"Would a good maiming be considered over-the-top?"
Eli shook his head. Varyk was ever persistent. "My city is being overrun by animals. Before Sanctuary brings in any more, I want you to stop them. All of them."
"I'm working on it, but you should be aware that taking down Sanctuary isn't an overnight event. Burn the building. They rebuild and Savitar takes revenge on the perpetrators."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Eli caught himself as he ground out those words. He calmed down before he spoke again. "If it were that simple, I'd have had them out of here decades ago. What I want is for those bears to be slaughtered."
Varyk arched a single brow at the man's tone and demeanor. There was something insidious. A hatred so raw, there was more to this than what Eli said. No doubt this was worth investigating. . . .
"Why so much venom, Blakemore? What have the Peltiers done to you?"
"That is none of your business," he snarled. "Now go." He gestured toward the door with his brandy snifter. "Do what you have to, to get that pack of dogs out and then finish off the bears."
Varyk gave him a mocking bow before he turned on his heel and flashed out of the room, back to his home in the Garden District. It was an elegant antebellum relic that held just the right amount of chill in the air. At four thousand square feet, the house was by no means small, but it didn't quite qualify as a mansion either.
It was, however, a lovely reminder of his solitary existence. And yet he'd lived this way for so long that he could only vaguely recall another life. . . .
He froze in the hallway as he felt a presence he hadn't sensed in centuries. Spinning around, he used his powers to pin the bastard to the wall.
"Let. Me. Go."
Varyk tightened his invisible hold. "Why should I?"
"Because we're brothers."
"No. We were brothers."
Constantine coughed as he struggled to breathe. Kill him. The urgent voice inside Varyk's head was hard to ignore. It was what he should do. It was definitely what he owed him.
But curiosity won out. At least for a few minutes.
Varyk released him.
Constantine fell to the floor where he gasped on his hands and knees. Tall and well built, he had coal-black hair and sharp features. It was easy to see the jackal in him. Just as it was easy to see the wolf in Varyk. No one would ever peg them as siblings, which was fine by him.
"Why are you here?" Varyk growled out.
Constantine looked up at him. "I'm being hunted."
"And I should give a damn, why?"
Curling his lip, Constantine pushed himself to his feet. "Since they've already mistaken your scent for mine, I thought the least I could do was warn you."
Varyk scowled at his words. "What are you talking about?"
"How do you think I found you here? A group of jackals came to Sanctuary looking for me. Since I wasn't there, I knew there was only one other person who could smell enough like me to draw my enemies to them . . . you."
He gave Constantine a droll stare. "Wow, you figured that out all on your own too. I'm impressed. You didn't even need to put a quarter in the Zoltan machine. Truly amazing."
"Knock the sarcasm."
Varyk closed the distance between them. "I'd rather knock you."
Constantine tensed, but to his credit, he didn't attack. He merely stood there, taunting him with his presence. "Believe me, I know. Do you think it's easy for me to come here after what happened?"
Varyk grabbed him by his lapels and jerked him hard. "Do you really think I care?"
"Don't you even want to know why I'm being hunted?"