"Normally, in Cerberus's penthouse."

"Penthouse?"

"Where did you think he lived? A doghouse?" he commented cynically. "He's a Kin boss. That tends to keep you in kibble and wall-to-wall carpet. But that is neither here nor there. The crown is now in Cerberus's car, luckily for you. At least, I think it is."

"What do you mean, you think?" I demanded.

"Snakes are liars. With their last breath they'll tell you a lie." He raised a hand for another beer and finished with savage bite, "We have that in common."

It was unusual to see Robin be hard on himself. He typically embraced with a vengeance his more colorful qualities. "You're not lying to me right now," I pointed out as I slid my beer in his direction.

He accepted it and lowered the level steadily. "It's more entertaining by far to tell you the truth. Watching you ignore it and fall ass over heels into the worst kind of trouble… it's better than cable."

On that note I took my beer back. "Cerberus has three cars that I know of. A limo and two town cars." None of which had been at the warehouse today. Flay . had used one the previous night to dispose of Fenrik's body, what was left of it. He would probably have taken the car somewhere to clean it up today. Can't dump a corpse without detailing the car the next day. Now that was the law of the jungle right there. As for the other ones, Cerberus had no doubt taken the limo this morning with some of the wolves following in the other town car.

"You up for staying under long enough to search them? Another day perhaps?"

And if the succubus had been lying, I could be under much longer than another day, assuming Caleb allowed me that much time. "A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." All the old movies said so, and I guessed the same was true for someone who was only half-man.

Robin grimaced. "Heroism can be so banal." He finished the new beer deposited before him. Up, down, bang against the bar. "Let's quit this place before we come down with a raging case of histoplasmosis."

As we stood, the bartender said sharply, "That's thirty bucks."

"Put it on Ishiah's tab," Goodfellow replied derisively. He started to walk toward the door before reconsidering. Turning back, he picked up the bottle of whiskey and carried it away with him. "This too. It's the least of what that bastard owes me."

"Who's Ishiah?" I asked as we climbed the stairs up to the street.

"Someone almost as annoying as you."

Goodfellow did have a way of ending a subject. Outside the sun was still missing in action, the claustrophobic clouds thicker and darker. It made the bloodstains on the puck's shirt an even deeper blue. On the last stair, his leg nearly gave way and I pretended not to notice as he braced himself against me momentarily to regain his balance. When Robin wanted attention, he'd let you know… very clearly and very verbally. This wasn't one of those times. Steadied, he took a swig from the bottle. "I'm going home to take a hot shower and mourn my favorite shirt. Hold my calls."

I moved my gaze from the choking sky to Goodfellow's still face and said quietly, "Thanks, Robin. For what you did." I almost said, "For what I couldn't do," but that would've been a lie. If I'd known as the puck had that it was the only way, I would've done it. Not as well, not as efficiently, but I would've done it and lived with the consequences. It hadn't happened that way, though. The consequences weren't mine to claim.

Robin didn't acknowledge the thanks. After tipping the bottle again, he said without emotion, "Find the crown." He started down the sidewalk. "Find George." Unspoken was the message: That will make it worthwhile. Hell, it might even make it bearable.

I was a hawk. Soaring high. Streetlights swung beneath me, bold as fireflies. The wind was a rushing current around me, gloating in my ear, plucking at my clothes. The sliver of a moon swam pumpkin orange off to my left, magnified in the warm air. I could've stretched out a hand to touch it.

Flying.

Only I wasn't.

A hand as big as my head held me by the throat and dangled me over the edge of the warehouse roof. Eyes the same pumpkin orange as the moon studied me with the clinical interest of a vivisectionist.

The day hadn't started out quite this crappy. I'd spent it in the warehouse, keeping my head down. It was a good idea, especially with the flying body parts. Robin had been right. Cerberus, arriving in his limo, had pinned the succubus' death on the revenant quickly enough. The rest of the day had been spent mopping up the mess and staying out of Cerberus's way. His mood, needless to say, wasn't good. Not that there was undying love between the succubus and him. She'd been convenient sex to him, nothing more. But that didn't matter. He owned her, and someone had dared pick his pocket. No Alpha was going to appreciate that. The sounds that had come from his office at various intervals had most of the wolves lurking by the door for a quick getaway. Roars of rage and the sound of furniture shattering against the walls didn't make for ideal working conditions. And then there had been the silence. No one knew whether to be relieved or even more panicked than they already were.

Finally, the day passed. We survived, although poor damn Mishka probably had serious doubts as to whether he wanted to. There were no jobs lined up for the coming hours and eventually the place had emptied. Cerberus remained in his office, but had calmed down enough to engage in a little cleanup of his own. I couldn't believe revenants tasted that great, but each to his own, right? He would eat; I would search. Simple. And it had really seemed that way up until the point where he caught me midsearch and pulled me from the car and tossed me bodily over it.

"Bastard thief." The words had followed me over. Apparently it was all right to steal for Cerberus, but not from him. It was when he attempted to show me just how not all right it was that I got up off my ass and ran. I left the crown. It had been in the limo after all. Under a seat. What was valuable enough to cost George her life had been discarded like trash. I could picture the succubus tossing it on the floor in a fit of spoiled pique. The jewels weren't large enough, not precious enough, weren't the right color. It wasn't flashy at all. I'd held it in my hand for nearly a full second before I'd been yanked out of the car. A simple circle of reddish gold set with the occasional onyx, it wasn't especially feminine or attractive. In fact, it looked almost… utilitarian. For one brief second I thought I felt it pulse under my hand, a single, warm heartbeat. But then it was gone—flying from my hand as I did the same from Cerberus's.

It was still down there, lying on the warehouse floor. I was counting on Niko to grab it on his way up. Not that up had been the best decision I'd ever made, but I hadn't had much choice. Cerberus had been on me fast and furious. I hadn't had time to draw my gun in the face of his unnerving speed, much less pelt across the warehouse to the front door. The stairs up had been my closest choice. Now that choice had me dangling off a building.

Not so long ago while climbing a Ferris wheel, I'd thought that I didn't have a fear of heights. As my feet kicked in empty space, I decided I might just change my mind.

"An Auphe."

"I would've been better off hiring a piranha." The heads weren't speaking the distorted words to me. No, they spoke to themselves—muzzles nearly touching, fangs half again as long as my hand dripping dark brown saliva that fell like rain. Cerberus was easily twice as large as any wolf I'd seen, maybe three times. He'd retained just enough control of his human form to remain upright. His shoulders hulked, mountain wide, under fur so black that it was nearly lost in the night. He towered almost eight feet tall; the chest was broad and made to store oxygen to feed that massive body. Legs as thick as my waist were banded with the breadth of muscle that could propel their owner unbelievable lengths. The fingers that curled around my neck were rough with callous pads thickened from years of running. The claws were jetty, curved like fishhooks, and every bit as long as the fingers. Oh yeah, and they were piercing my flesh. Fun, fun. I could feel the warmth of blood on my neck. It wasn't much blood, probably not even a tea-spoon. It didn't raise my hopes. What Cerberus had in store for me was much worse than a torn-out throat.