Nightlife (Cal Leandros #1)(49)

"Nik?" My voice came out hoarse and strained, all but gone.

Niko sagged a bit, but his face remained placid and mild. "I'm right here, little brother. Everything's all right. We're home. Everything is fine."

One hand dropped from the wall to land on the floor beside my leg. I watched it blankly, feeling numb, disconnected. "Fine? Oh. Okay." Even those few words had the pain flaring in my throat with the heat of a volcano. Ignoring that, I concentrated and managed to get my other hand down too. The fingers were blanched white from the grip they'd had on the wall. "My throat hurts." I looked up again at him and Robin. "Why does my throat hurt?"

Robin turned the color of milk. His eyes dark holes in his white face, he scrambled to his feet and ran. Moments later we heard him retching in the bathroom. I tried for a smile for Niko. My lips refused to cooperate, barely twitching. "Something I said?"

"I think he blames himself." Niko moved closer to me and, with hands fastened gently on to my shoulders, carefully eased me around. Then he pulled me into a hug so tight I felt my ribs creak. "He isn't alone."

Bewildered, I patted him awkwardly on the back. "Nik, what happened?" The colors were beginning to seep back into my surroundings; I was losing that peculiar distance. "How'd I get down here?"

Sitting up, Niko released me and swiped an absent hand across his face, smearing the blood. "Ah, damn." Carelessly pulling his shirtsleeve over the heel of his hand, he mopped the blood from his face. It was one of the most uncharacteristic things I'd ever seen my obsessively clean brother do.

The blood under my short fingernails caught my eye. Fresh. Red. And I had a pretty good guess whose blood it was. "What'd we learn?" I swallowed thickly. "From the hypnosis? What the hell did we learn?" That was worth this, I finished in my head.

"Nothing." He stood and reached down to grasp my wrist to help me to my feet. "It didn't work, Cal, simple as that."

Simple as that? Robin was in the bathroom praying to the porcelain god, both he and Niko looked like they'd had the shit beaten out of them, I'd been trying to burrow my way to China via a living room corner, and it was as simple as that? I didn't think so. "What'd I say?" I insisted, unsteady enough to grab a handful of Niko's shirt to stay on my feet. "When I was under, what did I say?"

"You didn't—" He stopped, tightened his lips, and then tried again. "You didn't say anything, Cal. Not a word, I promise you." Urging me toward the couch, he gave me a soft push down. "Sit down. I'll get you something for your throat."

My throat. If I hadn't been talking, why was it so sore? It struck me then, hard and dirty. Screaming. I must've been screaming. And from the ripped sensation of my throat, I must've been screaming my guts out. As Niko headed to the kitchen, I heard Robin beside me, voice soft and hesitant. "Caliban?" I turned to see him standing beside the sofa. His face was damp from where he'd splashed water on it, beads of moisture sparkling in his hair. "I'm sorry," he said, still pale. "I thought I could… I thought… I'm sorry."

"What happened?" I asked barely above a whisper. Niko wasn't going to tell me, but maybe Goodfellow would.

"You…" Robin shook his head. "What happened to you is best left forgotten. You weren't… coherent. Whatever they did far overshadows any ability I have of letting you reexperience it with any range of distance. I'm sorry I ever convinced you and Niko otherwise." He raked a hand through his hair. "And if I can't do it, Cal, it can't be done. Never… never let anyone else try. It was almost impossible to bring you back. Others might not be able to."

Before I could question him further, not that I had any idea what I would say, Niko descended on me with a cup of steaming tea. "Drink," he ordered. "It has honey, loquat syrup, and garlic. It should soothe your throat."

"Or put me in the grave." I wrinkled my nose but gave in and took a sip. When it came to Niko's herbal remedies, there was no escape. He'd picked up more than martial arts in the string of dojos he'd frequented over the years. Choking down another swallow, I stated flatly, "I hurt you guys, didn't I? What did I do?"

"Not a thing," Niko instantly denied. "We just got in your way. All you wanted to do was escape. You didn't intentionally raise a hand to us. Cal, you didn't even know who we were. You didn't know who you were either. You didn't know anything. None of it was on purpose."

"Yeah?" I studied the golden brown liquid in the cup and then finished it. Handing Niko the cup, I said lightly, "All better." My throat maybe, but everything else was far from all better. I think everyone in the room knew that.

Robin broke the long silence with a grim comment. "I need a drink."

"I think we all need a drink," Niko agreed. Yet another un-Niko-like turn of events. Niko have a beer? The world truly was coming to an end… or had done so only minutes ago. And Niko and Robin had been forced to watch it.

I was the lucky one; I'd slept through it.





Chapter Twelve




It's strange how a familiar place can be so comforting, even if that place is a run-down bar. You would think that as much time as I spent in that hole-in-the-wall while working, it would be the last place I'd want to be in my off time. Yet here we were. The three of us, blank faces over roiling emotions, walked through the door and headed straight for the bar. The tables, parked in the corners of the room, seemed too shadowed. Too isolated. As little as I liked having my back to the entire room, I liked the thought of sitting immersed in darkness even less.