"No assumption there," she bit out. "I am. "
"--then whoever turned the poor bastards has to come back. "
"Thank you, Sherlock. "
V glared in her direction. "You want to dial back the attitude, sweetheart?"
John straightened, thinking that however much he loved the Brother, he was so not appreciating that tone.
Xhex evidently agreed. "Call me sweetheart one more time and it'll be the last word you ever speak--"
"Don't threaten me, swee--"
Butch stepped behind V and clapped his palm over the guy's piehole while John put his hand on Xhex's arm, urging her to calm down as he glared in Vishous's direction. He'd never understood the enmity between the pair of them, even though it had been there since he could remember--
He frowned. In the aftermath of the flare-up, Butch was looking at the ground. Xhex was focused on a tree over V's shoulder. V was growling and staring at his fingernails.
Something is off with all this, John thought.
Oh. . . Jesus. . .
V had no reason to dislike Xhex--in fact, she was precisely the kind of female he'd typically respect. Unless, of course, she happened to have been with Butch. . .
V was known to be possessive about his best friend with everyone but the guy's shellan.
John stopped his extrapolations right there; he so didn't need to know any more. Butch was one hundred percent about his Marissa, so if anything had happened with Xhex. . . it was a lifetime ago. Probably before John had even met her--or maybe when he'd been just a pretrans.
Past was the past was the past.
Besides, he shouldn't--
Any further thoughts on the sitch were mercifully derailed as a car drove by the farmhouse. Instantly, all their attention was crosshaired on a ride that was done up like an outfit some twelve-year-old girl might have wanted to find in her closet. In, like, 1985.
Gray and acid yellow and hot pink. Really? You really think that's hot? Man. . . assuming that was a slayer behind the wheel, John just had another reason to kill the Flock of Seagulls motherfucker.
"That's the souped-up Civic," Xhex whispered. "That's it. "
All at once there was a subtle shift in the scenery, like a screen had been pulled into place from above. Fortunately, visual acuity suffered only until what shielded them was settled; then everything was clear again.
"I've fired up the mhis," V said. "And what a fucking asshole. That ride is too flashy to be in this part of town. "
"Ride?" Rhage snorted. "Please. That thing is a sewing machine with an air dam taped to it. My GTO could dust the fucker in fourth gear from a dead stop. "
When there was an odd sound from behind, John looked back. So did the three Brothers.
"What. " Xhex bristled and crossed her arms over her chest. "I can laugh, you know. And that's. . . pretty damn funny. "
Rhage beamed. "I knew I liked you. "
The sewing machine went past the house and then came back. . . only to turn around and do a third drive-by.
"I'm getting really bored with this. " Rhage shifted his weight back and forth, his eyes flashing neon blue--which meant his beast had a case of the snores and was getting twitchy as well. Never a good thing. "Why don't I just hood-ornament it and drag the fucker face-first out the windshield. "
"Better to chill and lay the trap," Xhex murmured just as John thought the very same thing.
The guy behind the wheel might have been color-blind when it came to car paint, but he wasn't a total moron. He drove on and about five minutes later, just as Rhage was practically pulling a split personality he was so itchy, the slayer who'd been doing the drive-bys came striding out across the rear cornfield.
"That kid's a ferret," Rhage muttered. "A little, shifty ferret. "