But then again, there were other reasons for him to follow orders over and above an affinity for consensus: It was that debt that he believed he would be working off forever. It was his commitment to the other bastards, which had grown over time and was mutual - to a point.
And, of course, it was his dearest, departed sister, who was, in a way, still with him.
Well, she was more with Xcor in practicality.
Upon his nod, he and his soldiers traveled in sprays of loose molecules down into the system of alleys. As they went, Xcor recalled that night long ago when a fine
gentlemale approached him in a dirty part of London for a deadly purpose.
The disposition of the request had been rather more involved than Throe had contemplated.
To get Xcor to kill the one who had defiled his sister had required much more than just the shillings in his pocket. It had required his whole life. And servicing the debt had turned him into something so much more than a member of the glymera who had happened to have a Brotherhood name: Throe had lived up to his blooded legacy, far surpassing any expectations.
Far surpassing every expectation: In truth, Xcor had struck the deal to use the male as an example of weakness to the others. Throe was supposed to have been a humiliated foil for the true soldiers, a downtrodden, whining pussy who was broken over time and then made to serve them.
Not where they had ended up.
Down at ground level, the alley they re-formed in was rank and sweaty from the summer's heat, and as his soldiers fanned out behind him, they filled the confines from brick wall to brick wall.
They always hunted in a pack; unlike the Brotherhood, they stuck together.
So all of them saw what happened next.
Unsheathing one of his steel daggers, Xcor gripped the handle hard. Spun around to Throe.
And sliced the male in the gut.
Someone shouted. Several cursed. Throe curled around the wound -
Xcor caught the male's shoulder, retracted the weapon, and stabbed again.
The scent of fresh vampire blood was unmistakable.
There needed to be two sources, not just one, however.
Resheathing his dagger, he pushed Throe backward so that the male fell flat on the ground. Then he took one of Throe's blades from its holster and ran the sharp edge down the inside of his own forearm.
Wiping his wound all over Throe's upper body, he then forced the bloodied dagger into the soldier's hand. Then he crouched down, locking vicious eyes with the male.
"When the Brotherhood finds you, they will take you in and treat you - and you are going to find out where they live. You are going to tell them that I betrayed you and you want to fight with them. You will ingratiate yourself with them and find a way to infiltrate their domicile. " He jabbed a finger in the male's face. "And because you're so fucking committed to the exchange of information, you're going to tell everything to me. You have twenty-four hours and then you and I shall reconvene - or the remains of your sweet sister are going to come to a disgraceful end. "
Throe's eyes popped wide in his pale face.
"Yes, I have her. " Xcor leaned down even farther, until they were nose-to-nose. "I have had her with us all along. So I say unto you, do not forget where your allegiances lie. "
"You. . . bastard. . . "
"You got that right. You have until tomorrow. Top of the World, four a. m. Be there. "
The male's eyes burned as they met his own, and the hatred in them was answer enough: Xcor had the ashes of the male's dead, and they both knew that if he was capable of sending his second in command into the belly of the beast, tossing those powdered remains into a garbage bin or a dirty toilet or the fry basket in a McDonald's was nothing special.
The threat of all that was, however, more than enough to cuff Throe.
And just as he had back in another era, so, too, would he now sacrifice himself for whom he had lost.
Xcor shot up and spun around.
His soldiers were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, a wall of menace that faced him squarely. But he was not worried about insurrection. They had each been raised, if one could call it that, by the Bloodletter - taught by that sadistic male the art of fighting, and of retribution. If they were surprised, it should have only been because Xcor had not done this sooner.