Bonedust

into her face. A smile spread across his lips as he traced the line of pearly scales across her cheek. Her too-blue eyes locked into his and she mirrored his grin, looking quite impish.
    “You have scales too, Uncle Urban?” She reached out and pressed one finger to his cheek.
    Cinthi stepped forward, clearing her throat. “Anna, can you be a big girl and finish your dinner?”
    Annabelle nodded, turned, then peered over her shoulder at him. “Bye,” she said, then hopped back over to her chair.
    “I should be going, anyway. I’ll see you again soon, Annabelle,” he said, turning away from Cinthi. He made his way back to the door and his hand rested on the knob. “Just…take care of her. You might be a bitch, but you’re the only mom she has.”
    Cinthi said nothing as he shut the door behind him. He took three deep breaths as he walked down the driveway, whistling for Pandora. She jogged to his side, looking up curiously, and he reached down to fondle an ear. “Good girl.”
    He went to Cavanaugh’s Speedi Station and bought an extra large coffee—sans cream, two sugars—and a quick lottery ticket estimating that the winner could receive up to 250,000 zaels. He could use that. Settle down in a cozy little house off the beaten path and be able to live comfortably, pay child support, and dance whenever he wanted to. No more late night hunts, no more dealing with homicidal werewolves. Just him and Pandora and…
    He paused mid-thought. Gabriel. His heart skipped a beat, realizing what this feeling meant. No. Love was a four letter word. Lust he could handle, companionship was great. But love… He shook his head, drawn out of his thoughts.
    The cashier smiled a crooked grin at him as he slid coins across the counter to her. She counted them, rang him up, and he headed back outside. Pandora stood at a hedge of bushes, having spied something in them. She gave a low uttered bark. “Let’s go,” he said, and she just stared at him, then glanced back at the bushes. “Pan, move it.” There must’ve been something urgent in his voice, because she sprinted to his side.
    It took a little cajoling to make the Aerbus driver accept a dog on his bus. He thrust a finger at the ‘No Pets’ sign and shook his head. “She’s not technically a dog,” Urban said, patting Pandora’s head. “She’s pureblood dirgehound from a Cork breeder. I can get you her papers.” Weren’t all buses supposed to allow hunters the ability to travel with their hounds in case of emergency? What if there was a Level Five? He’d have to get there, pronto.
    “Does she bite?”
    “Small children and old ladies.” Urban smirked at him. The man missed the joke, obviously, and Urban heaved a sigh. “Only vamps, werewolves, and anything I sic her on. She won’t be trouble—look, I’ll even pay a few extra zaels.”
    That seemed to make up the driver’s mind. Of course, it didn’t make up Pandora’s mind. He tried coaxing her up the steps, reminding her that she’d been up hundreds of steps in her lifetime. She merely whined and thrashed in his grip. “Halcion,” he grumbled, wrapping his arms around her torso and hauling her up into the bus. He deposited her on a seat and flopped down just as he realized the small crowd of bus goers was staring at him. “She won’t pee on the seats,” he promised them, flashing a little red-headed girl a smile. She blushed and ducked behind her mother.
    He relaxed into the cracked seat, stretching his legs out in front of him as far as they would stretch, and he let his mind wander. Gabriel. Gabe had called him, needing his help. Needing a bodyguard, first and foremost. Urban smirked; he would do more than guard the other man’s body. He shooed the dirty thoughts out of his mind—last thing he needed was a hard on in the middle of a public bus—and it wandered to other things.
    Battery City. It meant nothing and everything all at once. He could still remember the smell of the city streets, still remember the creamy taste of the sundae he’d gotten at a little home owned shop called Haven. He could still remember looking into his boyfriend’s eyes, their depths dark and contemplative; remember tracing the slice of a scar that ran across the bridge of his nose earned from one of his various hunts.
    Urban’s heart gave a pained twist and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memory. That was a path better left untread. That was the past, this was the present. The present