Rob Thurman - Moonshine

Not exactly happy to be back, I shifted my shoulders and remained silent. Turning over my hands, I gazed at the skinned knuckles. Niko had saved them from worse. Time and again, he'd saved me from all kinds of worse… including the Auphe. This wasn't any easier for him than it was for my worthless ass—to say the least. And he didn't have the luxury or going catatonic. Raising my eyes to his, I asked diffidently, "Are you okay?" The question came out stiff and uncertain as if I'd spent days mute instead of only hours.

"I've had better days." He applied several of the bandages. "Many, many better." Sliding the flat of his hand around to the nape of my neck, he squeezed lightly. "How are you?"

How was I? Now, there was a question. "Me?" I flipped my hands back over to see callused but undamaged palms. Our psychic was gone; there was no one left to read the lines and creases. "I'm fine. Just fine. Couldn't be fucking finer."

"Well, goody for you, because I am anything but," Goodfellow said, appearing in the doorway with his mobile face pale and set. Robin had the distinct displeasure of having been around nearly as long as the Auphe. He knew them as well as my brother and I did and hated them almost as much. "Niko, you may want to look at Flay. He's out here bleeding like the proverbial stuck pig, and he's doing it all over your carpet. I personally don't care if he lives or dies, but you may have some things to discuss with him."

"Flay?" Nik's face darkened. His hand gripped my neck tighter, then dropped away. "This promises to be interesting." As Robin turned and walked away, my brother watched me carefully as I stood. I wasn't sure if it was physical or mental balance that he was worried about. "We'll survive this, Cal," he offered with absolute certainty. "I swear it. We defeated the Auphe once. We'll do it again."

And George? How are we going to get George back now? I wanted to ask, but didn't. I didn't know that was ready to hear the answer.

I didn't remember Niko phoning Goodfellow or Promise, but he must have, as both were in the living room. Flay was as well, looking like extra-large road-kill. "How did he get here?" I asked impassively, leaning against the wall with folded arms and watching as Promise and Niko knelt beside him. Yeah, Snowball may have saved my life—emphasis on may —but I didn't delude myself into thinking that was his goal. He'd wanted Cerberus dead. Helping me had been an accidental by-product at best.

"From the looks of the hallway, dragging himself on his stomach while vomiting blood the entire way," Robin answered grimly. He'd retrieved our mop and bucket from the kitchen. "By the way, I do not do windows." He exited to dispose of the evidence, slamming the door behind him to underline his displeasure at the bout of manual labor.

Promise pressed another folded sheet to Flay's chest and turned to Niko. "I didn't know if you wanted him alive. If not, I apologize for your ruined linen." Her normally temperate voice was briskly businesslike. She wasn't wasting any Florence Nightingale sympathies on the half-dead wolf. Her hair hung in a tail down her back, tightly disciplined and smooth, but her clothes were a set of delicate lounging pajamas. Spiderweb fine, the white material wasn't snug, but it definitely molded her petite form. The long cloak she'd worn over it had been discarded on the couch in a jumbled hurry. She clearly hadn't wasted a moment rushing over upon receiving Niko's call. Her eyes when they lifted to mine were as soft as the silk she was wrapped in and full of an empathy I wasn't prepared to deal with. I dropped my eyes toward Flay instantly.

"I'm not precisely sure myself," Niko returned acidly as he used a thumb to pry open one of Flay's closed lids. Flay was still in his quasi-wolf form, his best chance of healing himself, and his fur-covered face was fixed in a rictus of pain. He was hanging on, but only just. At Niko's prodding the glassy red eyes opened. Surrounded by a line of nude baby-pink skin, they looked oddly vulnerable. "What are you doing here, Omega?"

Omega, the lowest-ranking wolf. Flay had been Beta, second-in-command, under Cerberus, but in our pack he was pulling up last all the way. When you were as intelligent as Niko, you could tailor an insult to even the most obscure of monsters. "No… where." Pink froth stained the white fur around his mouth. "Else… go."

True enough. He'd helped take Cerberus down, normally a good career move for a wolf. Upward mobility and killing your boss were one and the same in the Kin. But Flay hadn't fought one-on-one. He'd joined in with a human and a half Auphe to destroy his Alpha. When the first wolf caught a whiff of Niko's and my presence on the roof, Flay would hit number one on the Kin's most wanted list. As for Caleb, Snowball hadn't lived up to the expectations of that master either. I didn't know what Caleb's reaction would be, but judging from Flay's appearance in our apartment, I guessed it wouldn't be pleasant. Poor Snowball, he was a fur ball without a country.

My heart wept for him. Truly.

"Kill him," I said coldly. "He didn't know shit before. I doubt he knows anything now."

Niko gave a fractional lift of his eyebrows at the remark, but his only comment was, "Perhaps Robin could use some help in the hall."

He thought I might not be thinking precisely straight. He was right, and guess what? I was actually smart enough to know it. I left the three of them and walked out into the hall, closing the door with exquisite care. I thought that if I'd slammed it as Goodfellow had, I might not have stopped until it was nothing more than splinters.

"Good. A sour and sulky helper. Who says dreams don't come true?" The puck tossed me the mop and leaned gratefully against the wall, shifting the weight off his healing leg. The cheap tile floor was as much of a mess as he'd said. Exhaling harshly, I dunked the mop and got to it. The work went quickly. Luckily, it was late enough that none of our neighbors were up and about to make things dicey. As a matter of fact… I checked my watch and blinked. Four a.m. Shit. I'd been mentally AWOL a little longer than I'd thought.

"I was thinking Angistri."

I didn't bother to stop the rhythmic slap and swirl of the mop. "What?" I said, incurious.

"Angistri. It's a Greek island. Fairly secluded, utterly beautiful." He massaged the top of his leg and smirked. "Nude beaches." The leer faded as quickly as it had come. "It will be a long time before any Auphe finds us there. We'll find George and off we'll go."

The mop continued to move of its own accord. Back and forth. I followed along with it, silent. I'd finished half the hall before I finally spoke. "I'm sorry."

Having given up on the hopes of getting any sparkling conversation out of me, Goodfellow tilted his head. "Pardon?"

I watched as red-tinted water dripped into the bucket for several seconds before I submerged the mop again. "I'm sorry. Nik and I got you into this mess with the Auphe." The Auphe had made it clear that he'd take what was important to me before he actually took me. The means to save George would be only the first. What would be next? My brother, my friends… I swallowed and clenched the wood handle with a tight fist. Even if Robin hadn't been my friend, he'd still be on the Auphe's shit list. He'd been just as instrumental in bringing them down, if not more, than I had been.

"Caliban." Robin's mouth lengthened, then turned up slightly at the corners. "No one held a gun to my head." His eyes gleamed in reminiscence. "A knife to the throat, yes, but not a gun." He straightened and limped over to take the mop from my hands. "I made my choice, and believe it or not, I have no regrets." He swabbed. "Well, other than my constant exposure to what you imagine to be humor."

"What?" I rubbed a hand over suddenly weary eyes. "No swipe at my fashion sense?"