When Cal was fourteen, the Auphe made a torch out of our trailer, killed our mother, and pulled Cal through a rip into hell.

I don't really want to know what they did to him there. I've heard a lot of nasty sounds in the intervening years, but hearing Cal's scream during the hypnosis is pretty far up there for ones I never want to hear again. But I do know that sitting on the grass where I'd watched hellhounds steal my brother, I made a very serious promise to myself.

I swore that, if Cal came back alive, I would never let anything happen to him again. And I meant it.

I threw the soaked shirt on the floor of the car. "Lend me your shirt, Robin. Mine's soaked through." With my brother's blood.

More than anything, I hated Darkling for forcing me to break that promise.

Shifting Cal carefully, I pressed the new shirt to the gash in his belly, pumping out blood with every weakening heartbeat. His eyelids fluttered.

"Niko," Robin said, his voice slightly pained. I didn't listen to the rest of it, watching Cal's eyes move beneath closed lids. He made a small noise, barely audible, and I tense, cutting Robin off.

"Drive faster."

I looked down at my hands, stained red. I'd promised that nothing would happen to Cal. First, I'd let a monster steal my brother's body. And because I had failed him then, Cal was bleeding out in the car. I could still feel the shudder through Cal's body as the sword – my sword – slid into his abdomen so easily, his hands closing over mine and silver eyes that were not my brother's eyes looking at me with a rueful smile.

"I guess you do have the balls after all. Good for you, big brother." He slid off the sword, falling limply to the floor. I thought I saw a flicker of relief in gray eyes – my brother's eyes?

There was a change in the sound of Cal's breathing. I had heard death before, and I heard it coming for Cal now. I pressed the shirt harder to his stomach and tightened my hold on him. "Take the Verrazano," I told Robin curtly, and brushed a strand of black hair back from his pale, sweaty forehead. "Stay with me, Cal," I told him.

Robin was muttering about how stupid he was to get involved with us, how he should have given us every car on the lot and counted himself lucky. I ignored him.

Four years ago, I'd promised myself that I would allow nothing to happen to Cal if only hell would give my brother back. I meant it then, and I would keep it now except for my refusal to let Darkling make my brother the monster he always thought he was.

Looking down at Cal, I pulled him close, not allowing the fear to seep in – fear that he was already dead, that it was too late. Or worse, that he was alive; that I had not seen my brother in Darkling's eyes at all.

"Niko?"

I looked up and met Robin's gaze. Something in my face changed what he was going to say. "He still with us?"

I nodded, some unevenly chopped hair flopping in my face, reminding me of the second promise I had made. If Darkling didn't give Cal back, then Darkling would not live to make a mockery of the brother I knew. And if that meant Cal's body would die…so be it.

But I wasn't giving up yet.

Cal's lips moved. I couldn't tell what he was saying; it might have been I'll kill you or my name, Cyrano. It didn't matter. He was still alive.

"Stay with me, Cal," I said again. "Jesus Christ, hold on."