[Jericho]

“I don't understand why we had to leave Hesia. I like Hesia. Hesia's nice.”

“You sound like a kid, Rust-bucket.”

“Do not! What's wrong with liking Hesia?”

“Nothing's wrong with liking our old place, but you've said the damn word like a hundred times already. We get it, okay? You like Hesia.”

This was the first time Jericho had heard either of his employees so damned noisy. He pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb, scowling at the back of his eyelids. Rusty had complained the entire trip, and his grumblings had been annoying even though his voice had been drowned out by the whoosh of the wind and Rosco's occasional — but deafening — shrieks. He should have taken Ninian with him and let Rusty have the second trip with the rest of their cargo instead. The anka wouldn't have minded his mutterings, then.

“But why did we have to move? We had a good thing going in Hes... there, didn't we?” Jericho wasn't sure if it was his glare or Nin's that chopped off the town's name mid-word. It didn't matter, either way. If he heard "Hesia" come out of the Therian's mouth one more time, he'd need a new bodyguard.

“Are you going deaf in your old age or something? I already told you, Jeri's running scared from some big bad vamp hunter.”

“I am not. Running. Scared.” He was, but was it cowardice when there was such a damn good reason? He knew exactly what Calvin Morris was like, and he had no intention of ever bumping into the sadistic son of a hydra's head again. “I am being. Prudent.”

Both men twisted their heads to look at him, his trunk teetering between them, just long enough for their expressions to tell him clearly what he already knew. “Whatever you say boss.” The bridge of his nose must look like crab fodder by now. Searching out his sunglasses had to be a priority, else he'd wear the spot right down to the bone. At least, here in Corantha, he could wear them without having to find some excuse, since it was so damned hot all the damned time.

“Well, but Jeri's not a vamp, is he? Why's this guy after him?”

“It's Jericho, Rusty. Why do you think?” Damn their hides for discussing his vagaries, true as they might be, while he was standing right next to them.

“I just had a thought, though.” Rusty grunted as he lifted his end of the trunk over the threshold of Jericho's new insula.

“Only one?”

“Yeah.” Rusty's pause made it clear that he realised he had been insulted somehow, but couldn't figure out exactly how. “How is Misha gonna find you now?”

Jericho blinked. It wasn't like Misha was reliable as a partner, but they had an understanding that had served them both well since their first meeting. He had been so quick to escape Hesia, and so determined that Morris not ever find him, that he had severed all ties with the place and anyone in it. Misha would be shocked to find Jericho's insula inhabited by some other family with no forwarding address. Well, the Sidhe probably wouldn't be that upset; he'd just find someone else to take Jericho's spot on his list of lovers.

“Damn. Now I have to find me a new Sidhe, too.”