Rob Thurman - Deathwish

The Mer had come out of the water when the Jinshin-uwo and the Auphe had vanished. The rip in reality sealed itself, and only Cal and I were left in the icy December evening. Slowly, one by one, they came to the edge of the waves to balance upright on curled muscular tails. Each hand was filled with pearls. We hadn’t completed the job. The Auphe had done that, but we were paid nonetheless. Then, with the pockets of both our coats filled to the top with gems, we came home. Not ours, but Promise’s home. Cal had suggested it and I hadn’t disagreed. He thought I needed it, and he wasn’t wrong.

“He grew up on me.” One last pearl fell and I smiled slightly. “I didn’t see it coming. Isn’t that odd? I always see everything about Cal, but I didn’t see that.”

Promise finished smoothing my hair. With her legs tucked under her on the sofa cushion, her knees touched the back of my neck. They were warm, as warm as the hand that came over my shoulder to rest on my chest over my heart. Legend told you vampires were cold. Legend, as usual, lied.

“I imagine he’ll still be a cranky little boy now and again.” There was a smile in her voice as she bent to press her cheek against mine. “But you did teach him well. No one else could’ve brought him through it all as you have. Sane, intact, his soul clean.”

“Clean soul and the filthiest mouth around,” I mused. “Where’d I go wrong?”

“Not a single place.” She straightened and patted her lap. “Lie with me. Tell me everything. The more I know, the more Auphe blood I can spill.” A cloud of black drifted across her eyes for an instant and then they were violet again. “And I will so enjoy spilling it.”

So I moved up to the couch, rested my head in her lap, and gave her every detail of the night. She’d been given a quick sketch by Cal, who was on the phone with Robin as we’d walked in. “Sharks with arms. Big-ass eel. Goddamn Auphe. Watch your ass.” No one could say my brother wasn’t succinct when he wanted to be, or that he couldn’t paint a picture with his words. Granted, it was a picture made up of red and black crayon slashes, but it got the point across.

The painter was now asleep in one of Promise’s spare bedrooms. Robin was hosting something large and loud, from the shouting Cal had to do to be heard over the phone, so he was most likely safe. At least in the respect that by the time the Auphe killed all the partygoers he’d be long gone. Georgina had her wolves and her anonymity, thanks to Cal’s refusal to see her. It was all we had and all we could do.

We gave Promise’s wolves the night off, and as they left, I had thought that we couldn’t live this way. Not for long. Trying to encase every second of our daily lives in safety glass. You could see through it, see everyone else walking, breathing, living, but you couldn’t live yourself. You were caught like a fly in amber. It wasn’t a life; it was an existence. And that wasn’t much of a substitute. Even when Cal and I had been on the run for three years, it hadn’t been like this. We knew the Auphe were after us, but we didn’t know why they were, other than Cal having their blood. We knew it would be a bad thing if they caught us, but we didn’t know how bad . . . not until they finally did.

We’d thought that they didn’t know where we were most of the time. Thought we’d lost them time and time again. I didn’t know if that was true. I did know no matter where we went they eventually found us, but they were only biding their time. All along they had been waiting for Cal to mature physically, to be able to build the giant gate they needed and travel, as he called it. And so they had trailed us from place to place, and when they finally actually did want Cal they simply reached out and took him. That easily.

I couldn’t imagine underestimating the Auphe, but I had. And because I had, we had lives, Cal and I. That delusion had let us breathe. We had watched over our shoulders, given fake names, practiced the martial art of staying alive daily, stayed ghosts to everyone we came into contact with, but we had still lived. We hadn’t hunched under the knowledge that every second could have been the killing one.

Faith; it could support a life if you had it. It was the undoing of one if you didn’t.

I always had faith that things would end up as they should. We would escape the Auphe. When that didn’t happen, I had faith I’d get Cal back, because I literally couldn’t accept anything else. He was my responsibility. My brother. They hadn’t taken him, I had lost him. Twice in my life I had lost him.

I’d forced myself to believe I would get him back. There could be no doubt. I would get him back.

Faith again.

And I had gotten him back. But in the process, I had learned something. I had my eyes opened. I’d seen the Auphe up close. I’d seen what had happened to the people around them, people the Auphe cared nothing about one way or the other. They died. They died very easily—killed by something that barely knew they were alive to begin with.

And the Auphe knew we were alive. Like the eye of God, their sight was on us. Inescapable.

They hated Cal with all the passion of a betrayed race. They knew Robin and I had taken Cal away from them. Promise was simply swept up in the murderous wake. No matter how we’d gotten there, we were all under the eye.

And now I thought there might be something far worse. I suspected, but . . . no, I was wrong. I had to be. Even an uncaring universe wouldn’t allow that. Death, yes, but not that.

“Niko?”

I’d closed my eyes as I told Promise what had happened on the beach. And when I’d stopped talking I left them shut, just for a moment. A denial of the tightening noose. Something I rarely allowed myself. I opened them now and looked up at her. Large eyes, skin a little too pale, a mouth a little too wide, and eyebrows that winged upward like a bird in flight. It was an imperfect beauty and all the more beautiful for it. She put the multitude of pearls to shame.

“Niko?” she said again, cupping my face with her hands.

I took one of her hands, kissed the palm, and gave her the truth.

“We are fucked.”

She laughed, showing the small pointed incisors of a predator in her own right. “It seems you weren’t the only teacher over the years. Cal taught you something as well.”

He had. He’d taught me many things, but first and foremost, he’d taught me that faith. Sophia never would have. Cal had given me a reason to have faith. How would I honor my teacher if I deserted that faith now?

“But Cal says we’ll get through it.” I kissed her hand again, this time lightly nipping the skin at the base of her thumb. Without Cal I wouldn’t have faith. I wouldn’t be the man I was today.

I wouldn’t have this.

The night haze swam across her eyes again, this time for a different reason. “And what do you say?” she asked as her finger lazily traced the line of my jaw.

“I have faith,” I said simply.

And in Cal, I did.

Of course, the next day the cause of all that faith was trying to kill me before the Auphe had their chance. The morning sun drifted through the tinted windows as, after my shower, I padded into the kitchen, dressed in one of the pair of sweatpants I kept at Promise’s. Leaning over Cal’s shoulder as he stirred, I frowned at the bumpy kaleidoscope of red, yellow, and pale brown in the bowl. “What could you possibly be concocting there, Dr. Frankenstein?”

“Chocolate, cherry, banana pancakes. Want some?” He pulled the spoon out and licked it.

“Very hygienic.” I nodded at the sink. “I can explain the use of the tap again for you if you like.”

“Like the doctor takes advice from Igor,” he snorted. He yawned and licked the spoon again. “You want some or not?”