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case when he realized that David had passed out again.
     
    An emotion that he’d never felt before nearly paralyzed him before he realized it was fear. David shouldn’t have passed out again like that, not if he was really okay. He needed to get David help, and fast. He opened his hands and stared down at the items within.
     

     

     
    He was just using the key to unlock David’s apartment door when he heard the small snick of sound behind him. Rodney had been lucky so far; he knew that. He’d traversed the distance from the roof down the level of David’s apartment, the sound of his clawed feet echoing on the metal stairs as he clattered his way down the stairwell. He’d crept down the hallway to David’s door after a hasty glance in both directions from the safety of the stairwell door. Another few feet and he would have been safely inside, where he could open the skylight and fly back to the roof for David. It had been a daring plan, but a reasonable one, given the circumstances.
     
    The little old lady standing behind him couldn’t have been more than five feet tall. Her dark, curly wig was slightly askew on a head that was otherwise covered with gray peach fuzz. She wore heavy bifocal lenses and a burgundy pantsuit that had been fashionable in the 1970s. In her unsteady hands, she wielded a long-barreled revolver. A Colt .22, if Rodney was not mistaken. As he stared, the old woman used both thumbs to pull back the hammer, the movement making her hands shake even more.
     
    “Stop right there, buster,” she snarled. “I’ll have you know I’m a crack shot. What do you think you’re doing?”
     
    Rodney held up the keys. “Um, I have permission to be here?”
     
    “Oh, yeah, right. Try pulling the other one.” She shifted her weight to wave an ankle in his direction, her foot encased in a brand-new orthopedic shoe. “What are you, a demon?”
     
    Rodney was getting tired of answering this question. “No,” he said through gritted teeth. “A gargoyle. Look.” He interrupted her before she could speak again. “I’m a friend of David’s, okay? He got mugged tonight, and I’m just helping him get back to his apartment.”
     
    “He’s right.” David’s voice caught both of them off guard, and the old woman whipped her gun in David’s direction. He was leaning against the wall, one hand on the back of his neck, his suit rumpled and smudged with oil. He had the canister slung over one shoulder by its strap. His eyes opened wide when the gun turned toward him, and Rodney almost threw himself between David and the weapon, but he was afraid any sudden movement would cause the old woman to fire. David straightened quickly and held up his hands at chest height. “Easy there, Sadie.”
     
    Sadie pursed her lips and released the hammer, shoving the Colt unceremoniously into the giant purse on her shoulder. “You should tell your friend to put on some clothes, David. He shouldn’t be walking the halls with that great big schlong hanging out like that.” Sadie waved a hand in irritation toward Rodney.
     
    David turned bright red; even his ear tips were red, Rodney noted. “I’m sure it won’t happen again, right, Rodney?”
     
    “Right.” Rodney turned his back on the surreal conversation behind him to unlock the door. He pushed it open and stepped aside with a flourish. “After you.” He handed the keys back to David.
     
    David gave him an unfathomable look as he shouldered past Rodney into his apartment, his color still high.
     
    “Madam,” Rodney said, giving Sadie a little bow. He followed David into the apartment with the utmost dignity, his tail draped over one arm as he shut the door behind him.
     

     

     
    David came to rest at the kitchen table, peeling the strap off his shoulder and dropping the canister to the floor so he could let the table hold him up. He lifted his head to watch as Rodney entered the small, radiant glow cast by the light over the stove. Toenails