CHAPTER TEN

CAL

My brother loved me. He did. Like no other probably ever would. He sat up with me for three hours, mostly to keep me awake (I'd gotten a hard pinch when I'd passed out outside the apartment –no rest for the weary and concussed). He had me on the toilet seat of our bathroom, needle and thread in steady hands. I was shaking, trembling, but no one said a word about it.

Ishiah had patched Robin up in our kitchen and now the puck was leaned against the bathroom door, watching me more than Niko's skilled work. I ignored him. Actually I pretty much ignored everyone. I assumed Ishiah was in the living room cleaning up the wolf mess there, but I didn't care. Numbness had set it, which made getting stitches a little easier, especially because most of the fourteen Niko had to put in were along my neck. There was nothing we could do about my ear; Delilah had taken a little crescent hunk out of the top curl of the shell. It had been a warning I hadn't heeded. Not that I didn't have plenty other scars, I was a regular scratching post for the dark and twisted of the universe.

The silence in the apartment was deafening, interrupted only by the clink of a needle to the sink or the crackle of Niko opening another sealed package of gauze. My arm was already wrapped in a tight bandage; no completely broken, but fractured –praise tenacious Auphe bones. I winced at the needle when it bit into my flesh where the local antithetic didn't crept to quite yet. Niko's gray eyes fixed on me for a lingering moment, then he sighed. "I should have canceled the job."

"Not your fault." It was my mantra for the last few hours as well. Every claim they made, every statement was replied with the same whether it be slurred, half-asleep, or just slow and numb. It wasn't their fault. None of them. It was mine. I left him vulnerable. Because of my choices he was exposed to Delilah as my weakness, because of my previous choices with her he became a target before he was even born.

Nik's hand coasted over my nape. He knocked his forehead to mine and squeezed the tense muscles above my shoulders. I felt the pain, but welcomed it, deserved it. "Cal, listen to me. We'll get him back. We've been through this before, with you, with me, with Georgina—"

I snapped my head toward him, would he have been anyone other than my ninja-quick brother we would have smacked our heads together with the motion. He pulled back though, still holding onto my nape, then coming to the same quick conclusion as I did. "George."

His gray eyes were skeptical though. There had been times before, many times, that George refused to tell us what we demanded. She did so in tears, hating that she couldn't help us. Couldn't tell Niko where I was when Darkling had taken possession of my body like his new ride. Couldn't tell me if I would ever kill her should we try for that white picket fence. Well, she could, but she wouldn't, not even if a life was at stake, not even if her own life was at stake. She believed, whole-stupid-heartedly that her gift and life itself had purpose and everything happened for a reason.

Yeah, fuck fate. If there was some all great and powerful reason for me and mine to go through the twenty-eight levels of hell that we did over the years there better be a damn good prize at the end of that shit rainbow. And that train of thought was probably one of the reasons George and I would never work out. A creature as blood-stained and jaded as me could never be with one as pure as our little psychic. I needed, I knew now, someone that knew that life was shit and still smiled. Not because she accepted a life like that, but because she knew how to make it better, fun, tolerable. Maybe George would have been able to do that if I'd given in, but that was idle curiosity. Curious, but no regrets. Besides I'd already lost the woman that was exactly what I needed and I was about to lose the son I created with her. "We have to try."

"George is in town?" Robin asked, perking up. None of us had seen the college bound girl since her father passed and even then it was from a distance. It was her uncle Samuel that we spoke to, forcefully, considering the shit it put us through with the Auphe and later his fellow Vigil cohorts. "Let me go. I'll go talk to her."

He said it quickly, almost stumbling over the words. I'd never seen Goodfellow so eager to do something that didn't involve a bed or some other location appropriate for sexual conduct. Ah, who was I kidding? 'Appropriate' was one of the few words that the puck dictionary skipped. His green eyes flickered between us in pleading. "You should stay and wait for Promise, or maybe Delilah's demands—"

"Loman," I said, trying for affectionate, but it came our sternly. "I'm serious. This isn't your fault. You did everything you could."

"I told you he would be safe with us—"

"And if this was as simple as Delilah wanting to piss me off, he would have been safe," I countered. I rolled my shoulder to test out Niko's work. It ached and twinged, but the stitches kept me together. He'd taped gauze there too, which was already becoming stained with orangeish ooze. The bitches tore into me with the real purpose of threat. "They weren't playing, they were warning me, showing me what they could do. In preparation of blackmail."

Delilah had teased me and taunted me yesterday and even today, but I knew better. If it had all been a game, she would never have so many of her pack with her. Just the fact that she sent three of her pack minions to the warehouse with the knowledge that Nik and I would slaughter them spoke of the investment she had in this. She drove a jeep into Robin's car, she hunted them down a human-populated road, attacking relentlessly until she had my son. The Lupa wanted him and they didn't just want him to show the half-Auphe who was boss or slap me on the wrist for shooting Delilah last fall. Disrespect was a death sentence with the Kin, but this was more and I didn't understand the big picture until I almost slipped on another postcard when I'd hobbled into the apartment. Nik snatched it up and tossed it on the table inside the front door, forgotten in my medical emergency moment. But I saw –just like the last one– it had no return address, was in Catcher's surprisingly neat scrawl, and had a little stamped paw print in one corner. Amazing I could gather that much with one glance, while I could barely stay on my own two feet; Niko would be so proud.

But I noticed on the first one...it had smelled like werewolf. And not like Catcher was a werewolf and he wrote it and maybe licked the stamp. This was a more recent scent. A werewolf had dropped it off. A werewolf had found where Nik and I lived and dropped it off for an old friend or an old debt to Rafferty or whatever the reason, but the Kin found out. Delilah found out we were in contact with Rafferty again; the Kin's ticket to the All Wolf. And now that she was super Alpha on a mission she was hunting him down so she could be the queen of the chew-toy munchers. Fucking dogma. I would have never guessed it either, if she hadn't explicitly told me what she wanted.

"The postcards," I told Nik. We hadn't left the bathroom and both of them were still watching me as if I was about to go horizontal again. "Catcher's postcards. Someone's been dropping them off and Delilah found out about it. She knows we know, or thinks we know, where Rafferty is. She already made the demand. Rafferty for Dante. She's stepping up her game."

"I apologize for apparently missing the fact that the two of you actually received a parcel in the post, and mind you this is a momentous and proud occasion that we should relish and discuss at a later date, but Catcherhas been sending you postcards?"

We hadn't told him, what with the Auphe stork dropping off my new son and all it kinda slipped our minds. "Catcher's back on two feet," I explained. "Don't know how or why."

"He's been sending friendly greetings and nothing more," Nik went on. "It seems they are living a relatively normal life for once." And good for them. They deserved it.

I stood from the toilet, happy that I could do so without my brain spinning around inside my head. "So what now?"

Niko took in a deep breath through his nose and squinted up at the small windows near the roof. The bathroom partition only went up about nine feet, leaving the view of the rising sun clear to paint the apartment with shadows and inflamed orange. I hoped Promise found some good cover.

"You need to stay awake for the next few hours. I suppose we can try and track Georgina down." Niko's eyes flickered over to catch and hold mine. "But if we run into trouble I want you out of it. And no gates, you'd probably get a brain hemorrhage from it." He pushed me out of the bathroom between my shoulders. "Let me get cleaned up, Robin watch him. Make sure he keeps his eyes open."

"You ask too much of me," Robin grumbled and actually kicked me in the ass lightly to get me farther down the hall. I went into my room with the puck following me, too tired and weary to argue with him. I stripped out of my jeans one-handed; my shirt was still lying on the bathroom floor and probably would stay there until Niko picked it up in frustration a week from now. I could hear Goodfellow snort behind me either commenting that my strip tease was seriously lacking or merely surprised I would expose myself to the horniest pan in the world. Thankfully my boxers were relatively unmarked by blood or teeth, which let me leave myself somewhat guarded. I was still pretty quick about getting into another pair of black jeans though. I sifted through my closet to find a clean shirt and ended up on my knees, when black shadows ringed around my vision.

Robin's was pulling me up in the next moment before I lost consciousness in the stench of my own dirty laundry. "She slammed you hard, didn't she? I haven't seen someone keel over like that since, blah, blah, blah." Okay, so maybe he didn't finish off the sentence like that, but I wasn't in the mood for historical anecdotes. And he went on for several minutes, putting me in a fog enough that I didn't even realize I wasn't dressing myself. He clapped his hands to my cheeks, once he got my head through the black tee. The connection was just enough to sting without jostling my brain. "Stay with me, Caliban. Focus."

"Robin?" I heard Niko's voice from my doorway, surprised it had been long enough for him to shower and dress...and rearm himself. Shit. I was losing time too.

"Niko, I don't know about this. I think we might want to take him to Nushi first?"

"I already tried to call him. He's out of the country again," Niko said softly. He knelt in front of me, long blond braid damp from his shower. He had a flashlight in hand, darting it across my eyes and making me flinch at the pain of it in the back of my head. "I think Robin may be right."

"I'm not staying here," I argued and pushed up on my feet. I felt a little better now. My head still throbbed like a bitch, but at least I was pretty sure the side effects of traveling had passed. "I'm going to George's house. I don't care if her parents think I'm a zombie."

"You're looking pretty close," Niko sighed. "Go wash up a little, hm? I don't want them thinking I'm abusing you either." I was glad he didn't try and dissuade me anymore. He knew I could be just as stubborn as him and this wasn't even about what I wanted anymore. This was about getting my son back and if we saved the little Wenca kid and killed the entirety of the Lupa pack while we were at it more power to us.

Stepping out into the living room after washing off my face and neck from dried blood, I was surprised to find it almost clean save for the lingering scent of blood and bleach. Ishiah was wiping his hands on a towel, when I entered. His blue-gray eyes raked over me with suspicion, and he crossed his arms over his chest looking entirely too much like Niko for my tastes. "He's still tilting while he walks." Was I?

I straightened and tried to look a little less shaky. "I'm fine."

Ishiah tilted his chin up in defiance, but it was aimed over my shoulder to where I knew Robin was standing at my shoulder, shrugging on his coat which still had a large gape in the soft leather at his shoulder. "You are not going with them." Goodfellow snorted again this time not at me.

"You are neither my keeper nor my superior so what makes you think you can control a creature as breathtakingly bold and marvelous as any could dream of being? Please give me reason to listen to one more word that comes out of your overly righteous mouth, Ishiah of the dwindling Cheris Clan."

I lifted my eyebrows at that; a bit of a harsh blow coming from Robin. The only reason the Cheris clan was dwindling at all was because of me and Cassie. Well, the clan itself was pretty much responsible for their own destruction considering that Castiella wouldn't have even slapped them with her bare hand if they had left us alone. But then they shot me and that pissed Cassie the hell off. It also instigated her to leave me for my own protection. And on top of his niece slaughtering his brothers to save me, Ishiah had the knowledge that his own boyfriend stabbed his father in the heart for similar reasons. I didn't really know how many Cheris peris were left, but I knew Ishiah's immediate family was down to two; him and some punk-ass prick named Joel.

Ishiah didn't really react to the barb other than to sigh. "Because I'm asking you to, Robin. Because I'm pleading for you to listen to me, for once, and oblige my request."

Robin glanced over at me, concern fleeting over his handsome face, then looked back at his boyfriend resolutely. "I have an obligation to these boys too, Ishiah. They're my friends and right now that are in need of my superb and limitless skills with the sword—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Goodfellow," I growled and shoved his shoulder, the wounded one. No one could claim me a gentle creature. "Go crash on the couch for a few hours. You can hold vigil over me when I get back all you want."

"Cal—"

I was getting annoyed now. "Robin, this is not your fault. Understand me? Not. Your. Fault. Not yours, not Promise's, I'm beginning to think it's not even completely mine. So if you want to help me, if you want to make up what ever falsified debt you have to me. Heal, get back on par, and help me put some flea-ridden bitches out of their misery."

He smiled at me. "Welcome back, Kujo."

"Back at ya, Cassanova. Now get on the couch."

Ishiah and Robin stayed, agreeing to try and get in contact with Promise as well as attempt to phone in a few favors to find out where the mystery werewolf mailman might be at present. I doubted he or she would be of much help, but anything was beneficial when you'd hit rock bottom. I grabbed the postcard on the way out the door, re-stocked on guns and ammo (Niko had retrieved my precious Desert Eagle from where I dropped it). I flipped the cardstock over as Niko kicked the door closed. The thing had been nearly ripped of its hinges this time.

Catcher was writing us from North Carolina this time, some beach and sun place called Corolla. This one held similar greetings as the other. Mentioned how he was trying to get Rafferty to roadtrip it up to New York, but it was a little dangerous for them right then. I took that to mean they knew the Kin were after them, seeing how the werewolf mafia was a little more prevalent here than any other city. I passed it back to Niko.

"We going to call Rafferty?"

"Later, yes." He didn't have to explain what we would say. There was no way we would ask Rafferty to come to our aid. He just got his cousin back to the land of the marginally intelligent it would be cruel to ask them to risk their lives for us again. Suloyak was desperation. We knew we wouldn't be able to stop the anti-healer without Rafferty, there was no way. The world would have stopped turning, or at least it wouldn't have been just tolerantlypolluted as it was now. But the Kin? Niko and I had faced the Kin before, fought them, falsely worked beside them, and killed them. And I knew Delilah. I knew I could kill Delilah as long as five wolves weren't breathing down my neck and simultaneously trying to rip it out. We could get Dante back without Rafferty and Catcher, but that didn't mean we weren't going to warn them about the price on their heads.

There were police lights flashing around the street Robin had lost his car. I had faith that my friends thought ahead to swipe the plates, but Niko and I still weren't willing to stroll on by and be spotted. Especially because I saw the large black van among the blue-striped white police cars and recognized it as a Vigil vehicle. I didn't want to be anywhere near those bastards right now. It'd probably end up killing a few just for putting me through all this fatherly stress. When this all died down, though, I was certainly giving Samuel a call...find out what they hell they did to us.

Niko and I ducked down the closest alley, cutting down secluded streets. We took the subway to George's neighborhood, banking on the possibility that she and her friends were staying at her parents for free rent while they visited. Niko led the way, as the only place I knew to find her was the old ice cream shop or my own front door; she had a knack for knowing exactly when I was searching for her. Subconsciously or consciously. This crisp morning was no different.

We found her sitting on her parent's stoop with her scowling boyfriend lounging a step below her, protecting. His eyes flung the sharpest of daggers at me as I came around the corner after my brother. He actually stood up before George did and then I noticed her had a gun in his hand. Oh, look, I had one too. I pulled out my Glock from behind my back with my left hand and held it my side as a precaution. A human didn't threaten me, but that didn't mean that I was going to put up with it. He was a hunter, but I was a predator, there was a vast difference.

"Cal," Niko growled at me. I didn't ask how he knew my physical action without eyes in the back of his head. I didn't holster the weapon though, just kept it at my side so the Scarecrow could see it. George flowed to her feet in a rich teal green dress that fell to just below her knees, she had a sweater tucked around her arms, long enough that just the tips of her fingers appeared when she slid her fingers down Josh's arm to the Barreta 9 mm in his hand.

"Both of you please stop," she said, her voice all honey and sunlight. She smelled of the same, with just a hint of cinnamon. Niko stood purposefully between Josh and me, regarding George with a warm almost smile that wasn't entirely faked. She returned it ten-fold, with a saddened haze over her usually bright stare. "Niko." She stepped down to the sidewalk and wrapped him up in a careful hug. Careful only because she knew how many blades were hiding under his long duster. "Hello, Niko. How have you been?"

"I've been better, as I'm sure you know." They stepped back from each other. Niko's hands falling to his sides and George tucking hers around her waist in the folds of her sweater. I could tell by her expression that she knew very well why we were here and had a feeling she wasn't going to tell us. It hurt, somehow, it still hurt and angered me that she would be that way.

"Just tell me where he is," I pleaded.

"You're an asshole," Josh interjected. He stomped down the steps, brushing by George and trying to do the same to Niko, but my brother blocked his path with the scabbard of one sword under his coat. So the genius decided to point his gun in my direction and throw words in my face. The safety was on, but with the way he held the gun I knew he wasn't a novice; he just wasn't a killer. That would have made me concerned for George considering his temper, but I could tell it was just me bringing it out in him. The man was shown a monster and he stepped in front the innocent girl to face it. It didn't concern me; it made me relieved that she had someone who knew how to shoot the sickos of the world that would eagerly use her purity and gifts as their own, human or nonhuman. I could say something for him though; he had a pretty intimidating fire in his eyes.

"You nearly got her killed before! She loved you and you brushed her aside only to come back when it's convenient. When you need help. When you want to use her."

"Josh, stop it." I'd never heard her scold someone before. She'd called me stubborn several times, lectured me on how I should live and stop running. But looked what happened when I did. When I found a nice girl to settle down with and have a family with...my lover died by the hands of the most vicious creatures of the world and probably all beyond ours and my son was kidnapped by the werewolf mafia. "He's scared. His son is missing."

"Probably better off," Josh countered. I lifted the Glock, but it was just as quickly pushed down by Niko. Josh's wasn't pushed down, it remained aimed directly at my forehead; safety still on. I'd worry about the bullet when he actually meant to fire. After a second or so, Josh tilted the gun to the side and lowered it. His expression changed drastically, green-brown eyes dropping to the ground for just a moment. Stupid of him, if I really was the monster he thought me I would have shot him in the head in just that instant. "I'm sorry, that was..." he shook his head and met my gaze with confidence. There was still tension in his body, wound up like a toy monkey with a broke string. "I don't like you. I don't trust you, but I don't know you well enough to say that. I'm sorry."

That surprised me a little, the sincerity in his tone. He slid the Barreta into his waistband at his back and for the first time I actually looked him over with the respect of a fellow man. He looked like one of those guys that frequented the gym and not to pick up chicks. In a bar fight he would probably fair well, in a bar fight at the Ninth Circle he would be the topping on the potato skins. "Still think you're an asshole." But I was beginning to like him.

I shrugged. "Everyone's entitled to their opinions. And many others share yours."

"And yet George believes in you, that's gotta hold some merit. So say your piece and get gone."

I slid my Glock back in my own waistband and tugged my tee over it, ignoring the twinge in my right arm. "I don't have much to say. I just want to know where my son is. I just want to get him back." I turned my gaze on George, trying my best to show her my desperation without seeming pitiful. Though I'm sure she knew, without a word I'm sure she saw how much I needed this.

"I can't," George answered with a shake in her usually sunny voice. The sound could make a puppy whine in sympathy, but not me. "I'm sorry, Caliban, but I can't."

"He's my son, George. Not even two years old! You think it's his fate to be torn apart by a pack of sadistic mafia werewolves?" I clenched my fists to stop from grabbing and shaking her. Pain arced up my arm to my shoulder. I almost could hear my cracked bone creak. "I know your morals and your code, but he's only a baby. I just want to know where he is. Just the address. You've done it before. Just an address."

"There is no address," George whispered. "He's mobile. I've tried Cal. The moment I knew you were coming I tried. Every time I look the location is different. There's a cage, and a methodical rocking, the squeak of tires..."

"A car?" I asked. "He's caged up in the back of a van?"

George nodded, wrapping her arms around her waist a little more tightly. "I can't see anymore than that." Her soft eyes flickered up to me. "No plates, no markings, black."

"The Vigil?" Their uniform was a fucking black van.

She shook her head, red curls bouncing. "No. I saw her. Delilah. But I couldn't see how many others."

I hesitated only a moment, then stepped forward, around Niko, to cup one side of George's face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Thank you." A few of her amber curls got caught between my fingers, sliding over them as I removed my hand before Josh decided to take his safety off. I offered her a sad smile, then turned to leave. She caught my injured hand, I winced, and she let go immediately.

"Cal...you can't blame yourself for this or anything else that may happen. Your son...he—" she stopped herself, but I didn't press. It was the first time she started to tell me something important that I hadn't demanded of her. Well, it was the first time that I wanted to listen to the something important that I hadn't demanded of her. I faced her again, waiting, Niko silent as stone beside me. George swallowed as she stared at the sidewalk outside her parent's house. "When I looked at your future...when I saw you with her, he wasn't there."

I felt my heart lurch; it was certainly getting a work out tonight. "He was there." I told her with more certainty than I felt. "You just didn't see him." Dante would be fine. We would get him out and we would make the Kin too scared to look at us anytime in the near future. If George didn't see him he was out visiting with Uncle Niko, or he was being babysat by Robin while me and my honey had a romantic night out, but he was there. I wasn't about to buy into all this mystic shit of fate. There were choices, paths, or highways –something. George saw one. That was it. George just saw one of many and it was the wrong one, because I was going to get my son back. "Thanks, George." I glanced over at Josh, raising my chin just briefly in respect. "Watch out for her."

"Always," Josh replied easily. "Good luck with your son."

Niko and I didn't talk as we walked home, though he watched me with a sullen look in his eyes. I ignored it, because there was nothing to be sullen about. We lost Dante, but we'd get him back. That's what we did. No Leandros left behind.