Requiem for the Dead

Chapter Two

We were too late.

Or right on time, depending on who you asked. It must have been a brief battle, because when Wyatt and I raced around the corner and spotted our friends, the fight was over. Halfway down the block, three torn and bleeding bodies were scattered on the sidewalk, limbs askew (one of them separated from the rest of itself), and very much dead. Halfies from the look of them—and the way they were slowly starting to shrivel.

Milo was sitting against the bumper of a parked car, with a naked Marcus crouched in front of him. He slapped away Marcus's hands with a sharp, "I'm fine, okay?"

"You went headfirst into the car," Marcus replied.

"Not my first time, believe me. I'm fine." He spotted us, then rolled his eyes. At what or who, exactly, I wasn't sure.

"What happened?" I asked, even though it was pretty obvious.

"The half-Bloods were well-hidden," Marcus said. "We didn't realize we were being stalked until they attacked."

He hadn't turned to look at us, so I stared blankly at the back of his head. It wasn't like Marcus to be unaware of his surroundings, or to fall victim to a sneak attack. What the hell had them both so distracted that they hadn't seen the Halfies coming?

"One of them latched onto my back like a fucking tick," Milo said, rubbing at the side of his neck with one hand. "Tried to bite me, so I ran us both hard into the side of the car. Knocked myself silly for it, too." He sounded like he'd rather chew glass than admit such a thing.

"I shifted and took care of the problem," Marcus added. He finally turned his head and angled to look up at us, and I saw the blood streaking his chin and neck like grotesque war paint. "Will you tell him—"

"Oh, for Christ's sake." Milo pushed sideways and stood up with perfect ease. Not a single wobble. He stepped around Marcus and presented himself to me and Wyatt. "I'm fine, see?"

He looked fine. Pupils normal size for the darkness of the alley, no blood in his hair or on his face. Except for an expression stuck somewhere between anger and mortification, he seemed normal enough. "You got a knot?" I asked.

Milo touched the side of his head. "No, it's barely sore. I did not lose consciousness, either."

I pulled his other hand away from the side of his neck, where he'd been rubbing. The skin was red, but not broken. "What's that?"

"It's where the fucker tried to bite me."

As he said the words, I finally saw how hard Milo was working to keep it together. He'd been one good lunge away from getting infected and ending up a half-Blood—all because the pair of them hadn't been paying attention. Almost two months ago, he'd seen his best friend Felix bitten and infected, and two weeks later had witnessed Felix's final death. And even though he'd never revealed his feelings to Felix, Milo had been in love with him. The loss had been devastating and had placed a near-permanent coldness in Milo's eyes.

I gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. "He didn't bite you."

"No." He squared his shoulders, then glanced at Marcus. "Thanks for the save."

"It was my error as well," Marcus replied. He walked a few feet away and grabbed his discarded jeans.

The more I worked with Therians, the less their frequent nudity bothered me. Not that most of them (especially the men) had anything to be modest about, but us humans still had some hang-ups about wandering around in our birthday suits. Not so much with shape-shifters.

"Did they say anything at all?" Wyatt asked, waving his hand to indicate the bodies.

"One of them had a few choice words when I ripped his arm off," Marcus said. "Other than that, no. Nothing of consequence."

"They were probably hungry and looking for dinner," Milo said.

I crouched next to one—a teenager, with a buzz cut and lots of silver rings in his left ear. Pulled back his upper lip to take a look at his teeth. "Young, too, or they would have smelled that Marcus wasn't human," I said. It took several weeks for a half-Blood's fangs to develop to full length, which made it easy to pick out the fresh ones. And this kid's teeth were barely pointed.

"Let's clean this up so we can get out of here," Milo said.

"Good idea." I stood up, then noticed Wyatt staring intently at the roof of a building down the block. "Wyatt?"

He didn't reply. I took a step closer and tracked his gaze, but didn't see anything amiss. Not that I had his werewolf vision, but still.

"Wyatt?"

"What?" He blinked hard, then looked at me.

"Did you see something?"

"I thought I did."

His confusion made me uneasy, and even more eager to get this scene clean and get back to the Watchtower. I didn't like the idea of being watched. None of us did.

It never led anywhere pleasant.

The burger joint, it turned out, closed at two, so we settled on invading the cafeteria as soon as we got back to the Watchtower. Wyatt made our report over the phone during the drive back, including the little Halfie skirmish. He rode shotgun, while Marcus drove. That left me and Milo in the backseat, him slumped against the passenger side door and me biting my tongue to keep from bugging him with questions. Milo had become my best friend in the last month or so, and the only thing that kept me quiet was knowing he wouldn't tell me anything with Wyatt and Marcus in the car.

So I kept my questions and my glances to myself until we were alone, glad to have something other than our most recent goblin victim to think about.

The Watchtower was a somewhat deceptive name, since our headquarters was built inside the skeleton of the old Capital City Mall. Shaped like a long, wide U with department stores on both ends and a magic glamour that kept straying eyes from noticing our activity there, the mall was the perfect place to house a hundred humans and Therians. Living quarters and bathrooms had been built inside old storefronts, as well as a gymnasium, a weapons locker, a refurbished jail (our first jail got blown up), and the sprawling Operations center.

Marcus drove into the canyon of the U and right through what looked like an old restaurant patio. The glamour tickled my skin, as it always did when we passed, and we drove into a wide parking area. The sense of awe I'd once felt at what they'd created here, out of the bones of an old structure, didn't come as often. But the whole thing was still damned impressive.

He parked, and we all tumbled out as a group. Like the city we tried to protect, the Watchtower never really slept. Even at almost three in the morning, the hum of activity buzzed in the corridors. Most of it seemed centered around Operations, which was the norm, as well as down the east branch of the corridor—the way to the cafeteria and living quarters.

We were halfway to the cafeteria when Marcus's cell phone rang. He pulled it out without breaking stride, glanced at the display, then replied with a quick, "Yep?" A few seconds passed before he stopped walking.

The rest of us paused, too.

"On my way." Marcus closed his phone. He didn't seem upset, only curious. "Astrid needs to see me. I'll catch up with you in a bit."

He pivoted neatly and marched back in the direction we'd come. We continued on. Only a handful of people were in the cafeteria, sitting in small clusters. The available food at this hour was mostly wrapped sandwiches or hot dogs off a little roller cooker that looked like it was stolen from a convenience store, so I grabbed two hot dogs and a bag of potato chips.

Wyatt took four hot dogs, plus a tuna fish sandwich, and two bags of chips. I smiled at the laden tray, still amused at how his appetite had increased since becoming half-Lupa. Contrasting both of us, Milo grabbed a soda and nothing else. Our trio invaded a table where Tybalt Monahan and Kyle Jane were seated and finishing their own snacks.

Both seemed agitated and not because of our arrival. "What's up?" I asked as I sat down across from Tybalt. Wyatt took the seat on my right, while Milo sat next to Tybalt.

Tybalt and Kyle shared a look. They worked together on Quad Four, and if their night had been anything like ours….

"Rough night," Tybalt said.

"Bullshit," Milo replied. He popped the soda tab, then glared at Tybalt. "Try again, pal." The pair had been friends for more than a year and a half, and had worked together in the defunct Triads. They knew each other well enough to spot the half-truths.

Tybalt frowned. He reached out with his prosthetic hand and turned Milo's head to the side, exposing the red mark on his neck. "What's that? Love bite?"

"Close encounter." Milo pulled away and gave Tybalt a hard look. "Don't change the subject."

"It's not our place to share this kind of news."

"It'll become common knowledge soon, anyway," Kyle said. "And Marcus is their quad-mate."

Milo's stare became more intense, and my own interest piqued exponentially. "What about Marcus?" he asked.

"Elder Dane is stepping down from the Assembly," Tybalt said. "He has the Shadow."

The Shadow is what Therians called the cancer that only affects their people. It kills quickly and is incurable. About five months ago, the same illness had killed Seamus Dane, the former Pride Alpha, and his son Keenan (Marcus and Astrid's cousin) had taken over the role of Alpha. Elder Marcellus Dane had been Seamus's uncle, and also Marcus and Astrid's grandfather. From what I understood of most Clan politics, the role of Elder was passed from parent to child, in order to avoid a lengthy voting processes—and any sort of lengthy process was avoided by Therians, considering their average life spans.

"He's dying," Milo said.

"Yeah." Tybalt picked up his fork and poked at the remnants of something on his plate. He'd been raised by the Felia Pride, within the Dane family specifically (something I'd only learned from him recently), and then kicked out when he was sixteen. He found the Triads soon after and was taken in by another kind of family. The loss of another father figure had to hurt, after losing Seamus earlier in the year.

"Who's in line to take over as Elder?" Wyatt asked.

"That's the problem," Tybalt replied. "Elder Dane has no surviving children."

"So wouldn't the title of Elder pass to Marcus or Astrid?" I asked. "They're his grandchildren."

"It's supposed to."

"But?"

Tybalt pressed his lips together, and I saw a spark of anger in his eyes. "But Elder Dane wants to ensure the Elder title remains within the family line. Since Astrid and Marcus are both unmarried and childless, as well as at the half-point of their lives, Dane has named a younger cousin in their place. Keenan's brother, Riley."

"Hell," Milo said.

Keenan was the current Pride Alpha and Elder Dane's grand-nephew. Giving the title to Riley instead of one of Dane's own grandchildren was pretty harsh.

"Would either of them have even wanted the position?" I asked, pretty certain the answer was no.

"That's not the point," Tybalt said.

"No, I see the point, and I understand why you're upset. But my question still stands."

"I don't think either would have wanted to be Elder, no. But this is also a public announcement, and it's a public embarrassment. Astrid's choice to protect the Clan, rather than be a mother, was never a popular one. Female Felia who don't have children are considered second-class."

I bit back hard on a scorching comment on the status of feminism within the Clans. My opinion on women, Felia or not, as nothing more than baby incubators had no place in the current conversation. I'd vent it out in the gym later.

Kyle flinched. His girlfriend, Lynn Neil, was Felia as well, and the simple fact that she was dating a Cania (a were-dog, instead of a fellow were-cat) meant she had eschewed tradition and forgone having children—as long as she was with Kyle, anyway. The Therian Clans simply could not inter-breed; it wasn't genetically possible.

My respect for Lynn went way up.

"And Astrid doesn't want to be a mother," I said.

Tybalt made a scrunched face I couldn't readily decipher. "Astrid's past is complicated. At one time she was promised to Keenan, but she never wanted to be the Alpha's mate."

"Keenan is the current Alpha of the Felia."

"Yes."

"And her grandfather is Keenan's uncle?"

"Yes."

"So Keenan is her cousin."

Tybalt seemed to see where I was going with that, and he deferred the topic to Kyle. Kyle shrugged both shoulders, unconcerned. "Clans are small, enclosed societies compared to humans. And before you judge, don't forget that it was once acceptable for humans to marry one's first cousin."

Yeah, like two hundred years ago, and maybe still in other countries. But I got his point, too, and who the hell was I to judge who other Felia married? "So she ditched her cousin for the single life," I said. "What about Marcus? He's handsome enough that I bet he could find a wife with no trouble and pop out a litter of kittens."

"That's not what Marcus wants," Milo said, surprising me by being the one to answer. Even Tybalt gave him an assessing look.

"How do you know?" I asked.

Milo held my gaze steadily and opened his mouth.

"Because I told him so," came the reply from the topic of conversation himself. And he wasn't alone.

Marcus and another man stopped behind Tybalt's chair. The stranger had the same black hair and strong, square face as Marcus, but he carried himself differently. Higher, more proudly. I'll swallow my tongue if they aren't related.

"This is Keenan Dane," Marcus said. "Our Pride Alpha." He introduced me, Wyatt, and Milo. I guessed Tybalt and Kyle knew him already.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Alpha Dane?" Kyle asked with a heavy amount of respect in his voice.

"Family business," Keenan said. "Business of which you were just now discussing?"

No one denied it. Keenan took a seat on Kyle's left. Marcus circled around the table and plunked heavily into the empty chair next to Milo, weariness weighing him down. Tension from Keenan's unexpected arrival wafted over the table like a fog.

I picked up my hot dog and took a big bite. Wyatt had already polished off two hot dogs and one bag of chips, and he was starting in on the tuna fish sandwich. Even though he seemed to be concentrating on his food, I knew he was paying attention to everything said at the table.

"I'm sorry about your grandfather," Milo said in a gentle voice that made me look up from my food. To Keenan, he added, "And your great uncle."

"Thank you," Keenan said.

Marcus tilted his head in Milo's direction in an acknowledging nod. "It's his time. The Shadow seems to run particularly strong in our family, and Marcellus is twenty-one." Same age as Milo. And that was a truly bizarre observation. "Riley will make a strong Elder, if he manages to not get killed."

"Killed?" I said it at the same time as Milo and Tybalt, our three voices a squawk of protest that might have been funny if the word wasn't so serious.

"The Bengals," Tybalt said. "Have they challenged Riley?"

"Not formally, not yet," Keenan said. "That's why I'm here. I wanted to discuss the possibility with Astrid and Marcus. They were once elite guards in the Pride, and I value their tactical input."

"It's possible someone is picking up where Prentiss failed," Marcus said.

Prentiss? The name didn't ding any bells for me.

"So it seems."

"Hold on a minute," I said, knocking my knuckles on the table. "How about a little back story for the rest of us? Should I know about this? Who's Prentiss?"

"No," Tybalt said. "The thing with Prentiss went down while you were, uh, missing. Before you died. The first time."

Translation: while I was being tortured to death by goblins. Got it.

"Several months ago," Keenan said, "when it became known that my father Seamus was ill with the Shadow, his position as Alpha was challenged by a man named Prentiss. His true form is a Bengal tiger, and the entire family is quite…"

"Fanatical?" Tybalt said.

"A less polite word comes to mind, but yes. They don't like change, and they are quite rigid in their view of Pride roles. Our families have clashed often over the last few generations."

Pride roles. Just the way he said it made my eye twitch. "Such as Astrid choosing to not marry and be a mother?" I asked.

"Among other things," Tybalt said. "They weren't very fond of Seamus taking me in, either, and they let me know it as often as possible."

"But Prentiss obviously didn't win the position of Alpha from Seamus." I was staring right at the current Alpha. "What happened?"

"As the Alpha's son," Keenan said, "I was allowed to answer the challenge and fight in my father's stead, only I kidnapped by Prentiss's people."

With a nod from Keenan, Marcus took over the storytelling. "With Tybalt's help, and with a little covert assistance from Milo, we were able to locate and free Keenan. Prentiss was captured and executed by the Assembly for treason."

"Those who we could not prove were involved then are likely responsible for sowing the seeds of discontent among several other Felia families now."

Kyle made a frustrated snort. "That nonsense with Belle back in June didn't improve Felia unity, either."

That nonsense was the kidnapping of two Therians from my personal care, because Belle and a few of her friends decided that Therians protected Therians, and the personal freedoms of the kidnappees meant jack shit. Belle also tried to kill me and got shot for her trouble, then turned over to the Assembly of Clan Elders for punishment.

"Other Felia agreed with what Belle did?" Wyatt asked, finally taking part in the conversation.

"Not with her methods, but with her rhetoric, yes," Keenan said. "And Felia isn't the only Clan experiencing division on the topic of human-Therian relations, especially with the Fey threat looming over all of us."

"They blame humans for what the Fey are doing."

"Some, yes. Others are using Michael Jenner's murder as an excuse to pull support from the Watchtower. It's become extremely complicated."

The bit about Jenner didn't surprise me. He was the mouthpiece for the Assembly, the one who went into the field and issued directives on their behalf. We never got to be friends, exactly, but he let me recover in his apartment after I got caught in an explosion. He didn't deserve to die the way he did, at the mercy of a (very literal) mad scientist.

"What happens if Riley is challenged for Elder and loses?" Milo asked.

Marcus's expression turned thunderous. "Then the Watchtower will lose Felia support."

Felia made up a good quarter of our Therian members. Never mind the fact that Astrid was one of our leaders, and I was kind of fond of Marcus, too. And from the identical look of outrage of Milo's face, I wasn't the only one.

"Let me guess," Wyatt said. "The loss of Felia support will cause a cascade effect within the Assembly, and very soon there will be a majority vote pulling all Therian support. Is that the general direction this is going?"

"In a nutshell, yes," Keenan said.

"Fuck," I said, torn between anger and fear over a potential outcome that meant tragedy for the city. "We can't do this without the Therians."

Wyatt took my right hand and squeezed it hard. I held on, ignoring the little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Yes, it was probably funny hearing me say that, considering six months ago the only Therian I trusted was a young were-falcon named Danika. But it was true. The Watchtower had been hatched by Therians and vampires, and humans were invited in later. The humans-only Triads had already failed.

We could not do this alone.

"Is Riley a good fighter?" Wyatt asked.

"He's an excellent fighter," Keenan replied. "I'd match him against the best in the Pride, myself included. But this is also the best chance for a change in leadership, and the challenger will make sure of a victory."

"You mean they'll cheat?"

"Yes. "

"Where is Riley now?"

"At our family compound with our great uncle. Until he has officially been granted the title of Elder, Riley is safest there. The home is well protected."

It was protected and then some. It was the only reason I agreed to allow Aurora, Ava and Joseph to live there. They were the last of the Coni Clan of shape-shifting birds-of-prey—except for Phineas, who was off who knows where, doing hell knows what. He'd been gone for five weeks, and I missed him.

"Are you supposed to be wandering around with all this going on?" I asked before I could wonder if the question was rude or not.

Keenan's lips twitched. "Trust me, I am well protected."

"So we're at a standstill on this," Tybalt said. "Even if the Bengals challenged Marcellus now for Elder, Riley would fight in his place, and he stands a high chance of winning. There's no benefit to an early challenge."

"No, there's not." Marcus drummed his fingers against the tabletop, his irritation coming out in that short, jerky motion. "We have no way of knowing when the challenge will be issued."

No way of knowing when the last protection force for the city might suddenly find itself without half its members, leaving all humans vulnerable to attacks from goblins and half-Bloods.

"Is there a way to identify the potential challengers and, you know, encourage them to back off?" I asked.

"Everything we know so far is hearsay," Marcus said. "There's no proof, only rumors. And without proof of wrongdoing, the Assembly will punish any action taken, even as a pre-emptive measure."

"I wasn't talking about busting kneecaps or leaving horse's heads in their beds."

Marcus bristled (almost literally), and I realized he didn't understand the film reference. He probably thought I was making some tasteless joke about Jenner's death (which I wasn't). Shit.

"Evy means talking to them, not bullying them," Wyatt said, stepping in to save me before I crammed my foot any further down my own throat. "Informing them of the consequences of any actions taken against Riley."

"Threats will only strengthen their resolve," Marcus said. "It's not a good idea."

"So we do what?" Milo asked. "Sit and wait and hope they don't cheat when they send someone to fight Riley?"

"Yes."

"That plan sucks ass."

Marcus's mouth twitched. "Regardless, it's our only course of action right now. Our people don't need more inner turmoil, so we'll wait for the challenge."

Milo snapped the tab off the top of his soda can, then flipped it between his knuckles a few times. "I fucking hate waiting," he said.

We all hated waiting, but on this we had no choice.

Our table broke up a while later. Keenan whisked himself away to parts unknown, probably his aforementioned family home. Tybalt and Kyle headed off to their respective rooms; Wyatt wanted to stop by Operations and talk to Astrid and Baylor about everything going on; Marcus shuffled off somewhere with an intense look on his face. I was too keyed up to sleep, so I wandered toward the opposite end of the mall and the exercise and training rooms down the far leg of the U. It took a few seconds to realize Milo had fallen into step next to me.

"How's your head?" I asked.

"Nothing a few hours sleep won't cure."

"So why aren't you heading toward the bunks?"

"Too much energy to sleep."

I know the feeling. "Spot you?"

"Sure."

The exercise area was two rooms. The first was full of weights and various stationary bikes and other machines. Almost anything you could want in a gym. The second room, at the rear of the first, had a dance barre on one wall for stretching and coordination techniques, and blue mats covered the floor. I'd spent almost a solid week in that room, mostly on my ass, while Phineas kicked it hard trying to get me back into fighting form after I'd been tortured for three weeks.

Ah, memories.

Two other people where there, riding the bikes, and I smiled through a strange sense of déjà vu. Shelby and Jackson had been working out in the gym the very first time Milo and I ever saw it, and there they were again. Shelby and Jackson were both Ursia (were-bears), and while I liked the latter a whole lot, the former still made my skin crawl sometimes. Like the polar bear in Shelby was always sizing me up as a meal.

We all exchanged friendly greetings. I'd worked with both Shelby and Jackson in the field, and they were among the dozen or so Therians working with us whom I mostly trusted. I don't give my trust easily. It has to be earned, and they were almost there. Shelby had a little more work to do than Jackson. Astrid, Marcus, and absentee-Phineas? Total trust. Everyone else was on a case-by-case. Most I trusted on a limited basis solely because Astrid vouched for them.

Milo and I used a freestanding folding screen as cover to change into sweats that always seemed to be on hand there. He adjusted the weights on one of the bars, settled himself on the bench, and I stood over him as he pressed himself into a sweat. We didn't talk, but I knew the look on his face.

He was angry about the Felia news, yes, but he was also punishing himself for earlier. For letting those Halfies get close enough to put that bruise on his forehead and mark on his neck.

When his face was red, sweat was trickling down his cheeks, and his reps had slowed too much for safety, I grabbed the bar and guided it back into the support. "Take a break, pal, before you hurt yourself."

He lay there a moment, arms dangling, staring up at the ceiling. I didn't bug him until he'd gotten his breathing back under control. I leaned down, dropping my voice until it was barely audible over the whirring noise of the bikes. "So you helped out the Felia Clan, huh?"

"Didn't know it at the time." Milo sat up and spun around on the bench to face me, hands on his knees. "It was actually the day before you were found at the train station, when Tybalt called and asked me to get some information for him. I didn't ask why, and he didn't tell me about it all until a few weeks ago when—" He stopped himself, then shrugged.

Now I was crazy curious. The train station referred to the place I was held captive and tortured by goblins, then left to die—my first death. That was months ago, though. Or technically, maybe a lifetime. "When what?" I asked.

He picked at a healing scab on his knee, courtesy of a hard tumble last week. "I asked him how he knew Marcus so well, and he finally told me the whole story."

It was a story I wouldn't mind having. I knew Tybalt had been raised by the Felia, and that he'd chosen his own name when he was eleven. I knew he'd been close with Marcus and Astrid before his banishment from the Pride, and that he hadn't had contact with them for six years prior to this spring. And rumor was he and Astrid once had a fling, back when they were both teenagers—which was a weird thought, given that Tybalt was going on twenty-three and Astrid looked like she was in her late thirties. But like the rest of us, Tybalt didn't like talking about himself.

Another little detail hadn't escaped my attention, and it created a funny little mix of hope and worry. "You were asking about Marcus?"

His eyes narrowed. "So?"

"Do you like him?"

"Sure, I do."

"I don't mean as a quad-mate, dumbass."

He stared at me with an expression I couldn't figure out, like he was thinking about denying it but was tired of not being honest. "I like him," he finally said in a tone that said the topic was over, so I let it go. But I couldn't help thinking back to earlier, when he said marriage and a litter of kittens wasn't what Marcus wanted.

I almost asked Milo about the specifics of this state of "like," considering how things had turned out with Felix. Or rather, hadn't turned out. Milo had allowed himself to fall in love with a man who couldn't love him back—not in the same, romantic way, at any rate. I didn't want Milo to fall into the same trap with Marcus. Therians lived incredibly short lives and procreation was expected of everyone in order to ensure the survival of the Clans; I'd never before heard of a gay Therian. Which really meant nothing, considering how little I collectively knew about Therians, anyway, and—

Speak of the devil.

Marcus rumbled into the gym like a thundercloud. He spotted us and seemed to relax just a little. I tilted my head. He came over, already dressed in sweats, his entire body coiled tight. "Couldn't sleep, either?" I said.

"No," Marcus replied. Milo twisted halfway around to see, and it was to Milo that Marcus added, "Astrid and I will be visiting Elder Dane in the morning to pay our respects, and to offer our support to Riley. How's your head?"

"Still attached," Milo replied.

Marcus quirked a slender eyebrow. "So I see. Pain?"

"Just one in my neck." You dangled at the end of the statement.

"I'm serious."

"Well, stop already. There's enough seriousness to go around. My head's fine, so stop worrying about it, for fuck's sake."

I stayed quiet, too amused by the friendly bickering to distract them. I also noted that both Jackson and Shelby had abandoned their bikes and were taking their time wiping down with towels. Probably listening. Damned Therian hearing. I caught Jackson's eye, gave him a glare, and he hustled Shelby out of the gym.

"Then how about a few rounds on the mats?" Marcus asked.

Marcus liked to wrestle. He was really fucking good at it, too, and he'd handed me my ass twice while I was still in post-torture training. Now I could hold my own, but I couldn't pin the bastard. Yet. One day I'd get the chance to win, but it wouldn't be today. Because he'd asked Milo.

"You sure you want to, old man?" Milo asked in a perfectly reasonable voice. "Don't think I'll take it easy on you because you got bad news."

"I know you won't take it easy on me. I think I need the challenge."

"It's your ass on the mat."

I couldn't see Milo's face as he got up and followed Marcus into the other room, but I heard the note of pleasure in his tone. And from the smile that kept quirking the corners of Marcus's mouth, he was looking forward to the battle, too. The first time the two ever sparred, Milo had hustled Marcus beautifully, luring the larger, more muscular were-cat into a sense of overconfidence just broad enough to trip and pin him in the third round. And it had been a beautiful pin.

Feeling a bit like an intruder this time and not entirely sure why, I left them to their wrestling.