A Warm Heart in Winter(78)

He shoved the door open. And let his head fall back. “Shit.”

The whole room was black and white. Including the floor, which had been—surprise!—tiled in black marble. Whatever his brother had hidden there, under that old, loose board? Was no doubt gone.

“Whatcha doing, mister?”

At the sound of the squeaky voice, Qhuinn cranked his head around—and had to look down again. Standing in the hall, in a Frozen nightgown, was a human young of about five or six. So not the one who’d sunk the phone in the loo.

The little girl was staring up at the intruder in her house without any fear. “That’s my older brother’s room,” she said.

Qhuinn cleared his throat. “It was my older brother’s, too.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

As she tilted her head to the side, her hair, which was the color of Ron’s, moved over her tiny shoulder.

After a moment, she said with suspicion, “Are you allowed to be here, mister?”





Look, you need to just go.”

As the words were spoken to him, Blay stopped in the middle of the plowed downtown street and looked over at Z.

“I’m sorry?”

They were deep in the field, walking a row of urban apartment houses, all of which were dark and pockmarked with broken windows. There had been nothing enemy-like anywhere to be seen, but that was not to be trusted. Somewhere in the winter moonlight, shadows were lurking, stalking. Taking orders from the new evil.

“You need to go to your boy.” The Brother’s yellow eyes scanned around. “That’s where your head’s at.”

“No, I’m here.”

“Physically.” Z focused on him. “Mentally, you’re checked out, so you better head back home and see about him. He needs you.”

Blay made a show of looking up and down the street, doing the two-can-play thing. As he thought about how to respond, he was aware of Z just staring at him. So yeah, fronting was not going to be his best option, was it.

Clearing his throat, he said, “He’s not at home.”

“Where is he?”

“He went home.”

Z shook his head. “You just said he wasn’t there—”

“Sorry, to his old home. His parents’ old place.”

“Shit.”

“But listen, I can still function out here—”

“After the raids, you buried his parents there, didn’t you. And his sister. And you think he’s okay going back to that property?”

Blay cursed and rubbed his nose. After he sneezed from the cold, he said, “Luchas sent him there on a mission. According to Luchas’s note, he left something in his room and he wants Qhuinn to handle it.”

Putting his hands on his hips, Z closed his eyes. Then he cursed and activated the communicator on his shoulder. “Tohr, we’re taking ten. I’ll check in when we’re ready to resume.”

Blay started waving his arms. “No, really, I can just—”

There was a soft hiss. Then Tohr’s voice: “Roger that. I’m shifting V and Butch over to your quadrant.”

“Thank you.” Zsadist released the communicator and stared across levelly. “Where are we going? I know what happened at the house, but I never had the address.”

Blay linked his arms over his chest and shook his head. “He wanted to go alone. And I’d like to respect that.”

“He will be alone.”

“No offense, but if we’re on the property, that happens how?”

“He doesn’t see us.” Z leaned in, the ambient light of the city making the black daggers holstered over his heart gleam. “You honestly aren’t worried about him?”

“Of course I am. But we lived apart from each other for the last week, even as we were sleeping in the same room. We just got back on track. I don’t want to mess that up.”

“If you check on him because you’re concerned for his welfare, do you really think he’ll hold that against you?”

“I don’t know.”

Blay let his head fall back on his spine and looked to the sky. But if he was expecting any help with the decision from the muted show of stars, he didn’t get any. Besides, there was only one thing to do, wasn’t there.

So, yup, he told Z the address, and one after the other, they dematerialized to the street in question. As they re-formed on a sidewalk that had been snow-blown with ruler-worthy precision, Blay had chills—and not from the below-zero temperature.

“It’s okay, son,” Z murmured. “Let’s just gather the breath, shall we.”

It was a long moment before Blay could speak.

“The last time I was here . . . was the night I identified the bodies.” As he turned and faced the estate’s driveway, the treads of his shitkickers squeaked on the snow pack—and with every blink of his eyes, the past came back with greater and greater clarity. “The lessers had slaughtered everyone in the house, staff included. I found his mahmen and his sister upstairs in a maid’s closet. They were slumped together in each other’s arms. They had been shot in the head.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that, son.”

“His father . . .” Blay cleared his throat. “I found his father out in the back garden. He’d tried to run to escape, but he’d been wounded. There was a trail of blood leading to where his body was. His throat was sliced so deep that he was basically decapitated, and he had gunshot wounds all over him.”