The Wages of Sin (Blood Brothers Vampire Series Book Two) (19 page)

“I don’t know,” said Thor with all the sensitivity
he could muster.

“Why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you back me up
on this? It only would have been a few more days.”

“We’ve all been hearing that for a long time from
you, buddy. Every night it’s a night away. I came back here tonight
to be merciful, not to be guilted. Frankly I think you and Loki are
a couple of children these days and you’ve each got your thumb in
one of the family dog’s eyes waiting to see who gets bit first. I
don’t want anything to do with either one of you. But I sided with
Loki last night when I should have stayed neutral and I came back
to rectify that.”

“You can’t rectify it. It’s done.”

“Enough. I didn’t come back to help you or to take
your side, I only came back because I owed you a level playing
field between you and Loki. I’m going to rattle off a few facts.
Number one, you’ve been my Brother a hundred years. Number two, so
has Loki. You two taught me everything I know and it’s not my place
to change either one of you even if I think you’re both full of
shit at the moment. But you’ve got a rose on your chest the same as
me and you probably wouldn’t be tied up there if it wasn’t for me.
I don’t feel good about that. So I’m going to cut you down, not
because it’s the smart thing to do or the right thing to do, but
because it’s the only thing to do. And after I cut you down, that’s
it. As far as I’m concerned, from that moment on, I don’t owe you
or Loki a thing. After that, we’re all back on our own paths and
mine goes wherever I want it to.”

With that, Thor cut Tyr down. Tyr stood and looked
at Thor with the kind of vacant gaze you give a bagel you don’t
want. He wanted to be angry, to take his rage out on someone, to
place the blame. But Thor was right. He didn’t owe Tyr a damn
thing. They weren’t enemies. They were Brothers again, or at the
very least they were two people in a lousy world and nothing
more.

Tyr headed into the house to find Eva, and Thor
followed.

Eva was a pale human corpse lying on a bed in the
bourgeois prison with stiff fingers and shut eyes. There was no
blood, no scars on her throat, no sign of a fight. From the look of
it, Loki had been entirely honest. She’d given up on Tyr and cashed
in her chips. No more pain nor joy. No arguing nor laughing. No
intravenous injections, no television, no black licorice, no
scratching of itches. No tanning.

That was the human curse. They walked by day or by
night, free to love and be loved, the world at their disposal, but
they died when they were still babies. Tyr would live for millennia
and understand existence better than any human being ever could,
but his only companionship would be his Brothers and if he ever saw
another sunrise it would be on his deathbed. Pros and cons. Curses
and blessings. The ways of the worlds.

He stroked her cheek in the way that made her smile
up at him when she had a pulse. When she had brain function and
oxygen supply, emotions and thoughts. When she was a living thing
instead of an inanimate object. She lay there and did nothing, as
dead women do.

“I used to think I was God, Eva,” he said. “I’m
sorry I couldn’t save you.”

“You know, I never wanted this,” said Thor. He was
standing in the doorway behind Tyr.

“I know.”

“I mean, I wanted you to drain her, but I never
would have deliberately brought it to this.”

“No. Only Loki would go that far.”

“You’re not gonna kill him, are you?”

“Not sure yet.”

Thor nodded. “I’m leaving. Tomorrow night. I wasn’t
gonna tell you, but… well… I am. Thought maybe I’d look you guys up
in a few years and see if you settled things. Between you and her,
Loki and the club, I figured somebody was gonna get us killed
before long. Long as she’s out of the picture, you want to hop on a
plane with me? Ditch Loki and start our own thing like you offered
a while back?”

Tyr shook his head softly. He knew the right answer
was yes. If he went with Thor, there was the opportunity to go back
to the comfortable life they’d always lived, sans the discomfort
brought on by Loki. And even if Loki came looking for them in a few
years or a few decades, which he almost certainly would, they’d
have some time to enjoy themselves before it happened.

But Tyr felt no satisfaction in accepting that, in
deserting Loki with his tail covering his balls and accepting
Loki’s murder of the little girl Tyr had saved thirteen years ago.
She was the peace offering. Tyr and Loki were Brothers again by
Loki’s acceptance of Tyr’s decision to love this girl, and with her
dead at Loki’s hand, Loki had broken the bond. That problem wasn’t
resolved by running, and it wasn’t even resolved with confrontation
or revenge. There was only one way to resolve it.

He wasn’t willing to play things by Loki’s rules
anymore, to let him off the hook again. He wasn’t leaving without
closure. When Eva was six years old and Tyr spared her life and
stuck Loki to the wall and abandoned them for a decade, he thought
he’d made his point. It seemed he’d been too subtle. He could
rectify subtlety.

He stood up from the bed and headed for his
quarters, the little bedroom in the corner used mostly for sex and
murder.

“I think you should probably go,” he said. “I’m
getting ready to do something stupid.” He turned the dial on the
safe next to his bed.

“Tyr, you’re not saying what I’m hearing, are
you?”

“If you want to maintain that precious neutral
stance, to let me and Loki settle this ourselves, and if you’re not
willing to face the possibility of seeing one of your Brothers dead
tonight, you’re going to want to leave now.” He opened the safe and
took his sword in hand. “And if there’s a shred of possibility in
your mind that Ofeigr or the Chosen might be out there watching us,
you’ll want to sever all ties with me.”

Tyr turned back to Eva’s room and marched, holding
the sword at his side with the blade facing the corner of the
hall.

“Tyr, this is a rash decision. Stop for a minute.
Talk to me. She won’t come back the same. She won’t remember. The
girl you knew is gone. Think about this.”

“I’m sick of thinking,” said Tyr without breaking
stride.

“Tyr!” Tyr stopped in the doorway of Eva’s room and
turned to face Thor. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, man.”

“Do you know the Norse legend of Tyr and Fenrir? The
wolf who the gods wanted to shackle? He broke every rope they tried
on him, so they went to the Dwarves and had a magic rope built, one
that could restrain anything. And Fenrir said he’d only let them
shackle him if one of the gods would put a hand in his mouth as a
show of trust.”

“Right. And Tyr said he’d do it. So what?”

“Exactly. And they bound the wolf and he bit off
Tyr’s hand. Now does that sound like a guy who thinks things
through, or a guy who gets shit done?”

“Tyr, you’re losing it.”

“I’m the god of war. Of justice and heroic glory.
I’m going to head Loki off at the Chupacabra and rain down holy
Hell on that place. I’m gonna send a fucking message and he’ll hear
it loud as he’s ever heard anything when he sees Eva by my
side.”

Thor shook his head. “I can see I’m not going to
convince you, so I’m going to say goodbye. Sounds like I won’t be
seeing you around again, but maybe I’ll catch a glimpse of your
head on a pike somewhere.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

Thor hugged Tyr for what he hoped wouldn’t be the
last time. “So long, Tyr. It’s been a ride.”

“Take care. If you start your own Brotherhood, look
for guys more like you and less like Loki and me.”

Thor laughed. “Shit. Like you gotta tell me.” He
started down the stairs and then stopped. “Don’t get killed, Tyr.
It’d be a real shame if this is the last we speak.”

“That it would, Thor.”

Five minutes later Thor was out of the house and Tyr
was standing over Eva’s body with his sword in his hand.

“Come back to me, Eva,” he said. “Come back to me,
love.” He sliced into his arm with the sword and his blood ran down
the silver blade.

“Eva. Freya. Come back to me.”

He buried the blade in her heart.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE

Heimdall wasn’t lying next to Jewel when she awoke.
She came out of the bedroom clad in a robe crossing her fingers
she’d find him in the apartment but it was only Gretchen she found
in the living room. She was about to ask when Gretchen spoke.

“Hey, how much did you and Romeo drink last night?”
she asked with a pissed off roll of her eyes.

“We didn’t drink.”

“Whatever you say. He’s passed out in the tub if
you’re looking for him.”

When the first traces of morning light came into the
bedroom as he lay sleepless next to Jewel, Heimdall had felt sick
on a level he’d never felt. He’d spent the morning in the bathtub
with the lights off, curled up under a towel. He’d been stupid to
come here. The sun wanted him dead. In the dark of the bathroom he
felt as safe as he could get.

He’d been there a few hours before Gretchen stumbled
in and found him there. He’d refused to get out to let her use the
shower or the toilet but made no mention of the fact that leaving
the room would kill him. He’d only said “I can’t,” what felt like a
hundred times until she stormed out, and he couldn’t speak for
anything that happened after that. He hadn’t heard from the other
roommate yet, but he wasn’t off to a good start with Gretchen.

He hid under his towel and behind the shower curtain
when Jewel entered, lest any light spill into the bathroom and set
him ablaze. She felt his forehead and tried to check his pulse, and
he confessed he’d become a vampire. Having not witnessed the
remarkable recoveries by Loki and Thor following the stabbings,
Jewel was not keen to believe her boyfriend’s story and instead
ventured that he had probably been drugged or caught a fever after
all the stress he’d been through. She suggested he see a doctor or
at least return to bed, and she insisted he at least leave the
apartment’s one shared bathroom, but following a solid hour of loud
and rather judgmental discussion, she agreed to let him sleep in
the bath until the sun was down.

He never showed her his teeth. The poor girl didn’t
need that image.

Gretchen and Ellen were harder to convince than
Jewel, and Jewel was the one who had to do the convincing. Gretchen
was the less welcoming of the two, and even threatened to call the
police and have him removed for trespassing, but Ellen stepped in
and calmed her down from there.

“We’ll give him a few hours, but after that he
leaves and he doesn’t come back. If you want to see him again, you
go to his place.”

“Um… he doesn’t actually… He might need to stay here
for a few days to figure things out.”

“Jesus, Jewel, are you fuckin’ nuts. Homeboy’s a
fuckin’ junkie, all right?”

“He’s just really sick.”

“He’s having fucking withdrawals, girl. I’ve seen
this shit before. He’s not worth your time and me and Ellen don’t
want him in the fuckin’ house.”

This line of conversation went on between the three
of them for most of the day until Ellen left for work, and then it
continued with just Gretchen. No middle ground had been reached
when the sun went down and Heimdall came out of the bathroom with a
clean bill of health and a bounce in his step, a ball of clichés
like the bad writer he’d always been.

Gretchen screamed at him to leave and he eventually
ceded, fearing the cops might soon arrive on a noise complaint.
Jewel offered to call in to work so they could figure things out
together but Heimdall was adamant she go. He told her he’d find a
solution and give her a call soon, and it took tremendous
persuasion before she would willingly part with him again. He
walked her to the bus stop and kissed her goodbye and when he
arrived back at his parking space in the apartment complex there
was somebody standing against his motorcycle.

Whoever he was, he wasn’t a person. There was a
face, a figure with a body who was breathing, but he wasn’t human.
Something about the absence of emotion on his face told Heimdall
this being, this thing, was at least Loki’s age if not older.

“Heimdall they’re calling you—your Brothers, anyway.
The newspapers prefer The Vegas Vampire, which isn’t very clever
either. You might tell me no, your name is Jonathan, but let’s not
dwell on names. They don’t matter. I don’t have one. Those same
papers call me Butcher, but you can call me what you like.”

“Are you… one of The Chosen?”

“No, I’m not. But your fears are in the right place
and that’s good to know. I’m not sure whether you’re aware just how
deep the shit is you’re standing in should you sink, so I’m just
going to talk for a while and you listen.

“You’ve been born into a raw deal. You’re the
vampire equivalent of a baby conceived by parents who hate each
other and think a child will bring them closer together. Parents
like that are shit to begin with, but in your case it happens that
Mommy and Daddy are also on the America’s Most Wanted list, so your
situation’s worse than most. You go along with your so-called
Brothers and your second life will be shorter than your first. Give
it time—I don’t know how much, but not much—and Tyr and Loki will
either kill each other or The Chosen will kill both of them. If
you’re there when they burn, you die too and that’s a fact.

“Unfortunately you’re also a newborn, and a week-old
emancipated minor doesn’t stand much of a chance in any city, let
alone Vegas. So you’re fucked in that regard as well. What did you
do all day, hide out in a cupboard?”

“A bathtub.”

“Did you tell your girlfriend you’re a vampire?”

“She didn’t believe me.”

“She won’t. But on day three of hiding in the tub
she might just go behind your back and call an ambulance and how
are you going to explain to them why you can’t leave the bath?
Maybe she’ll have you removed thinking she’s helping to get you
some treatment and then somebody comes to take you by force. Or how
about a week from now when you’re starving to death and you bring
home a hooker and kill her in your bed? Methinks the little lady
might call the police after that, and how many of them do you think
you can kill before things get ugly? Before you’re on the evening
news and everyone in the country has seen your face?