them to see them.

-These are ceramic plates, made of aluminum and aramid. Serve to reinforce your vest and protect you against high-caliber bullets, such as those from a sniper. Fit one in the front of your vest and another in the rear. Let’s say these are the prêt-a-porter version of Ironman's armor. It's the only thing that gives you the chance to survive against a shot like the one Phury received.- the cop took out two more plates for Qhuinn and John-. Now click one in the front like I'm doing ... like that, yes, in that kind of pocket strips. After that put one on the back to each other.

-It weighs like a fucking rock .- Qhuinn grunted while patted the front plate.

-When you’ll receive the impact of a 50 caliber you’ll reconsider your impressions.- Butch muttered-. You wear more than $ 900 each. I give a shit what you do, but if you use them wrong and fuck them up, I think Wrath will hang you by the balls. Did you get how to put them on? - The three nodded-. Okay, take them off and let them here. Come get them when Wrath orders you to go. Be sure to carry enough ammunition for your weapons and have the mobile phones charged. Now let’s go to the earpiece.

- The what?

Blaylock struggled to take off the vest while Butch opened a smaller closet. It was like a "Spy Shop" filled with tiny wires, small tape recorders and hidden cameras. The cop opened a drawer and pulled out what appeared to be three small hearing aids. He raised one between his fingers.

-This gets into the ear, as the receiver of an mp4. I'll give you instructions from the car without you needing to carry a walkie-talkie in your hands and with better sound quality. When you go out, you just have to put them on and push that little button ... that one, exactly. And we’re on air.

- Anything else? – Qhuinn’s hair stood on end-. I thought the war with those bastards was more about... well, knives and alleys.

Butch gave him a sideways glance.

-We are in the twenty-first century, not the Middle Ages. If you want to go kill murderers with a baseball bat and brass knuckles, suit it yourself.

Qhuinn raised his hands in peace. John began to gesture with a look of interrogation.

-The locator, yes.- Butch closed the drawer and opened another. He pulled out what looked like an iPod, a small black device, smooth, very flat, and threw it to John, who caught it-. Make sure the battery is charged. It’s magnetic, simply crouch to hook it on the underside of the car after pushing the little “on” button. It’ll provide GPS signal for 48 hours.

John nodded and put the device next to his bulletproof vest. The three looked at Butch, expecting another pileup that would make them look like Inspector Gadget instead of like three warriors. The cop closed the closet and looked over his shoulder.

- What are you waiting for? Plastic explosives?

Qhuinn’s eyes flared, but John gave a nudge in his ribs and Blay cleared his throat.

-We’ll come back to gear up when Rhage says we’re ready to go.

OOO

Butch leaned a hip against the metal table in the armory, with folded arms, watching how the three kids went totally silent. He noticed how they looked at him, suspicious and confused, but that afternoon, Butch didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything.

Except a certain person he'd loved to use him as a punching bag. He didn’t hit V enough.

He lifted his head when he had the feeling that someone was watching, to see Zsadist on the threshold of the armory, his eyes dark and expressionless. He pulled away just enough for the three boys to get out of the room like smug cats, with ears down and without attracting attention.

Butch concentrated on preparing Rhage’s vest, Z’s and himself, fitting the ceramic plates. They normally didn’t use them, they were distracting when moving between humans and hindered them in combat. But that night they were going to get more crossfire than in the landing of Normandy, so there was no alternative. He turned back to Z, preparing protections.

- What? - More a bark than a question.

Zsadist’s heavy boots barely made noise on the floor when he walked to stop at the another side of the table from Butch, after closing the door. The brother could be as elusive as a shadow when he wanted; Wrath had chosen him well to deal with the sniper.

- Why?

Butch looked up a second, with "not in the mood" look in his eyes.

- Why what?

Z put both hands on the table, shoulders forward. Despite the aggressiveness of his stance, he spoke softly.

- Why did you say that to V?

Damn, that was exactly what he needed. Zsadist, alias "The Nightmare Before Christmas", playing peacemaker.

-None of your biz.- Butch began to fit the porcelain plates with less care than desirable.

-Yes, it's my business. The two of you are my Brothers .- Butch was silent and Z wrinkled his damaged lip, snorting-. All of us in that office were able to smell your bonding scent, so ...

- Mind your fucking business! - Butch hit the metal table with both palms, bringing himself face to face with Z-. Why does everyone think is entitled to get their nose where they shouldn’t? It’s. Not. Your. Bussiness. And if you're interested, Vishous neither is my business anymore.

Zsadist bared his fangs, without flinching.

-He didn’t fight back. When you smashed his face, he didn’t turn against you.

-Because the bastard knew he deserved it .- Butch noticed that his fangs touched his lower lip-. And if you hadn’t stopped me, I would have broken every bone in him.

-V always returns the blows. Always. I don’t understand what happened ...

-You are so fucking right about that. You have no fucking idea of what you speak about and, besides, why the hell do you care? - Butch suddenly straightened, tossing aside the vest he had been working on to move to the next-. You've stayed away from the world for decades. Talking to you was to risk sudden death and now you're the white flag bearer? Fuck off, Z.

Zsadist moved so fast that Butch couldn’t see him. A second he was fitting ceramic plates in vests and the next the Brother was holding him by the front of the shirt from the other side of the table, eyes black, fangs like daggers of death, highlighting the scar under the fluorescent light.

-Tonight we're going to get head fucking first in a trap and, if you hadn’t noticed, we depend on you.- Z shook him by the shirt-. My shellan expects a son of mine and I don't want to go to Fade because you are thinking about how to get V’s livers out. Get it? So spit it out already.

Butch grabbed Z by the wrist, pressing to force him to drop his shirt, but the Brother’s muscles tensed in his arms, challenging.

-So that's why you care. You're a selfish bastard.- Butch cast fire from his eyes.

-Yeah, fucking surprise of the century, I bet.- Z released his shirt with a jerk and returned to support his knuckles on the table-. But I'm also the only one who you can explain it to, knowing the shit ain’t gonna leave this room. And your aggressive show doesn’t impress me. So spill.

Butch looked at those eyes as black plates with pursed lips. The first impulse was to send him to eat shit, but after a few seconds, he sighed. Zsadist was right: he was the only one to whom he could explain it knowing that he wouldn’t start with "God, what? You did that? Jesus! Did you like it? ". Z wouldn’t judge or get shocked. Z was one of those people to whom life had given enough kicks and he wasn’t impressionable. He also won’t tell a soul. And, dammit, he needed to get some of that anger out or he'll end up doing something that might put them in danger that night, because his brain seemed to be centrifuged inside the skull.

-I don’t even know where to start.- he played with the straps of the vest before him.

-It’s usually with the beginning .- Zsadist folded arms-. But we can skip that part. We all know that you and V have always been close.

-Yeah ... The problem is that V only pretended.- his mouth twisted on its own in a bitter gesture.

Z raised an eyebrow.

- Excuse me?

-I said V only pretended. Everything, from the beginning, was a strategy to ... um, to get ... what he wanted from me.- Butch pulled at a belt so hard that it almost broke and Z took the vest out of his hand.

- And that was ...?

Butch fought with the word. Damn, one word and what it cost him to say it.

-To fuck me.

He almost squeezed his eyes, waiting for Z to laugh, snort, or give any hurtful comments. Nothing. Finally, he raised his head to see his brother with raised eyebrows and a comical expression of surprise. Before he could say anything, Z blinked.

- Are you an idiot or what? – Z asked, putting his hands on his hips.

Okay, great, after all it was his fault.

-I don't need lessons and especially not from you. If you're thinking about pointing the blame at me, you can leave now.- Butch pointed to the door with his thumb.

-Let me put it another way .- Z ran his hand over his shaved head-. Do you really think a male that has lived completely alone for three fucking centuries – he raised three fingers-, who only fucks people he can tie on a table and has never talked about his life with someone, would be able to plan a strategy to spite his only friend, for a fuck? - the voice of the Brother had become more acute and more incredulous-. Do you really think so? Because if you do you're a dumb ass. And I didn’t think you were.

-You have no idea what he did .- Butch threw a vest with a bang on the table and began to walk through the armory as a caged lion.

-Enlighten me.

Butch barked a bitter laugh. Like he could get the words out of his throat to explain to Zsadist what he and V had shared those days, everything that had led to his Ass Fucking... He ran a hand through his hair, jerking.

-Look, I thought we were friends, right? Since I came to this life, Vishous has been there. The two of us shared things ... we didn’t with no one else. No one. Especially these last days, since Marissa …left - saying "left me" would add another thorn to those already inside him-. V told me what happened to him in the camp ... damn, I thought he did it, I don’t know, for honesty, for wanting to share it with me ... not so that I’ll pity him and fall in ... in his deception. Shit, I sound like a stupid babe .- Butch suddenly leaned against a wall-. We bonded. I guess for him it was just another way of expressing what he wanted from me. But for me it was real.- another laugh-. Just yesterday I realized that it was Vishous who I ...loved. Can you believe it? So we ... – he licked his lips, unable to stop the flood of anger that came out of his mouth- ... we were together. I mean ... in that way.- yup, Z certainly did not need details-. I allowed V to... you know ... – he separated from the wall, walking again-. And when he finished he sent me to hell. Directly. He almost kicked my ass to the Safe Place, back to Marissa. He got what he wanted all along. And I was so stupid that I fell. So Vishous can go to hell.

If he was expecting an explosive answer from Z, he was disappointed. The Brother looked at him in silence, his eyes regaining the normal yellow tint.

-Christ.- Z rubbed his head several times. Then he turned to the metal table and leaned back, looking straight at Butch. He didn’t speak until after a few seconds-. Vishous explained to you what happened to him in the camp?

-Yes.

- When you were ... together, he was naked? Completely?

-Yes .- Butch frowned. At least, Z seemed more or less unimpressed that they had slept together. The other brothers would have stopped listening at the "and you've fucked?" But Z dispensed with that and went on. That cool demeanor gave him the courage to give details-. I touched his ... ah, scars.

- He let you touch them? - Z seemed to be testing a new tone of absolute disbelief.

-Yes.

- Was it ...? Did he hurt you on purpose? When you had sex?

-No .- Butch coughed when the slideshow flooded his mind-. It was ... everything was ... good ... until the end. He did his best not to ... um, hurt me.

-I see….- Z snorted-. Vishous, because we talk about V, shares with you what he didn’t want to share with anyone. He lets you see and touch what he didn’t want anyone to see and V, the Lord of Sadomasochism, strives to treat you like a princess in bed.- Zsadist spoke very slowly, raising a finger for each of V’s gestures-. And you still think he did it for a fuck?

-Jesus, and for what else? - Butch started gesturing with his arms-. Why did he said I’ve been like any other bitch, why did he sent me to hell when he said he already got what he wanted? Why, Z?

Zsadist gave him a scanner look that V would have envied. Then looked down at the tip of his boots. It took him half a minute to speak and his voice came out soft.

- You know? Bella is the only person who ... ah, know things about me. Things that I haven’t told anyone else.- he paused-. I died inside every time I shared some of my shit with her. I have also let her do ... things I haven’t let anyone else do.- he frowned, fiddling with the toe of his boot-. It was not easy. Every step towards me was another bleeding wound. The real scars inside you…you endure only one person to see them, really .- he twisted his lip, showing a tusk-. I don’t care that this has sounded cheesy. Do you think anyone would bear to relive all the shit, sharing it with someone, just looking for a fuck? And one to please you nonetheless? Do you think V would expose himself like that just so you’ll said "oh, poor thing" and let him fuck you out of pity? Don’t be stupid. And Vishous has bonded with you.

- So what? He could fake it ... could be his way of saying that he wanted to ... do me, right? - reluctantly, the blind rage against V began to deflate in the heat after Z’s words. He didn’t think about it, but if anyone could help him understand how V’s brain functioned, it was Zsadist.

Yellow eyes turned to face him.

-That can’t be faked. A male only bonds with someone when he wants that person as his mate. One hundred percent. No matter what you say to your brain.- he tapped his temple with a finger-. When you mark someone is because you love him. And no bonded male can hurt his mate. He would stab himself in the heart first.

-Well, V did it.- Butch whispered, dropping into a chair when the fury vanished entirely, leaving him tired, soaked bones.

Zsadist said nothing for a long time and Butch was lost in his mental labyrinth debating over whether to ask the question he had refused to ask during all those hours. Why? Finally, Z sighed heavily and that made Butch look back at him.

-I’m not making excuses for Vishous. He deserves for you to break his bones. All of them .- Z said-. I’m just trying to understand what happened. And it reminds me of what I did ... with Bella.

- What do you mean? - Butch cocked his head to one side, intrigued despite himself. There must be a rare stellar lineup that afternoon for Zsadist, of all people, to decide to open his mouth that way. He had never believed that the Brother could talk so much.

-I mean ... I loved her. I didn’t intended and I didn’t searched it. It was a complication that I didn’t want, but it happened. I let her know me like no one before. And I assure you it was not fun. I bonded with her because I loved her, in here .- he pointed to the heart-. I knew she did too but, despite all, I was ... cruel to her. I said words that hurt her, humiliated her for wanting to be with me, even after all she had done for me. I tried to push her towards Phury.

- And why the hell did you do that? - The cop's eyes were wide open, unable to believe that Z, who would die at the thought that something bad might happen to Bella, would have been able to deliberately hurt her.

Z frowned, staring at the wall.

-Because I believed that she had no future with me.- he murmured-. And I preferred to have her hate me than waste her life loving someone who couldn’t be the mate that she deserved.- he paused, mentally beating himself, and then looked back to Butch-. It looks a lot like what V has done, right? And I assure you of one thing: I hurt Bella and still I do not know how to compensate her for that, but pushing her away from me almost killed me. It went against all my instincts, but I did it. I thought that, after all, it was the best for her.

- Didn’t you ask her what she wanted, dammit? - Butch began to see the parallels. Too many of them.

-I should have.- Zsadist lost his sight for a moment-. But I didn't know how...

- How did you end up together? – Butch raised a hand-. Okay, I'm sorry I asked that. I have no right...

Z shook his head, rejecting the apology.

-We just got together because she turned to me. She learned to see beyond my words and understand that, in fact, what I did was out of love for her. Misunderstood, but love.- he gave a pair of kicks on the floor-. I don’t deserve it, neither her nor her forgiveness. I don’t say Vishous is innocent. I'm just saying, if you really want to be with that closed-mouth bastard, you've got the shortest stick. You'll have to look beyond his words if you want to find some way to get him out of that fucking Primale business.

Butch looked at him, straight in the eyes, feeling that Z had taken the cap out of his pool of resentment and left him sitting alone and shivering on the bottom. The very fucker knew how to speak: hard and in his head. Butch would not have listened to anyone who had come to offer him comfort.

-Vishous spoke very clear ... – he murmured, still resisting the urge to jump through hoops of fire better than having to go through everything they had shared until he’ll find the answer to why.

Z separated from the table with a push.

-The words can be deceiving. I don’t know, you’re the cop. Think you can close the case? Or at the bottom there are some clues you think you might have overlooked? – he shrugged, walking toward the door.

-Zsadist .- Butch looked at him frowning-.Why are you doing this? Seriously now.

The Brother’s two eyebrows arched and Z pursed his lips.

-You said it yourself. I’m a selfish bastard. And tonight I want you focused.

OOO

-Very well, now that we are all ... - Mr. D took his usual place in the living room of the farm, with his back against a chest with drawers eaten by woodworms, looking over to his small team-. Let's start with the candidates for The Crossbow Man of the Year.-he signaled to A and C-. You two will have the easier task tonight.

-I like simple things. And crossbows aren’t bad either.- A nudged his colleague.

-I think you won’t have to use them today.- D began to spin his hat in his hands-. Let’s see: the first house you watched yesterday was empty, was it?

-Closed .- answered C, rolling up his sleeves to expose forearms with swollen veins as serpents, after a lifetime of drugs-. Vampires and their servants must have left.

- And the one that you visited?

-Ah, a beautiful cottage with a porch and everything. It looked like those of "North and South" .- C grimaced-. We arrived shortly before dawn. We saw the butler receiving the family. Father, mother and two boys. We don’t know how many servants they have, but at least two. Main entrance is through the porch and a back one for service. The very rich bastards ...

-Well, keep watching that one tonight .- Mr. D hit the heel on the floor-. Confirm the exact number of inhabitants. In principle, I expect to have data from the four houses ... well, of the three inhabited, before attacking, right? But I prefer that you go armed in case things go wrong. Do not shoot unless you’re ordered.

-We'll be good boys.- A smiled like a maniac out of a psychiatric hospital.

I expect you to. D turned his attention to the other five lessers.

-All right, we'll go for our appointment with our two vampire junkies.

- All of us? - R, the lesser with a ponytail, frowned-. Much fuss for two fucking kids.

-I don’t want to risk it. We need to catch them.- D twisted his head, looking at him with ghost eyes, daring him to contradict. When R kept silent, he began to drum his fingers on the wood-. This is the plan. R, G and H: You three take the Volkswagen. Park as close to the arch of the bridge as possible. R, you'll be the van driver, ready to get the hell out with the two vampires as soon as we have them.- When R growled, he continued with the other two-. G and H, on the embankment beside the river you’ll find whores, junkies and beggars. Mingle with them. You cut down the retreat of the two boys if they try to run away but if not, stay away far enough to avoid them smelling you.

-Understood.

-Good. I’ll come with the Ford and I will meet the two guys under the bridge.

-M won't have a straight line of sight from any building if you go under the bridge.- H objected.

Mr. D began to smile. Slowly, stretching like a snake.

-Right.

-So…?

-M won’t be on a building.

D could feel the eyes of the former Marine.

- Where will I be?

-You'll steal one of the garbage barges down the Hudson River.

Most lessers looked at D like he lost it, but M nodded, looking up toward the ceiling, as he did every time he silently calculated his position.

- What do we gain by that? – H, the idiot, still didn’t catch up to anything.

D sighed.

-If by chance these two young men bring protection, we’ll let them blind by meeting them under the bridge. They won’t have a clear target either.- he pointed to M with his chin-. However, M will have a clear line from the boat down the river and running along the shore. Furthermore, it is unlikely that any bodyguards expects a shooter to be on the river. We’ll take them by surprise. P ... - the Texan turned to a lesser that seemed a gladiator version of a Snow White dwarf- you go with M on the barge. Someone has to drive while he shoots.

-Not a problem. I've driven boats before.- his voice matched his appearance, a severe thunder that seemed to come from the center of the chest.

-Very well. M: we want to disable these two boys for questioning, not kill them.- Mr. D said-. Change that fucking rifle of yours for another of smaller caliber and shoot for the knees.

-At your orders.- M didn’t looked away from the ceiling, as if he was writing the calculations for distance and speed on the wall.

-This also goes for the others: if things go haywire, shoot to kill anyone except these kids, are we clear? Legs, shoulders and arms, all right. But nothing more.- D eyes were like slits-. Whoever shoots for kill will serve as my testing toy for live dissection.- he kept silence a couple of seconds-. Good. The boys will try to dematerialize as soon as I’ll get closer and they recognize me. It’s your job, M, to disable them before they do it. Then, G and H: catch them, get them in the van and you bring all your asses out here.

- And the junkies and the others scum over there? - P raised two hairy pale eyebrows.

-The less dead, the less attention from the cops. But our priority is to catch the vampires. If a druggie gets in the way and hinders us, he’s dead.

-Jesus, come on. Like shooting fucking junkies is the national sport .- C protested, rubbing his chopped veins on the arm.

Mr. D ignored him while the others dragged the chairs, standing up. That night they’ll have two vampires more to question.

Actually, he didn’t knew what made him more excited: to extract new information to tip the scales of the war in favor of lessers or the prospect of those two kids completely at his mercy, exuding fear.

He smiled as if someone had uncovered a bottle of Chanel No. 5.

OOO

Butch spent a long time in the silence and solitude of the armory, going over what Z had said. To be honest, Zsadist was the only one with any chance of understanding how Vishous’s brain worked. The two had been living a nightmare and they were both fucked up bastards that kept to themselves.

Was it possible that Butch had been persuaded by the final proof, so much that he had ignored other evidences? Was it even possible that V treated him like a piece of shit for some twisted reason to do what was best for him, and actually loved him too?

Was it possible for Vishous to be such a damn knucklehead?

Or was it that Butch had fallen so low as to grab at straws?

He cursed under his breath and stood up. Thinking too much never worked for him. The best he could do was to arm himself and prepare for the little party-night that awaited them. Guns, knives, coat, phone ...

Phone.

Fucking junk.

Damn, the phone was in his leather coat. And the coat remained in Vishous’s room. When he stayed with him, to help him while recovering –like a fucking woman-, he had left his coat in his room. Then, V had thrown him the pants, but not the rest of his clothes. So he had to go back there, at the crime scene. To wallow in the mud.

He gritted his teeth, walking quickly through the tunnel while the embers of humiliation again light the fire of anger.

It was not true. There was no way that Z was right and V had not been pretending and that he actually wanted to be with him, but some stupid mental mechanism pushed him to restrain his emotions and drag them into the ground. It. Wasn’t. True.

He entered the code to the Pit hoping to find V in order to continue with what the others had stopped. He was going to break all his teeth. But he wasn’t there. Butch took a deep breath and walked into the room with tense jaws, determined to continue with his original purpose of sending V to hell and not to think about ...

He paused in the doorway, with all his training as an Homicide detective jumping to analyze the scene.

V's bed was made, the sheets changed by other dark gray ones, wrinkled in the center still holding the shape of a body lying, surely shrunk to one side. And, on top of clean sheets, there were some others, black, made a mess as if someone had laid holding them… They still gave off bonding scent and the smell of sex. And only one pillow case had the new gray color. The other, still with the black silk from last night, was on top of the used sheets.

As if a lying Vishous had clung to the sheets that they had used, the ones impregnated with the smell of them both.

Butch entered the room completely out of game. Was it possible ... surely it was possible that V saved them as a trophy. That's what psychopaths did, right?

Except that he himself didn’t believed it.

He walked to the bed and sat on the edge, exhausted, running a hand across his forehead. He didn’t understand what was happening there. He pursed his lips, crossing the crowded room with his eyes and praying to the heavens for a little help in all that shitty mess, just a little help to distinguish truth from falsehood. And that fucking dizziness he felt for hours now was putting him even more nervous. His fingers stroked the black rumpled sheets as he braced himself to review his relationship with Vishous, all their relationship, looking for clues to find the truth.

V has never communicated with anyone, never showed weakness to anyone, never talked about himself. Neither of the other Brothers knew his life. But Butch had seen him in his worst moments, balancing drunk on the edge of his balcony before jumping, then ending up crying on his shoulder. Was that an act to make him get closer?

Please ...

Butch shifted in the bed, tangling his fingers in the black sheets. Vishous had awakened completely out of himself when he had dreamed that he would die after consuming too many lessers. Butch still remembered the expression on V's eyes and it still gave him chills. Broken. The Brother was completely broken and they had finished kissing and rolling around on the bed, clutching to each other as if their lives depended on it. Was it faked?

The fuck it was.

He sighed, when the intimate moments they had shared after that day left their own trail of new evidences. Every word that V had said about his past had taken full minutes to pronounce, as if someone had been impaling his guts. Could that have been a part of a plot to appeal to the soft part of Butch?

Hell, no.

The cop almost slapped himself. V would slit his wrists before letting someone pity him. He didn’t even know how something like that could have crossed his mind. Z was right. Each confession was a new wound. Nobody, least of all Vishous, would do that for a fuck.

And now that he was thinking about the downhill tracks, he had to admit that it was almost never Vishous who had sought contact, at least until he had been more or less sure that Butch wanted him too. In fact, half the time V seemed to struggle between the desire to hold him and send him way.

The cop looked away towards the open door of the room. He himself had closed it last night. Vishous hadn’t wanted to approach him until Butch had asked him to leave the damn world outside. Then,- he swallowed hard, as he approached the hurtful part in the story - things had precipitated.

Was Vishous’s attitude in bed that of someone who looks to his newly hunted trophy? No. Shit, in fact, he had been hesitant at first and then completely confident, leaving Butch to touch him where it hurt the most. And then ... after V had done his best to please Butch, to soften that first time ... the gentleness had given way to possessiveness. No to triumphal violence but to possession. Like lovers do.

The cop took the sheets in his both hands as a nest of snakes seemed to awaken in his gut, after his instinct won the battle with rage.

Everything, absolutely everything, pointed like a compass to the north: what they had was REAL. In capital letters.

When did things get so screwed? He could not remember exactly what they have said, he was too deep in shock, but he thought ... yeah, that was it. He had felt like a fucking selfish bastard for not wanting to share V with the Chosen, although he was willing to do so. And so he said it, just as he still had Vishous inside him, embracing him.

Just then, V’s brain had clicked.

Butch dropped the sheets and paced the room, one hand on his hip and another on the neck. That was the fucking clue that had eluded him. Something about sharing V with those females had triggered the Brother’s mental button. Either Vishous believed that Butch didn’t deserve the bitch fate of having to share him with anyone or the cop lacked information.

He would get it. No matter how. The easy way, or the hard, but V was going to tell the truth because ...

The outrageous Nokia ringtone bounced between the walls of the room and Butch was about to levitate, heart in his throat from the shock. It was his phone. He turned on his heels to find his coat draped over a chair and searched until he found the phone. The sudden movement caused the world to inexplicably turn around. What the hell was happening to him? He checked the number of the incoming call.

Marissa.

-Fuck.

Exactly.

"I talked to Marissa. She will ask you to come back to her. But don’t tell her about us, I doubt she’ll accept you at her side if she finds out you let yourself be fucked in the ass on all fours, by another guy."

Butch stared at the phone with V's words fresh in his memories.

Sincerity. That's what he wanted from Vishous, right? Well, to hell with everything. That's what he’ll have to give to Marissa. He opened the lid without hesitation.

- Baby? How are you? – go figure, he managed to keep his voice from trembling.

- Butch? Ah ... hello, I didn’t know whether it would be a good time to call.- Marissa's voice was soft and doubtful -. If you're busy ...

-No, I'm not. Actually ... uh, Marissa .- he licked his lips-. I have some free time before work ... Do you think we could meet and talk?

Marissa sighed on the other side and, when she spoke, her tone was decided.

-I was going to propose the same. You are very kind to accept that we meet.

-Look, I think this is nonsense. I think we should .... talk about things face to face. Are you at the Safe Place? Can I come there?

-Yes, of course. But don’t you think it's better if we meet somewhere else? Here you would have to enter through the back door, the rules are the rules… and I don’t want you to think...

-I don’t really care. Let me grab a few things, the car, and I’ll be there. Say, in twenty minutes? - hell, he was impatient. After many weeks of self-flagellation, he was eager to clear things up with her.

Marissa seemed to notice, because she sounded bewildered.

-I ... of course, Butch. I'll be waiting.

-See you, baby.

He hung up the phone with a deep breath. Last chance to make things right. It was like in the fucking fairy tales: Little Red Riding Hood or some other idiot in a crossroad. Had to choose, the easy one with flowers or the dark with thorns.

At that moment he realized one thing: he heard just his own breathing. Nothing more. The Pit was in complete silence. And it had been the same for the past few weeks, even when Vishous was there. Before, rap music always made tables dance, given V's needed to ward off the thoughts of others. For the past few weeks, the Pit knew only silence.

So it was true.

V had lost his visions and could not hear the thoughts of others. Except his. And Vishous never set music to keep Butch’s thoughts out. Never.

He grabbed his coat and finished arming to the teeth in his own room. Then he ran to the armory, took a radio transmitter, night vision binoculars and his bulletproof vest. John was driving the Escalade tonight, so he couldn’t take the jeep. Okay.

Fritz was about to dissolve into the ground like a jelly when Butch made him "the honor" of asking to take the Mercedes. Of course, there were people like that, easy to make happy. Unlike others.

Butch watched the landscape slide by the window with clenched teeth and shaking his leg in a nervous tic. It was over. No more silence and half-truths. From now on, honesty would be his First Commandment. First with Marissa. And then, even if he’ll had to secure him with sticks, with V. In fact, preferably, securing him was a good idea.

OOO

-John, are you sure you want to do it? I know we've talked about it before but it’s not even two days since your transition. It’s impossible to be in great shape.

Blaylock looked askance at him, sitting on the bed in his room. John coordinated enough for having grown three sizes in not even 48 hours but there were millions of ways that the night could twist and test a resistance still not acquired. He knew it, but even so, he thought about going. John shook his head and began to gesticulate.

"I'm fine. And I'll just be a fucking driver in a getaway car. No big deal. "

-You know that things can end in fireworks, Johnny-boy.- Qhuinn took a sip from the bottle of Herradura, sprawled in a chair.

The boy shrugged.

"I'm okay… feel me?"

- Is it for her? You're doing it for Xhex, so she’ll know that you’re a male?

Damn, Qhuinn still had a staggering ability to screw it up every time he opened his

mouth. Still, John didn’t get angry at the mention of the forbidden name. That’s what friends are for.

"It's not for her. I don’t even know for sure she’ll ever find out. It’s for me. Need to know that ... I can do something. "

In fact, he needed to prove to himself that he wasn’t a failure in everything in life. He had been unable even to have sex with a Chosen that had appeared naked before him the night of his transition. Maybe he could hook up a fucking device and drive a car without screwing it up. It was the last chance before he had to label himself as a loser with no remission.

-You can do whatever your balls tells you to, John. You’re a capable guy. More than I am.- Qhuinn gave another shoot at the tequila that John nearly saw how it skinned his throat.

Next to him, Blay shifted in the bed, glancing uneasily over to Qhuinn. The moments in which the dark headed let them see how he felt inside could be counted on the fingers of one hand and, much as John would like to make him see he was a male of worth, the only one to whom he would listen would be Blay. Not for nothing he was his best friend since childhood.

"Why not a rest a little? We have a couple of hours until we got to go. I'm going to park it for a while."

-It's a good idea.- Blay rose, straightening his pants, and approached Qhuinn to take the bottle with a slap.

- Hey, get that back!

-No way. We need you sober.- Blay stood between Qhuinn’s legs and held out a hand-. Come with me to eat something?

John thought that Qhuinn will reject the offer. There were times when the darkness within him caught his eyes, and the male just wanted to be alone with a bottle and no one could get him out of the well until he decided to crawl out.

No one except Blaylock.

Qhuinn chuckled and grabbed Blay’s wrist to join him. John thought the contact lasted longer than necessary before breaking, as if Qhuinn needed to cling to his friend.

It seemed that there was nobody in the house that did not have shit inside.

OOO

Butch stood at the back door of the Safe Place, finger about to touch the buzzer, holding the huge hanging bag with the other hand. Interestingly, both to him and to Marissa seemed better for them to meet there, as if they need an “work” environment to feel safe.

Safe ...

He still wasn’t sure how his heart had gone from "I love Marissa" to "I also love V" and then to "I only love Vishous" for a dip in the "fuck V, I’ll stay with Marissa, even if there is some truth in what V said about her and me" to the point where he was now. In the end, he had made a decision, probably the most difficult and least rewarding, but the most sincere.

He sighed and touched the bell. The rear entrance was only used by waiters who brought supplies to Safe Place and only Marissa opened it. Butch spied the top of the door. Vishous hadn’t installed the cameras yet.

V again ...

The sound of the door opening, with all its locks, gave him such a fright as if he had been caught stealing, and when he met the familiar angelic face of Marissa, he was less prepared than ever.

-Hello, Butch ... - she smiled, looking down as if she wasn’t so sure as how she looked, and turned away with a wave of her hand-. Please come in.

The cop took air and crossed the threshold.

OOO

The night was going so nightmarish as V had feared: no action. Nothing with which to escape his own skin. Only two houses of nobility whores, cameras to install and implement programs.

So routine that it left him millions of neurons all free to roam around in circles about the same fucking thing: the impulse to tell the truth to Butch.

Now that he had wired two mansions, he couldn’t evade visiting Safe Place anymore, in part because it was only two blocks away from that house. The conversation with Marissa last night had made him go hey wire and he only installed the data management software on the computer and the program for the surveillance cameras, but not the equipment. So he had to go back that night and finish because, if a former jealous husband attacked Safe Place because it didn’t had any surveillance system, Wrath would literally eat his liver with onions.

Well, seeing Marissa would be a good way to cut short the race for nothing of his brain. It will remind him in a very vivid way who the future of the cop will be.

Something like the equivalent of a cold shower when horny.

Then he could finish installing sensors in the last of the mansions and think what to do with the rest of the night. As he gathered his things and crossed the garden of the house to the sidewalk, he thought it would make sense for him to call a sub to vent this anger.

But that was the key: Vishous was no longer angry. Only resigned ….an helplessness.

He sighed, feeling that he was leaving a trail of his own self on the sidewalk while walking around the neighborhood in the dark, to the Safe Place.

OOO

- See you soon? - Marissa gently wiped her eyes with a handkerchief, smiling in spite of the tears. Or maybe because of them.

Butch stroked her face with his knuckles, also smiling and feeling as if, after those two hours of conversation in the office of the Safe Place, he had found his way out of a maze and they had given him a candy as prize. That had been the right thing to do. Finally.

-Of course, baby. Why don’t you call me when we're done for the night and we go…I don’t know, for dinner?

She nodded, and when Butch put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her, she put her head on his chest for an instant. The cop had the impression that Marissa inhaled his bonding scent and, in doing so, she was reassured.

After all, she moved her head, staring with wide eyes.

- Are you sure you don’t want ...?

-Ah-ah - Butch refused, removing his hair from the face-. I'll figure it out, don't worry about me. I have to go, before Wrath floods my cell with missed calls. It's after midnight.- he looked at her eyes for a moment and then leaned forward, brushing her lips with his in a fleeting caress-. See you later.

-Good-bye, Butch.- Marissa lit up with an angelic smile, relieved by the goodbye he had given her.

The Irishman repositioned the bag to his shoulder and walked briskly. He had a half hour to walk up to any neighborhood where he could find a car or van to steal so he could drive to the bridge area, which was the meeting place with the lessers. The air was cold and wet, announcing snow.

Things with Marissa were finally where they should be. Oh, yes, it still left that small little matter pending with Vishous. But now he had the conviction that he would also come out okay out of that fight. He chuckled as he wandered through the streets.

Damn, all men were equal, right? The pretty girl says “I do” to you and feel like making the sign of victory on the fucking top of Everest.

OOO

-I hope I won’t have to fight in this. Really. It's junk .- Blaylock tried to move, bend and flex the body with the vest in place.

Qhuinn watched him askance as he finished taking the gun from the armory room. They had spent two hours playing pool and eating the sandwiches the doggens had prepared, most of the time in silence. Qhuinn would have wanted to say something to Blay, something profound that would address what he knew his friend felt for him. But he didn’t know what.

Shit, that night he felt, as Bilbo Baggins said in the "Lord of the Rings", like butter smeared over too much bread. Scattered, made thin, fragile. Perhaps because he saw how John tried to be a male of worth despite all he had on his head.

He had worked for many years, too, for his family to accept him despite his flaws, with hope on his transition. When not even that fixed his eyes, Qhuinn had understood that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be worthy. Unlike John, who would become a respected warrior, with a female of worth next to him. Qhuinn knew that would be the future of his friend, he had it written on his forehead even if the male couldn’t see it.

And Blaylock ... Blay was the opposite of him. He was smart, educated, friendly and a good warrior. From what little he knew, his friend resembled the Brother Darius. Blay will also have a good future.

He was the only black sheep of the trio.

Usually it was good for him. But sometimes, as on that night, he felt like screaming and kicking, and the conviction that they were going to get into a fucking trap was not helping. He could face the idea of ​​going to the other side, he had nothing to lose. But John and Blay… no.

-Let me tie it.- Qhuinn approached Blay until he was only a foot away and began to close the side straps of the vest. He could see the blue eyes of his friend on him and, despite himself, his body responded to the stimulus. He licked his lips-. Hey, Blay ...

When he raised his eyes, Blaylock’s were fixed on his face, their heads almost touching each other. Holy shit ... Qhuinn moved closer to him, until their vests touched, and put his arms around his waist, securing the back straps. Damn him if Blay didn’t just parted his lips. Qhuinn passed the strip through the buckle and pulled it with such force, restless, that Blay crashed against his body.

He almost had an erection.

Shit, both began to be hard. Only by being so close.

Blay rested his hands on his chest and Qhuinn didn’t know whether the redhead tried to separate from him or get him closer. Neither knew if he wanted one thing or another. With Blay, he never knew anything.

- What do you want from me, Qhuinn? - whispered his friend, still with the palms on his vest, keeping distant and close at the same time.

What did he wanted? Good question. Fucking good question. At that time, he would say to eat his mouth until swallow it, take that damn armor off, push him back to the metal table and fuck him right there. Several times. And then glue Blay to his life because then he would be sure that the darkness would vanish.

But he wasn’t so mad, right?

No, not so much.

Qhuinn took air, put on a lopsided grin and knocked Blay with his knuckles on the front plate of his vest, causing the other to withdrew hands.

-I want you to take care.- he whispered hoarsely-. Don't try to make macho. Because you already are, right? You are ...-Qhuinn cleared his throat, looked at Blay’s hurt eyes and knew he had to leave that place. Before he would do exactly what his body asked the fuck up everything. He took the mic on the table and turned to Blay. The redhead had lowered his head, the live picture of disappointment. Qhuinn took his neck with his right hand, pushing his jaw with a thumb to make him face up. Blay’s freckled skin was soft-. I don’t want anything happen to you, do you hear? I couldn’t bear it.

Damn, Blaylock looked like someone had confirmed that unicorns existed. He smiled from ear to ear, biting his lip.

-Don’t do stupid things either, Qhuinn.- he raised his hand to catch the wrist of the hand resting on his neck-. I know you. You always have to prove you're good and it’s not necessary. I know it. And John too.

When Blay pulled him in for a hug Qhuinn didn’t resist, but gave fervent thanks for those damn jackets.

If he could feel Blay’s body right now, he would give his friend exactly what he craved. Right then and there.

OOO

Okay, true. Butch had sought a car that could go unnoticed in the suburbs near the river where the meeting with the lesser was about to take place. Right. But, damn, that shitty van was stolen, full of graffiti on the outside and the inside was of the worst places in which Butch had ever played guard. The back was a rustic décor of blankets impregnated with the smell of beer and sex, which betrayed the owner of that prehistoric shit to have used it as a mobile fucking brothel.

And smoking pit, judging by the smell.

The windshield had a crack, yellow foam sticking out of the upholstery of the seats and the brakes meowed like a cat in heat.

Perfect.

Butch reviewed the damn landscape around and he felt like returning to Homicide job. He was on the right bank of the Hudson River, a broad dark ribbon on a moonless night, that smelled like a huge garbage pit, with a lazy barge passing by.

The river touched the ground after passing through a sandy embankment, marked here and there with bonfires around which dealers and junkies sealed deals, while whores warmed their asses seeking customers. Butch distinguished some couples fucking right there on the ground. It was the fucking miserable version of a Woodstock concert and the same landscape in which Butch had traveled not so long ago.

The embankment went up to a sidewalk, where all the parked vehicles were in the same condition as the one he had stolen. Butch parked about three blocks from the bridge across the Hudson, which gave a good radius to locate the lessers.

The cop went down a bit in the seat and pulled out the binoculars for night vision. In the greenish glow he could see the bridge’s arch. Under its shade, like any good former detective knew, they closed deals not only for drugs but also for lives. Damn place the lessers had chosen for the exchange.

Across the street there were warehouses, squatted buildings with covered windows, separated by alleys that looked like the black bowels of the abyss. John Matthew would have to leave the Escalade in any of them. The jeep would sing like a drop of blood in the snow if he let even the nose sticking out in this place.

Butch sighed, lowering the binoculars. Bringing the kids there was not a good idea, despite what the king said. The chances to fuck up things were endless. And if something went wrong into a place like that, the result would be death, not broken ankles.

Something wet fell softly on the front windshield of the stolen van. And another. And another.

Snow.

It had started to snow on a night as dark as the bowels of the devil, right in the center of all shill. Butch quickly made the sign of the cross before his face.

They could call him superstitious, but he felt that something will go wrong that night.

OOO

Marissa did not learn, it was clear. Vishous got off the ladder he had taken to the Safe Place’s patio -without anyone seeing him-, and he had been up on it for over half an hour to install cameras in the back door. No one had seen him, he could very well be an ex-husband wanting to break the bones of one of the females in there and nobody would have noticed. Perhaps the old idea of ​​Butch to establish a security force composed of civil vampires was not so bad.

Hell, Butch's ideas were never bad. The cop maybe wasn’t a fucking genius, but he was sharp.

V pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to remove the neurons that had the cop’s name engraved on. Focus. He was about to push the bell but the tone with witch Marissa sent him off the night before stopped him. Fuck it if he’s gonna give her a death scare. He took a pick off his set and opened the door in seconds, sneaking into the Safe Place. Now he just had to activate the control program of the cameras, already installed on Marissa's computer and check if they worked.

He entered the office without knocking and he was rewarded this time with the sound of a china cup crashing to the ground.

- Good God! Vishous! Oh, please, why didn’t you call at the door? You almost killed me…. - Marissa put her hand on the chest, eyes as blue balls. At her feet, a pile of broken shards from the cup of tea and a puddle.

V didn’t even acknowledged her. Neither her nor the manager who ran up a moment later alerted by the noise and who looked at him like at a serial killer. The only thing that caught his senses, and erased the rest of the world, was the faint smell that hung in the office.

Butch’s bonding scent.

He walked to her desk and sat down in her chair both because he needed to handle the computer and because his legs refused to support him.

So he did it. The cop was back with Marissa. Completely. Everything had gone according to his plan and, being the dominant bastard he was, it should make him feel good.

Not dead.

-Vishous, if you need to work on my computer, you could ask permission, don’t you think?

He barely heard, much less understand, what Marissa said. His mind was disconnected from the rest of the body, trying to minimize the pain, and his fingers flew over the keyboard with its own life, routinely.

ButchandMarissaButchandMarissaButchandMarissa ...

-I just talked to Butch.- she leaned on the side of the table, arms folded.

The name of the cop on her lips managed to stop the spiral of his brain and caused V to reconnect with reality.

-Congratulations .- he had to finish that and get out. Fast. Now.

-I thought you would like to know that we have clarified… everything.- he could almost picture Marissa frowning. Gently, of course.

-I'm jumping for joy.- V continued to stare at the fucking screen, trying to type without breathing. If he kept inhaling Butch’s scent in the same room with Marissa he will eventually snap.

The female was silent for a moment. Long enough for him to finish connecting the cameras to the control program.

-Take care of Butch, please.- Marissa muttered.

Yeah, of course. He’ll make bodyguard every fucking night for the cop to be able to come back in one piece in the Pit and hug her and fuck her and be happily ever after. Suuuuureee.

-Yeah, that’s what’s missing.- V drummed his fingers on the table as the last bar of installation progress moved at a snail's pace on the PC screen.

- Is there any chance we can talk seriously, you and me? - Marissa sighed, fiddling with the heel of her shoe in the carpet.

Not in eight lives.

As the bar peaked and the screen flickered to show that the surveillance cameras were recording, V rose from his chair as if pinched with a pin. He picked up his bag and walked around Marissa without looking at her.

-I hope you don’t get in front of the door again.- he muttered.

No, it seemed that Marissa had learned that lesson.

-You don’t deserve Butch, you know? Although he doesn’t believe it, he’s much better than you.- she sounded hurt.

Vishous paused for a moment. The fucking female ...

-In that…we agree.- he barked back before leaving the office.

He crossed the hall and out the back door, as it suited him. It seemed that lately all he did was getting out of others lives through the back door.

As he set foot in the street, something cold and wet touched his cheek. He ran his fingers over his face to pick up a melted snowflake and looked up at the sky.

The wisps of snow for the first big snowfall of the year in Caldwell fell quietly from a black sky overcast with no moon or stars.

He hated the snow.

His earliest memories were of cold, his bare legs freezing, the perpetual moisture of the central Europe winters in the cave.

Snow reminded him too much of his own life. Cold. Silent.

White.

The Scribe Virgin was going to bury the few good things he had in his existence in a landscape of white buildings, white trees and females dressed in white. Unchanged, like a death sentence.

And the snow was going to bury the real world under the same white blanket, suffocating all that was warm to Vishous.

Definitely, the night could not get worse.

Right?

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