Rob Thurman - Nightlife

That was pretty much the last truly coherent thought I was capable of. After that, there were only flashes… of light, sound, and a waning comprehension. We were inside under raining debris and only steps ahead of a maniacal horde. Abruptly a chunk of time disappeared and we were outside. I was still dangling upside down and staring at a part of Niko I really had no interest in. "Not your best side, Nik," I slurred more to myself than anyone else.

I didn't get a response or if I did, I was too far gone to recognize it. Suddenly everything spun, from asphalt to starless sky, and I found myself placed into the backseat of a car. Robin's voice came from the front as he turned over the engine. "Are we sure about this, Nik? You know they'll kill him. He doesn't stand a chance."

"We don't have a choice. Now drive." Niko's answer vibrated against me and I realized I was in a reclining position with my back against his chest. He had an arm wrapped hard around me with his hand holding a wadded cloth over the slash in my stomach with an unyielding pressure. It hurt, more than anything should. Despite that or maybe because of it, my attention drifted away to the back window of the car. I could see Samuel, just barely. Although the streetlights were working, my eyes weren't as cooperative. Still I could make him out. He was at the door of the warehouse, standing just inside it. His gun and ammunition but a memory, he was swinging Niko's sword with inexpert but lethal force. He was barring the way. He was all that stood between the Auphe and freedom. A part of me was impressed, stunned. A very small part of me. The larger part sneered an internal, "Sucker." Then we turned a corner and he was gone. An instant later the glass of the car windows shook as the roar of a collapsing building was heard. Choices. It all came down to choices.

Samuel had just made his.

I was flying.

Passing through the silky night air, I soared and dipped in perfect silence. Flying on and on, I savored the freedom. I couldn't see, but I didn't need to. There was no up or down, no land or sky. No stars or moon. There was only endless space and endless darkness. And there were endless memories as well.

I was five and running barefoot down a dirt alley in a faraway town. I'd long since forgotten the name or maybe I'd never even known it. There was a warm weight against my chest and a tongue lapping enthusiastically at my chin. The milk breath of a puppy was sweet to my nose and I was laughing. Nik had given the pup to me. He'd borrowed it for five bucks from one of our neighbors. Even at that age, I knew we couldn't keep it. I knew better than to even ask. Sophia would've sold it in a heartbeat. It was mine only for the day, Niko had cautioned, only one day. It was one of the best days I'd ever had.

I was older than any human civilization and crouched languidly on a gold-and-lapis-lazuli sarcophagus. I didn't know the name of the Pharaoh who'd died a hundred days previously, and I didn't care to know. On the floor of the tomb was a scatter of limbs and crimson-soaked sand. I'd been ensconced in the burial chamber for barely two weeks and I'd already had several tomb robbers creep in. The priest had promised me frequent visitors and he'd kept his word. A wealthy ruler was to keep his treasure clasped tightly in his withered fingers, and I was using a freshly decapitated head as a pillow. It was a good day. Maybe it wasn't the very best I'd ever had, but it was nothing to sneeze at either.

I was almost as old as time itself and yet younger than a mayfly. I was waking up and wishing desperately that I had enough breath to curse at the burning pain. Struggling out of unconsciousness, I pried my eyelids open a sliver but saw only darkness. Was I blind? No. A blur of headlights flashed by and I realized I was still in the back of the car. The surface supporting me from behind was no longer cloth against my bare skin. It was now skin to skin, warm to my clammy cold. I realized why as Niko's voice came quietly. "Robin, I need your shirt. Mine's soaked through."

Soaked through with blood. I could still feel it, hot and wet against my stomach. As much as Nik was trying to hold it in, my blood just kept rushing out. It had a mind of its own, just like I did, I thought hazily, riding the waves from ache to agony and back again. I could see Robin's maneuvering in the front from the corner of my eye. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he used the other to pass his shirt back to Niko. "How's he doing?"

A saturated ball of cloth was discarded on the floorboards and replaced with a pad carefully folded from Goodfellow's shirt. Silence was the answer to Robin's question, and a neatly eloquent answer it was. "We're not far," Nik observed, the troubled note buried so deeply under his still reserve it was barely detectable. "Just keep driving."

And just where were we going? I wondered. Not the hospital. That wasn't an option on any level. They wouldn't want to expose my big bad self to civilians. And let us not forget that in a hospital setting, silver eyes wouldn't be considered just a fashion statement. They would attract attention, the wrong kind of attention to say the least. Then the X-rays, the CAT scans, the surgeon's nimble hands, would all see and notice things that couldn't be ignored. It was amazing what a human mind could circumvent given enough leeway, but with enough evidence society-at-large would no longer be able to bury their heads in the sand. No, there would be no hospital. Still, Niko was doing his best to keep me from bleeding to death for a reason. Now, where—

I didn't have a chance to finish the thought as Goodfellow shattered my tenuous concentration with another comment. "Darkling is stubborn, Nik. He won't give up any more than you will." He hesitated and went on with apology. "He's found a perch he likes. Short of killing Cal, I honestly don't see a way of shaking him loose."

"Take the Verrazano." As far as Niko seemed to be concerned, the puck may as well not have spoken. The bridge… that meant we were headed to Staten Island. It meant something, but what exactly couldn't find purchase in my hazy thoughts.

Robin's forceful exhalation was followed by a grim chuckle. "You are one exasperating son of a bitch, I will give you that. I should've given you every car on the lot and counted myself lucky to see your backs."

"It probably would have been the wiser thing to do." Niko bowed his head against mine as he said soberly, "Don't think I don't know what you've done for us, Goodfellow. Without your help Cal and I would be dead now." The "if we were lucky" hung in the air, implied if not spoken.

"Don't forget the part where I helped save the world," Robin pointed out, recovering his cockiness in a heartbeat. "Robin Goodfellow, hero. It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

I almost snorted in unison with Nik at the flagrant preening. My eyelids had drifted shut some time ago and I'd not noticed. The darkness of that wasn't so different from the darkness of our rushing through the night. And that in itself wasn't so different from flying. I was slipping slowly and surely back into the swaddling arms of a state much deeper than sleep. As I went, I heard my brother's whisper in my ear. "Stay with me, Cal. We're almost there. Stay with me."

He'd known that I was awake. He'd known all along, just as he now knew I was sliding away. Gravity had seemingly doubled, pressing down with the weight of a cave-in. The air was becoming thicker, moving in and out of my lungs like sludge. Each breath took more effort, each one farther away than the last. Cal might not know what it felt like to die, but I did. Vicariously speaking. I'd inflicted enough death in my day to recognize in intimate detail every shuddering breath, every failing heartbeat. This body, this joined life, was hovering, and it wasn't long before it stopped hovering and started falling. I was hoping I made the right decision, and I was banking on Niko to save my ass. Banking hard.