Solomon and Noir crouched together behind some trash bins and waited for the hypnotist to exit the hotel.  Solomon would have liked to have listened in as the man questioned the clerk but that would have left the two of them too confined.  Instead, he opted for the relative freedom of the street.  He didn’t think the clerk would betray their location, but if he did, they were better off outside than in the hotel.  He gripped the revolver in his coat pocket firmly, resolved to defend Ray with his life if it came to that.  

They’d quickly come up with a story for the clerk to tell Schlechtkoft that they hoped would cause him to go directly back to Azura’s hideout.  He was to say that two men matching their descriptions had been visited by a man who looked like Florian, and that the three of them had spoken of heading to the dock to book passage.  Presumably that would be a message that the man would need to report to Azura at once, and not one that he would act on alone.  Solomon and Noir were counting on that, and betting Laila’s safety on the outcome. They were also  counting on their hope that Florian had not managed to get himself caught.  The fact that Schlechtkoft was here making inquiries could mean either that they had gotten information from Laila or that Florian had been seen going into the hotel...or worse, that they had already gotten information from both of their friends by means of torture.  The clerk was to change the story to say that only Noir and Solomon had left if the man asked only after the two of them or seemed to know where Florian was.  They were counting on him to be able to judge whether or not the villains had succeeded in capturing Florian also.  They were also trusting him not to give in to whatever temptations were offered him to cooperate.   

"Do you think we can trust the clerk?" Noir’s question was the merest whisper, a breath on the wind.  Solomon didn’t take his eyes off the door of the hotel to answer. He merely shrugged and spoke his own low-voiced response to the space in front of him.  

"We have no choice but to trust him...so we trust him hoping he is worthy of our trust, all the while making plans for the worst...that is what you always do, Noir." Solomon felt rather than saw the nod. 

"That feels like something I would do...blind trust does not," Noir said. 

Just then the tall spare form of the hypnotist could be seen standing in the doorway of the hotel, speaking to someone inside.  Schlechtkoft stood in the open doorway for a moment after he finished speaking, as though he were gathering his thoughts.  He looked up and down the street searchingly, and then took off briskly, walking next to the bins behind which Solomon and Noir were hiding. He never once looked in their direction.

Noir felt as though he’d been holding his breath for hours.  He exhaled with a gasp when the doctor turned the corner and passed from their sight.   

"Come on," he pulled on Solomon’s coat sleeve, "let’s go!"  

Solomon let Noir take the lead in trailing Schlechtkoft.  It was soon clear that Noir had lost none of his old skill at moving quickly, silently, and essentially invisibly.  They followed the man for blocks before he finally came up to what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse.  They remained hidden in a nearby alley and watched the tall figure look both ways before he rapped upon the door in a staccato pattern.  After a brief pause, the door opened and he slipped inside.   

"We must get inside," Solomon whispered urgently.  He was ready to move forward and search for another way into the building.    

"No."    

Solomon turned back, startled. "What do you mean, no?  Our friends are inside, we must go to their aid!"   

The green eyes looked at him coldly.  "Perhaps your friends are inside but I have no friends.  I remember this place and what I remember is all bad. I escaped from here and I have no desire to go back inside.  It...it..." 

"Frightens you?"  Solomon raised an eyebrow.  The Ray Balzac Courland he knew did not admit to any fear.  This black cat also hissed at the suggestion that he could be afraid of anything.  But then, to Solomon’s surprise, Ray clutched at him in a fierce hug as he spoke; his breath was hot against his neck, one arm warm around his side and back as the other hand rubbed his muscles caressingly, distractingly.   

"No!  It is not fear but common sense!  A man doesn’t go walking blindly into a trap!  Into a cage!  That is what awaits me in that building.  A cage.  I escaped it once, I have no desire to go back. Not for you, not for your friends...not for any...." 

"Not for your Amethyst?"   

Noir recoiled as though he’d been slapped.  He shook his head forcefully as he slipped away, back into the shadows of the alley.  The afternoon sky was dark with clouds and the sun was long gone despite the early hour, deepening the alley’s normal shade.   

Solomon shook his head also. He didn’t have time for this.  The longer Schlechtkoft was in there, the more danger Laila was in.  And where in the world had Florian disappeared to?  He hoped he was safe somewhere. There was no hope for it. He would have to reveal himself, he decided, and hope that it would flush Florian out from whatever corner he’d hidden himself.  Maybe if Florian came forward, Noir would come back also, Solomon thought optimistically.   

And maybe pigs would start flying too, he added, his more natural pessimism breaking through as he reached the door that Schlechtkoft had passed through so easily.  The detective tapped his foot impatiently as he considered the all too solid door.   

"Why, Mr. Sugar, let me be of assistance," a smooth voice spoke from directly behind him as a tall shadow fell across Solomon’s path.  Recognizing that voice, Solomon felt his heart sink even as he wondered how he’d failed to hear the approach of the man he’d learned to hate more than any other.   

Azura.    Romwell Junior.   Trouble. 

At least Solomon now had reason to be glad Ray had run out on him; thank God the younger man had shown better sense than to walk straight into danger. Where was Solomon’s own sense of judgment on this adventure?  He’d been making one mistake after another, he told himself in disgust as he turned around slowly.  Why had he assumed that there would be no one who would recognize him, especially since he’d already come under attack once?  All he could do was blame the blow on his head for making him careless.  The thought provided scant comfort as he turned and found himself looking into the cold azure eye of his nemesis.   

"Romwell, Junior." 

"Detective Solomon Sugar, always so amusing to see you."  The long, almost white hair, was whipped around Azura’s face by the wind that had kicked up in the last hour.  A storm was coming, Solomon thought irrelevantly, as he stared defiantly at the other man’s mocking expression.     

"I can’t say the same is true about seeing you, Romwell, Junior. Up to your old tricks, are you?  Kidnapping?  Torture?" 

Azura gave a small half smile and shook his head slightly.  "Now, Detective, this is not the type of conversation to have on the street, is it?  Come, let me welcome you into my...what do they call the villain’s abode in the penny dreadfuls? My hideaway? My lair?" 

"I believe the phrase you’re searching for is ‘step into my web said the spider to the fly,’" Solomon told him dryly as he felt the prod of Azura’s whip handle in his side.  The cocky crime lord had not thought to search him for a weapon and he was careful to keep the gleam out of his eye,  maintaining a defeated posture. All he needed was the chance to get inside and then turn the tables on Azura! 

As he walked ahead of his captor, arms in the air, Solomon concentrated on the feel of his holster against his side, under his arm. He frowned faintly.  Now that he thought about it, it was feeling suspiciously light.... He thought back to when Ray had clutched him in that fierce hug before leaving him. 

Noir! Damn that Black Cat and his talent as a pickpocket!  He stole his gun!   

Resigned, Solomon let the prodding whip handle guide him into a large room where, with a cut off cry of outrage, he rushed forward to kneel on the floor by the side of an unconscious Laila.  Gently, he examined her bruised and bloodied form.  He determined that while she appeared to have been beaten rather severely, there were no broken bones. From the undisturbed look of her clothes, he hoped that nothing more horrific had been done to the brave woman than the physical battering.  

Solomon turned and glared at Azura, who had seated himself on a rather ornate chair placed on a raised platform.  He was busy listening to the hypnotist, who was accompanied by one of Azura’s thugs.  Solomon called over to get the white haired man’s attention. 

"You must be so proud of yourself, giving orders for the beating of women now, Azura?" 

"It isn’t anything new for me, you must know that better than most, Detective. Why should women be sacrosanct in a world where children are fair game for barter?" 

The lovely azure eye held no pity.  Solomon berated himself for thinking to find any there. This was a man who’d had all mercy burned out of him a long time ago, under the hot Moroccan sun. Only Noir had the ability to win any trace of humanity from him – but it was Noir who stood the most to lose from him as well. Azura could only take life from the rest of them. From Ray, he wanted to strip the very soul the man had managed to salvage - and Florian had nourished – in the years away from Morocco...and Azura.   

Solomon stopped wishing that Noir would come back with his gun and rescue them. Instead, he hoped his black cat ran far, far away from this place.  
"I’m sorry," he apologized quietly to Laila as he pulled her into his arms and tried to make her comfortable.  He was sorry for failing her and Ray, for all the mistakes he’d made in this mission, and most of all, for allowing Azura to win. He forgot all about Florian as he waited for Azura to tell them how he was going to kill them.   

 

* * *

 

After slipping out of the kitchen, Florian followed the black tom cat down a hallway, keeping to the shadows as much as possible.  His heart was beating rapidly.  He held ready the small pistol he’d lifted from the man he’d knocked unconscious, grateful for the shooting lessons Ray had forced upon him.  Shooting at a target that was shaped like a man was very different than skeet shooting or fox hunting, he’d discovered.  But, he’d learned.  Now, the weight of the pistol in his hand was a familiar, comforting feeling, and he was confident in his ability to use a gun – far different than the Florian of old.   

But oh, he’d much rather have Noir here to tell him what to do, he thought. Or better yet, to tell him to be quiet and let him do it, as would be far more likely. Ray, where were you? 

No sooner had the words formed in his mind than Florian heard a sound coming from the hallway up ahead. Looking at his friend the cat for a suggestion, he saw his small guide scratch at a door on the other side of the hallway. Moving quickly, Florian didn’t even consider questioning the feline; he turned the doorknob and ducked inside the dimly lit room.

He backed right into a warm body.  Which was holding a gun.   

Before Florian could make a sound, a hand came over his mouth, holding it firmly.  

Warm breath tickled his ear as he stood perfectly still, recognizing the feel of a pistol in his ribcage by this point in his adventurous life without needing to look down and see it.  

"Don’t make a sound," the voice hissed in accented English.  The voice was familiar despite the accent, which was not, and Florian knew the arms that held him despite their unusual thinness.  Tears stung his eyes and he swallowed hard.   

As the dampness from the overflowing tears reached Noir’s hand, and he realized both that the man he held was not trying in any way to get away from him and that his captive was silently crying, Noir moved his hand away from Florian’s mouth.  He turned him around so that he could look into his face.  The room was somewhat dark, with the only light coming from the window Noir had broken to gain entry.  The threatening storm had finally broken, but even with the dark clouds outside giving very little light to the room, the amethyst color of those startling eyes could be seen through the tears. 

"You...you are...the man Solomon told me about...my friend?" His words were somewhere between a question and a statement.  All Florian could do at first was nod. But the look of lost confusion in Ray’s eyes as he stared at him and tried so hard to put the pieces together was too much for him to bear without helping.   

"Ah, Ray, I am your friend and more, I am yours, completely, body and soul, forever," he whispered as he lifted his face and kissed Noir.     

Their bodies molded together, thighs to thighs, chest to chest, the hand with the gun wrapped around Florian’s neck, forgotten in the heat of the moment. This felt like coming home, Noir realized dazedly, as his body recognized the other man even if his mind was slower to fill in the gaps. The fog was clearing, though. As they kissed, and his body woke to familiar sensations, he started to return to himself.  He broke the kiss with a gasp. 

"Sugar!" 

Florian looked at him confused.   

Ray hugged him close. "I left him outside. I’d pick-pocketed his gun. He was captured by Azura as he approached this building. I made a more surreptitious entry. Not that Sugar could have gotten in the way I did. You practically needed the spine of a cat to do it. He’s a little too substantial to have made it. But, how did you get in? Never mind...no time now. We need to find Laila and Sugar and then get out. Do you have any idea where they’re being held?" 

"I heard some men talking. Laila is being held in some larger meeting room. She’s been beaten I’m afraid," Florian told him. His hands were roving over Ray, checking him for signs of injury, frowning over his thinness and the small injuries left by his weeks on the streets. Ray grabbed his hands to still them although he gave the blond an understanding smile, even as his eyes narrowed over news of Laila’s treatment. 

"I will deal with Azura. I can remember now what happened. It must have been his men who caught me after I’d finished my business here in the city. I was brought to this warehouse and greeted by a ‘doctor’ by the name of Schlechkoft. Some quack hypnotist. They kept me in a cage... literally a cage, Florian. Almost starved. It aided in the good doctor’s work of breaking my resistance. But I got out. Followed a cat out. I’m not sure why I couldn’t remember you and Laila, but for some reason I thought I was fourteen again. Stupid prank on Azura’s part." 

Florian frowned. "There must be more to it than that. Didn’t he tell you?" 

Ray shook his head. "That’s the thing. Azura wasn’t here. I heard them say he was coming but I never saw him. I got away before he arrived. Not that I was escaping from him, mind you. The way my mind was going, I had this crazy idea to go looking for him. I thought I was saving him from being caught in a cage too. Stupid, huh?" 

He looked at Florian, at a loss to explain his actions and his continued stubborn affection for a man who’d tried to end both their lives time after time, but there was no need. Florian merely pulled him close again, wrapping his arms around him comfortingly. He could only imagine how terrifying it must have been, to be in the clutches of such men and to have someone like that hypnotist messing around with his mind. While Azura would always terrify him and had no redeeming value as a human being to his way of thinking, he knew that to Ray, Azura would always be both brother and enemy. The pain to Ray was in the fact that it was the brother whom Ray would always see first in the man; Ray would always miss the brother who sacrificed an eye to save his life even as he fought the enemy who hunted them down.     

"We can discuss it more later," Ray said decisively. "Right now, we must rescue Laila and Sugar." 

"I have a gun also," Florian told him. "It’s in my pocket."  

Ray raised an eyebrow and smirked. "And here I thought you were glad to see me."  

Florian rolled his eyes. 

Cautiously, Ray opened the door to the room. Looking both ways, he started to slip out. He was startled by the black cat that passed through his legs on its way to the hall.   

"Ah, my friend cat, still here?" 

"He’s been helping me," Florian explained sheepishly.   

Ray’s singularly sweet smile appeared. "I’m glad. But you’ve done pretty well so far. When there’s time, you’ll have to tell me how a cat helped you get that gun." 

Florian grinned.  

The two of them crept down the hallway, following their small guide. Soon enough, they came to a large room. Voices could be heard from inside.  The crack of a whip and a cry of pain made Ray stop short and put his hand out to stop Florian.  

"Well, we’ve found the right place," he said grimly.