It’s more than a ‘couple’ of days before we’re able to go back and get Carlo. I spent the first two trying to talk the guys out of it. Varos and his huge stupid mouth. I don’t know why we are allowing this guy so close to us. They were there when he was trying to suppress Rayne.

Kuras even verified that he was actually the guy who had been in the basement and pulled a runner.

“So, why, again, am I the one tapped to take care of this guy?” I ask Taran as we stroll into the hospital to pick Carlo up.

“Because Charity is sick and I have to watch her while Nosko has a gala to deal with, Kuras will deliver any day and Bronaz needs to be ready to go, and Austin is still getting Senvaz settled.”

“And Varos is…”

“We need Varos to stand by when new information comes in.”

I lean against the elevator wall and sulk while Taran pushes the floor button. He looks at me and bursts out laughing. “Jesus, Sako. It’s only for a few weeks. Varos says this kind of amnesia can recover quickly. Soon, he’ll be remembering all the shit we need him for and then we can cut him loose.”

I eye him suspiciously. “That’s it?”

“Is there more?”

So at least Varos didn’t say anything about the whole fated mates incident, even though he teased the shit out of me about it the entire way back from our first trip.

I shrug and stare at the floor indicators as they lift us up to the ninth floor.

Taran waves for me to lead on since I know where Carlo’s room is. We cut right and follow it past the waiting room. Glancing in there, I don’t see anyone. I’m not sure if I was expecting anyone. I guess in a way I am.

This guy has some very nasty ties. He says that no one has stepped forward but who knows how much he remembers from our last visit.

The door is ajar when I knock on it. “Carlo?” I ask, pushing the heavy door open.

“Hey, yeah. Here. Just getting my marching orders.”

The nurse is helping Carlo into the wheelchair. “Are you sure you can leave?” I ask, waving at the chair.

“Hospital discharge rules. He’ll be fine. We just need to wheel him out to your vehicle,” the nurse says. “We’ve called in your prescription and make sure to follow the directions. Here’s all your paperwork.”

Carlo looks sheepishly at me and grins.

“Taran, this is Carlo. Carlo, this is my good friend and business partner, Taran Scalding.”

Taran shakes his hand. “Carlo, glad you’re finally getting out of here. I’m sure you’re itching to be somewhere it doesn’t smell like antiseptic.”

“Or itching to be out of these scratchy sheets,” Carlo says.

Sitting in the chair on the way back down the elevator, Carlo looks like a lost child. He is in many ways. He’s being shoved back into the world with no idea what is going on in his life and a very sketchy idea of who he is or what landed him into the hospital.

“Where are you taking me?” Carlo takes his time getting out of the chair and into the taxi. I climb in the backseat on the other side and Taran takes shotgun up front.

“You’re going with Sako,” Taran says over his shoulder. “Right now, he’s the only one who’s got the room at his apartment for a houseguest.”

“Cool.” Carlo looks out the window as the taxi pulls away from the curb.

I kind of feel bad for him. Only a little bit. I can’t imagine what I’d feel like if I lost a huge chunk of my memory. “It only makes sense since no one knows where your keys are.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I’m such a bother. I promise, as soon as I can get on my feet, I’ll pay you back. Surely I have money stuffed away somewhere. Just as soon as I figure out how to access it.”

“Varos and a friend of ours are really good at figuring that out.” Taran turns in the front seat so he can talk to us. “You just focus on getting better.”

“And remembering stuff.”

Taran laughs. “That goes without saying.”

* * *

We stop by the drugstore for Carlo’s pain meds and antibiotics before getting to my apartment. Taran helps get Carlo upstairs to the second floor while I trot ahead to unlock it.

Once Carlo is settled on the sofa, Taran leaves.

And it’s just me and him.

“Can you remember if you have any food allergies or shit you don’t like?” I dig around on the coffee table to find my data pad and pull up the restaurant menus I have on it.

“I can’t think of anything.” Carlo takes out his prescriptions and reads the bottles. “Whatever you order is fine. I don’t want to be a bother.”

My snort is out before I can stifle it. He looks at me, his brow furrowed, before looking at the bottles again.

“Sorry,” I say, not feeling all that sorry. Maybe a little sorry.

“It’s fine. I’ll be as little an inconvenience as possible.”

“Good gods, stop that.” I order take out from the local diner. Right now I’m feeling a greasy cheeseburger and fat fries. Once that’s finished, I toss it aside and go to the kitchen. “Need something to wash those down?”

“Water is good.”

Instead of the chair, I flop onto the sofa next to Carlo. He takes the glass I hold out to him and swallows his meds, then draining the glass.

“Thanks,” he says, holding out the empty.

“So, did anything come back to you before we came to get you?”

Carlo slumps on the sofa and lets his head fall back. “No. Not really. The last memory I have is of me and a few friends joining this group of people.” His eyes close and I get a really good look at him. He looks far younger than my first guess. My impression that his memory loss is still strong as ever. My dragon grumbles at my resistance to the thought that we’re fated mates.

How could I possibly be fated mates with him, knowing what he was doing?

“What organization is that?” I let my focus be drawn there. All the other stuff will sort out later. Right now, I need some answers.

“I can’t remember the name. But…” he glances over at me as he appears to mull over something in his mind. His lips purse in thought.

“What?”

“Just thinking about what happened when I first shook your hand. I’m not sure exactly how much to say that will even make sense to you or if you’ll even think I’m some freak of nature or something. Or worse, just crazy as hell.”

I chuckle lightly. “I already know you’re crazy as hell. So why not just tell me and we’ll sort it out from there.”

“Are we fated mates?”

If I hadn’t just been thinking about that myself, I would swear that was out of the blue. But I’m a shifter, and I know for a fact Carlo is a shifter. Fated mates only happen with shifters.

“I don’t know. Maybe. It kind of felt like that but seems to me that it’s a bit early to be talking like that if you can’t remember much about your immediate past. I think we should sort that out first.”

I guess I said something that he needed or wanted to hear because he nods and relaxes. “There’s an organization that has opened my eyes to the world around me. I had just heard about these,” Carlo waves a hand in the air, “mythical shifters, right? Not wolves but like unicorns and dragons and griffins and stuff. These people showed me that these mythic beasts were hoarding all the wealth in our territories. They’re like the elite of the continent. They buy their way onto boards and into government positions, making and passing laws that protect them but leave us in the dirt. They have all the money, want to take ours and all the controlling interests in corporations and government and shit.”

My eyes narrow. Holy shit. Is that what they’re saying about us? I didn’t really want to believe it but here it is, coming out of Carlo’s mouth. “Us? Who’s us?”

“You know, shifters who don’t have magic.”

“Like wolves.”

“Yeah. Anyway. They’re set up to find a way to combat the corruption from these mythicals and take back our wealth that they’re stealing from us.”

That has to be the biggest bunch of bogus bullshit I’ve ever heard in my life, and I work very hard at keeping my temper about this.

He acts like all mythicals have money. Someone forgot to tell my folks because despite being a dragon, I am having to build my wealth all on my own. In fact, I still don’t have any because I poured everything I have into the shop with Taran and the guys.

“You know, sounds to me like your friends have an axe to grind because they can’t take care of their own money.”

“That’s what the mythicals want people to believe,” and Carlo sounds like he actually believes that. “But the best jobs go to them. It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.”

He sees the disbelief on my face and doubles down. “It’s true. They’re taking jobs away from us and giving it to those they know. A good old boy’s network if there ever was one!”

“The world isn’t that cut and dried, Carlo. There are a lot of factors that go into wealth distribution. The job economy is already tight and the mythicals aren’t taking all the good jobs. It’s sheer probability that proves that’s bullshit.”

“I’ve seen it in action, Sako. I’ve been passed over for work and those jobs given to people I’m sure are mythical shifters.”

“That sounds like a lot of paranoid propaganda.” The doorbell rings and I can’t be thankful enough that I have to get up and answer it. This conversation is fast turning my mood sour and I don’t want to have an argument over some poor idiot’s ideology that’s been turned on its head by a bunch of bitter assholes.

Besides, Carlo has clearly been mislead and his naiveté and dissatisfaction with the world has been corrupted by these people.

I pay for our dinner and divvy it up between us on the coffee table.

“I’m sorry, Sako. I said something wrong, didn’t I?” He looks at me earnestly.

“What?” Shit. The look on his face makes me regret being pissy. He’s obviously been confused and turned around by these creeps, taken advantage of by greedy people who need foot soldiers.

Something tells me that is exactly what Carlo was to them.

Shit.

“Look,” I say after gathering myself. “I’m just saying that it sounds like a whole bunch of propaganda, that’s all. I’m not saying that mythicals aren’t rich. But there are wolves who are just as rich as well as regular humans. Why aren’t they going after them, too?”

“I don’t know. I guess you’re right. I just remember them telling us that in some big meeting, is all. And I have friends there with me. We joined together, you know?” Carlo pulls his dinner over in front of him and gingerly, he slides into the floor to get closer to his food. “I’d like to try to find them. They may know something that can jog my memory. I can remember a few of their names.”

“Sure.” Thankfully he’s willing to drop it. If he can, I can as well. “Here.” With a pinky, I push my pad over to him. “It’s already connected to the ‘net. Give them a wide search and see what comes up. If you don’t find anything, write their names down and I’ll put our friends on it. This guy can find anything or anyone.”

Carlo smiles gratefully and drags it over to type with one finger while he eats his burger.

The search only takes a few minutes before the results come in. My curiosity gets the better of me and I scoot closer to read over his shoulder.

There are a few obituaries and the Stelline Times articles about a massacre. What the hell? I know for a fact that our guys didn’t kill anyone. Last I heard, the idiots who were stupid enough to engage in a magical battle with Rayne were just left unconscious.

These guys are dead.

Carlo pushes the pad away with a soft sigh.

“Everything okay?” He looks like he was just hit. If he was close to any of those guys, this really had to suck.

“I don’t know.” Carlo stares at his fries before picking one up slowly to nibble at it. “I mean, I remember their names and faces and I get a feeling that I was close to them.” He taps at his chest. “I feel it more than can think it, you know? I can’t shake the feeling that whatever happened, they didn’t deserve this.”

“No one deserves to be killed.”

“I could be dead,” Carlo says with finality. He pushes his half-eaten burger away. Struggling briefly, he manages to sit back on the sofa again. “I should be dead but I’m not. I lived and they didn’t. Why?”

I don’t have the answer to that. I bite down on getting all philosophical about death because they were Carlo’s friends and ties to a past he was trying to remember. “I’m sorry, Carlo.”

I can’t imagine what he is going through and what the hell? Why am I sympathizing with a guy who is implicit in an attack on a friend’s sister and whose ‘friends’ have ties to all the muggings that have been happening to mythicals recently?

It’s hard to hold on to that anger. Carlo looks really lost and I feel really sorry for him.

“We’ll find the answers we need,” I offer lamely. It’s all I have to offer.

At this point, I can’t figure out how we’ll help each other at all.