Warning: For those still working their way through the series, while this takes place in Death Masks, it does contain MAJOR SPOILERS for Blood Rites.

Let's Not be Dull

I walked out of the tavern, having consigned my little brother to a Duel of wills with a six-hundred-plus-year-old warlord of the Red Court.

"That was simple enough," I told said little brother as I sauntered up to him.

Little brother is a bit of a misnomer in my situation. I'm by no means short, standing just shy of six feet tall, but Harry is not quite seven feet tall at six-foot-nine, so little really doesn't apply to him in the physical sense. He was mostly made of long, sharp angles, both in his face and in his lanky frame that could honestly use some more meat on it. I suppose lean could be used to describe him, but more in the sense of underfed than compact muscle. Not to say that there wasn't noticeable muscle on him, just that he wasn't sculpted like myself. We really didn't look much alike, despite both being pale of skin and dark of hair, seeing as we took after our respective fathers. But upon closer inspection, one might notice the shared shape of our eyes and jaws that we inherited from our mother.

It was a difference between Harry and I compared to my sisters and I, who did look like they were related to me for the most part. I suppose my father's genes were just dominant in his children.

"Though I take it this duel isn't the only game in town at the moment," I fished. Irregardless of appearance, Harry was family, even though he didn't know it, and I was going to help him however I could.

"Why would you say that?" Harry queried back warily.

"I've had a pro hitter following me ever since I landed yesterday. The itch between my shoulder blades got annoying," I replied breezily. It wasn't my first rodeo. I'd learned at a young age to identify tails and assassins.

"Is he here now?" Harry asked, eyes flickering around in search for the hitter. He had good technique, even checked upwards. So many people fail to check up, which is why predators like dropping down on their prey.

"No. I introduced him to my sisters," I told him, pleased with the ease I'd handled the threat. My father may have had no love for me, but my sisters mostly cared. Or at least were pleased enough to receive a buck for the cheap price of making him not my problem anymore. We're monsters, and while I try not to indulge my Demon, that doesn't mean I'm afraid of handing my unwanted problems over to my sisters' demons, since they don't have my moral hang-ups. Besides, sharing is caring and all that jazz.

Harry twitched upon catching my drift. Just a little movement of the eye. I wasn't sure whether it meant he approved and didn't want to show it or was disgusted with my actions. I think it was the latter, given what little I knew of him, but he was known as a bit of a wildcard.

"The gunman was probably Ortega's," he eventually said, glancing in the direction Ortega had driven off in. "He hired some goons to take out people I knew if I didn't agree to this duel." My little brother sounded guilty about it, like it was his choice to place hitmen in position to hurt his friends.

"That explains it, then. Ortega doesn't really like me much." Mostly because of the night I first met Harry and how I assisted in getting his 'daughter' killed by the Black Sheep of the White Council. "Must be the unsavory company I've kept in the past."

"Gee, thanks." Damn, my brother could do heavy sarcasm. I was just a little bit proud. "How the hell did you end up his second?"

"It's my father's idea of a joke. Ortega asked him to be his second. Show of solidarity between the Red and White Courts. Instead, Daddy dearest found the most annoying and insulting member of the family he possibly could to stand in." And I did mean 'find,' seeing as I had been enjoying an off-the-books vacation when his goon squad had showed up.

"You," Harry said in a flat voice.

"C'est moi," I agreed, adding some flair with a presenter's bow. "One would almost think Father was trying to get me killed." Anyone who was part of the White Court or knew of my father's general handling of sons would know he was.

Harry smirked in amusement at my theatrics. It's always nice to have an appreciative audience. Lara tends to just role her eyes at me when I try for a bit of flair.

"Nice father figure. Him and Bill Cosby," he played along. Somedays I wish I could dredge up the courage to just tell him we were brothers. The banter alone just might be worth it.

"How's Justine?"

That brought my mood down.

"She's in Aruba is how she is. Which is where I was until one of pappa Raith's goons dragged me back up here." I didn't mention how they'd threatened Justine if I didn't get my ass up here to risk my life as Ortega's second. Nor how they remained at her side to 'protect' her in case I got any ideas about flaking out. I have to admit I was tempted to do so, just to see if I couldn't bring Ortega down on a forfeit, thus sparing my little brother the duel, but I just couldn't do that to Justine.

"What did you two decide on the duel?" Harry asked, drawing my thoughts away from my sweet Justine.

"Can't tell you," I said with a shake of my head. There were formalities to be upheld. "Shiro is supposed to do that. I mean, technically I'm at war with you." Even if I would refuse to kill him, or really do much of anything against him.

"Yeah," he grimaced, turning to stare down the road Ortega left on. "Yeah."

He actually sounded disappointed that we were technically enemies, which was nice. It gave me hope that if─ when I told him about our relation, it might just end up as more than words for him too. Empty Night, I was so tempted to do it now, while we had a vague sense of camaraderie going on, but there were too many eyes and ears here, to say nothing of the timing being suspect as well. I just needed to keep him alive long enough to get the proper chance to tell him.

"He means to kill you," I warned my little brother.

"I know," he said like it was obvious.

"He's dangerous, Harry. Smart. My father is afraid of him," I said, attempting to impart just how dangerous an enemy he was going to get in the ring with. My father had been ruling the White Court for centuries, he did not scare easily.

"I could like him," Harry mused. "It's sort of refreshing to have someone trying to kill me right to my face, instead of throwing me a bunch of curveballs and shooting me in the back. It's almost nice to have a fair fight."

Nononononono. He could not be that naïve about this. He just had to be playing the game with me, right? I could play along, just watch me.

"Sure. Theoretically."

"Theoretically?" He sounded surprised and confused.

Not good, not good. Come on, Harry. You've survived this long, surely you know about the cloaks and daggers everyone on the supernatural side plays with?

"Ortega's been alive for about six hundred years. It isn't something you do by playing nice," I informed him, going for a nonchalant shrug.

"From what I've heard, the Archive will object to any monkey business," he said with a slight frown that implied he thought habitual rule breaking would have no effect on this duel.

I'd admit the Archive was a scary little Power that only a fool would cross by all accounts, but…

"It's only cheating if he gets caught," I countered. I seriously hoped I wouldn't have to explain what that meant, otherwise I would begin to seriously question how my little brother made himself the perfect monkey wrench for any monster he crossed' plans unintentionally.

The frown deepened and he stared intently at me, asking, "Are you saying someone is planning to avoid getting caught?"

I tucked my hands into my pockets to hide the loosening tension at my relief that he was finally catching on.

"I'm not saying anything," I denied. Afterall, I didn't actually know Ortega's plans, I just knew he would cheat if he couldn't take Harry by the rules in the duel. "I wouldn't mind seeing you kick his ass, but I'm sure as hell not going to do something that would attract attention to me." Which was, in part, a lie. I just might draw attention to myself, but only if I actually thought doing so would save Harry's life, and was survivable. I wasn't going to get myself killed just to say I did something.

"You intend to participate without being involved. That's clever," he said like it was a masterful plan.

I gave that the eyeroll it deserved.

"I won't throw a banana peel under you. But don't expect any help from me, either. I'm just making sure it's a fair fight and then I'm back at my beach house." Back to my Justine and not having to worry about watching my little brother die in front of me while I stand by, helpless.

"Good luck," I said in farewell, heading back towards my car.

"Thomas, thanks for the heads-up," Harry called after me.

I couldn't help but pause at that. I hadn't expected a thank-you or anything. It felt… nice, warm, to receive appreciation from one of my siblings. One who knew what kind of monster I was. Inari didn't know any better, so I could be the nice big brother to her.

"Why do it?" he asked into that beat of silence and stillness.

I looked back at him, the open curiosity on his face that made him look younger, and smiled, honest and true.

"Life would be unbearably dull if we had answers to all our questions."

I left on those cryptic words. One day I'd give him the real answer, just not today.

Author's Note

You really do have to wonder what it was like for Thomas, trying to help Harry before he revealed their status as half-brothers.

I didn't add anything about Thomas fighting his Hunger here, mostly because there wasn't much reason. Thomas doesn't seem to be tempted by men in-series and Justine was little more than a short thought here, so I don't think it would have reared its head.