J. Ward - Lover Unbound

No phone to text from. No way to communicate.

But he had a six-pack of lead in his back pocket.

John ran back to the lot, dodging around parallel-parked cars, breathing hard, legs flying as fast as they could. His head was hammering at him, the exertion making the pain so bad he went nauseous. He rounded the corner, skidding on loose gravel.

Fuck ! Blay was on the ground with a lesser sitting on his chest, and the two were fighting for control of what looked like a switchblade. Qhuinn was holding his own against the other slayer, but the pair were too evenly matched for John's taste. Sooner or later one of them was-

Qhuinn took a right hook to the face and spun out, his head twirling on his spine like a top, carrying his body into a pirouette.

In that moment something came into John, came in through the back way, entered sure as if a ghost had stepped into his skin. Old knowledge, the kind that came with experience he hadn't yet had enough years to gain, carried his hand deep into his back pocket. He palmed the Glock, popped it free, and double-handed it.

One blink had him bringing the weapon level. A second had the muzzle trained on the lesser fighting with Blay over the blade. A third had John squeezing the trigger… and blowing a barn door in that lesser's head. A fourth had him swinging his stance around to the slayer standing over Qhuinn and rearranging the brass knuckles on his fist.

Pop!

John dropped that lesser with one shot to the temple, black blood spraying out in a fine cloud. The thing crumpled at the knees and fell face-first onto Qhuinn… who was too dazed to do anything other than push the body off him.

John glanced at Blay. The guy was staring up in shock. "Jesus Christ… John."

The lesser by Qhuinn let out a gurgling breath, like a coffeepot that had just finished brewing.

Metal, John thought. He needed something metal. The knife that Blay had been fighting over was nowhere in sight. Where could he find-

A torn-open box of roofing spikes was by the bucket loader.

John went over, picked one out of the bunch, and approached the lesser by Qhuinn. Lifting his hands high, John threw all of his weight and his anger into the slice downward, and in a flash reality shifted like sand: He was holding a dagger, not a length of steel… and he was big, bigger than Blay and Qhuinn… and he had done this many, many times.

The spike went into the lesser's chest, and the flare of light was brighter than John had expected, shooting into his eyes and running throughout his body in a burning wave. But his job was not done. He stepped over Qhuinn, moving across the asphalt without feeling the ground beneath his feet.

Blay watched, motionless, speechless, as John lifted the spike again. This time, as he brought it down, John opened his mouth and yelled without making a sound, a war cry no less powerful for the fact that it was not heard.

In the aftermath of the light burst he became dimly aware of sirens. No doubt some human had called the police when they heard the gunshots.

John let his arm ease to his side, the spike falling from his hand and clattering across the pavement.

I am not a coward. I am a warrior.

The seizure came on him fast and hard, taking him to the ground, pinning him with invisible arms, making him bounce around in his own skin until he blacked out, the roar of oblivion overtaking him.

When Jane and V were back in the bedroom, she took a seat in what she was coming to think of as her chair, and V stretched out on the bed. Man, this was going to be a long night-er, day. She was tired and twitchy, not a good combination.

"You need food?" he asked.

"You know what I wish I had?" She yawned. "Hot chocolate."

V picked up the phone, hit three buttons, and waited.

"You're ordering me some?" she said.

"Yeah. As well as-Hey, Fritz. Here's what I need…"

After V hung up, she had to smile at him. "That's quite a spread."

"You haven't eaten since-" He stopped himself, as if he didn't want to bring up the abduction part.

"It's okay," she murmured, feeling sad for no good reason.

No, there was a good reason. She was leaving soon.

"Don't worry, you won't remember me," he said. "So you won't feel anything after you leave."

She flushed. "Ah… exactly how do you read minds?"

"It's like catching a radio frequency. It used to happen all the time whether I wanted it to or not."

"Used to?"

"Guess the antennae broke." A bitter expression bled into his face, sharpening his eyes. "I heard from a good source it's going to fix itself, though."

"Why did it stop?"

"Why is your favorite question, isn't it?"

"I'm a scientist."

"I know." The words were spoken on a purr, like she'd just told him she was wearing sexy lingerie. "I love your mind."

Jane felt a rush of pleasure, then got all tangled in herself.

As if he sensed her conflict, he buried the moment with, "I used to see the future, too."

She cleared her throat. "You did? In what way?"

"Dreamscapes, mostly. No time line, just events in random order. I specialized in deaths."

Deaths ? "Deaths?"

"Yeah, I know how all my brothers die. Just not when."

"Jesus… Christ. That must be-"

"I have other tricks, too." V lifted up his gloved hand. "There's this thing."

"I've wanted to ask about that. It knocked out one of my nurses when you were in my ER. She was taking your glove off, and it was like she'd been struck by lightning."

"I wasn't conscious when it happened, right?"

"You were out cold."

"Then that's probably the only reason she survived. This little legacy from my mother is goddamned deadly." As he clenched up a fist, his voice became hard, his words clipped into place. "And she's claimed my future as well."

"How so?" When he didn't answer, some instinct had her saying, "Let me guess, an arranged marriage?"

"Marriages. As it were."

Jane winced. Even though his future meant nothing in the larger scheme of her life, for some reason the idea of him becoming someone's husband-a lot of someones' husband-made her stomach roll.

"Um… like how many wives?"

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Okay."

About ten minutes later an old man in an English butler's uniform came in rolling a tray full of food. The spread was right off the Four Season's room service menu: There were Belgium waffles with strawberries, croissants, scrambled eggs, hot chocolate, fresh fruit.

The arrival was truly a thing of beauty.

Jane's stomach let out a roar, and before she knew what she was doing, she was tucking into a heaping plate like she hadn't seen food in a week. Halfway through her second helping and her third hot chocolate, she froze with her fork to her mouth. God, what V must think of her. She was making a pig out of-

"I love it," he said.

"You do? You actually approve of me wolfing back food like a frat boy?"

He nodded, his eyes glowing. "I love seeing you eat. Makes me ecstatic. I want you to keep going until you're so full you fall asleep in your chair."

Captivated by his diamond eyes, she said, "And… then what would happen?"

"I'd carry you to this bed without waking you and watch over you with a dagger in my hand."

Okay, that caveman stuff shouldn't be so attractive. After all, she could take care of herself. But man, the idea someone would look after her was… very nice.

"Finish your food," he said, pointing at her plate. "And have more cocoa from the thermos."

Damn her, but she did what he said. Including pouring the fourth cup of hot chocolate.

As she settled back in the chair with the mug in her hands, she was blissfully replete.