Doubletake by Rob Thurman Page B

in between. Succulent and soft, yet not too soft—the perfect consistency. But I was full. The rest could stay on the roof until someone found the leftovers. I sat up and put my sunglasses back on. Night to everyone else, but the lights…it made it day to me. I didn’t like the day. I didn’t like the tedium of lying on rooftops either. I’d relieve the tedium later by slaughtering one or two people…or three or four. With the sudden lack of
paien
-kind around for the past two
days—except for the goats, and even I wouldn’t bother with a putrid, diseased goat—humans were all I had, and they were no challenge. It took more to satisfy.
    But soon…soon I’d find out what had made Caliban less of an opponent, less family, and so much less interesting. I had patience though. Thirty years of it. We would see what we would see. He could again be a worthwhile challenge himself, sooner or later.
    I
needed
a challenge, and so…
    I would wait.
    Awhile.

6
    “Nothing for his blood pressure. It’s far too high from Rafferty’s manipulation, but with the blood loss it should be dropping like a rock. If we give it a chance, the combination should stabilize it in a normal range.”
    Odd when hearing something like that can be comforting, but it meant one thing: I was home.
    It was still dark, but that was fine. I was content to float there awhile. I knew when I opened my eyes that things weren’t going to be as pleasant.
    Once we had a healer, Rafferty. He could lay his hands on you and knit flesh back together like magic. Except there was no magic, only monsters. He had a genetic gift, one much better than mine. Then Rafferty had left—for good, I thought. He had family of his own to care for.
    There’d also been a Japanese healing spirit who had lived in the city, working as a doctor and teaching premed at Columbia. But a time had come when he’d wanted to return home. And me? I couldn’t go to a hospital, not like Niko. On the outside I was human; on the inside, I was less so. One blood test, one CT scan, and inwould swoop the black helicopters, and the government would take me apart. I doubted very seriously that they’d put me back together when they were done.
    That left Niko, who, when he found a problem, found a solution…or he took out his sword and beheaded the problem. One of the two. Either way, he got things done.
    Which meant that he’d gone to med school—in a way. He had only three months’ notice that O-Kuni-Nushi, better known to his oblivious colleagues as Dr. Ken Nushi, was headed home for several hundred years at least, but Niko was smart, the smartest son of a bitch I knew. He spent every spare moment with Nushi for those months, that big brain of his soaking up every piece of knowledge at maximum speed. Nushi had known the only medical training needed for us was trauma, and that had made it easier. And as a practicing doctor, he had access to plenty of medical supplies and drugs to send our way. What he didn’t have access to—he worked as a general practitioner, not a surgeon—had to be stolen or bought from highly questionable sources.
    Seemed right. I was highly questionable myself.
    I slitted my eyes and hissed at the spike of pain caused by the light. Almost immediately the level was lowered. “Damn it to hell. Head?” I mumbled, recognizing the symptoms from too many times before. I then vaguely remembered the bounce of my skull off the street when that thing had slammed into me before trapping me with those massive claws. That would be a big yes on the head injury.
    “Head, a few burns to your legs, and sliced open like a side of beef. Oh, and Rafferty’s ‘gift’ that keeps on giving.” It was Goodfellow’s jovial rundown.
    I opened my eyes wider this time. I felt a little loopy, and that wouldn’t be from Niko knocking me out. “Ifeel…weird. Kind of…happy? Is this happy? I think I like it.”
    I heard Niko’s snort, and his face appeared above me. “Deep sedation,