J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [333]
Blay’s house was a grand antique, but it was done with a modern twist, which meant there was wall-to-wall carpeting down the hall to the back stairs—thank fuck. Qhuinn ghosted along, making no sound at all as he headed for the underground tunnel that led out from the basement.
As he came into the cellar, the place was neat as a pin, and as always smelled like Chardonnay for some reason. Maybe it was the regular whitewashing of the old stone walls?
The hidden entrance to the escape tunnel was all the way in the far corner to the right and it was shielded by bookshelves that were on a slide. You simply reached out, pulled the copy of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight forward, and a latch released, causing the partition to retract and reveal—
“You are such a moron.”
Qhuinn jumped like an Olympian. There, in the tunnel, seated in an outdoor lounger like he were getting a tan, was Blay. He had a book on his lap, a battery-operated lamp on a little table, and a blanket over his legs.
The guy calmly lifted a glass of orange juice up in toast, then took a sip. “Hellllllllo, Lucy.”
“What the fuck? You’re like lying in wait for me or some shit?”
“Yup.”
“What was in your bed?”
“Pillows and my head blankie. I’ve had a nice little chill sesh hanging here. Good book, too.” He flashed the cover of A Season in Purgatory. “I like Dominick Dunne. Good writer. Great glasses.”
Qhuinn looked beyond his friend at the low-lit tunnel that disappeared into what appeared to be an infinite dark distance. Kind of like the future, he thought.
“Blay, you know I have to leave.”
Blay lifted his phone. “Actually, you can’t. Just got a text from John. Wrath wants to see you, and Fritz is coming for you as we speak.”
“Shit. I can’t go—”
“Two words: Command. Performance. You bolt now and you’re not only a fugitive from the glymera, you’re on the king’s list of things to do. Which means the Brothers will be going after you.”
They were going to do that anyway. “Look, this thing with Lash is heading for a royal tribunal. That’s what the message from John is all about. And they’re going to put me away somewhere. For a long, long time. I’m just leaving for a while.”
Read: for as long as I can stay hidden.
“You’re going to defy the king?”
“Yeah, yeah, I am. I have nothing to lose, and maybe it will be years before I’m found.”
Blay moved the blanket from his legs and stood up. He was dressed in jeans and a fleece, but somehow looked as if he were wearing a tuxedo. Blay was like that: formal even in his scrubbies.
“You take off, I’m going to go with you,” he said.
“I don’t want you to.”
“Tough. Shit.”
As Qhuinn pictured the land of outlaws that he was headed for, he felt a buildup of pressure in his chest. His friend was so steadfast, so true, so honorable and clean. There was still an essential, optimistic innocence to him, though he was fully a male now.
Qhuinn took a breath and squeezed out, “I don’t want you knowing where I end up. And I don’t want to see you again.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I know . . .” Qhuinn cleared his throat and forced himself to go on. “I know the way you watch me. I’ve seen you looking at me . . . like when I was with that chick in the dressing room at A and F? You weren’t looking at her, you were looking at me, and it was because you were jonesing for me. Weren’t you.” Blay took a stumbling step back, and, like they were in a fistfight, Qhuinn hit harder. “You’ve wanted me for a while, and you think I haven’t noticed. Well, I have. So don’t follow me. This shit between us ends here, tonight.”
Qhuinn turned away and started walking, leaving his best friend, the male he cared about most in the world, more even than John, in that chilly tunnel. Alone.
It was the only way to save the guy’s life. Blay was exactly that flavor of noble idiot who would follow those he loved right off the Brooklyn Bridge. And since you couldn’t talk him out of anything, you had to cut him off.
Qhuinn