Madhouse (Cal Leandros, #3)(36)

Frankly, I didn't care if the homicidal butterflies ate a hundred muggers or drug dealers. New York could use a little cheap crime control. But, as Niko logically explained while smacking the back of my head, it might not always be a petty criminal they snared.

There were many things I'd done and many things I'd killed, but there was something about killing a giant butterfly, even one with spider legs, that wasn't going to leave any fond memories. I'd never been one for pulling the wings off something smaller than I was. But when they opened their mouths and I saw poison-dripping pincers and a circular gullet lined with tiny triangular teeth, I changed my mind. Tinkerbell took one in the gut, and, as it snarled with sizzling poison gushing from its mouth, the only thing I felt was gratitude I was out of spitting range.

Other than leaving scattered wings like ludicrously colored autumn leaves, we accomplished nothing. Not a damn thing. The only positive was there weren't any further attempts on Goodfellow's life. And I kept thinking it was positive up to the point he showed up at my door with a plan of his own.



Goodfellow tapped his watch when I opened the door. "Tick-tock. We have places to go and cherries to pop." He looked me up and down. "Could you change into something a little less…homeless-friendly?"

It was five in the afternoon and the last two hours had been spent working out with Niko. That wasn't anything I couldn't do in sweats and a T-shirt. Getting my ass kicked by my brother wasn't a black-tie event. I ducked as a lamp came hurtling from behind to bounce off my shoulder and shatter against the door frame.

"That could've been a dagger," Niko said reprovingly. It wasn't an idle observation, because the next one was. I caught a glimpse of it from the corner of my eye and dived to the ground. Robin caught it point-first and examined the blade. "It's dull. Now, what type of teaching tool is that?"

"He's delicate," my brother offered gravely.

I growled and rose to my knees, and then tackled Goodfellow to the floor while snatching the thrown dagger from him as I did. I rolled to keep him between Niko and me and held the training blade to his throat.

"You have a hostage. Nicely done." Niko approached and held out his hand. I slapped the dagger into it. "Assuming someone cares for the hostage." His lips twitched as he extended his other hand to assist Robin to his feet. "Considering the past several days, that's not an assumption we would hold true for all. Goodfellow, are you sure you won't stay here with us until we find out who is behind this?"

"I couldn't afford the massive cramp in my style." But there was a fleeting glint of surprised appreciation behind his eyes as Robin straightened his coat and smoothed his hair. "Speaking of style or lack thereof…" He focused his gaze on me. "Would you change already? Even I can't get you laid looking like that."

The practice session was nearly over and I looked over at Niko. He exhaled, folded his arms, and gave the most minute of shrugs. He thought I was making a mistake—that Georgina was for me, and that I was too stubborn by far for my own good. But while he thought I was wrong, he understood why I'd made the decision I had. He'd also seen it had actually given me some small measure of peace to have made any decision. I'd spent most of my life on the run. You don't get to make a lot of decisions doing that. You react and brace yourself in case it isn't good enough. But giving up running meant standing your ground … on all things. I'd made my choice—I was sticking with it, because I knew, even if no one else did, it was the right one.

The only one.

Niko had suggested I wait. That there might be a nonhuman who could come to mean something to me. Someone safe to care about. The thing was, I didn't want to care about my first. If it couldn't be with George, then I didn't want it to mean anything. If I couldn't care for her in this case, then I didn't want to care at all. I wanted it to be just what it was, sex and nothing else.

"Yeah, okay," I said slowly. "I'll change."

Niko lightly bumped my shoulder with his as I passed. I'd say that was the good thing about family: they supported you whether they agreed with you or not. But that was a lie. None of my other family had been remotely capable of that, and I was referring to the human half. I guess it would be more accurate then to say that wasn't the good thing about family; that was the good thing about Niko.

I dressed in jeans and a black pullover sweater. I imagined Robin would be massively unimpressed. I was right, but he was distracted enough by Niko that when I walked back into the room he let the clothes pass with a minimal amount of ranting and raving.

"Beau Brummell would choke himself with his own cravat," Goodfellow said scornfully as he looked me up and down, then brightened. "The whole polishing his boots with champagne, he stole that from me, you know." He extended an expensively shod foot and rested it on the coffee table as he relaxed on the couch. "See the shine? Subtle but impeccable."

"While I'm immensely fascinated by your shoe-care regimen," Niko commented as he leaned against the wall, "let's return to the discussion of who might be trying to kill you."

Robin admired the sheen on his shoe for another moment before exhaling, "You have no idea what you're asking."

"Piss off that many people? I believe it." I dropped into the chair and hooked a leg over the padded arm.