Black Dagger Brotherhood - Lover Eternal Part 33

When the brother finished speaking in the Old Language, Rhage took a deep breath. "Give me ten minutes."

Tohr nodded. "We're in Wrath's study."

Rhage went back into his room and shut the door. "Listen, Mary, I've got some business with my brothers. I might not be back tonight."

She stiffened and her eyes dropped away from his face.

"Mary, it's not females, I swear to you. Just promise me you'll be here when I get back." As she hesitated, he went over and stroked her cheek. "You said you don't have a doctor's appointment until Wednesday. What's another night? You could spend more time in the tub. You told me how much you like that."

She smiled a little. "You are a manipulator."

"I like to think of myself more as an outcome engineer."

"If I stay one more day, you're just going to try to talk me into another and another..."

He bent down and kissed her hard, wis.h.i.+ng he had more time, wanting to be with her, inside of her, before he left. But h.e.l.l, even if he'd had hours to spare, he wouldn't be able to do that. The tingling and the hum in him was about to vibrate his body into midair.

"I love you," he said. Then he pulled back, took off his watch, and put the Rolex in her hand. "Keep this for me."

He went over to the closet and shed his clothes. Way in the back, behind another two pairs of pajamas he was never going to use, he found his ceremonial black robe. He drew the heavy silk on over his naked skin and belted it with a thick strip of braided leather.

When he came out, Mary said, "You look like you're going to a monastery."

"Tell me you will be here when I come back."

After a moment, she nodded.

He pulled the robe's hood into place. "Good. That's good."

"Rhage, what's going on?"

"Just wait for me. Please, wait for me." As he got to the door, he took one last look at her in his bed.

This was their first good-bye that had teeth, their first separation where, when they were reunited, he'd feel the awful distance of time and experience. He knew tonight was going to be hard to get through. He just hoped that when he came out on the other side, the aftermath of the punishment didn't linger too long. And that she was still with him."I'll see you later, Mary," he said as he shut her in his room.

When he walked into Wrath's study, he closed the double doors behind himself. All the brothers were there, and no one was talking. The scent of unease permeated the room, smelling like rubbing alcohol.

Wrath came forward from behind the desk, looking as rigid as Tohr had. From behind his wraparound sungla.s.ses, the king's stare was piercing, something felt, though not seen.

"Brother."

Rhage bowed his head. "My lord."

"You wear that robe as if you want to stay with us."

"Of course I do."

Wrath nodded once. "Here is the p.r.o.nouncement, then. The Scribe Virgin has determined that you offended the Brotherhood in both defying Tohr's orders and by bringing a human onto our turf. I'll be honest with you, Rhage, she wants to override my decision about Mary. She wants the human out."

"You know where that leads."

"I told her you were prepared to walk."

"That probably cheered her up." Rhage smirked. "She's been trying to get rid of me for years."

"Well, it's your choice now, brother. If you want to remain with us, and if the human is to continue to be sheltered within these walls, the Scribe Virgin has demanded that you offer a rythe."

The ritualistic way of a.s.suaging offense was a logical punishment. When a rythe was tendered and accepted, the offender allowed the object of his insult free use of a weapon against him without putting up a defense. The offended could choose anything from a knife to a set of bra.s.s knuckles to a gun, provided the wound inflicted was not mortal.

"I so offer the rythe," Rhage said.

"It must be one to each of us."

There was a collective groan in the room. Someone muttered, "f.u.c.k."

"I so offer them."

"Be it as you wish, brother."

"But"-Rhage hardened his voice-"I offer them only on the understanding that if the ritual is observed, Mary stays for however long I want."

"That was my agreement with the Scribe Virgin. And you should know she came around only after I told her you wanted to take the human as your sh.e.l.lan. I think Her Holiness was shocked you could even consider that kind of commitment." Wrath looked over his shoulder. "Tohrment is to choose the weapon that all of us will use."

"The tri-whip," Tohr said in a low voice.

Oh, s.h.i.+t. This was going to hurt.There were more mutters.

"So be it," Wrath said.

"Except what about the beast?" Rhage asked. "It can come out when I'm in pain."

"The Scribe Virgin will be there. She said she has a way of keeping it at bay."

But of course she would. She'd cooked the d.a.m.n thing up in the first place.

"We're going to do this tonight, right?" Rhage glanced around the room. "I mean, there's no reason to wait."

"We'll go to the Tomb now."

"Good. Let's get it over with."

Zs.a.d.i.s.t was the first to leave as the group got to their feet and worked out logistics in quiet tones. Tohr needed a robe, did someone have an extra one? Phury announced he'd bring the weapon. V offered the Escalade to take them all down together.

The latter was good thinking. They were going to need something to get him home in after the rythe was over.

"My brothers?" he said.

They all stopped talking, stopped moving. He looked at each one, noting the grim casts to their faces. They hated this, and he understood perfectly. Hurting any one of them would have been unbearable for him. It was much better to be on the receiving end.

"I have one request, my brothers. Don't bring me back here, okay? When it's over, take me somewhere else. I don't want Mary to see me like that."

Vishous spoke up. "You can stay at the Pit. Butch and I will take care of you."

Rhage smiled. "Twice in a less than a week. You two could hire out as nursemaids after this."

V clapped him on the shoulder and then left. Tohr followed, doing the same. Phury gave him a hug as he pa.s.sed by.

Wrath paused on his way out.

When the king remained silent, Rhage squeezed the male's bicep. "I know, my lord. I'd feel the same way if I were you. But I'm tough. I can take it."

Wrath reached into the hood and took Rhage's face into his palms, tilting it down. He kissed Rhage's forehead and held the contact between them, a pledge of respect from the king to his warrior, a reaffirmation of their bond.

"I'm glad you're staying with us," Wrath said softly. "I would have hated to lose you."

About fifteen minutes later, they reconvened down in the courtyard by the Escalade. The brothers were all barefoot and wearing black robes. With the hoods up, it was hard to tell who was who, except for Phury. His prosthetic foot showed, and he had a bulging duffel bag slung over his shoulder. No doubt he'd thrown bandages and rolling tape into the thing as well as the weapon.

Everyone was silent as V drove them behind the house and into the mountain's thick beard of pines and hemlocks. The road was a single dirt lane, crowded by the evergreen trees.

As they shot along, Rhage couldn't stand the tense silence a minute longer.

"Oh, for G.o.d's sake, my brothers. You're not going to kill me. Could we lighten up a little?"No one would look at him.

"V, put on some Luda or Fifty, will ya? All this quiet is boring."

Phury's laugh came out of the robe on the right. "Only you could try to turn this into a party."

"Well, h.e.l.l, you've all wanted to nail me a good one for some s.h.i.+t I've popped, right? This is your lucky day." He clapped Phury on the thigh. "I mean, come on, my brother, I've ridden you for years about the no females. And Wrath, a couple months ago I needled you until you stabbed a wall. V, just the other day you threatened to use that hand of yours on me. Remember? When I told you what I thought about that goatee monstrosity?"

V chuckled. "I had to do something to shut you up. Every d.a.m.n time I've run into you since I grew it, you ask me if I've French- kissed a tailpipe."

"And I'm still convinced you're doing my GTO, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

That got the ball rolling. Rhage stories started flying around until the voices were so loud, no one could hear anyone else.

As his brothers blew off steam, Rhage settled back against the seat, looking out into the night. He hoped like h.e.l.l the Scribe Virgin knew what she was doing, because if his beast got loose in the Tomb, his brothers were in deep s.h.i.+t. And they just might have to kill him after all.

He frowned and looked around. He located Wrath behind him. Could tell who it was because the king's black diamond ring was on the male's middle finger.

Rhage arched back and whispered, "My lord, I beg of a favor."

Wrath leaned forward, his voice deep and even. "What do you need?"

"If I don't... make it through this, for whatever reason, I beg of you to watch over Mary."

The hood nodded. In the Old Language, the king said, "As you wish, so I am sworn. I shall look upon her as I would my own blooded sister and caretake her as I would any female of mine own family."

Rhage exhaled. "That is good. That is... good."

Soon enough, V parked the Escalade in a small clearing. They got out and stood around, listening, looking, sensing.

All things considered it was a nice evening, and this was a serene place to be. The breeze winding its way through the countless branches and trunks of the forest carried a pleasing smell of earth and pine. Overhead, a fat moon glowed through milky clouds.

When Wrath gave the signal, they walked a hundred yards over to a cave set into the mountain. The place looked like absolutely nothing special, even when you walked inside. You had to know what you were looking for to find the little seam in the wall in the back. If triggered correctly, a slab of stone slid open.

As they filed inside the cave's inner belly, the wedge of rock closed behind them with a whisper. Torches mounted on the walls flickered gold as their flames breathed into the air, puffing and hissing.

The walk into the earth was a slow, easy descent on a rock floor that was cold beneath the feet. When they got to the bottom they disrobed, and a pair of cast-iron doors opened. The hall ahead was about fifty feet long and twenty feet high and covered with shelves.

On these racks, thousands of ceramic jars of various sizes and shapes reflected light. Each container held the heart of a lesser, the organ the Omega removed during the Society's induction ceremony. During a lesser's existence as a slayer, the jar was his only real personal possession, and if possible, the Brotherhood collected them after a kill.At the end of the hall, there was another set of double doors. These were already open.

The Brotherhood's sanctum sanctorum had been carved out of bedrock and veneered in black marble back in the early 1700s when the first migration from Europe had come across the ocean. The room was good-sized and had a ceiling of white stalact.i.tes that hung down like daggers. Ma.s.sive candles, as thick as a male's arm and as long as his leg, were plugged into black iron stations, their flames nearly as luminous as those of the torches.

Down in front there was a raised platform, accessed by a series of shallow steps. The altar on top was made out of a slab of limestone that had been brought over from the Old Country, its great weight propped up horizontally by two rough-cut stone lintels. In the center of the thing was a skull.

Behind the altar, a flat wall was etched with the names of every brother there had ever been, back to the very first one whose cranium was on the altar. The inscriptions ran in panels that covered every inch of the surface, save for an unmarked stretch in the middle. This smooth portion was about six feet wide and ran the whole vertical of the marble expanse. In the midst of it, about five feet up from the floor, two thick pegs jutted out, positioned so a male could grip them and hold himself in place.

The air smelled so very familiar: damp earth and beeswax candles.

"Greetings, Brotherhood."

They all turned to the female voice.

The Scribe Virgin was a tiny figure in the far corner, her black robes hovering above the floor. Nothing of her was visible, not even her face, but from underneath the draping black folds, light spilled out like water falling.

She floated toward them, stopping in front of Wrath. "Warrior."

He bowed low. "Scribe Virgin."

She greeted each one in turn, saving Rhage for last. "Rhage, son of Tohrture."

"Scribe Virgin." He inclined his head.

"How fare you?"

"I am well." Or he would be, as soon as this was over.

"And you have been busy, have you not? Continuing to set new precedents, as is your affection. Pity they are not in laudable directions." She laughed with an edge. "Somehow, it is no surprise we ended up here with you. You are aware, are you not, that this is the first rythe ever to be exchanged within the Brotherhood?"

Not exactly, he thought. Tohr had turned down one offered by Wrath back in July.

But it wasn't like he was going to point that out to her.

"Warrior, are you prepared to accept what you have offered?"

"I am." He chose his next words very carefully, because you didn't pose a question to the Scribe Virgin. Not unless you wanted to eat your own a.s.s. "I would beg of you that I do not hurt my brothers."

Her voice grew hard. "You are perilously close to inquiry."