"Damn straight," Butch said. Then he glanced over as V walked off for the kitchen. "Phury, you with us for some chow?"
"Nah, I'll see you later." As he hit the stairs he could feel the male's eyes on him.
"Yo, Phury," Butch called out.
Phury cursed and looked over his shoulder. A little of his manic drive bled out as the cop's knowing eyes burned up at him.
Butch knew, he thought. Somehow the guy knew what he was up to.
"You sure you don't want to eat with us," the human said in a level voice.
Phury didn't even have to think. Or maybe he refused to let himself. "Yeah. I'm sure."
"Careful, my man. Some things are damn hard to undo."
Phury thought of Z. Of himself. Of the shitty future he had little interest in slogging through.
"Don't I know it," he said, and took off.
When he got to his room he shut the door and dropped his leather coat on a chair. He took the packet out, grabbed some red smoke and a rolling paper, and doctored up a blunt. He didn't even consider shooting up. It was just too close to addict status.
At least for this first time.
He licked the edge of the rolling paper, pressed the joint up tight, then went over to his bed and sat back against the pillows. He picked up his lighter, flicked it so the flame leaped to life, and leaned into the orange glow, the hand-rolled between his lips.
The knock on his door pissed him off. Fucking Butch.
He clicked off the lighter. "What?"
When there was no answer, he kept the dutchy with him and pounded across the room. He threw open the door.
John stumbled backward.
Phury took a deep breath. Then another. Chill. He had to chill.
"What's doing, son?" he asked, stroking the blunt with his forefinger.
John brought up his pad, wrote a few lines, and turned the thing around. I'm sorry to bother you. I need someone to help me with my jujitsu positions, and you're so good at them.
"Oh... yeah. Ah, not tonight, John. I'm sorry. I'm... busy."
The kid nodded. After a pause, John waved good-bye. Turned away.
Phury shut the door, locked it, and went right back for the bed. He flicked the lighter on again, put the blunt between his lips -
Just as the flame hit the tip of the hand-rolled, he froze.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't... He started gasping. As his palms grew wet, sweat broke out above his upper lip and under his armpits and all down his chest.
What the f**k was he doing? What the f**k was he doing?
Junkie... junkie motherfucker. Low-life junkie... motherfucker. To bring heroin into the king's house? To be lighting the shit up in the Brotherhood's compound? To be polluting himself because he was too weak to f**king deal?
Hell, no, he would not do this. He would not disgrace his brothers, his king, like this. Bad enough he was addicted to the red smoke. But H?
Shaking from head to toe, Phury ran for the bureau, picked up the packet, and bolted for the bathroom. He flushed the blunt and the heroin down and flushed again. And again.
Stumbling out of his room, he raced over the hallway's runner.
John was halfway down the grand staircase when Phury burst around the corner and all but fell down the steps. He caught up to the boy and dragged him into his arms so hard, those fragile bones must have bent.
Dropping his head onto the kid's shoulder, Phury shuddered. "Oh, God... thank you. Thank you, thank you..."
Little arms came around him. Little hands patted his back.
When Phury finally pulled away, he had to wipe his eyes. "I think tonight's a great night to work on your stances. Yeah. It's a really good time for me, too. Come on."
As the kid looked at him... his eyes suddenly seemed eerily knowing. And then John's mouth worked, moving slowly, forming words that had impact even if they didn't have sound.
You are in a prison with no bars. I worry about you.
Phury blinked, caught in an odd kind of time warp. Someone else had said those very things to him... Just last summer.
The vestibule's door opened, breaking the moment. As Phury and John both jumped at the sound, Zsadist came into the foyer.
The brother looked beat as he glanced up the stairs. "Oh, hey, Phury. John."
Phury rubbed his neck, trying to come back from whatever déjà vu slice of weirdness had just happened with John.
"So, Z, ah, where you coming from?"
"A little trip. A little trip far away. What's doing?"
"We're going to go work on John's positions in the gym."
Z shut the door. "How about I join you? Or... maybe I should put it this way. Can I join you?"
Phury could only stare. John seemed likewise surprised, but at least the kid had the good grace to nod his head.
Phury shook himself into focus. "Yeah, of course, my brother. Come with us. You're always... welcome."
Zsadist crossed the brilliant mosaic floor. "Thanks. Thanks a lot."
The three of them headed for the underground passageway.
As they walked to the training center Phury glanced at John and thought that sometimes it took only a hairbreadth between cars to avoid a mortal accident.
Sometimes your whole life could hinge on a fraction of an inch. Or the beat of a nanosecond. Or the knock on a door.
Kind of made a male believe in the divine. It really did.
Chapter Forty-nine
Two months later...
Bella materialized in the front of the Brotherhood's mansion and looked up at the dour gray fa鏰de. She had never expected to return. But fate had other plans for her.
She opened the outer door and stepped into the vestibule. As she hit the intercom and showed her face to the camera, she felt as if she were in some kind of dream.
Fritz opened the doors wide and bowed with a smile. "Madam! How nice to see you."
"Hi." She stepped inside and shook her head when he tried to take her coat. "I won't be long. I'm just here to talk to Zsadist. For a minute."
"But of course. Master is over here. Please to follow me?" Fritz led her across the foyer to a set of double doors, all the while chatting along merrily, updating her on things like what they'd all done for New Year's.
But the doggen paused before opening the way into the library. "Begging your pardon, madam, but you seem... Would you care to announce yourself? When you are ready?"
"Oh, Fritz, how well you know me. I would love a minute to myself."
He nodded and smiled and disappeared.
She took a deep breath and listened to the voices and footsteps in the house. Some were low enough and loud enough to belong to the Brothers, and she glanced at her watch. Seven o'clock at night. They would be getting ready to go out.
She wondered how Phury was. And whether Tohr had returned yet. And how John was.
Stalling... she was stalling.
Now or never, she thought, grabbing onto a brass handle and twisting. One half of the door gave way soundlessly.
Her breath caught as she looked inside the library.
Zsadist was sitting at a table, bent down low over a piece of paper, a thin pencil in his heavy fist. Mary was next to him, and between the two of them there was a book open.
"Remember the hard consonants," Mary said, pointing to the book. "Check. Catch. The k and c in those words sound close, but aren't the same. Try again."
Zsadist put a hand up to his skull trim. In a low voice he said something that didn't carry. And then his pencil moved on the paper.
"That's good!" Mary put her hand on his bicep. "You've got it."
Zsadist looked up and smiled. Then his head whipped around toward Bella and he lost the expression.
Oh, good Virgin in the Fade, she thought as she drank in the sight of him. She still loved him. She knew it down to her gut -
Wait a minute... What the... hell? His face was really different. Something had changed. Not the scar, but something was different.
Whatever, Get this over with so you can get going.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said. "I was wondering if I could talk to Zsadist."
She was vaguely aware of Mary getting up and coming over, of the two of them hugging, of the female leaving and shutting the door behind her.
"Hi," Zsadist said. Then slowly rose to his feet.
Bella's eyes widened, and she took a step back. "My... God. You're huge."
He put a hand to his thick pec. "Um... yeah. I've put on about eighty pounds. Havers... Havers said I'm probably not going to gain much more. But I'm about two-seventy now."
So that was the change in his face. His cheeks were not hollow anymore, his features no longer so stark, his eyes not sunken. He looked... almost handsome, actually. And much more like Phury.