"Why did you stop, John?"
He glanced over at the Brother, about to give some kind of blow-off, no-big-deal answer, when he realized to his horror that he wouldn't be able to do that.
Z's yellow eyes glowed with knowledge.
Holy fuck. Havers had spilled, hadn't he. That therapist session at the clinic when John'd talked about what had happened to him in that stairwell had gotten out.
You know, John signed with fury. You fucking know, don't you?
"Yeah, I do."
That cocksucking therapist told me it was confidential-
"A copy of your medical records was sent over here when you started the program. It's standard procedure for all trainees in case something happens in the gym, or in the event the transition starts while you're on-site."
Who's read my file?
"Just me. And no one else will, not even Wrath. I locked it up, and I'm the only one who knows where it is."
John sagged. At least there was consolation in that. When did you read it?
"About a week ago, when I figured your change was going to hit any day now."
What… what did it say?
"Pretty much everything."
Fuck.
"That's why you won't go to Havers, right?" Z put the weights down again. "You figure the guy's going to snatch and drag you into another therapy hour."
I don't like to talk about it.
"I don't blame you. And I'm not asking you to."
John cracked a little smile. You're not going to hit me with all kinds of talk-is-good-for-you shit?
"Nah. I'm not a talker myself. Can't recommend it to others." Z put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "Here's the deal, John. I want you to have absolute faith that that shit's going nowhere, okay? If someone wants to see your record, I'm going to make it so they don't, even if I have to burn the fucker to ash."
John swallowed through a sudden lump in his throat. With stiff hands, he signed, Thank you.
"Wrath wanted me to talk to you about the Layla thing because he was worried there might be something wrong with your post-transition plumbing. I'm going to tell him that you were nervous and that was the why of it, deal?"
John nodded.
"Have you jerked off yet?"
John blushed from eyebrow to ankle and considered passing out. As he measured the distance to the ground, which seemed like a hundred yards, he figured this was not a bad place to keel over. Plenty of mats to land on.
"Have you?"
He shook his head slowly.
"Do it once to make sure nothing is wrong." Z got up, toweled his torso off, and pulled on his shirt. "I'm going to assume you'll take care of it in the next twenty-four hours. I will not ask you what happens. If you say nothing, I'll take it that everything's cool. If it isn't, you come to me and we'll deal with it. We solid?"
Um, not really. What if he couldn't do it? I guess.
"Last thing. About the gun and the lessers?"
Fuck, his head was already spinning, and now he had to deal with the shit about that nine? He lifted his hands to make excuses-
"I don't care that you were packing. In fact, I want you armed if you go to ZeroSum."
John stared at the Brother, stunned. That's against the rules.
"Do I look like the kind of guy who worries about that shit?"
John smiled a little. Not really.
"If you get in the crosshairs of one of those slayers again, you do him just like you did. From what I understand, that was some impressive shit you pulled, and I'm proud of you for taking up for your boys."
John flushed, his heart singing in his chest: Nothing on the face of the planet, except Tohrment's safe return, could have made him happier.
"By now I'm guessing you know what I hooked Blaylock up with? About your papers and ID and only going to ZeroSum?"
John nodded.
"I want you to keep hitting that club if you hang downtown, at least for the next month or so, until you're strong. And though I'm willing to stroke you on what went down last night, I don't want you out hunting for lessers. I hear that's going on, I'm going to ground your ass like a twelve-year-old. You have a lot of training ahead of you, and you've got no idea how to work that body of yours. You fuck around and get yourself killed, I'm going to be really pissed off. I want you to give me your word, John. Right now. No going after those bastards until I say you're ready. We down?"
John took a deep breath and tried to think of the most solid vow he could offer. Everything seemed flimsy so he just signed, I swear I will not hunt them.
"Good. Okay, we're done tonight. Go hit the sack." As Z turned away, John whistled to get his attention. The Brother looked over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
John had to force his hands to sign what was in his mind… because he doubted he'd have the courage to do it again.
Do you think less of me? Because of what happened back then… you know, in the stairwell? And be honest.
Z blinked once. Twice. A third time. And then in a voice that was curiously thin, he said, "Never. It was not your fault, and you did not deserve it. You heard me? It was not your fault."
John winced as tears stung his eyes, and he had to look away, glancing down his big body at the mats. For some reason, though he was far from the ground, he felt shorter than ever.
"John," Z demanded, "you heard me on that? Not your fault. Did not deserve it."
John didn't really have a reply, so he shrugged. Then he signed, Thanks again for not telling. And for not making me talk about it.
When Z didn't say anything, he glanced up. Only to take a step back.
Zsadist's whole face had changed, and not just because his eyes had gone black. His bones seemed more prominent, his skin tighter, his scar shockingly evident. A cold blast emanated from his body, chilling the air, turning the locker room into a freezer.
"No one should have their innocence raped from them. But if they do? They get to pick how they deal with it, because it's no one else's biz. You never want to say another fucking word on the subject, you're getting no lip from me."
Z stalked off, the drop in temperature easing off as the door shut behind him.
John took a deep breath. He never would have guessed that Z would end up being the Brother he was closest to. After all, the two of them had nothing in common.
But he sure as hell was going to take his friends where he found them.
Chapter Thirty-two
A couple of hours later, Phury leaned back into the sofa in Wrath's pansy-ass study and crossed his legs at the knee. The Brotherhood meeting was the first they'd had since V had gotten shot, and so far everything had been stilted. Then again, there was a big frickin' pink elephant in the room that hadn't been addressed yet.
He glanced over at Vishous. The brother was against the double doors and staring straight ahead, his blank fixation the kind of thing you caught on someone's face when they watched old Westerns on TV. Or a Lifetime movie.
The living-dead affect was easy to recognize because it had made an appearance in this room before. Rhage had sported the breathing-corpse routine when he thought he'd lost Mary forever. So had Z when he'd been determined to let Bella go.
Yeah… bonded male vampires without their females were empty vessels, nothing but muscle and bone held in by a thin skin. And though you had to mourn for anyone who was like that, given the load of shit V was carrying with the Primale thing, the loss of Jane seemed especially cruel. Except how the hell could it have possibly worked long-term between those two? Human doctor. Warrior vampire. No middle ground.