The Cat Makes A Promise

Idon't need anyone to tell me who ‘she' is. "What? When? Where? Who? How?!"

Taurus just stares at my arm intently, as if the rest of me isn't here. Finally, I shake his shoulder to bring him out of his internal misery. His mouth opens and then closes. I blink as his eyes drop to my arm again. We make an odd picture if someone walks by. How does one categorize two people dressed in leather trench coats holding onto each other in a ramshackle park in the no-see part of town at a time of day when honest people are home in bed?

I guess it's good that there isn't anyone here to ask those questions.

His voice is barely a murmur when he speaks. "It was when we disappeared—right before I was supposed to have a birthday party. We were staying at her place on the other side after a visit with her mum. Talia went out for ice cream—just a stroll down to the corner. She'd done it a million times; there's this all-night gas and guzzler we hit when we're in the mood. It should have been no big deal." His head lifts and his golden eyes meet mine. "I was being a lazy prat, whining about her parental obligations, so she went for me."

It makes me infinitely sad that no one besides me has ever heard this story. Hell, maybe no one else ever will. Taurus should have someone close to him to tell it to, but the only person close to him is the one he's agonizing over.

"She showed me afterwards—you know, in our minds, as mates can do. I had to beg to get her to do it, but she finally gave in. I watched her stride into the store full of spit and swagger, as usual. Unfortunately, the guy behind the counter had a double-barrel pump action aimed at his head."

I make a sound of protest when I realize what's happening. He's reliving the scene internally, visualizing it exactly as Talia shared it. Second by agonizing second, he's going to recount the tale of how her life almost ended. I don't know if I can take anyone else's pain right now. My own, my mate's—my empathy is full to the brim. That's selfish and I know it, so I muffle myself before I can change my mind. The only way to ease a burden is talking. I asked for help and the least I can do is return the favor.

That's human, unlike the two of us, and it's what I agreed to, right?

"My golden goddess moved like lightning," he rasps, his lips curling faintly at the thought. "She didn't question—only leaped into action to save the attendant. The expression on the thieving sod's face was priceless. Imagine going into a store for an unwilling withdrawal: things are going well until a war whooping, irate woman flies over the counter to clash into your skull. He looked like he was about to piss himself. With a swing kick and a twist of the hand, she had the shotgun. Her heel was on his chest and she had the gun aimed at his soft bits before he knew it." He pauses for a moment and this time, it's collecting himself so he doesn't cry. "The rest I saw on my own because I felt it when it happened."

Goddess above, I want him to stop.

My entire body is vibrating with emotions. Honestly, I'm not sure I want to know what makes evil weep. I'm familiar with what makes primal cower and lick wounds, so I know monsters can be quelled if you have the right weapons. I'm horrified, yet enthralled, and unable to stop him now.

"Talia must have had a twitch of warning—something must not have felt right. It was enough for her to call me to warn me. She tried to prepare me, but it didn't work. I felt it through the bond when she took the round. I felt her fly into the air with the impact and slam into the cig case behind her. It sent blood and flesh and smokes everywhere. The asshole had a partner, and it took him a while to catch up since he was raiding the beer cave. His shot counted, though, because he had a bloody street cannon. I was there in an instant, but it was too long. She hit the grimy floor in a heap before I could blink behind her to catch her head. The bullet tore open her chest, shattered a couple of ribs, and left a burning hole in her back I could stick my hand through. The bastard she got the jump on was lying there, covered in her blood, and the partner was nowhere to be found." His breath hitches and he squeezes my arm as if reassuring himself that I'm there.

"I didn't even get to nail the walking corpse that did it. The sight of her almost did me in—seeing her lying there pale and broken in a pool of blood spreading and soaking into her hair terrified me. My only thought was about how mad she'd be that her crowning glory—her hair—was getting dirty. Odd, isn't it, when you think your life is ending before your eyes?"

I don't know if his question is rhetorical, but I can't find the air to answer, anyway.

I'm not sure he notices.

He shakes his head as if to knock the rest of his tale loose. "I picked her up gently; I don't know why. She was broken, so there wasn't much more I could do to crack her. I apparated us to a human emergency room; I didn't care if people saw what we can do. When they took her, it almost killed me. I had to give her up so they could save her, but I didn't have anywhere else to go. She's a scrapper and fought through fifteen hours of surgery, but they saved her. When she was out of the woods, I took her to the Company facility. They couldn't triage a human, but they're sodding experts at flesh regeneration. You would never know now that she nearly got blasted in half."

He looks at me again. There's pride and misery in his eyes, but the slight hitch to his lips surprises me. "I'll never eat ice cream again, that's for sure. It was all because I wanted some bloody mint chocolate chip."

I don't know what to say to that. Consolation would be a cold comfort, commiseration would require me to explain the tinges of ugliness that have drifted into our allegedly perfect lives... The emotions I'm feeling seem too intimate to share, but I can't stand here like a twit. "How long did it take you to hunt down the son of a bitch who shot her?"

In an instant, his expression changes. He knows I realize he couldn't simply hope the justice system worked for once. A glimmer of naked hatred rises in his eyes like a phoenix, and a smile that could freeze the pants off a snowman curls his lips. Feral, cruel, and willing to kill—that's what he's projecting right now.

I'd like to be on Saturn if that gaze ever fell on me.

This is the Taurus most people hate and fear. It feels like he grows two sizes bigger when he snarls, but I know that has to do with presence more than physicality. He is Death personified.

"To find him?" he drawls, his smirk satisfied, as if the chase was akin to a hound and a hare. "Not so long. To kill him?" The smirk stretches to a smile full of fangs, and despite my being used to fangs, his seem particularly terrifying. It might be the expression behind his eyes that is suddenly making me feel like a babbling bimbette from a B horror flick. I almost squeak when he says, "That took weeks."

I don't doubt it was brutal, and Taurus enjoyed every millisecond with satanic glee. I'm not worried about posturing because he's looking way too hungry for those trivialities. I yanked away my arm when I moved, and it must have jarred him. His grisly smile vanishes from his face and he looks as if he's trying to get control of his rage. Stepping closer, he tries for a harmless grin, but I'm shaken so it doesn't help much.

"Talia isn't pleased that I spilled my innards to you, Sandwich. She says that I should ask for your pardon, as it feels like you're about ready to lose your dinner. That isn't happening this millennium, but I have something simple to request. Given your unique talents, it shouldn't be hard. If something like that ever happens again, you will help her. Not a silly hangnail, mind, but if a serious injury comes along, you drop what you're doing when I call. In return, I'll be a happy little Oracle without comment or complaint for the rest of the night. Deal?"

I study him for a moment, digesting the story he shared as my brain zooms around at light speed. Once I collect my thoughts, I look at him with a serious expression. "Since this evening has been little more than a series of planned and unplanned belly ups, I'll let you in on something."

Taurus tilts his head, looking at me curiously, and I sigh, knowing I'm going to regret this. "Have you ever had one of those hard candies that are like cement on the outside, but inside they're all squishy and gooey like a milk dud?"

Nodding, he continues eyeing me suspiciously without speaking.

"That's me. While there are a few people I consider wastes of flesh who don't deserve to be standing upright, anyone I have the tiniest bit of fondness for falls under my protection in my mind. That said, you are Alistair's brother. Whatever the issues are between you two, it puts your family on my list. I suppose you turning out to not be as much of an ass as I expected helps. But that also means I'm going to give you the truth, and you'd better not abuse it."

I take a deep breath, knowing this is the hardest part to explain. "I healed myself. I've done a couple slice and dice demos like you saw, healed some contusions and bruises I may or may not have been responsible for, and used blood mixed with healing herbs to heal one of your kind who got himself into a bar fight and lost on purpose. I'd do any of that again—and more—to save someone I care about. Bleeding is the least of what I'd do in that situation, especially if lives are on the line. So yeah, I'd do it for you or Talia, or even Damien, I guess. It's part of the standard friends and family package in my world."

Pausing for a moment to catch my breath, I realize there are a few problems with my blanket declaration. Most of my subjects are connected to me, peripherally at least, so my response time has been good. There's also the method of deployment to discuss. "How are you going to call me? I haven't seen you dialing a cell phone, and I sure as fuck don't carry one here. Life-threatening may not give me enough time to get wherever you are."

I should have known by the mischievous glint in his eyes, followed by a playful grin, that he was about to show me something special. He's all about the Manson-like madness one minute and boyish charm the next. His lips press together as if making a point, and then he speaks inside my mind—without being a mate.

~I don't think it'll be much of a problem at all. ~

His eyes twinkle and I turn to retort, but he's gone—like physically gone. How the hell do you lose a six-foot-tall clone in the middle of the night? Suddenly, I see a picture of myself in my head, standing here looking like a gaping idiot.

Is this through his eyes? WTAF, people.Mind speech and projection?

Both are well within my bag of tricks before the magickal clone juice—not that anyone here needs to know that. My bit of ‘kitchen magick' was strong enough here to hide the Resistance. Hell, it even made the bond between my primary mate and me so strong that we don't speak out loud for hours sometimes. But if it's hearing anyone not mated to me, I only pick up vague pictures or words. Since there hasn't been an apocalypse, I know I'm not mated to Taurus.

Jesus, just thinking about the hell involved in that sends an icy ball of no fucking way to my stomach.

We'd end up killing each other and taking the entire community with us. But why are his words and pictures so clear?

~So… ~His voice is filled with amusement, as if I'm a child seeing snow for the first time. ~Are you going to pass out from the shock, or do we have a bargain? ~

"About you sitting still like a good boy while I grill you? Absolutely." I let that snark sit in the air for a moment while I force my brain to stop exploring the possibilities of his powers.

His special skill designation must be telepathy. Alistair has empathy, Victor has mechanics, and Rafe has artistry—all the clones have one. They each have talent or skill that supposedly emerges during training, and this must be Taurus'. Though, he can also apparate and not all the clones can do that, including his brother.

I frown, pondering that for a moment before I continue. "In the interest of full disclosure, there's one more thing you need to know. I can't guarantee the healing will work via external means. I know for you that means something different for me, but you need to be aware of my limitations. But if you still want an oath on my agreement, I can speak in currency you'll believe in." I hold up my arm as if ready to bleed on it.

His reaction surprises me—though, by now, nothing he does should—when he reaches for my arm and tucks it back against my side. "No need. I appreciate the sentiment, but you're right. I prefer to keep the blood play between me and my mate—unless it's a dire emergency," he amends, acknowledging my previous statement. "I also feel like I'd rather not see you hurt yourself again on my account. I'm growing fond of you amidst this mess—that must be all the shit you're giving me. My goddess is always telling me I'm a sucker for a hard case and that's you to a tee. I'll take your word on it for tonight because I trust you."

He shrugs laconically, but he's not fooling me—not anymore. After all of this dancing and snarking, I finally figured out the truth about Taurus that the current inhabitants of The Rift don't know. He's an irritating bastard—complex, cruel, and downright ornery. Despite being a brutal killer, he's fiercely loyal and protective. He'd kill me if I told anyone, but he's also kind.

Maybe I could deal with him being around more often without gutting him when he pisses me off. I ponder that for a moment and tilt my head at him. As I look up at him, it occurs to me that even though I backed away when he went cannibal, I'm still really close. I'm less nervous about it than before, but my discomfort with finding out that he has an all-access pass to my mind makes that difficult. The thought of him cavorting around in my head when he's bored definitely has me concerned. But he said he trusts me and I'm going to give him the same courtesy.

Shrugging it off, I straighten my spine. I came here for answers, not the dog and pony show. "Okay, now that we've settled the serious stuff and I've let you in on more of my secrets than any person alive that isn't sharing my bed… Can we get back to the ‘not all from the same dimension' part? Are we talking about flux capacitor stuff?"