I understood that, but that wasn't going to stop me from kicking down his door tomorrow. Enough was enough. He was our friend. That pretty much said it all. No matter what he had done, he was a friend. Yeah, tomorrow, absolutely…foot through his door. I told Nik so.
"Which is probably exactly what he needs." He squeezed my arm and let go to frown at the table. "Leftover eggs and antibiotic cream. I could do without the mix. You're a hopeless slob, you know that, little brother?"
"Yeah, yeah." He'd spent the night at Promise's and this was his first look at my morning mess. I took a drink of the warm juice. "How's Promise?"
"Healing well." It was a myth that vampires healed immediately, but they did heal much faster than humans did.
As we'd stood and watched Ishiah and Robin disappear into the night, we'd heard the wail of an approaching siren. I'd built a gate instantly and taken us all back to the apartment. I couldn't take Goodfellow to Nushi. I'd never been in his place before…didn't know the way, and there was a way to every gate—twisting and true as an arrow to the heart. On the other side of our doorway, Promise's wounds, one high to the shoulder above her clavicle and one at her hip, had already stopped bleeding. The one to the hip was a through and through and best to just leave the other bullet in, she'd said.
Vampires, balls of steel or one helluva tolerance for pain—it was one of the two. With villagers chasing your ass with pitchforks and torches, you would've needed at least one of them.
As for the gate…that sensation, the Auphe-ness I'd felt with the first one or two, it hadn't returned with the very last one—our escape exit. Maybe because I was watching for it. But I was afraid it'd be back. Sooner or later. At least I wasn't Frodo, foaming at the mouth every time I put on the ring. I had to be careful, though, careful as hell. Even though I didn't want me to be—it didn't want me to be. "Nik," I said diffidently, "I think you might be right. No more gateways for a while might be a good thing." I pushed the glass away. As much as I'd denied it, I was my father's son. Because of that I couldn't let my guard down. Not as long as I lived. "No more traveling, Sawney would say. I think I might like it a little too much."
No one in the world could read me like my brother could. No one ever would. We'd grown up with the Auphe at our window and around every corner. We'd grown up with the monsters outside and the monster inside me. If I said I liked it too much, he knew what I meant.
"No more gates." Then he flicked my ear and offered easily, "Haven't I said that all along? Although don't think I didn't know you chose to ignore me."
"Know-it-all prick." I rubbed my ear. "If only I listened to your wise and sage advice, we'd be … oh yeah…dead now."
"That doesn't change the fact it was wise and sage." His eyes gleamed. "And you'll only wish you were dead when I'm finished with you. Get your gear. We're going to the park."
Time for a class in Butt Kicking 101. I was never going to graduate from that damn class. "Give me two hours. I have something I need to do."
George lived a short subway ride away. I walked it. It took forty minutes. I still had the engagement ring in my pocket, the diamond and rubies of a dead woman. I had told myself I'd bring it up in the sun for her, but it might be better to leave it where her fiancé could find it, if I could find him.
It had gone from cool to cold, an early winter. There were scudding clouds and the icy bite of an approaching snow. I used to like winter when I was a kid. We'd traveled around so much I'd seen it all. Places where it was warm in January and never snowed and then places with three feet of it. I'd liked the snow best. No school. Not that Sophia cared if we went, but my brother did. Snowball fights with him…got my ass kicked there too. I'd also liked the stillness and quiet of the snow, not to mention the fact you could see the footprints of anyone who'd hovered around your window with red eyes and metallic grins. You could be prepared…ready.
But then the Auphe took me at fourteen, and I'd come back with a profound dislike of the cold. Tumulus, Auphe hell, the place they'd kept me from what we thought, was a dimension of rock, charnel stench, and searing cold. I might not remember my time there, but I remembered Darkling's few hours of cooling his heels there. Somewhat. Bits and pieces through a blurred and hazy lens. That was my mind trying to protect me. It knew. If I remembered what happened in those two icy wasteland years I'd spent there from fourteen years old to sixteen, they'd have to pour me into one of those straitjackets we'd seen in the asylum ruins. I didn't like winter anymore, and I didn't like the cold.
But, hell, it's New York. What are you gonna do?