Дж. Уорд: The Black Dagger Brotherhood: An Insider's Guide

Tohr:(to me) You all right here? You know how to reach me.

J.R.:Oh, I’m fine.

Tohr:Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Remotes for the TV in the den are right by my chair.

J.R.:Okay. Drive safely, and let me know how he is?

Tohr:We will.

Tohr puts his huge palm on my shoulder for a brief moment before he gets behind the wheel, puts the SUV in reverse, and backs out into the storm. The chains rattle on the concrete floor of the garage until they reach the lip of the snow; then all I hear is the deep growl of the engine and the crunch of millions of tiny flakes compacting under the tires.

Tohr K-turns and heads out, triggering the garage door. As the panels trundle shut, I have a last image of the Range Rover, its taillights flaring red through the billowing snow.

I go back into the house. Shut the door behind me. Listen.

The silence is scary. Not because I think there’s someone else in the house. But because the people who should be here are gone.

I go into the living room, sit down on one of the silk couches, and wait by the windows, as if maybe being able to see where Fritz is going to pull up will mean he comes a little faster. My parka’s in my lap and my boots are back on.

It seems like years until the Mercedes turns into the drive. I get to my feet, go to the front door as instructed, and step out. As I pivot around to lock up, I look way down the hall, to the stove where Wellsie had been cooking about a half hour ago. The pot that had John’s rice in it is where she left the thing, and so is the spoon she used.

I’m willing to bet that on a normal night, those things would never be left out like that. Wellsie keeps a tight ship.

I signal to Fritz that I need a sec; then I race back to the kitchen, clean the pot and the spoon, and put them to dry next to the sink because I don’t know where they belong. This time when I go out the front door, I lock it behind me. After a quick test to make sure I did it right, I piff through the snow toward the sedan. Fritz comes around and holds my door open for me, and just before I slide into all that leather, I look at the house. The glow from the windows doesn’t seem welcoming anymore…it strikes me now as if the light is plaintive. The house is waiting for them all to come back, so that its roof shelters more than just inanimate objects. Without its people? It’s merely a museum full of artifacts.

I get into the back of the sedan, and the butler takes us out into the storm. He drives carefully, just as I know Tohr did.

REHVENGE, AS A HALF-BREED SYMPHATH, is used to living in the shadows and hiding his true identity. As a club owner and a dealer on the black market, he’s also used to handling the roughest nightwalkers around—including the members of the Black Dagger Brotherhood.

He’s kept his distance from the Brotherhood, since his dark secret could make things complicated on both sides—but now, as head of the vampire aristocracy, he’s an ally that Wrath, the Blind King, desperately needs. Rehv’s secret is about to get out, though, which will land him in the hands of his deadly enemies—and test the mettle of his female, turning her from a civilian into a vigilante…As bad ones went, her father’s paranoia attack hadn’t been that bad.

Ehlena was only a half hour late to work, dematerializing to the clinic as soon as she was able to calm herself enough to pull the travel trick off. By some miracle, the visiting nurse had been free and able to come early. Thank the Scribe Virgin.

Going through the various checkpoints to get down into the facility, Ehlena felt the weight of her bag in her hand. She’d been prepared to cancel her date and leave the change of clothes at home, but the visiting nurse had talked her out of it. The question the female had asked struck deep: When was the last time you were out of this house for anything except work?

Caregivers had to take care of themselves—and part of that was having a life outside of whatever illness had put them in their role. God knew, Ehlena told this to the family members of her chronically sick patients all the time, and the advice was both sound and practical.

At least when she gave it to others. Turned on herself, it felt selfish.

So she was waffling on the date. With her shift ending close to dawn, it wasn’t as if she had time to go home and check on her father first. As it was, she and the male who’d asked her out would be lucky to get an hour in before the encroaching sunlight put an end to things.

She had no idea what to do. Conscience was pulling her one way, loneliness another.

After she went through the last security checkpoint, she walked into the reception area and beelined for the nursing supervisor, who was at a computer by the registration desk. “I’m so sorry I’m late—”

Catya dropped whatever she was doing and reached out. “How is he?”

For a split second, all Ehlena could do was blink. On some level, she hated that they all knew about her father’s problems, that a few had even seen him at his worst. Though the illness had stripped him of his pride, she still had some on his behalf. “He’s calmed down, and his nurse is with him now. Fortunately I’d just given him his meds when it hit.”

“Do you need a minute?”

“Nope. Where are we?”

Catya smiled in a sad fashion, like she was biting her tongue. Again. “You don’t have to be this strong.”

“Yes. I do.” Ehlena gave the female’s hand a squeeze in hopes of closing down the conversation. “Where do you need me?”

By this time several of the other nurses were coming over and expressing sympathy. Ehlena’s throat closed up, not because she was overcome with gratitude that they were thoughtful, but because she got claustrophobic. Compassion choked her like a dog chain even on a good evening. After a start like she’d had tonight? She wanted to bolt.

“I’m fine, everyone, thanks—”

“Okay, he ’s back in the room,” the last nurse to arrive said. “Should I get out a quarter?”

Everybody groaned. There was only one he out of the legions of male patients they treated, and flipping a quarter was how the staff decided who had to deal with him . Furthest from the date lost.

Generally speaking, all of the nurses kept a professional distance from their patients. You had to, or you’d burn out. With some, though, you couldn’t help but get emotionally involved. With him , you stayed separate for reasons other than professional ones. There was just something about the male that made them all nervous, an underlying threat that was as hard to diagnose as it was evident.

Ehlena cut through the various years being chosen for the toss. “I’ll do it. It’ll make up for my being late.”

“Are you sure?” someone asked. “Seems like you’ve already paid your dues tonight.”

“Just let me get some coffee. What room?”

“I parked him in three,” the nurse said.

Amid a chorus of atta girl s, Ehlena went to the nurses’ locker room, put her things in her locker, and poured herself a mug of hot, steaming perk-your-ass-up. The coffee was strong enough to be considered an accelerant and did the job nicely, wiping her mental state clean.

Well, mostly clean.

As she sipped, she glanced around the staff area. The banks of buff-colored lockers had names over them, and there were pairs of street shoes here and there under pine benches. In the lunch area, folks had their favorite mugs on the counter and snacks on the shelves, and sitting on the round table there was a bowl full of…what was it tonight? Little packs of Skittles. Above the table was a bulletin board covered with flyers for events and coupons and stupid comic-strip jokes and pictures of hot guys. The shift roster was next to it, the white board marked with a grid of the next two weeks, which was filled in with names.