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Even the fantasies of a sliced and diced Rafferty weren't enough to keep me from contemplating exactly why I'd let Niko take his next-to-best shot to begin with. However, if the fantasies weren't enough to distract me, the approaching voices were. I was peculiarly grateful. It was a subject I wasn't sure I wanted to study, even from the far corner of my eye. Tilting my head toward the door, I could see into the kitchen across the hall. The three of them came through the back door, bringing in the smells of falling leaves, frost-singed grass, and an icy wind. Niko and Robin sat at the table as Rafferty moved over to the refrigerator. Removing three frozen dinners, he shoved them all into the small microwave on the counter. Goodfellow watched, wincing, as the dinners were stacked on top of one another and the timer was jauntily spun with a twist of the wrist.

"This does not bode well," Robin said glumly, running a hand through wind-tousled curls. "I've yet to see culinary delights belched out by one of those devices."

"O ye of little faith," Rafferty rumbled. He slid a look at me across the distance. "Well, well, the baby's awake. Want me to put him back down?" he asked Niko.

Niko shook his head. "Leave it. There's nothing it can do."

Okay, now, that just hurt. My lips peeled back in a manner reminiscent of my earlier visitor. They ignored the snarl and they ignored me. That was worse. I think it was safe to say in my entire long life I'd never been ignored. Reviled, cursed, feared, but never… never ignored. Turning away from me, they continued with what passed for conversation among the sheep. Baa baa baa.

"How're the ribs doing?" Rafferty didn't wait for Niko's reply. Reaching over, he laid a hand on my brother's arm and let his eyelids fall in concentration. A second later he opened his eyes and grunted, "They're knitting. Hurting some, though, huh? How 'bout some Tylenol?"

Amusement a pale watercolor wash across his face, Niko said, "And here I thought you would simply slap the whammy on me."

"Trust me, I save the whammy for bigger and better things." The microwave dinged and he stood, calling over his shoulder, "Catcher, bring us the Tylenol!"

Minutes later, there was the clatter of nails on the worn wood floor and the wolf trotted into the kitchen holding a large red-and-white plastic bottle in his mouth. Robin raised his eyebrows. "That is one smart dog."

I saw Rafferty's shoulders tense and thanks to Cal's memories I knew why. Pretending as if he hadn't heard the comment, he went on to drop the dinners along with silverware on the table before taking the bottle and wiping the outside with a kitchen towel. Shaking out two, he dumped them in Niko's palm. "Dig in. Grub's on."

Peeling back the plastic film, Robin poked at the steaming dinner with a fork and made a face. "A grub or two wouldn't be much of a surprise. Neither would a rodent part or the occasional human thumb."

"You bitched at breakfast, bitched at lunch, and here we go again. You could always cook, Goodfellow. Nothing's stopping you." Rafferty began shoveling food into his mouth with relish.

"Nothing but the lack of even the most rudimentary of the basic food groups." Robin discarded his fork and pushed the uneaten dinner away. "Your pantry is empty and the refrigerator is developing new life and new civilizations as we speak. Perhaps your friend could share his doggy chow with us."

Niko tapped a finger on the back of Robin's hand warningly. "Not a good subject, Robin. Let's move on for the moment."

Goodfellow looked puzzled and his confusion was understandable. Nonhumans, whether monsters or human wannabes like the puck, could sense their own. Some could smell the difference, some could see it in a rainbow-chased aura, and still some sensed it in a way they couldn't even explain. Either way, you knew… You always knew. But there was nothing around Catcher that hinted of anything but the canine-slash-lupine… not to the paranormal senses.

There was silence after that. Apparently no new subject had enough appeal to pop into anyone's mind. Robin sat with chin in hand gazing absently into space.

Rafferty had confiscated the spurned microwave dinner and was making his way steadily through it. Niko had given his to Catcher, placing it carefully on the floor. The wolf stared at it dubiously, then fastened his teeth delicately around the edge, lifted it, and promptly dumped it in the garbage can by the back door.

"Not exactly a ringing endorsement, is it?" Robin drawled.

"Shut the hell up." Rafferty glared at Goodfellow and then turned his scowl back to me. "And you… go to sleep, damn it." If I'd ever needed a sign as to just how powerful the healer was, I received it. Like a light switch had been flicked, I tumbled from light to darkness. He hadn't even needed to touch me. From nearly twenty feet away he'd been able to put me down. It would've been humbling to anyone with less recognition of his own superiority. As I fell, I heard him shift from annoyed to defensive. "Sorry. But he was spooking me with those silver eyes. Jesus, they're freaky as hell."

I wondered dreamily what he would think of his own eyes when I plucked them from his sockets and fed them to him. Then, once again, I was gone.

The next time I awoke, the house was dark. The only illumination was a dull yellow light that spilled dimly down the hallway. It probably came from the den. Rafferty was much too practical to have a living room. He would be harder on the furniture than Catcher.

My position had changed; I was now on my side with a pillow behind my back supporting me. They might hate me, but they couldn't seem to bring themselves to hate what they still thought of as Cal's body. They were taking awfully good care of it. I immediately went to work trying to break the paralysis that held me. It was most likely pointless, but you never knew what the power of sheer rage could accomplish. And I was as coldly furious now as I had ever been. Locked like a falcon in the cage of my own body—it had long since passed irritating and was now just this side of unbearable. I wanted to rend; I wanted to shred; I wanted to kill. I bared my teeth and shook my head violently. But the most I accomplished was one absolute bitch of a headache. I tried to curve my hands into claws, tried to kick free of the covers. Nothing. I was as petrified as a centuries-old piece of wood. Dead and gone.

Yeah, they wished.

Soaked with futile sweat and panting with impotent rage, I heard it. Far down the hall, in the land of the light, came the explosion. It was Rafferty. "No! I won't. Goddamn it, Niko, I can't."

Niko's voice was low, audible only in part. "I know…" and "… sorry…" were all I could catch.

"No, you don't know. If you knew, you would never ask. I'm a healer. I can't kill. I won't kill."

Robin joined in then. "We've tried everything. There is nothing left to us. This would be painless. Cal deserves that. You would be saving him from further suffering. Can't the healer in you see that?"

"So you had me give him life only to turn around and take it?" Rafferty said bitterly. "Why did you bring him here then? Why didn't you just let nature take its course?"

"It was a mistake." Niko spoke louder this time, more firmly, but with as weary a tone as I'd ever heard from him. "My mistake. I thought I saw…" He let the words trail away. "It doesn't matter. It's the only way, Rafferty. If you don't do it, I will. My brother's blood is already on my hands. I'll finish what I started."