J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [780]
John Matthew couldn’t believe the lesser hadn’t known they were there. Unless the fucker was compromised in some way, it should have tweaked to the fact that there were vampires all around the place. But oh, no—it just went about its biz, stepping inside while leaving the damn door open.
First order of infiltration was control, and as soon as John was over the brownstone’s threshold, he subdued the lesser by cranking the bastard’s arms behind its back, forcing it facedown on the tile, and sitting on its ass like a grand piano. Meanwhile, Rhage blasted past on surprisingly light feet just as V and the boys emerged into the kitchen from the dining room.
As the first level of the house was searched fast, John felt a tickling go down his back . . . as if a razor-sharp knife was tracing his spine. Looking around, he couldn’t tease out the origin of the sensation, so he banked the instinct.
“Cellar,” Rhage hissed.
Vishous headed down with the Brother.
With his boys left to guard his back, John was able to focus his attention on the lesser beneath him. Fucker was too quiet, too still. Breathing, but that was it.
Had it hit something on the way down to the floor? Was it leaking? Usually they fought back.
Kicked gas cans, for fucking instance.
As he searched for signs of bleeding or other injury, John shifted his head around without giving the slayer a chance to get free. Grabbing onto the fucker’s hair, he pulled up—
He found something, all right . . . but it sure as shit wasn’t caused by the tackle. On the left side of the slayer’s neck, there were two puncture wounds and a circular bruise caused by sucking.
Qhuinn came over and kneeled down. “Who’s been workin’ your neck, big guy?”
The lesser didn’t reply as V and Rhage dematerialized up from the basement and headed for the second floor.
As the Brothers moved silently through the house, Qhuinn took ahold of the slayer’s jaw. “We’re looking for a female. And you can make shit easier on yourself if you tell us where she is.”
The lesser frowned . . . and slowly shifted its eyes above.
That was all John needed.
He lunged forward, grabbing Blay’s palm and yanking it down to the slayer. As possession changed hands, John leaped off and ran through a dining room and a front hall. The stairwell was broad and carpeted, which meant he had excellent traction as he took the steps three at a time. The higher he went, the more his instincts screamed.
Xhex was in the house.
Just as he came to the top, Rhage and V appeared in front of him, blocking the way.
“House is empty—”
John cut Rhage off. She’s here. She’s here somewhere. I know it.
Rhage caught his arm. “Let’s go down and question the slayer. We’ll get more that way—”
No! She’s here!
Vishous stepped up into John’s grille, his diamond stare glowing. “Listen to me, son. You want to go back downstairs.”
John narrowed his eyes. They didn’t just want him down below. They didn’t want him up here.
What did you find. Neither answered. What did you find!
Breaking away from them both, he heard Rhage curse as V leaped in front of a door.
Hollywood’s voice was hollow. “Nah, V, let him go. Just let him go . . . he already hates Lash enough for a lifetime.”
V’s stare flashed as if he were going to argue, but then he took a hand-rolled out of his jacket and stepped aside with a curse.
With the back of his neck as tight as a fist, John burst through the door and skidded to a halt. The sadness in the room was a tangible threshold he had to breach, his body penetrating the cold wall of desolation only because he forced his feet forward.
She had been kept here.
Xhex had been kept here . . . and hurt here.
His lips parted and he breathed through his mouth as his eyes traced the scratches on the walls. There were legions of them, along with black stains . . . and other dried blood.
Which was a deep, purpley red.
John went over and ran his hands down one gouge that was so deep, the silk wallpaper had