Madhouse (Cal Leandros, #3)(78)

"There's nothing like a head shot to distract a guy, I'll give you that," I said. "Just don't forget how fast he is. I'll do my best, but …" I gave a shrug and a cold grin. "At least I can promise to hit part of him. He might be able to walk around with a fist-sized hole in him, but I'd like to see him do it with sixteen or so of them."

"Always the optimist." He slapped me lightly on the back. "You restore my faith in the human condition."

I didn't bother to open my mouth on that one. One comment on how I was only half of the human condition would get me a painful nerve pinch. I let it go. "I try," I snorted, hefting the Eagle. I had a handful of extra clips on me, this time all explosive rounds. Revenants, Sawney, I didn't care which I blew apart tonight.

"You do realize I'm still in utter agony, a virtual cripple that you've dragged to near certain death." Robin was immaculate in copper shirt and brown slacks. His sword's hilt was chased with matching copper and small emeralds. It was a beautiful and graceful creation, but that didn't make the edge of the blade any less deadly. I wondered what excuse he'd given Seraglio to pack that up and bring it to Promise's apartment. Showing off his weapons collection maybe. That would work. Living as a human car salesman didn't stop "Rob Fellows" from being one helluva show-off.

"Yes, when you attempted to sexually assault my cleaning lady, your pain and suffering was abundantly clear." Promise's heather eyes narrowed and focused on a small gold hoop decorated with one tiny emerald drop that hung from Robin's ear. "Is that my earring you are wearing?"

"It matched the sword," he dismissed. "And it gives me a piratical look. I both pillage and I plunder. In fact, I all but invented the concepts," he said as he raised one wicked eyebrow. "Besides," he added carelessly, "you'll get it back."

"If you survive that near-certain death you spoke of?" she reminded with sweet poison.

"I'm sure you'll pluck it from my cold, clammy earlobe, Mrs. Nottinger-Granville-Schoenstein-Parsons-Depry. You seem to be quite adept at that."

A few days at Promise's place had disintegrated the truce the two had once had. Rooming with a friend never worked out when it came right down to it. Mild affection could turn to homicidal fury from one towel left on the floor or, in Robin's case, one orgy in the living room. Credit where credit was due, the majority of them did seem to be nurses. Or at least they were dressed like nurses. I didn't notice any of them treating his cracked rib before Promise began throwing them through the front door, but the medical field is an arcane business. I might have missed it.

"After I'm done with you, you won't have enough molecules joined together to form an earlobe," she snapped back. The Egyptian dagger Niko had given her was in her hand and ready to taste blood.

"We never should've had two kids," I said to Niko. "One would've been plenty."

He had doffed his duster and was hefting a backpack over his long-sleeve gray shirt, the steel bands around his wrists barely showing. There was no room on his back for the sheath of his katana and he was carrying it in one hand. "Do not put this on me. I've raised one already."

Identical looks of contempt hit us both. "Okay," I said hurriedly. "I'm ready. Nik, you ready?" How much worse could Sawney be than a pissed-off vampire and puck joining forces against us? Then, all joking aside, I asked, "Robin, seriously, you up for this?" He'd insisted that he was. The poison had passed from his system days ago, the rib was cracked and ached, but it wouldn't hold him back in a fight.

"Up for it? Kid, I was on the beach at Troy. By the way, Achilles? Everything they say he was." He lifted his chin, gaze unwavering. "Believe me, I can handle this."

Poisoned, shot, nearly an extra in Hitchcock's The Birds, why would he want to handle it after all that? I didn't want to admit it, had been struggling with it for a long time, but I knew the reason. He was our friend. My friend. Jesus, I was such a girl. When the hell had I gotten so damn soft?

"Just don't get your ass killed, okay?" I ordered gruffly. I didn't wait for an answer. We'd scouted out the upper building and it was clear. Now it was time to head downward, and I did. I moved down the hall to the basement-access door and hit the stairs.

There was nothing there. Not if you didn't count the stench of Sawney and the revenants. It was enough to have me breathing through my mouth. "Where's the tunnel entrance?"

Niko had obtained a map of the tunnel system from Nushi, memorized it, gone over it with me several times, and then drawn it in permanent ink on the back of my hands and on my forearms. Following that, he'd stuffed the map in my pocket, saying, "In case we're separated. It's not enough, I fear, but it's the best I can do." Brothers believe in you, but they also know you. I know east from west, but that was the most I could hope for.

"In the southeast corner, beside the furnace."

Which would be one reason the smell was so strong. It was literally cooking against the surface of the furnace. I followed Niko and then helped him pry up the metal trapdoor in the floor. It wasn't locked, but it had been. The remnants of a padlock lay off to one side. The metal was heavy as hell in our hands and we eased it down soundlessly to stare into the depths. More stairs, but these were much older. Splintered wood framed with iron, they disappeared into the darkness. One whiff was all I needed and I nodded. "Home sweet home."