You have Other-father-itis. Or was it a Bastard-oma?
It all made sense. He’d always thought his father had hated him and maybe this was the why behind that. Although it was nearly impossible to imagine his pious, straitlaced mother ever straying, this picture told the story of at least one night with someone else.
His first thought was that he had to get to his mom and ask her for specifics—well, some specifics.
But how was that going to work? Dementia had taken her away from reality, and she was now so far gone she barely recognized him when he dropped by—which was the only reason he could visit her at all. And it wasn’t as if he could ask his sisters or brothers. They’d written him off when he’d disappeared from their orbits, but more to the point, it was unlikely they knew any more than he did.
“Is he still alive?” Butch asked.
“I’m not sure. I used to think he was buried in Pine Grove Cemetery. Now? Who the hell knows.”
“I can find out.” As V spoke up, Butch and Manny both looked over at the brother. “Say the word and I will find him—whether he’s in the vampire world or the human one.”
“Find who?”
The deep voice came from the head of the stairs, and everyone looked up as the words reverberated throughout the foyer. Wrath was standing on the second-floor landing with George at his side, and the king’s mood was easy to guess at even though his eyes were hidden behind those wraparounds: He was in a deadly frame of mind.
Hard to know, however, whether it was the human in the foyer or not because God knew there were a thousand things riding the guy’s ass right about now.
Vishous spoke up—which was a good call. Butch had lost his voice and so had Manello, evidently. “Looks like this fine surgeon may be a relative of yours, my lord.”
As Manello recoiled, Butch thought, Holy crap.
Didn’t that throw another iron into the fire.
Manny rubbed his temples as that tremendous vampire with the waistlong black hair came down the stairs, a blond dog seeming to lead the way. The bastard looked like he owned the place, and given the “my lord” shit, he probably did.
“Did I hear you right, V?” the male asked.
“Yeah. You did.”
Annnnnnnnnnnd that settled another question—because Manny was wondering if he’d been having trouble with his ears, too.
“This is our king,” Vishous announced. “Wrath, son of Wrath. This is Manello. Manny Manello, M.D. Don’t think you two have met formally.”
“You’re the one who’s Payne’s.”
No hesitation on that. No hesitation on his reply either: “Yeah. I am.”
The low rumble that came out of a cruel mouth was part laugh, part curse. “And you think that we’re related how?”
V cleared his throat and jumped in. “There is a striking physical resemblance between Manny’s dad and Butch. I mean . . . shit, it’s like looking at a picture of my boy.”
Dark brows disappeared behind those wraparounds. Then the expression eased. “Needless to say, I can’t make that call.”
Ah, so he was blind. Explained the dog.
“We could ancestor-regress him,” Vishous suggested.
“Yeah,” Butch said. “Let’s do—”
“Wait
a minute, can’t that kill him?” Jane interjected.
“Hold up.” Manny pulled an out-and-safe with his hands. “Just wait a fucking minute. Ancestor what?”
Vishous exhaled smoke. “It’s a process by which I get into you and see how much of our blood is in your veins.”