One push.
Holy fuck.
8
I woke up to the sound of Cal vomiting. I pulled on my shirt and was in the hall in seconds. Robin, Cherish, and that Xolo creature were sleeping in the upper part of the two-story loft. I’d taken Seamus’s room, while Cal had the couch and Promise first watch. Now Promise stood outside the closed bathroom door, looking bewildered and not a little worried.
“I woke him for his watch. He was fine. We talked . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence, setting a hand against the wall beside the door. “And then he said he was sick.” Truly confused, she shook her head. “Humans. You get sick. Does he need a doctor?”
Humans got sick, but Cal had only once—when he was small. At the time, I’d thought it was stomach flu, but as time passed more and more I was beginning to think he’d drunk something toxic while I wasn’t watching him closely enough. A lethal dose of Sophia’s whiskey, perhaps—something that would’ve killed a completely human child, because he’d never been sick before or again. An advanced immune system; the only good thing to ever come out of an Auphe genetic inheritance.
And she, our doting mother, had so many bottles lying about that it was impossible to dispose of them all. Not that I hadn’t tried . . . for Cal’s sake. But Sophia had been a lost cause long before I was born.
“No,” I said immediately. “No doctor.” No doctor to spot what shouldn’t exist in the mundane world.
“Yes, I forgot.” She stepped back as I turned the knob and opened the door.
“Wake Robin for watch,” I suggested as I stepped through.
“No. I’ll wait. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” The worry deepened. “We were but talking,” she murmured, with a touch of guilt in her voice. It was a guilt I’d have to worry about later.
I closed the door behind me. “Cal?”
Done for the moment, he had his forehead resting on the toilet seat. He turned to look at me, sweat-drenched strands of black hair plastered to his jaw and forehead. “She never saw it,” he said hoarsely. “It was right behind her and she never saw it. Oh, Jesus.” He threw up again, more dry heaving than anything else, and when he was done, I was there with a wet washcloth and a white tube.
“You know it’s a crappy day when you’re using a dead vampire’s toothpaste. Ultrafright—it figures.” He gave me a sickly grin to go with the bad joke as he washed his face, avoiding his reflection as always, then put an inch of paste on his finger and started scrubbing his teeth with a grimace.
I waited until he was done spitting and rinsing before asking, “What didn’t she see?” The glance he slid me was so lost and glassy, I hated to ask again, but I did. “What didn’t Promise see? You were talking to her, you became sick. What didn’t she see?”
“No wonder they want me. No wonder they’re so goddamn sure I’m the answer to everything. I am.” He threw the tube of toothpaste in the sink and slammed both fists against the bathroom mirror, the lost quality turning to fury. The mirror cracked, but stayed in one piece. That wasn’t true of the glass surrounding the shower when Cal ripped the toilet lid free and slung it. The glass flew inward, some down to the tile floor, some bouncing off the tile wall. If he’d had his combat boots on, the other wall would’ve been kicked in in several spots. As it was, he had to settle for a few deep breaths to regain control.
“Done?” I asked. I didn’t dwell on how quickly he had done all that damage—how he’d been much faster than he normally was. As fast as I was, which he never had been, and nearly as fast as the Auphe.
A hank of hair had broken free of the tie to hang down several inches past his jaw as he turned his head to stare at me. “We have to go. Just for an hour or two, but we have to go.” He moved past me, flung the door open, and was yelling Robin’s name.
It happened in a remarkably short period of time. Robin, as well as the others, was told that Cal and I were leaving. When Robin protested about what had happened to the staying together to save our lives scenario, Cal had replied, “Call my cell. One ring and I’ll make a gate. We’ll travel back. Nik and I both will. We’ll be here in seconds.” He knew how I felt about that and shot me a darkly desperate look, and I’d given a nod of agreement. Something was wrong, obviously. The sooner I found out what it was, the better. Ignorance is never bliss, it’s only ignorance—often with a less-than-tasty coating of your oblivious blood.
It’s always better to know.
And I still thought that when we sat on the outskirts of Seward Park and Cal told me what had happened. He huddled under his jacket against the cold. “I wasn’t mad.” He’d hooked his fingers through the metal of the park bench on either side of his legs and clenched them there until the skin blanched white. “I wasn’t even that pissed. Hell, I’d started it, trash talking her kid. I wasn’t mad,” he repeated, dropping his head with that still-loose piece of hair swinging low.
“You weren’t angry,” I said, though I knew better.
Weren’t angry? He was still angry.
I reached over and pulled the tie from his hair, letting the rest of the mess fall free, and put the holder in my coat pocket. “Not at Promise, who brought up feelings about your past and about who you are. Who was saying you’re a burden to me.” Which I did not expect to hear repeated—would not tolerate being repeated. Not about my brother. “But more importantly, not at Promise, who has hurt me.” I rested a hand on the back of his neck and squeezed. “There are so many layers within us, Cal. Stairs, really. Standing at the top, you were fine. Truth is truth, uncomfortable or not. But go down those stairs and on every one something is waiting. Me, Promise, you yourself—with two monsters as parents. Go down far enough and anyone who’s lived your life will find anger. You said something unkind; Promise said the same back. And then, to make matters worse . . .” I moved the hand from his neck to briskly swat his head. “You want to protect me. Ass. Rest assured, whatever happens with Promise, I can protect myself fine.”
He rubbed the back of his head, but not with much spirit. “The human half of me might know that, but the Auphe part didn’t get the e-mail. I don’t remember doing it. Swear to God, Nik. I don’t remember.”
“Of course you don’t. You didn’t do it purposefully.” I sat for a moment, trying for just the right analogy . . . one that could make him understand. “Do you see that squirrel?”
He looked up and saw it scampering in long dead leaves across the way. “Yeah. Fluffy. Cute. Whatever.”
“Watch.” I took his ponytail holder and tossed it at the rodent. It ran immediately, scuttled up the tree, and cursed me fiercely. Dye it black, and it would be a good imitation of Cal and his morning bitching. “It ran. Did you see?” Before he could respond, I asked, “What do you think a cat would’ve done? Would it have run?”
He shrugged, the wind whipping his hair. “Nah, he would pounce on it. It’s a cat thing.”
“It’s an instinct thing,” I corrected. “Humans and Auphe have instincts too. Humans get angry and they snap, turn red, maybe yell, maybe even hit . . . maybe on a very rare occasion, kill. An Auphe gets angry . . .” I inclined my head toward him.
“It always kills,” he finished slowly. “It gets angry and it always kills.”
“You can’t erase evolution.” I went after the tie and brought it back to him. “You have some Auphe instincts; there is no way to avoid that. You’re like the cat, only you didn’t pounce. You started to, a half-grown instinct drove you to, but you didn’t. And you won’t.”
“You don’t know that.” He took the tie and shoved it in his own pocket.
“I do know that,” I countered without a shred of doubt. “You could’ve kept silent and she would’ve stepped backward through the gate, but you took her hand. You closed the gate and you kept her safe. You were sleepy, annoyed, about two hours away from real consciousness, and you still ignored instinct and kept her safe. You have an unbreakable will, Cal.”