The sturdiest of these, after you breached the cave’s mouth, further traveled into the earth some distance and proceeded behind a nine-foot-high slab of granite, was a set of iron gates that nobody was going to get through even with an industrial blowtorch.

Unless, of course, you had the key to the lock.

As Rhage and his brothers came up to the fortification with Xcor on the gurney, Z did the honors with the unlocking and Rhage monitored the interior of the cave, his eyes searching through what was revealed by V’s glowing palm.

It was against protocol for anyone to enter the space who was not a Brother, but that was his point about beggars and choosers and all that shit. This was the safest, most isolated place to lock up a seriously wounded, treasonous motherfucker until such time as either he came to and was ready to be tortured, or the bastard kicked it and could be burned on the altar as a sacrifice worthy of all the carved names on the marble wall.

Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak.

Besides, Rhage thought as he began pulling the gurney ahead again, Xcor wasn’t going any farther than the ante-chamber.

At least, not while he was still breathing.

Now there was no need for V’s portable glow light. Iron-handled torches came alive with a nod from the brother and shadows started to chase one another over the stone floor and up the rows and rows of shelves, the flickering light darting in and about the countless jars, both those which were centuries old and those that had come from Amazon.com.

It was a display of the Brotherhood’s triumphs over the Lessening Society, a collection of souvenirs from kills in the Old World and the New.

In that way, it was appropriate to bring Xcor here.

He was yet another spoil of war.

“This is far enough,” Vishous announced.

Rhage stopped and locked the wheels with their foot brake as V shifted a massive duffel bag off his shoulder.

“This battery pack is only going to last ten hours,” the brother said.

“Won’t be a problem.” As Lassiter spoke, his entire body lit up from the inside out, the energy replacing the contours of his flesh. “I can recharge it.”

“You’re sure you’re good alone here during the day?” V demanded.

“I can always step out into the sunlight and top myself off. And before you bitch that that dead fish on the table will be momentarily left unattended, I have ways of keeping track of him.”

V shook his head. “I’m surprised you’re willing to do this. No Time Warner.”

“That’s what they make phones for.”

“I can almost respect you.”

“Don’t get emotional on me, Vishous. I left the Kleenex at home. Besides, I have the night off now that the hot potato is safely here. Plenty of time to get busy with the whacker.”

“Okay, that sounds dirty,” someone said.

“No one but his left hand would have him, are you kidding me?” came a counter.

“Hey, Lass, when was the last time you were out on a date?” somebody else drawled. “Was it before the Punic Wars, or right after?”

“And how much did you have to pay her?”

Lassiter went silent, his strangely white eyes growing distant. But then he smiled. “Whatever. My standards are too high for you bunch of assholes.”

As a fresh round of joking flared up, nobody actually relaxed. It was as if Xcor were a bomb with an unknown detonator and a debatable length of time before the boom party started.

“Z and I are on first shift,” Phury cut in. “And you guys have work to do downtown.”

“Call us and we’re back here in a fucking instant.” V punched himself in the chest. “Especially if he wakes up.”

On that note, Rhage stared down at that ugly-ass face, and imagined those lids lifting. Was the Bastard awake in there? And not as in jump-out-and-attack, but as in conscious in the midst of the coma.

Did the SOB know what kind of trouble he was in? Or was the lack of consciousness the last bit of mercy his fate was ever going to give him?

Not my problem, Rhage thought as he took one last look around, seeking out the jars he had brought here and placed on the shelves, the representations of his own kills. So many. He had been at this war for such a long time—so long that he remembered back when Wrath refused to lead, and the only time the Brotherhood came to this mountain was to deliver these containers to the shelves.

So much had changed, he thought.

Now, not only were they all living in Darius’s fancy mansion, but they had new members of the Brotherhood. John Matthew and Blay as soldiers. A medical staff and great facilities. Everyone under the same roof—

“—sides, that way I can polish my nails.”

Rhage shook himself back into focus as Lassiter’s voice registered. “Wait, what?”

“JK.” The angel laughed. “I could tell we’d lost you. Dreaming of what you’re going to have at Last Meal? I know I am. Three guesses, and the first two that don’t have meat in them don’t count.”

“You’re insane,” Rhage said. “But I like that in a friend.”

Lassiter put his arm around Rhage’s shoulders and led him to the gate. “You have such good taste. Have I mentioned that lately?”

After everyone but Z and Phury filed out, Vishous closed the bars and relocked everything. Then they all stood still for a moment. The fine steel mesh that was wrapped around the barrier and soldered into place would prevent Phury and Z from getting free. And wasn’t that a ball shriveler.