Deathwish can-4

by Rob Thurman

  “And the Auphe?” Cal sat all the way up, the humor gone.

  “They have forever, little brother. We don’t. As long as we have our phones, you can gather us in a matter of seconds.” With the Auphe, seconds was often all they needed, that was true, but the “forever” was true as well. “We can’t only react to them anyway, to only expect them, not if we hope to win. Just as with Oshossi, we need to be more proactive. We need to take this war to them.” Although how, I didn’t know, with Tumulus out of the running. We couldn’t go to them. We could only wait for them to come to us.

  But Cal seemed more confident. And of all of us, he did have the best chance of thinking of a way. Not because he was Auphe, but because he’d been held prisoner by them for two years. He knew them, subconsciously at least, in a way the rest of us couldn’t begin to. “Okay, you’re right. It’s done,” he said simply. He didn’t elaborate, lying back down on the carpet with arms folded across his chest and eyes closed.

  “Considering they’re the most murderous creatures on the planet,” Robin drawled dubiously, “how do you plan on that?”

  “I’ll tell you when I know,” he responded.

  “But if you’re going to spout such outrageous claims, I think that . . .”

  Eyes still shut, Cal held up his forefinger and thumb as if his hand were a gun and pointed it up at Robin, his aim unerring right between the eyes. “I’m a cranky asshole with a gun and superpowers, remember? Try giving me a day to work on it, at least, before you start bitching.” Although I imagined he’d been working on it all along, just as I had. I hoped he had more success than I was having.

  Robin settled back into his chair. “A day is asking much even for one with the patience of Job. Speaking of Job, the real Job, did you know he single-handedly destroyed the concept of property and health insurance in its infancy? If not for him, you would’ve had HMOs two and a half thousand years earlier. But he broke the First Uzite Health and Home Insurance Company in its first year.”

  “You are so massively full of shit.” Cal folded his arms again.

  “Why do you think all insurance companies now exclude acts of God?” he countered smugly.

  He had a point.

  The next morning Cal and I stood on the cracked concrete of Rafferty’s driveway as I said to Robin, “You’re not coming back here tonight, are you?”

  He bounced the keys again and evaded, “As you said, we can’t live this way forever.”

  “You think I’m having the time of my life out here getting my ass kicked in cards by something that looks like he’s one step away from drinking out of the toilet?” Cal said sharply. “Suck it up.”

  “Trust me. I plan on it.” Cal got the smirk he deserved on that one, but it was followed by an almost apologetic shake of his head, “I cannot do it. No more.” Pucks weren’t the types to be tied down against their will, whether something as deadly as the Auphe were the incentive or not. I was surprised he’d made it as long as he had. That he’d done it for us didn’t escape me. He gave Cal a reassuringly breezy grin. “But the second I crave your sour and sullen company, I’ll be back in a flash.”

  “Maybe I’m only sour and sullen when you’re around. Maybe when you’re not there driving me nuts, I’m a regular ray of fucking sunshine. Ever think of that?”

  I’m not worried about you; you’re not worried about me—with their invulnerability to the less testosterone-driven emotions asserted to each other, we were finally ready to leave the playground. “You might want to check on your cat briefly. Very briefly,” I suggested to Robin as he opened the driver’s door to his car. As I’d said before, his home wasn’t safe. “If she killed the neighbor’s dog, what might she do to the neighbor herself?”

  He winced. “Damn. You would have to plant that thought in my mind. Other than that, I will try to avoid my condo, but I may have to put in a small amount of time petting the hairless zombie for a bit—only to keep my furniture intact and my neighbors alive, of course.” He inserted the keys into the ignition. “It’s not as if I miss the smell of ginger in the morning or the jingle of her collar.”

  “You bought that thing a collar?” Cal said in disbelief, missing the real point that indeed Robin missed his cat.

  “Where else would I put her identification tag?” Robin started the car and was out of sight in seconds.

  “Holy crap.” Cal shook his head. “What do you think it says? The tag?”

  “Just the basics, I’m sure.” I headed for our own car, parked on the street. “Dead cat. If found, please call.”

  Promise had wanted to stay with Cherish in case there was an unusual daytime attack. We left them behind windows shuttered against the sun and drove off as Robin had, although with less abstinence-induced speed. We were headed for another talk with Ishiah. Face-to-face was always better than the phone. They can’t see your knife through the receiver.

  Cal bounced from station to station on the radio for several minutes before giving up. “Cherish was telling me stories this morning while you were out back doing your katas.” He slapped hands lightly against his knees. “Well, after she flipped out anyway.”

  “She . . . ah . . . flipped out?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “That card sharp shaved dog of hers was standing by the fridge, looking hungry, so I poured him a glass of goat’s blood.” He pulled a repulsed face. “Personally, I’ll stick with coffee. But Cherish came into the kitchen, freaked the hell out, and slapped the glass out of his hand. She told me I was ‘under no circumstances’ ”—he gave his best haughty imitation—“to feed her beloved Xolo. I was just doing a favor for the mangy mutt.” He shrugged. “But the princess cleaned up the mess herself, actually apologized, and made me coffee. Said Xolo was all she had. She knew she was overprotective. Blah, blah, went into some Dr. Phil crap, and I almost dozed off.”

  He rolled down the window a crack to let in a stream of icy air. I didn’t blame him. Whatever Mickey had used to cover his scent still lingered in the back of the car. “I guess she noticed, because then she started to tell me about all the jobs she’s pulled. She gives Robin a run for his money. Knows everyone. Ripped off ninety-nine percent of them. Should’ve been a puck instead of a vampire. She was also asking where we’d learned to fight, who I thought was the best of all three of us. Could we give her lessons.”

  “I’m surprised the two of you got along well enough to talk,” I said as I watched pearl-white clouds hang heavier and heavier. Snow; you could smell it in the air. “And who of the three did you claim to be best?” I asked, amused.

  “By the two of you, yeah, I know you mean me,” he snorted. “I gave her twenty minutes and tuned her out. That’s the best I could do. As for the best, I’m not that stupid, Nik. I said it was a toss-up between you and Robin, but I definitely came in dead last.”

  With swords that was true. However, with his gates and guns and Auphe genes that were more active all the time, I wondered. If he did lose control for good, Robin and I together might not be enough. I tightened my hands on the steering wheel. But that wasn’t going to happen. Cal wouldn’t give in to it, and I wouldn’t let him.

  Unpleasant and unnecessary thoughts, and I distracted myself with others. He had tried with Cherish, because of what Promise meant to me. Naturally, Cal’s trying fell under the category of not walking out of the room the second she walked in, but it was effort, and I gave it the appreciation it deserved. “McDonald’s drive-thru?” Positive reinforcement; it was a good way to train dogs and brothers.

  After a grease-laden bag was dumped in his lap, he took a bite of something that squirted syrup, dripped bits of egg and biscuit, and lost an entire sausage patty to the floor. “I’m surprised it didn’t come blended in a cup of coffee. It would’ve made things much simpler,” I said with distaste, sticking with the only palatable thing I’d found on the menu: orange juice. And I was careful to check for chunks of waffle floating within. “Did Cherish have anything to offer other than tales of misbehavio
r?”

  “Nope, not that they weren’t fun. She’s not that bad once she gets over herself. She told me one story about some sheik, a huge diamond, and how long it takes something that big to go through a camel’s digestive system. Gotta say, she worked for the money on that one.” He wiped his mouth with the back of my hand. I felt the internal twitch and quelled it. Not every battle is worth fighting. Focus on the war. “Like I said, she was curious about our amazing ass-kicking abilities too, although more you, really. You’re apparently a vampire-nookie magnet. Guess that makes my monster half yesterday’s news.” He finished off the McAngioplasty and stuffed the wadded paper back into the bag. “She also wanted to know where we grew up. How’d you get to be so great a swordsman. Were you always your brother’s keeper.”

  All that in twenty minutes. Cal had been more social than he wanted to admit. “And you said?” It wouldn’t be unusual for her to be curious about the man occupying her mother’s bed. It would be unusual if she weren’t.

  “I said it was none of her goddamn business, and went to take a shower.” He frowned. “At least I’m pretty sure I did. The coffee hadn’t kicked in yet.”

  “Thankfully you were polite,” I said sardonically. Now that was more like the brother I knew.

  “I do what I can.” He leaned the seat back and rolled over onto his side. “She can get in good with the stepdad on her own time. See you in twenty.”

  Cal had pulled the last watch. He needed the nap. I didn’t mind the silence during the drive. I never minded silence. The lingering smell of greasy pork death I could’ve done without, but in life there are always challenges.

  He slept hard, twitching occasionally, until I parked about two blocks down from the Ninth Circle. I didn’t need to guess at his nightmares. They were the same as my own. Insanity, slavery, and far worse. But it wouldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it. Cal wanted to carry the burden this time, but no one could carry that one alone. The moment I turned off the engine, he woke up. He blinked once, took in his surroundings, and said, “You know the only thing Ish will be interested in giving us is his foot up our asses?”

  “You could be right.” Unfortunately for Ishiah, whom I thought so far to be honorable in his fashion, I was more concerned about my brother than I was about his ass-kicking threats. The sooner we solved Cherish’s problem, the sooner we could completely concentrate on our bigger one. And by now some information on Oshossi could’ve surfaced among the bar patrons. “But our options are limited.”

  “You ever think of just hauling Cherish’s ass off to Central Park and dumping her there?” he asked, gray eyes calm and, yes, ruthless. “Let God, Zeus, and Allah sort it out?”

  “No.” She was Promise’s daughter, and although a careless thief, she wasn’t entirely without merit. Although even if she had been, I would do what I could for her for Promise’s sake. And she did seem to be changing for the better . . . or at least trying to. Putting people if not before her, then at least equal to her. It counted for something, especially in one that young. And she did care for Promise now, and that counted for much more than just something. “Do you?”

  He didn’t answer, rubbing his knuckles thoughtfully along his jaw. “I think I’ll plead the Fifth on that one.” Getting out, he slammed the door shut. “Not too fair to Promise to make her think my shit smells like roses if I’m actually thinking something . . .”

  “Survival oriented?” I offered.

  “That sounds better than ‘homicidal.’ Yeah, thinking something survival oriented about her daughter. Let’s go with that.” He started to grin, but it twisted to a frown as his eyes slid from one side of the street to another.

  “Cal?” I looked as well, but saw nothing. That didn’t mean there was nothing to see.

  He looked back at me. “Eh, it’s nothing. Just feeling paranoid. What with the Auphe in heat and a South American ass-kicker after us. Go figure.”

  We walked the two blocks as the snow began to fall. It wasn’t the puffy flakes of Christmas cards and winter wonderlands. It was small pellets of hard white ice that bit at your face and collected under the collar of your coat. Breath billowing in the air, Cal pulled at the handle of the bar’s front door. It didn’t budge. “Huh. It’s past noon. It should be open.” He dug in his pocket for the keys, turned one in the lock, and opened the door. He didn’t go in; he didn’t take even a step. I saw him inhale sharply. His grip on the door handle tightened.

  The lights were out, the windows covered, but I could see Ishiah in the interior gloom of the empty bar. He sat at a table alone with a bottle of whiskey and a glass. “Go away.” His voice was one of the perfectly sober. I thought he wished he weren’t.

  “Who?” Cal asked, his own hoarse.

  “Cambriel.” He lifted the full glass and drained it. “Go away.”

  Cal closed the door with a jerky motion and rested his forehead against it. He had smelled them as soon as he had opened the door. I hadn’t needed to. Seeing Ishiah was enough to know what had happened. Cambriel was a bartender I’d seen before. Cal had talked about him a few times. Had said he didn’t quite have the peri temper that Ishiah had, but damn close. When push came to shove and the bar erupted, he could fight like a winged lion. Hold his own against the wolves, the vampires, the revenants.

  But not against the Auphe.

  Cal had worked at the bar for a while now. Months. Day after day. It was an association the Auphe couldn’t have missed, and one we hadn’t even considered. “It’s just a job, Nik,” he said, closing his eyes. “Just a stupid goddamn job. I didn’t know Cam. I mean, he poured a mean shot and never turned me in if I took a long lunch, but I didn’t know him. Him or Ishiah. They’re just guys I work with.”

  If that were true, and I wasn’t sure that it was, for the Auphe it seemed to be enough. “Call Delilah and let her know.” He didn’t move. I took a handful of his jacket and shook him lightly. “Cal, call. Now.”

  “Okay.” He straightened and stepped away from the door as if it were red-hot. “Call Delilah. All right. I got it.”

  Keeping my eyes on him, I stepped far enough away that he couldn’t hear my conversation with Georgina. She answered on the first ring. “Niko. Hello.”

  “Will you be there?” I asked.

  “I already am.” There was the usual gentle impish-ness in the words.

  Georgina had held court at a tiny ice cream shop since she was eight. People came, they bought ice cream, and they asked what they needed to ask. She alone had kept the shop and its Methuselah-aged owner up and running. She didn’t take money for what she did. Georgina was like that.

  I called Robin next. Friend, enemy, wary ally, whatever Ishiah was to him, he should know what had happened. I caught him in the middle of what I fully expected to and managed to end both his good mood and aerodynamic lift instantly. I disconnected in the middle of his cursing. What he did with the information was his decision, but I had a feeling letting Ishiah drink alone in an empty bar that had been a former Auphe Ground Zero wasn’t going to be the one he made.

  “Cal.”

  His eyes, fixed and bleak, were back on the bar door. At my call, he looked away and shoved his cell phone in his jacket pocket. “Delilah’s okay. Hasn’t seen anything.”

  “Good. Let’s go.” I put my own phone away and felt the brush of steel in my pocket. One of the smaller throwing knives I carried—barely five inches long. I had ten on me now, along with my katana, wakizashi, and tanto blades. It was adequate for an average day. It didn’t feel adequate today.

  “Go where?”

  “Do your meditation,” I advised, turning and heading toward the nearest subway entrance. We had the car, but seeing Georgina meant a very roundabout approach. I didn’t see any Auphe on the rooftops, and Cal obviously didn’t smell any now or sense a gate. They probably weren’t here anymore, but probably wasn’t good enough. We absolutely could not be followed. That meant several evasion tactics, train switches, and fall backs.

  “Why
would I need medi . . . shit, we are not going to see George. We can’t risk that.” He came after me, hand on my shoulder stopping me as he moved in front of me. “Nik, no. Okay? Just no.”

  “It’s all we have,” I explained. “We’ll take care. We won’t be followed.”

  “Can you guarantee that?” he demanded.

  I gave him patient silence as the snow beat harder.

  “Yeah, yeah. You can.” His hand fell away. “I still don’t want to take the chance, and I don’t want to go. She won’t tell us anything anyway. And I really don’t want to see her.”

  Understandable. Hurt; no one wants to embrace that. Cal had done all he could to be rid of Georgina, to save her from precisely the sort of thing that was happening now. The right thing and the easy thing; they could never be one and the same. “She may not, but I want to ask. I have to explore all our avenues, no matter how dim the chance. And you can wait outside.” Because separating was not an option.

  “Shit,” he said again. “Ten blocks down. That’s the best I can give you, Cyrano. I’m not taking any chances on them remembering her. You’re the best, but I just can’t.”

  I didn’t want to take chances with Georgina either, but I was more concerned with his being that far away. But he was stubborn, and if I pushed it, he might take it up to fifteen blocks.

  It took us well over an hour to get to the ice cream shop, but the time was well spent. I knew we hadn’t been followed and I canvassed a four-block radius around the building. I’d left Cal those ten blocks away, huddled in a corner where a liquor store butted up against the larger building next door. “Hurry up,” he said, pulling up the collar on his jacket and sticking his bare hands in his armpits. “My balls are finally getting me some action. Turning them into ice cubes isn’t much of a thanks.”

  “Go inside, then,” I said impatiently. “Buy something—a brain cell, perhaps.”