But Jean-Claude was, in a way. He glanced back at his car, and at Louie. After a second of staring at it, and me, he took it, almost tentatively, as if he were afraid I'd take it back. It was a look of pain and confusion, and centuries of hurt.
Marlowe was Gregory's stage name, and he only had one biological unit that called itself his father. The emerald of his eyes spread and swallowed his pupils, so that he looked at me with eyes like green fire. I was more cautious, scanning the area as I moved to join them, my gun pointed at the ground, but held two-handed, ready to go back up. Gabriel and I nearly beat each other to death, while she watched.
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