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He instead took both glasses and set them on the deck.
The happiness I'd found in being alone with him winged into the woods with the dove, where a dark cat waited in the trees.
“Caelan?”
He tapped the snake on his forearm. “I didn’t get a name until I earned one clawing my way out of the pit.”
I listened quietly, unsure what to say or where he was going with this. I'd always wondered why he and August had different last names if they were brothers by blood. “Rough.”
“Never bothered me. Names don't mean squat when action's kept me alive. Thing is, your name is near all I think about these days: how to keep you safe and what you need and how that's going to happen and how I keep you alive.” He turned; something sad and unreadable dimmed his eyes. “I can’t kill a spirit, and I won’t kill a human, but…”
A pulse of anxiety squeezed my veins. “You kill monsters,” I whispered.
He tipped his drink. Bourbon dripped through the cracked floorboards. “August will be here in a couple hours.”
“Oh,” I said in a hollow tone, desperate to keep my fear at bay. “Gonna be him, is it?”
Caelan stretched his legs, flashed a thin smile. “I have 'til midnight. Told 'em you had guests over for dinner or it'd have been sundown.”
I eyed his upturned drink then tipped mine over, too. “What about Zakar? He's captured, if you consider me to be the trap.”
Feigned interest entered his voice. “Can you prove he can’t leave you for another host or that you can control him?” He knew the answer.
“Well, no.” I hadn't figured out what made Zakar come and go, or where he went.
“We had a debate, Marcy. Positives and negatives. This is the result. Far as I've heard you ain't a werewolf. You lack certain protections. Even if you had them, we've gotten good people killed and forced our kind into national spotlight.”
“That was Zakar, not us.”
“You're connected to him now.” He stood, framed in sunlight, offering me his hand. I accepted and he pulled me beside him. His fingers cupped my cheek and we were right back where I wanted to be.
But this time he kept his distance. “They claim you're evil.”
I chased his gaze as he turned, caught his shoulder and held him still. “I'm not.”
His hand settled over on mine. “The Otherworld’s afraid of you, Marcy. Jorge and the team been combing historical documents on L’enfer Requins, the Cunning Folk, and organizations and histories far older; he sends his condolences, by the way.”
I allowed a smile. “Gee, thanks.”
“Far as we can tell, the last time Zakar, or something similar to him, got what he wanted, Germany invaded Poland. I don’t believe you’re evil, but the thing you're bound to is. If you can't control it...”
“So, killing me is just another kick of the can for a few decades.”
“I reckon a lot shorter, but down the road is down the road and that satisfies leadership.”
“How long have you had the order?” I asked. The notion August was coming, and my memory of what he was capable of, put a new perspective on life as I knew it.
“August went whining to Belzer the same morning. They wanted you done at the hospital during surgery.” He folded each of the lawn chairs and stacked them against the wall. “You recovering any quicker, or same speed?”
“Same.” I patted my stomach and grimaced. “Instead of looking like a hotdog fresh off the grill, I look like I got forgotten in the fridge a week.”
“Appetizing.”
“Awful toddlerish of you to take one bite and leave the rest.”
He moved close enough to brush my hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry for biting you.”
“Had to be done,” I said, though I hated even admitting that. “It spoiled some of Zakar’s plan, I think.”
