Lover Revealed

'Either. They're identical.'

She frowned and ran her eyes over something that seemed almost a poem:

There shall be one to bring the end before the master,

a fighter of modern time found in the seventh of the

twenty-first,

and he shall be known in the numbers he bears:

One more than the compass he apperceives,

Though mere four points to make at his right,

Three lives has he,

Two scores on his fore,

and with a single black eye, in one well will he be

birthed and die.

Confused, she scanned what was around it, only to have horrible phrases jump out at her: 'Lessening Society,' 'Induction,' 'Master.' She looked up to the title on the page and shuddered.

'Dear God… this is about… lessers.'

As Butch heard the icy panic in her voice, he sank down on his knees beside her. 'Marissa—'

'What the hell am I reading about here?'

Yeah, how to answer that one. He was still having a hard time coming to terms with it all himself. 'It seems as though… I am this.' He tapped the smooth screen and then looked at his deformed pinkie, the one that was shriveled up tight to his palm… the one he couldn't straighten… or point with.

Marissa shifted away from him warily. 'And this is… what?'

Thank God V spoke up. 'What you're looking at is two different translations of the Lessening Society's Scrolls. One we had from before. One is from a laptop that I confiscated from the slayers about ten days ago. The Scrolls are the handbook of the Society and the section you're looking at is what we call the Destroyer Prophecy. We've known about it for generations, ever since the first copy of the Scrolls fell into our possession.'

As Marissa's hand went to her throat, she was obviously getting the gist of where they were headed. She started shaking her head. 'But it's all riddles. Surely—'

'Butch has all the markers.' V lit up a hand-rolled and exhaled. 'He can sense lessers, so that's one more than north, south, east, or west he apperceives. His pinkie is misshapen from the transition, so he has only four fingers he can point with. He's had three lives, childhood, adulthood, and now as a vampire, and you could argue he was birthed here in Caldwell when we turned him. But the real telltale is that scar on his belly. It's the black eye and one of two scores on his forefront. Assuming you count his belly button as the first.'

She looked at Wrath. 'So what does this mean?'

The king took a deep breath. 'It means Butch is our very best weapon in the war.'

'How…' Marissa's voice drifted.

'He can shortcut a lesser's return to the Omega. See, during the induction, the Omega shares a part of himself with each slayer and that piece comes back to the master when the lesser is killed. As the Omega is a finite being, this return is critical. He needs to get back what he puts in them if he's to continue to populate his fighters.' Wrath nodded toward Butch. 'The cop breaks that part of the cycle. So the more lessers Butch consumes, the weaker the Omega will become until there is, literally, nothing left of him. It's like chipping away at a boulder.'

Marissa's eyes slid back to Butch. 'Consume exactly how?'

Oh, man, she wasn't going to like this part. 'I just… inhale them. Take them into me.'

The terror in her eyes killed him, it really did. 'Won't you become one, then? What stops you from being taken over?'

'I don't know.' Butch settled back on his heels, terrified that she would bolt. Not that he'd blame her. 'But Vishous helps me. In the way he healed me with his hand before.'

'How many times have you done… whatever to them?'

'Three. Including the one tonight.'

Her eyes squeezed shut. 'And when did you first do it?'

'About two weeks ago.'

'So none of you know the long-term effects, do you?'

'But I'm okay—'

Marissa burst up from the chair and walked out from behind the desk, her eyes on the floor, her arms wrapped around herself. When she stopped in front of Wrath, it was to glare at him. 'And you want to use him?'

'This is about the race's very survival.'

'What about his?'

Butch got to his feet. 'I want to be used, Marissa.'

She looked over at him with hard eyes. 'May I remind you, you almost died from the Omega's contamination?'

'That was different.'

'Was it? If you're talking about putting more and more of that evil in your system again, exactly how is it different?'

'I told you, V helps me process it. It doesn't stay with me.' He got no reply to that. She just stood stock-still in the middle of the room, so self-contained he didn't know how to reach her. 'Marissa… we're talking about purpose. My purpose.'

'Funny, you told me in bed this morning that I was your life.'

'You are. But this is different.'

'Ah, yes, everything is different when you want it to be.' She shook her head. 'You couldn't save your sister, but now… now you have a shot at saving thousands of vampires. Your hero complex must be thrilled.'

Butch bit down hard, jaw flexing. 'That is a cheap shot.'

'But true.' Abruptly, she grew weary. 'You know, I am really sick and tired of violence. And fighting. And people getting hurt. And you told me you weren't going to get involved with this war.'

'I was human then—'

'Oh, please—'

'Marissa, you've seen what those lessers can do. You've been at your brother's clinic when the bodies have been brought in. How can I not fight?'

'But you're not just talking about hand-to-hand combat. You're taking it to a whole different level. Consuming slayers. How can you be sure you won't turn into one?'

From out of nowhere, fear sliced through him, and as her eyes narrowed on his face, he knew he didn't hide the anxiety fast enough.

She shook her head. 'You're worried about that, too, aren't you? You're not certain you won't turn into one of them.'

'Not true. I won't lose myself. I know it.'

'Oh, really. Then why are you holding on to your cross like that, Butch?'

He glanced down. Shit, his hand was locked on the crucifix so tight his knuckles were white and his shirt was all bunched up. He forced himself to drop his arm.

Wrath's voice cut in. 'We need him, Marissa. The race needs him.'

'What about his safety?' She let out a sob, but then quickly smothered it. 'I'm sorry, but I–I can't smile and say Go get 'em. I spent days under quarantine watching him—' She wheeled toward Butch. 'Watching you nearly die. It almost killed me. And the thing is, back then it wasn't your choice, but this… this is a choice, Butch.'

She had a point. But he couldn't back down. He was what he was, and he had to believe he was strong enough not to fall into the darkness. 'I don't want to be a kept pet, Marissa. I want a purpose—'

'You have a pur—'