Madhouse (Cal Leandros, #3)(38)

"You are such an ass." I scowled.

"I do my utmost to live up to expectations." He grinned, before turning away from the water. "All right. Third time's the charm, which is apt, because that's her name. Charm."

"And she doesn't live in freezing water or will try to eat me?" I asked suspiciously.

"The most she will do is plait flowers in your hair. She's a leimakid, another kind of nymph. Meadow. Grass, trees, flowers." We walked up the path until we hit the Great Lawn. "And reproductively speaking, she spores. However, practice safe sex. There have been cases of moss growing on the north side of the wood afterward, if you get my drift. And termites are not your friend either."

"Thanks for making the experience so painless," I growled.

He slapped my back. "Goodfellow Enterprises— we aim to please." Then he drifted back into the trees. "I was never one much for monogamy," his voice floated out, "but…it's not too late to change your mind. If anyone is worth it, it would be Georgina."

"Good-bye, Robin," I said quietly. There was a deep silence and then I heard the rustle of leaves as he left, a courtesy—ordinarily he wouldn't have made any sound.

Charm came to me. If she knew I was Auphe, she didn't say. She didn't say anything really. She sang words I didn't understand and brought blankets woven of supple grass. She was nude and had what I suspected was green hair, although it was hard to tell for sure in the moonlight. Her hands were sure, her skin was soft, and she smelled like clover.

Everywhere.





11




While I'd been doing other things, very interesting things, Niko had been thinking. I got the results of that the next morning as I yawned. I was not a morning person, to say the least. "The subway?" I finished applying the gun oil and reassembled the Desert Eagle at the kitchen table. I was done playing with that cannibal son of a bitch Beane. Big gun, explosive rounds, and one vengefully pissy attitude—if that didn't take care of him, I might have to check out the going price on a rocket launcher.

"Miles and miles of tunnels, some of them even abandoned and unused, it's as close to a cave as one can get. More and more, Sawney seems to be a creature of habit. But Ham may have narrowed down a location for us. He called last night while you were out becoming a man." His lips twitched, but he went out without any more ragging on the subject. "He turned down our invitation to join us for any battles with Sawney, as expected, but he did have some information. Several of the homeless have disappeared. All of them have been the more 'out-there' ones. The schizophrenics, the mentally ill. And all of them had been using the Second Avenue Subway construction project for shelter."

All the SAS construction and mess going on there—it made sense. Easy access to the lower abandoned levels for both the homeless and Sawney. Those poor bastards could've walked right into his cupboard.

What also made sense was him going after the ones who were a little off. "You know," I said diffidently, "Sawney's made it pretty clear he has a thing for the nuts. Madness seems to be a turn-on for him." And I tasted just fine.

"I've heard what he said. You know it's not true. And considering what you've been through in the past year, the fact that you're not is a testament to just how strong you are." He fixed me with a sharp glance. "Don't make me emphasize that. My hand gets tired from swatting that hard head of yours."

Niko was at the table opposite me doing a little cleaning of his own. I wasn't the only one breaking out the big guns. He was rubbing a cloth across the metal of a double-bladed axe. It was a somewhat smaller version than seen in your average barbarian movie, but not by much.

"How the hell do you hope to walk the street with that?" I asked as I carefully slid the clip home. When an accidental discharge can take out a two-by-two chunk of the wall, it pays to put safety first. New York landlords are not especially understanding of homegrown ventilation systems.

"I've taken up the cello." He hefted the axe and measured it with approving eyes. "And this should fit quite nicely in the case." Laying it on the table, he began to wrap it in soft felt far more gently than was required. To me a gun was a gun, a hunk of expensive metal—nothing more. To Niko a weapon was an object of respect. "Musical aspirations cover a wide number of sharp-bladed sins," he added with an undercurrent of dry humor.

"I'm all for seeing you sin away on that son of a bitch Sawney." There was nothing quite like catapulting out of sleep with the absolute certainty there were teeth in your chest and hunks of your flesh being torn away to be eaten while you lay paralyzed. It really put a damper on the whole goddamn morning, let me tell you. "Promise coming with us again?"

"Yes." He tied a cord around the felt with a simple slipknot. "I think she worries that two helpless creatures such as us need a bodyguard." Normally, that would be a joke. I wasn't so sure it was this time. "And she feels a responsibility. It was she and her friend that drew us into this."

"Responsible enough to take Robin in and keep an eye on him until we figure out who's after him?" Whether it was the survivor or the Rom in me, I'd never been one to overlook an opportunity.

"Believe it or not, very probably," Niko allowed. "However, Goodfellow seems extremely loath to give up his independence, even with his life at stake. He's as stubborn as you."