Maker's Song - A Rush Of Wings Part 25

"That sonuvab.i.t.c.h!" Von spat. "He f.u.c.king lied infront of me." His muscles flexed, then coiled, snake tight. Fury and contempt radiated from him.

Von was much more than a bouncer, more than a strapped nomad vampire - and that alone was enough to spin Heather's thoughts. What had the others called him? Lew G.o.d? What was his role in nightkind society? An honor to be escorted by you,llygad.

"Where'd Dante go?"

Heather shook her head. "He killed etienne." The nomad and Simone exchanged glances at that name.

"Then he took off. I don't know where. He was half out of his mind...Jay..." Her words trailed away as a pang of regret pierced her.

She'd walked out of CUSTOM MEATS and left Jay lying on the concrete floor in a pool of his own congealing blood, still locked inside the blood-spattered straitjacket. She'd walked into the alley and searched it until she'd found her cell phone.

She stares at the cell. She needs to call the bodies in. But she can't wait for the cops. Can't wait around to make a report. She needs to find Dante. Nightkind or not, he was in no shape to take on Ronin.

The air reeks of etienne's torched body, his burned dreads. The stench clings to her like rank incense, settling into her trench, her hair.

Caught in the moonlight, her badge sparkles like mica in the dirt. Fidelity. Bravery. Integrity. Her throat tightens. She punches in Collins's number. When he answers, she reminds herself he doesn't deserve to be dragged through the s.h.i.t. Her finger hovers over the end b.u.t.ton.

"Wallace?"

"There's been a murder at 1616 St. Charles, inside the Custom Meats building. Two bodies."

"Okay, hang on. I'll get some units there -"

"I can't wait. I can't prove it...yet, but one vic was killed by Thomas Ronin."

"Whoa! Ronin...the journalist?ThatRonin? Evidence? Witnesses?"

"Yes. A witness, but I've got to go find him before Ronin does."

"Don't tell me. Prejean."

"I think the CCK is a tag team - Ronin and Elroy Jordan."

"Wallace, hold on. You said two bodies."

"Right."

"Is Ronin good for that one, too?"

"No...parties unknown. I'll catch up with you later." Her finger touches the end b.u.t.ton, then switches off the ringer. She slides the cell into her purse.

She's surprised that it was so easy. Her heart isn't pounding. Her palms aren't sweaty. Her head is clear. She walks down the alley to her badge, bends over and picks it up. She brushes the dirt from it, shakes the gravel from the holder. Fidelity. Bravery. Integrity. She wraps her fingers around her badge.

She remembers the raw sound of Dante's scream.

Something stings Heather's eyes. She blinks until the sensation is gone. Dropping her badge into her pocket, she walks from the alley. She has a promise to keep.

A hand squeezed Heather's shoulder. She tensed, startled, and looked up into summer green eyes. Von peered at her from over the tops of his shades.

"Did you hear me?"

She shook her head. "Sorry. No."

The nomad released her. "Did Dante say anything?" he asked.

Yes. Run from me as far as you can.

"He mentioned De Noir, but I don't know why."

Simone sucked in her breath. A muscle flexed in Von's jaw. "We've lost contact with Lucien," he said, face grim.

"He also saidsanctus several times," Heather said. "I think it's Latin for holy, but I don't know why he said it. He was dazed, hurt."

Von glanced down the street, a finger stroking his mustache. He tilted his head as though listening. After a long moment, he said, "Dante asked Trey to do a search on lying Mister Ronin and his creepy friend."

He fixed his attention on Simone. She met his shaded gaze, her pale face still, listening.

They're communicating somehow.Heather looked from one to the other, feeling cut off, out of the loop.

And alone.

Simone nodded. She shifted her gaze to Heather, and smiled. "We should go to the house and speak to mon frere . He'll know where Dante went."

"Can't you call him?" Heather said. "Orspeak to him?" She tapped her temple.

Simone laughed. "You've changed since we last spoke. No. He doesn't listen when he's online. Come."

"s.h.i.t." Heather rubbed her face, weariness blurring her concentration. "Okay. But we're gonna get Ronin's address, right? And go after the b.a.s.t.a.r.d?"

Fire flickered in Simone's dark eyes. Her lips parted, revealing the tips of her fangs. "Oh, yes," she said.

"Youknew my mother?"

Dazed by thecreawdwr energy still p.r.i.c.kling through his body, Lucien looked into Dante's disbelieving,gold-flecked eyes and realized he'd spoken aloud, that he hadn't been dreaming when he'd opened his eyes and seen his son's beautiful face.

Dante shook free of his hand and, sliding out from under him, rose to his feet. Blood trickled from his nose. His muscles trembled. Fury spiked his aura; exhaustion smudged it nearly black.

"Child, listen, I was -"

"You knew her all this time? And you never said anything?"

Lucien struggled to his knees, his wings fluttering behind him. His healed - or remade - flesh was tender. He tasted Dante's blood in his mouth, sweet and dark, intoxicating.

Child, how much of yourself have you poured into me?

"I was waiting for the right time," Lucien said.

"How 'bout the night we met?" Dante said, voice husky, edged with rage. "Huh? Why not then?" His gaze dropped to the pendant hanging at Lucien's throat. "f.u.c.k!" He looked away, his jaw muscle jumping. He wiped absently at his nose, smearing blood across his face and the back of his hand.

Wings flapping, Lucien stood. Cool night air, caught by his wings, breezed through the chamber. The thick smells of incense and beeswax faded for a moment.

Lucien remembered the pain that had blasted through his mind and dropped him from the skies; remembered the rage and grief that had poured in through the link. And remembered with heart-stopping clarity: Dante's shields had been breached.

But how? Had it been someone or something ?

"Why the f.u.c.k didn't you tell me?"

"You were dealing with so much at the time," Lucien said, voice low, soothing. "I didn't want to add to your concerns."

Dante squeezed his eyes shut, shuddered.

"Let me take you home," Lucien said, stepping toward him. Wood snapped beneath his feet. "You're hurting, exhausted. Dante,s'il te plait ."

Dante looked at him then, his eyes blazing, pale face cold. He backed up the aisle. "What was her name? Genevieve...what?"

"Later, after you've Slept. I don't think you know how much you've been hurt."

"No!" Dante shouted. "Tell me, d.a.m.n you! What's my name?"

Lucien sighed. "Baptiste."

"Baptiste," Dante repeated. The fire ebbed from his eyes. He swayed, then grabbed the back of a pew.

"Genevieve Baptiste." "Let me take you home." Taking another step forward, Lucien held out his hand.

Dante looked at him, and Lucien's heart constricted. He saw the hungry, hurting stranger from the wharf; the beautiful and deadly boy, ready to drain him of every drop of blood without a second thought.

His friend, his child, his companion was gone. The X-rune pendant burned against his skin like ice.

"Did you know my father, too?"

"Dante...enough. Not now."

A rush of rain-damp air, smelling of clove and old leather, whirled into the cathedral. Von suddenly stood next to Dante. The nomad looked up at the hole in the cathedral's ceiling and whistled.

"Holy s.h.i.t! Someone sure ain't gonna be happy about the new ventilation."

Von's gaze skipped from the shattered ceiling to the blood-speckled pews, then to Lucien. He stroked the sides of his mustache thoughtfully. He held Lucien's gaze for a long moment, and Lucien had no doubt that th.e.l.lygad sensed and smelled the tension between him and Dante. Questions glimmered in the nomad's eyes, questions he didn't voice.

Von glanced at Dante. "You okay?"

Dante shook his head."Je sais pas."

"I heard about that lying b.a.s.t.a.r.d Ronin," Von said. "And Jay. I'm sorry, man."

Dante glanced away, jaw tight, body coiled, practically vibrating with checked rage. Blood trickled from his nose.

Lucien straightened, startled by the nomad's words. What had happened since he'd winged down into St. Louis No. 3 and dealt with Loki? HadRonin breached Dante's shields? Awakened Dante's memories?

Brow furrowed, Von touched a hand to Dante's forehead. "You're burning up."

"I could burn forever,llygad , and it wouldn't be enough."

Lucien felt Von reach for Dante's unshielded mind. "No!" he cried.

Von jerked his hand from Dante's face and stumbled back a step. Sweat beaded his forehead. He touched a trembling hand to his temple. He stared at Dante, face stricken.

Dante met his gaze. Mingled streaks of gold and red slashed his dark irises. Stepping forward, he squeezed th.e.l.lygad 's shoulder with a blood-smeared hand.

"Later,mon ami ."

To Lucien, he said nothing. Dropping his hand, Dante turned and walked down the aisle. As he strode toward the wide-open double doors, he stretched his arms out to either side and trailed his fingers over the tops of the pews.

Lucien watched, throat tight. Dante's wintry, unrecognizable gaze had iced his heart. Unforgiven, he wouldn't be able to teach Dante how to use hiscreawdwr gifts. Unforgiven, he wouldn't even be able to teach his son tohide those gifts. He'd hoped for more time. Or, more exactly, theright time. But Loki's appearance meant that time had run out. But even forsaken and unforgiven, he'd still do everything possible to protect and hide Dante from Elohim eyes.

Von whirled and started after Dante.

"Wait," Lucien said. "Let him go. He needs to be alone."

"Are you kidding? He's all f.u.c.ked up."

Lucien clamped a hand onto the nomad's shoulder. Pressed with his talons. And stared. His talons seemed thicker, and shot through with deep blue. He looked up as Dante reached the doors and the crowd gathered at the threshold.

Fervent mortal voices whispered,"L'ange de sang. L'ange de sang."

"Let him release his rage," Lucien murmured. "Then go after him. Take him home and to Sleep."

Dante slipped through the mortals crowding the doorway as though they were insubstantial, the last tattered dream before waking. The mortals watched him as he descended the steps and climbed into his MG. They watched, perplexed, but awed. He'd walked through them like a true immortal. Like True Blood.

And they loved him for it.

Von twisted free of Lucien's hand, leaving strips of leather clinging to his talons. He looked at Lucien, green eyes wondering. Candlelight and shadows flickered across his face. He glanced at the yawning hole in the vaulted ceiling again.

"Musta been a h.e.l.l of a fall," he said.

Lucien's fingers curled around the X-rune pendant. He nodded. "It was."

The nomad nodded as well, then turned and strode down the aisle to the doors. He breezed through the crowd - who stared in wide-eyed wonder at the black-winged creature standing beneath the cathedral's shattered ceiling - then disappeared from view.

Lucien's fingers gripped the smooth curving back of a pew. He could find Dante through the link, whether the boy responded to him or not. He'd told Von the truth: Dante needed to be alone. He needed to unleash his rage. But now was also the time when he needed someone most - to guide him through his rage, to help him survive it.

But it wouldn't be Lucien. Maybe never again.

With a sharp echoing crack, the pew splintered beneath Lucien's hand. 23 Firestorm She stands beside him, little fingers clasped around his hand, stuffed orca tucked under her other arm.

Her blue eyes are too direct for an eight-year-old. Red hair tumbles beside her freckled face.