Blood Vow (Black Dagger Legacy #2)(67)

The main entrance to the Brotherhood mansion looked like a cathedral’s front door, a pile of broad stone steps leading up to a portal made all the more regal because of the carvings that graced its jambs. Rhage led the way into the vestibule, and then they put their faces in front of the camera and waited for someone, likely Fritz, to allow them entrance.

The whole time, an inner voice was screaming that she couldn’t do this, she couldn’t meet Bitty’s eyes without being honest, she couldn’t lie by omission, she couldn’t—

“Good evening, master and mistress,” the ancient butler said with a smile as he pulled the heavy door wide. “How fare thee?”

Like I’ve been shot through the heart, Fritz, thank you.…

Mary stepped over the threshold. Frowned. Looked around.

At first, she didn’t understand the sound she was hearing. Laughter, yes. And it was Bitty—but why was it accompanied by—

A water balloon flew right in front of Mary’s face, and it was a case of duck or get soaked. And then Bitty was right on its tail, running full tilt out of the dining room, her hair streaming behind her, her shirt wet, one red and one blue water balloon in her hands.

“What the hell!” Rhage barked as he marched inside.

“Hi, Mom! Hello, Father!”

The little girl kept right on going into the billiards room. And yup, what do you know, Lassiter was on her, a yellow balloon high over his shoulder—at least until he threw it at the girl, catching her solidly in the back. The squealing sound was all delight—and then Bitty twisted around without missing a beat and nailed Lassiter full in the face.

Perfect aim.

Splash!

But that wasn’t the point.

As the wet bomb went off, drenching the angel’s face and all of his blond-and-black hair, Rhage grabbed on to the male and ripped him right off his feet, landing him back-flat on the ground—and then he double-palmed him by the neck like he was prepared to choke the life out of the immortal.

Or … something like that. Whatever.

Mary rushed over. “Rhage—”

“What the hell did you do to her! Where are her casts!”

But then the mom in her made Mary switch gears. “Yeah, what the hell! She’s not supposed to be out of them for six weeks! And not even walking!”

Lassiter tried to answer, but his crushed windpipe wouldn’t let any air out. Bitty was the one who solved the mystery.

“He healed my arms and legs! Don’t hurt him! He made them better—honest! Don’t hurt him, Father.”

Instantly, Rhage released Lassiter and then fell back on his butt as if he realized the show of violence might have triggered memories.

But Bitty didn’t seem worried about that. “See?” She hopped from one foot to another. Spun around with her arms out. Laughed in a happy giggle. “All better!”

As Mary watched the show and then looked at the angel, she had a passing thought that she was kind of done with surprises for the night. “What … what did you do to her?”

Bitty spoke up for her buddy again. On account of the coughing and the gasping. “He just sent sunshine to my arms and legs. He put his hand over the casts, without even touching them, and there was this heat … and then, I don’t know, nothing hurt at all. We sawed off the fiberglass in the garage. That was the coolest part.”

Okay, now Mary was light-headed—and she had to take a load off on the floor. “You did what with a saw?”

When Lassiter finally lifted his head, he was red-faced, but no longer doing an impression of a rescued swimmer. “I didn’t like her suffering.”

“See?” Bitty said. “So don’t be mad at him.”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t understand—”

“Why the fuck did you let them break her bones,” Rhage snapped. “If you could do something like this, why the hell did you stand by while she was tortured in that exam room.”

Lassiter sat all the way up, his oddly colored, pupil-less eyes not shying from Rhage’s hard stare in the slightest. “It is not my job to affect destiny. That I cannot change without exacting proper balance, and sometimes the cost for the gift is worse than not giving it in the first place.”

Mary thought of the bargain that Rhage had made for her to live, before the Scribe Virgin had learned she couldn’t have children; the one where, for her cancer to have been cured, he would have had to never, ever see her or talk to her again, in spite of the fact that they were in love.

Balance was the way of the universe. “But”—the fallen angel held up his forefinger—“that doesn’t mean I can’t cushion the fall of fate’s dominoes. If you get what I mean. Easing the pain without changing the course? That I can do.”

Bitty smiled. “And I’d much rather be running around now as opposed to six weeks from now. Besides, those casts were itchy already. And bathing? Ugh.”

Mary found herself blinking back tears as she squeezed Lassiter’s forearm. “Thank you.”

“Shit,” Rhage breathed. “I’m sorry. And shit, I shouldn’t have said ‘shit.’ Fuck. I mean … damn it.”

As her hellren skidded to a halt with the cursing, Mary felt like breaking down—and Bitty clearly sensed it, bending low with a hug.