The Thief (Black Dagger Brotherhood #16)(85)

They were still living the college life.

Whereas she was trying to get where Bill and Lydia were. Eventually.

As Jo came up to yet another red light—why were they all red tonight?—she thought about her parents. Make that “parents.” She was hard-pressed to imagine that she was going to be able to afford a place of her own on a salary like the one she had, but she would rather live around secondhand pot smoke for the rest of her life than go to Chance and Phillie Early for anything.

She had been adopted by them not as a child they’d wanted to raise, but more as if her mother had told her father she liked the little doggie in the window, and the pair had taken Jo home as they would have a new toy.

They’d have done better with something they could have put on a shelf in their mansion and pointed at when they’d wanted to show it off.

Real children didn’t work that way.

But it was all good. She’d gotten her college education paid for by them, and then she’d gone her own way, leaving all the money, pretension, and loneliness behind.

Better to be on your own than in bad company. Besides, she had never felt like she fit in with them. Actually, she had never fit in anywhere.

When Jo finally got to the converted house her apartment was in, she had to drive around the block a couple of times to get a space. And then the walk to the front door was an exercise in mind over snow matter.

Hell, at least the near-zero-degree weather helped numb things.

After checking their cheap mailbox, she hit the stairs to the second floor and opened the way into a mess that made her want to cry. The living room was awash in pizza boxes, bongs, and Mountain Dew, and Dougie was asleep sitting up on the brown padded sofa that she had always thought belonged in a Febreze commercial—as the before-treatment example. God only knew where the others were.

She didn’t leave the mail on the counter. That never went well. She took it to her bedroom with her, closed herself in, and went over to the bed. Her sit-down quickly became a fall-back, and then she stared at the ceiling.

As her head pounded and a sickly sweat broke out all over her body, Jo was more than scared. She was terrified.

Something was very, very wrong with her.





THIRTY-EIGHT


As Vishous materialized onto the lakeside porch of Rehvenge’s Great Camp, he took a minute to look out over the frozen water. With the mountains rising on either side, and the randomly spaced islands in the far distance, the shit reminded him of a model train set, only life-sized: Somewhere in the picture-perfect landscape, there just had to be a lineup of old-fashioned cars, with a red caboose and an engine that let out little poofs of smoke, traveling on a rail that snaked in and out of various vintage-looking outposts that had been constructed of balsa wood and Elmer’s glue.

He and Jane were going to come back here, he decided. The next time he was off rotation, and she was out of the clinic, they were going to spend a day and night together here and it was going to be fucking fantastic. They were going to eat too much, and then get under some homemade quilts, and he was going to fuck her twelve different ways to Sunday. And after they were done, they were going to fall asleep with her on his chest—and then he was going to wake up halfway through the day to find himself handcuffed to the headboard.

Whereupon they were going to do things that were still considered illegal in some Southern states— The door creaked as it opened behind him, and Phury came out with a smile. “V, my brother. Glad to see you.”

The pair of them clapped palms and slapped each other on the shoulder.

“You coming in? You want to eat?”

As Phury indicated the way inside, he was looking hopeful. Like he’d been worried about all that shit with Jane saving his life, and couldn’t believe he’d been granted an opportunity to reassure himself on that front.

“Ah, yeah.” V shrugged. “I’m not real hungry, but sure.”

They went in together, and Phury shut things up tightly. The hearth in the main open space was roaring with a great fire, and on the far side, through the entryway into the kitchen, V caught sight of a roasted turkey just out of the oven.

His stomach grumbled so loudly, Phury laughed. “You sure you’re not hungry.”

“Yeah, I might be rethinking that hard line, my brother.”

“Come on, I’ll make you a plate.”

The old house’s floorboards groaned under their weight, and they had to file into the kitchen one after the other to fit through the jambs.

“Sit,” Phury ordered.

So he did. “Where’s Cormia?”

“She and the other Chosen are at the mansion tonight.”

“Making the rounds, huh.”

“There are some blood needs.” The brother got two plates out and brought them over to the island. “Listen, V, about what happened in that alley—”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” V sat on one of the stools. “And Jane, too.”

Phury’s yellow eyes locked on V. “I need you to know that I wouldn’t have asked her to do that. I never would have—I’m responsible for myself out there. No one else is. She was unbelievably heroic, and I am incredibly grateful. But it would have been a horrible outcome for me to be alive at the end of that and your shellan not.”

“I know.” V almost reached out and squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “And everything is good between you and me. No worries, true?”