Rob Thurman: Moonshine

"He's cleaning up his language for you, Promise." I pushed another plate in front of Niko and loaded him up. "If that's not love, I don't know what is." Ignoring the needle-sharp glare aimed at me, I added, "Breakfast as pledged. Now, eat up."

He didn't want to. Sugar, oil, butter—he probably would've made the sign of the cross if not for the company we were keeping this morning. Still, he recognized the pile of syrup and chocolate for what it was… my thanks for his sticking around last night. Sighing, he bowed to the inevitable and dug in, his bite every bit as small as Promise's had been. The whole world seemed to be on the same diet. Well, the hell with them, it just meant more for me. Stacking the last of the pancakes on my plate, I moved over to the living room couch and turned on the TV. It wasn't precisely privacy, but it was the best I could do for Niko and Promise. Our new apartment was actually smaller than our last, but it was a helluva lot nicer with decadent luxuries like heat and hot water. Our last place, sandwiched firmly between a dump and a slum, had been all but destroyed when the Auphe had come for me that last time. Not only had we bitten the deposit on that one; we were probably on a warrant list somewhere. It didn't matter. We hadn't used genuine ID since we'd hit the city. We still didn't. A quirk of Niko's there. The Auphe might be deader than the dodo, but there was no telling when it might prove to our advantage to be invisible to the eye of the authorities.

There was the low murmur of voices as I polished off my pancakes and then Promise raised her voice to include me. "I may have a new client for us."

"Oh joy," I said flatly, dropping my fork with a clatter on the empty plate. At least she'd waited until I had finished before she ruined my appetite. I noticed that she didn't ask how the work for last night's client had gone. Niko must have filled her in on the phone when he'd canceled their plans. "What is it this time? Hansel and Gretel go missing? You find Red's basket by Grandma's partially chewed leg?"

Promise didn't take offense at my irritable snap. She knew well enough where it originated. "No, this is actually somewhat more subtle, some undercover work actually—with werewolves. It may not even come to violence this time, Caliban. At least, I hope not."

Wolves… they didn't usually eat kids. Not on a regular basis anyway. I reached for the remote and turned the television down. "I'm all ears," I said, calmer. "And Niko's all nose. In other words, we're a captive audience."

I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw the faintest of pink flushes along Promise's cheekbones as she slid an amused amethyst glance toward Niko. Apparently, she liked his nose just fine. Five dead husbands and she blushed at the sight of my brother. It was enough to make you believe in all that crap they splattered in greeting cards.

"Undercover?" Niko frowned, missing the bigger picture at his side altogether. Or maybe he hadn't, I thought, rather amused myself as he tilted his head expectantly toward Promise. "Among wolves? How exactly are we to accomplish that?"

Sometimes he forgot; he honestly did. That he could amazed me, literally, and it humbled me too. I pushed the plate aside and propped my feet on the coffee table. "Don't worry, Cyrano," I drawled, drawing his attention. "We won't have to tie furry ears and a bushy tail on you. I'll do just fine."

That didn't help the frown much, but he did see the logic in it. I might not be a wolf, but neither was I completely human. A wolf would know that the instant he smelled me coming. "So." Niko stood and began to clear the table. "Who exactly is this client, and what does he want with our services?"

"His name is Cerberus. He's small-time in the Kin, from what I hear, but with aspirations." The slow smile showed just a hint of pearly fang. "And don't we all have aspirations?"

The Kin was basically the Mafia of the nonhuman world. They ran numbers, trafficked in drugs and prostitution… you name it. They had a larcenous paw in every till in the city, and while they might subcontract out, werewolves ran the show. They were the power and the glory, and if you forgot that for even a moment, it wouldn't be just kibble they dined on that night. Niko hadn't crossed their path, gambling, snortable wolfsbane, and succubi not being his thing, but I had. Well, not precisely me. While I was under the influence, so to speak, I'd hired two wolves to kill a girl for me. A girl who was quite sure that she was my girl. It hadn't worked out too well… for the wolves, better for me and mine. I'd moved through their ranks with ease then. There was a good chance I could do it again.

"What kind of aspirations?" Niko asked evenly. "Rising among his own kind or taking over the city?"

"Niko, I wouldn't involve you in anything that might compromise your principles." She touched his arm as he reached down for her glass and plate. "You must know that." That was a pretty broad statement.

As Robin had once said with exasperation, Niko had so very goddamn many principles. I hoped Promise could live up to her pledge. "He simply wants to rise in the ranks and with his… differences… that will not be easy to do. He suspects one particular 'friendly' rival within the Kin is planning a move on him in the next week, and he wants proof before he makes a preemptive strike. One misstep and all the others will turn on him. They respect his talent and ruthlessness, but as it stands now he lives only by their sufferance."

Wolves didn't have much acceptance for differences. To them difference equaled weakness and a wolf wasn't one to tolerate weakness. That wasn't to say there wasn't a wide range of wolf types. Some were completely human when they wanted to be and utterly wolf when they wanted that as well. Others were stuck somewhere in between, half of one or the other. A human with fur and fangs or a wolf with limpid blue human eyes and hands instead of paws. Bad breeding will tell. But as long as you were strong and could kill with the pack, that made you wolf. As for the moon and the whole werewolf-bite curse, I don't know who started that. It was a good story, mind you, but just a story. Wolves, just like vampires, were born, not made. They could chomp on you all day long; it wasn't going to make you turn furry at the next full moon. And all the Goth-dressing wannabe monsters in the world couldn't change that fact no matter how much they wished it were different.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked with admittedly morbid curiosity. "He missing an arm or something?" That would definitely have him living on sufferance, and a damn uncertain place for a wolf to dwell that would be.

"I have no idea, actually." She shook her head. "I've been dealing with his accountant, a well-mannered if boring creature. Cerberus appears to be far too busy to deal with us on a personal level."

"Or he wishes to keep as much distance between himself and his plot as possible." Niko finished stacking the dishes in the sink, gave me a pointed look to let me know that was my chore for the day, and wiped his hands on a towel. "He's intelligent if nothing else. Cautious as well. Unusual for a wolf." If I'd blinked, I would've missed the almost imperceptible brushing of his fingers over her bare shoulder. "Could you set up a meeting for us?"

"Of course." She gathered the cloak from her lap and stood next to him. Side by side, the vampire whose beauty was mysterious as the morning star and the man whose touch was deadlier than a viper—as couples went, they were cuter than a basket full of puppies. "I have the car waiting downstairs. Would you like a ride to class?"

And that had my humor dissipating into a morose mist. I hadn't had the lecture in a few days; I was about due. It was only brought home by the look Niko flashed me as he accompanied Promise out the door. Education, college, a normal life.