On the far side, the doggen called out, "Sire?" There was a pause. "Wait, I shall assume the position. "
What. The. Fuck?
"I am ready. "
Xhex palmed the doorknob, opened the way, and stepped out, expecting to find some kind of Kama Sutra nightmare going on.
Instead, the older female was standing in the corner of the kitchen facing the juncture of the walls, with her eyes covered by her hands.
They didn't want her to be able to identify them, Xhex thought. Smart. Very smart.
Timely, too, as she would have had to waste precious minutes screwing with the female's head. Further, that "position," as it were, was going to save the doggen's life later, when Xcor eventually found out that his lair had been infiltrated while they were gone.
If you didn't see anyone ever, there was no way you were protecting an intruder.
Xhex shut the door, and the lock triggered itself, reengaging. Then she dematerialized right out of there, carrying the gun case against her chest.
Good thing it wasn't that heavy.
And God willing, Vishous was going to be off rotation for the night.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Back at the Brotherhood compound, Tohr held the basement door open and stood aside as John passed by and hit the stairs.
Descending after the other male, Tohr's body was stiff, especially his back and shoulders. His nightly workouts as a furniture mover were finished, though. After a final three-hour push this evening, his and Wellsie's house was officially empty, and on its way to being entered into Caldwell's MLS system. Fritz had met with the Realtor during the day, and the price they had set was aggressive, but not crazy. If Tohr had to carry the costs of the place for another couple of months, or even through the spring, that was fine.
Meanwhile, the furniture and rugs had been moved into the mansion's garage; the paintings and etchings and ink drawings were up in the climate-controlled part of the attic; and the jewelry box was in Tohr's closet above the mating dress.
So it was. . . done.
At the bottom of the stairs, he and John set off at a resolute pace that took them through a cavernous room and by the massive boiler that not only kicked out enough heat to keep the main part of the house warm, but threatened to fry his face and body as he strode into its orbit.
Continuing onward, their footsteps were loud, the air cooling fast as they left the boiler's range and hit the second half of the basement. This part was cut up into storage rooms, one of which would soon hold the balance of his and Wellsie's furniture, another of which was V's private workspace.
No, not that kind of work.
He used his penthouse for that shit.
Vishous's forge was down here.
The sound of the Brother's fire-breathing monster started off as a low hum; by the time they turned the final corner, the dull roar was loud enough to drown out the sound of their shitkickers. In fact, the only thing that cut through the din was the tink-tink-tink of V pounding a hammer on red-hot black metal.
As they stepped into the doorway of the cramped stone room, V was hard at work, his bare chest and shoulders gleaming in the orange light of the flames, his muscled arm rising up to strike again and again. His concentration was fierce - and it should be. The blade that strip of metal was becoming would be responsible for keeping its owner alive, as well as getting the enemy good and dead.
The Brother looked up as they appeared, and nodded. After two more strikes, he put down his hammer and cut the oxygen feed to the fire pit.
"What's doing?" he said as the great growl settled into a purr.
Tohr glanced over at John Matthew. The kid had been a star throughout the whole process, never faltering in the grim work of dismantling a lifetime's worth of keepsakes, mementos, and collections.
So hard, this was. On the both of them.
After a moment, Tohr looked back at his brother. . . and found himself at a loss for words - except V was already nodding and getting to his feet. Removing the heavy leather gloves that went up to his elbows, he stepped free of his station.
"Yeah, I've got them," the brother said. "Back at the Pit. Come on. "
Tohr nodded, because that was all he had to share with anyone. Still, as the three of them filed out and walked in sad silence back for the stairs, he clapped his hand on John's nape and kept it there.