Lover at Last (Black Dagger Brotherhood #11)(105)
Author: J.R. Ward

The engine roared.

Xcor faced off at the vehicle and closed his eyes. No reason to keep his lids peeled, as his vision had ceased to function. No real concern who was driving, whether it was slayer, vampire or human.

They were coming at him, and he was going to stop that. Even though it was probably easier to get out of the way.

He had never particularly cared for easy, however.

"Xcor!" someone yelled.

Grabbing a deep breath of that icy air, he let out a battle cry as he tracked the approach, his senses reaching out and positioning the SUV in space as it traveled forward. His scythe disappeared in a moment, and his guns, eager to participate, came out in both palms.

He waited another twenty feet.

And then he started pumping off rounds.

With his silencers on, the bullets made only impact sounds as they blew out the front windshield, pinged off the grille, took out a tire….

At which point those blinding headlights swung away, the back end of the vehicle hinging around, the overall trajectory unchanged thanks to that tremendous acceleration – even as everything went haywire.

Just before the side panel took him out, Xcor leaped off the ground, his boots springing up, the roof just barely going under their treads as three thousand pounds plus of out-of-control streaked beneath his airborne body.

As Xcor’s combats landed back on the ground, the end of the car’s forward momentum came at the expense of a Dumpster, the trash receptacle stopping the vehicle better than any set of brakes could.

Xcor wasted no time in closing in, both guns up, triggers ready. Although he had discharged a number of rounds, he knew he had at least four left in each gun. And his soldiers had once again fallen in behind him.

Coming up to look inside, he didn’t care what he found: one of his own kind, a man or a woman, a lesser, it mattered not to him.

The smell of spoiled meat and treacle informed him which of his many enemies he confronted, and indeed, as he leaned in through the blown-out front windshield, two new recruits, who still retained their dark hair color and ruddy skin tones, were lolling in the front seat.

Even with their seat belts engaged, they were in rough shape. Aside from being riddled with bullets, their visages carried the wear and tear of their having banged around in the sedan’s cabin, slammed into the dashboard, and been pelted with shattered glass: Black blood greased up their busted noses and lacerated cheeks and chins, the shit dripping onto their chests as water from faucets in the bath.

No airbagas. Mayhap a malfunction.

"I dinnae think ye were gonna make it," Balthazar muttered.

"Aye," someone else agreed.

Xcor threw off the concern as he holstered his guns, grabbed hold of the driver’s side door, and yanked the thing clean off its mountings. As the squeal of metal torn asunder echoed in the alley, he tossed the panel aside, unsheathed his steel dagger, and leaned in.

As with all lessers, these denizens of the Omega still moved and blinked in spite of their catastrophic injuries – and would continue to do so in perpetuity if left in this state, even as their forms decayed over time.

There was one and only one way to kill them.

Xcor drew his right forearm across over his left shoulder and buried the blade of his dagger square in the chest of the one who had been behind the wheel. Turning his head aside and shutting his eyes so he wasn’t blinded again, he waited for the pop and flash to fade before leaning over the seat and doing the same to the passenger.

Then he turned to go over and dispatch the beheaded, squirming corpse…that had tire tracks across its chest, thanks to the car’s path through the alley.

Stalking through black-stained slush, he lifted his dagger hand again over his shoulder and buried the blade into the sternum with such power, the point of the weapon went into the asphalt.

When he rose to his feet once again, his breath left his nose in locomotive puffs. "Search the vehicle, and then we must needs depart."

He checked the time. The Caldwell police were disappointingly responsive, even in this part of town – and the constant threat of human involvement that he lived under was, as always, a bore. But with all luck, they would be gone as if they had never been in a matter of minutes.

Sheathing his blade, he glanced up to the sky, cracking his neck and loosening his shoulders.

It was impossible not to think of that Council meeting which had been scheduled; it had been on his mind all night long. Had Wrath shown? Or had it only been Rehvenge and representatives of the Brotherhood? If the king had in fact been in attendance, Xcor could well imagine the agenda: show of strength, warning, then a quick departure.

As mighty as the Brotherhood was, and as much as Wrath would want to flex his muscle before that group of faithless aristocratic sycophants, it was hard to imagine that a male who’d nearly been killed so recently was going to take any chances: If solely through self-interest, the Brotherhood would want him alive, as that was their seat of power, too.

And that was why he’d chosen to stay away.

There was no harm in letting Wrath attempt to regain some of his lost stature, and much to lose in a direct confrontation with the Brotherhood in front of that particular audience: The potential for collateral damage was too great. The last thing he wanted was to spook the glymera into retreating from him…or kill them off altogether in the process of taking out the king.

But he had in fact discovered, thanks to Throe’s contacts, exactly where and when the assembly was occurring. Which would be now…and at that female’s estate, the one from whom his soldiers had fed in that little cottage.

Evidently, she was willing to allow others the use of not only her garden, but her halls as well.

And soon enough, he would have a transcript of what had transpired provided to him by the mouthpiece that was Elan – if for no other reason than that the male would want to enjoy the access that he’d had and show off a bit –

A whistle of appreciation by the back end of the ruined car brought his head around.

Zypher was standing by the open trunk door, his brows high as he bent in and brought out…a cellophane-covered brick of something white.

"’Tis quite a bounty they have," he said, holding it high.

Xcor marched over. There were three more like it, just tossed into the back loose as if the pair of slayers had been more concerned with their physical safety than the disposition of the drugs.

At that moment, sirens began to sound from the east, mayhap related to the crash, mayhap not.

"We take the packages with us," Xcor ordered. "And depart the now."

Chapter Fifty-four

All in all, the date wasn’t half-bad.

As Sola got up from her chair and started to put her coat on, Mark came in behind her and helped settle the wool on her shoulders.