Nightlife (Cal Leandros #1)(24)

"I said they were countless. That changed long ago." Robin stood and walked restlessly around the room, straightening sales awards on the wall as he went. "Changed for us all. Man." He shrugged his shoulders diffidently. It made me realize he had some memories he probably would've as soon forgotten as thoroughly as I'd managed with mine. The green eyes flicked toward Niko, excepting me from humanity without thought. "You breed like rabbits on aphrodisiacs. One moment you were the occasional star in the early-evening sky and the next, a smothering blanket snatching ownership of the very air itself. None of us had a chance, not even the wretched Auphe."

"Ah," Niko acknowledged with a philosophical regret. "Unfortunately, it is basic biology. When one only lives a short time, reproduction is a built-in priority."

"Every nine months versus every ninety years or so. It makes a difference." Robin blinked, then shook off the past to check his watch. "Sorry, compadres, it's been nice rehashing old times with you, but I have an appointment. There's still a living to make. Takes money to wine and dine the virgins nowadays. Devastating good looks and a big dick just aren't enough anymore."

I quirked the side of my mouth in dark humor as Niko sympathized with mock gravity, "Yes, a tragedy of epic proportions. However, the vast importance of your social life aside, I don't believe we are finished here. Do you?"

His knife might have been out of sight, but Niko was more than capable of making his point without it. Straightening his tie, Robin gave us both a jaundiced look and a reluctant promise. "We'll meet tomorrow, all right? Come by about eight p.m. That'll give me time to think on the situation anyway. I don't have my finger on the Auphe pulse, but I might know someone else who possibly could."

We were almost out the door when I turned and asked one last question. "Loman. Sorry… Robin. You seen any Auphe in the city lately?"

His hand, still on his tie, tightened involuntarily like the hand of the condemned on the hangman's noose. "Here? Auphe here? Katadikazo, no. Never."

Too bad for Robin, too bad for us all, but never had just gotten a whole lot shorter.





Chapter Six




Entertainers, with a capital E, are a whole different breed. They're about five steps below your local slime monster on the evolutionary ladder if you ask me, but they were a major portion of Niko's bread and butter. Unfortunately for us have-nots, big money did pave the way for a lot of self-centered, outrageous behavior. Of course with Niko that kind of crap simply rolled off his back, water to a particularly phlegmatic duck. When you could kill someone with a dirty tube sock, you couldn't afford a careless temper.

That didn't mean those nut jobs didn't succeed in bugging the living shit out of me. "Niko, come on," I wheedled like a whiny twelve-year-old, as opposed to the whiny adult I was. "Why do you have to drag me along to the freak show? It's my night off. I'm supposed to be lying on the couch, eating pizza and watching TV. It's the high point of my week. Hell, it's a God-given constitutional right."

"Thank you, John Hancock." He tossed me a pony-tail holder. "Put your hair up. Tonight you're a professional. A professional what, I wouldn't even want to wager a guess, but at least you'll be clean-cut. In any event, since our car-buying venture was unsuccessful, we should try to salvage what remains of the day. You lazing about corrupting your mind and body is not what I consider productive."

"And who died and made you boss?" But I knew a lost cause when I saw it and was already pulling my hair back with nimble fingers.

Niko slapped a shoulder holster against my chest. "No one. Like all truly great dictators, I seized that power myself. Now finish up. We leave in five minutes."

I slipped on the holster loaded with two knives. Niko had already tucked away his fifth blade and wasn't half done yet. "Who are we slaving for tonight?" It wasn't the first time I'd helped out Niko and I had a mental list of the prima donnas, drama queens, and jackasses that I was sincerely hoping to never suffer through again.

"I think I'll let you be surprised." Niko shrugged into his black suit jacket, forgoing a tie against the gray silk shirt. "It will make the walk over less trying."

"That bad? Damn." I pulled on my own blazer, a slightly more rumpled version of Niko's that I'd borrowed from him last time I'd helped him out. It was a given I wouldn't have spent good money on it myself. If the occasion called for more than jeans and a casual shirt, it was safe to say I had no interest in it. Tugging irritably at the collar of the also borrowed turtleneck didn't do anything to relieve the feeling of being choked by a pair of unrelenting polyester hands. "This Robin Goodbar, you believe his spiel?"

"I think you mean Robin Goodfellow." With an exasperated shake of his head, Niko went to the shelf against the far wall and removed a book about the size of the Titanic. He had entirely too many thick, esoteric volumes, all educational and all devoted to research on my behalf. When we moved they usually took up the whole backseat of the car. Mythology, ancient civilizations, five thousand ways to slice and dice your opponent—it was all represented.

Niko's library was a stark contrast to mine, if you could even call my books a library. I had a handful of ratty paperbacks to my name, fiction exclusively. There were Westerns with the half-naked saloon girls on the cover, sci-fi with the half-naked three-breasted alien women, and pulp detective fie with the half-naked femmes fatales, anything that caught my discerning eye. No fantasy, though, and no horror. That would've been nothing but a waste of good déjà vu.