Soaking wet, panting, covered in feathers and mud, Agent Fuzznuts and I watched in disbelief as Casimir—methodical, controlled, “I iron my socks”Casimir—reached for the hem of his ruined shirt and stripped it off.
“You want war?” he growled. “You’ve got it.”
Oh, shit. The Cimmerian Winter Soldier has finally snapped.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Seri’s laughter choked into a startled squeak. Even Koa paused mid-wheeze to stare.
I’d seen my brother shirtless approximately ten thousand times in my existence, but I’d never seen him strip down with such deadly purpose. His green eyes locked on the duck with the kind of determination usually reserved for tracking serial killers.
“Cas?” I ventured, but he was already moving.
With dhampir speed that blurred his edges, he twisted his poopy shirt into an improvised net and took three running steps. The offending duck, perhaps sensing its imminent doom, quacked in alarm and changed course.
Too slow.
Muscles coiled, Cas lunged up, twisting in mid-air with the kind of grace that would make Olympic gymnasts look clumsy. The shirt-net whipped outward, slicing through the air with a soft whistle, and ensnared the bird mid-flap. Duck and dhampir landed on the dock, one in superhero crouch, the other with indignant quacking.
“Night’s teeth,” I breathed, truly impressed, and Brumster sent me a feeling that could only be translated as,Whoa.
Seri was doubled over laughing again, one hand pressed against her mouth in a failed attempt to contain her giggles.
Koa was still on the ground, having progressed from silent wheezing to gasping like a man who’d just run a marathon while smoking a pack of cigarettes. Every time he started to calm down, he’d look at Cas standing shirtless and victorious with a duck-stuffed bundle and collapse into fresh convulsions.
With the dignified bearing of a conquering general, Cas strode toward me, holding his quacking conquest at arm’s length.
I struggled to my feet, squelching unpleasantly. Brummy shook himself, sending a spray of lake water in all directions and somehow making his fur stick up in tufts that resembled a dozen mini mohawks.
Up to his shins in mud, Cas stopped in front of me and, with great ceremony, extended the shirt-duck-bundle toward me.
“Your target,Agent Dumbass, has been acquired.”
I accepted the bundle, feeling the duck squirm indignantly within its cotton prison. It poked its head out between folds of fabric and fixed me with a baleful stare. It quacked once, which I’m pretty sure translated to, “I will end you in your sleep.”
“Tactical assessment?” Cas crossed his arms over his bare chest and stared at me.
“I may have underestimated the opposition.” I spat out a feather that had somehow lodged itself between my teeth.
His mouth twitched. Just the slightest movement at the corner, hardly noticeable, but I knew that twitch. It was the Casimir equivalent of rolling on the floor laughing.
“If you ever involve me in duck warfare again, you will spend the next decade cleaning my boots with your toothbrush.”
I shifted the complaining duck to one arm and saluted him with my unicorn fist.
“Request debrief over beer, sir?” I barked despite the mud dripping down my ass crack.
“Denied,” Cas replied without missing a beat. His eyes slid to the still-giggling Seri, and that twitch at the corner of his mouth grew just a fraction wider. “And now I’m requisitioning the lake for decontamination.”
Before any of us could parse what that meant, he closed the distance between himself and Seri in a few strides. She had just enough time to look up in surprise before he swooped her up in his arms and cannonballed off the end of the dock with her.
The splash was magnificent, a towering geyser that rained back down on the dock, drenching Ko and sending the remaining ducks scattering in renewed panic.
I stood there, mouth agape, still clutching a wriggling duck in a shitty shirt, as Ko sat up at last and wiped tears from his eyes. Seri and Cas surfaced a moment later, her shrieking with laughter, and Cas…
Was I hallucinating?
Cas waslaughing. A real laugh, not the tight-lipped scoff or sharp barks he usually managed.
The duck in my arms quacked emphatically.
