Lover Enshrined

snorting noise and signed, Okay, this is stupid. What the fuck happened between you two?

“Nothing.”

“Nothing.” Blay nodded over his shoulder. “Listen, I gotta go up and finish packing-”

Qhuinn quickly jumped in. “Yeah, we hafta get go-”

Oh, hell, no. John marched over to the stairs. We’re going to your room and sorting this out. Right now.

As John put sole to step, Qhuinn had to follow the guy, thanks to his new job, and he figured Blay went along probably because his inner Emily Post couldn’t handle not being a good host.

Upstairs, John shut the bedroom door behind them all and put his hands on his hips. As his stare went back and forth, he was like a parent standing over two recalcitrant children and a mess on the floor.

Blay went over to his closet, and as he opened it, the full-length mirror on the back side caught Qhuinn’s reflection. Their eyes met for a moment.

“Nice new piece of jewelry there,” Blay murmured, looking at the chain that marked Qhuinn’s new station.

“Not jewelry.”

“No, it isn’t. And I’m happy for you two. I really am.” He took out a parka… which meant the family was either going “down south” as in Antarctica, or the guy intended to be away a long time. Like, into winter.

John stamped his foot. We’re running out of time here. Hello? Assholes?

“I’m sorry,” Qhuinn murmured to Blay. “For what I said in the tunnel.”

“You tell John about it all?”

“No.”

Blay dropped his coat on his Prada duffel bag and looked at John. “He thinks I love him. As in… in love with him.”

John’s mouth slowly fell open.

Blay’s laugh flared and stopped short, as if his throat got tight. “Yeah. Go fig. Me in love with Qhuinn… a guy who, when he’s not moody, is a slut and smart-ass. Except you want to know what the most fucked-up thing is, though?”

Qhuinn tensed as John nodded.

Blay glanced down at his duffel. “He’s right.”

Well, didn’t John look like he’d been nailed in the foot with a spike.

“Yup,” Blay said. “That’s why I could never get into the females all that much. None of them compared to him. No other guys do either, by the way. So I’m fucked royal, but then, that’s my biz and not his or yours.”

Christ, Qhuinn thought. Wasn’t this the week for revelations.

“I’m sorry, Blay,” he said, because he had no idea what else to do.

“Yeah, I bet you are. Makes things hella awkward, huh.” Blay palmed the parka and slung the Prada bag up onto his shoulder. “But it’s all good. I’m getting out of town for a while, and you two are solid. So cool. Now I gotta go. I’ll text you in a couple of days.”

Qhuinn was more than willing to bet that the you there was referring only to John.

Shit.

Blay turned away. “Later.”

As his best friend in all the world showed them his back and headed for the door, Qhuinn opened his useless lips and prayed that the right thing would come out. When nothing did, he prayed that something would jump free. Anything-

The scream that came up from the first floor was high-pitched.

Blay’s mother.

The three of them were out of that bedroom like a bomb had gone off in it, shooting down the hall, thundering down the stairs. In the kitchen, they found that the nightmare of the war had come home.

Lessers. Two of them. In Blay’s motherfucking house.

And one of them had his mother up against his chest in a choke hold.

Blay let out a primal yell, but Qhuinn caught him before he surged forward. “There’s a knife against her throat,” Qhuinn hissed. “He’ll slice her where she stands.”

The lesser smiled as he dragged Blay’s mom across the kitchen and out of the house, toward a minivan that was parked by the garage.

As John Matthew dematerialized out of sight, another slayer came in from the dining room.

Qhuinn let Blay go, and the two of them went on the attack, plowing first into that slayer and then engaging another as it walked in the back door.

While the hand-to-hand went wild and the kitchen got trashed, Qhuinn prayed like hell that John had taken form inside the open van and was rolling out one fuck of a two- fisted welcome.

Please let Blay’s mom not get taken down in the cross fire.

As yet another slayer came through the door, Qhuinn head-butted the lesser he was trading punches with, palmed one of his brand-new spanking forty-fives, and rammed the muzzle under the bastard’s chin.

The bullets decimated the fucker’s head, blowing the top of it clear off-which gave Qhuinn plenty of time to stab the thing in the heart with the knife he had at his hip.

Pop! Pop! Fizz-fizz! Oh, what a relief it is.

As the thing disappeared in a flash of light, Qhuinn didn’t pause to enjoy his first lesser kill. He spun around to check on Blay and was shocked to his balls. The guy’s father had come pounding into the room and the two were hauling ass. Which was kind of a surprise, as Blay’s dad was an accountant.

Time to back up John.

Qhuinn beelined it out the back door, and just as his boots hit grass, a brilliant flash of light from the minivan told him that help wasn’t going to be necessary.

In a smooth move, John jumped out of the Town amp; Country and slammed the door shut; he pounded on the quarter panel and the thing reversed at a dead run. Qhuinn caught a brief impression of Blay’s mom white-knuckled behind the wheel as she shot backward down the driveway.

“You okay, J-man?” Qhuinn said, hoping like hell that John Matthew didn’t get killed on Qhuinn’s first night as his ahstrux nohtrum.

Just as John lifted his hands to sign, there was a crash of glass.

The two of them wheeled around to the house. Like something out of a movie, a pair of bodies flew out of the family room’s picture window. Blay’s was one of them, and he landed on top of the lesser he’d tossed out the house like a stained mattress. Before the slayer could recover from the impact, Blay grabbed on to its head and cracked the fucker’s neck like a chicken.

“My father’s still fighting in the house!” he yelled as Qhuinn tossed him the knife. “Down in the cellar!”

As John and Qhuinn shot back inside, a third flare of light went off, and then Blay caught up with them at the basement stairs. The three of them rushed to where new sounds of fighting came from.

When they got to the bottom of the stairwell, they stopped dead. Blay’s father was facing off with a lesser, a Civil War sword in one hand, a dagger in the other.

Behind his Joe Friday glasses, his eyes were lit like torches, and they flicked over for a split second. “Stay out of this. This one’s mine.”

The shit was done faster than you could say, Ninja Dad.

Blay’s father went Ginsu on the slayer, carving the thing up like a turkey, then stabbing it back to the Omega. As the glare from the extermination faded, the male looked up with frantic eyes.

“Your mother-”

“Got away in their van,” Qhuinn answered. “John got her free.”

Both Blay and his father sagged at that news. Which was when Qhuinn noticed Blay was bleeding from a cut on the shoulder and one across his abdomen and another on his back and…

His father wiped his brow with his arm. “We’ve got to get ahold of her-”

John held up his phone, a ringing coming out over the speaker.