Nightlife (Cal Leandros #1)(51)

An expression shifted fleetingly across his foxlike face. I thought it might be sadness or pity, maybe even both. "You realize that you could live longer, much longer than your brother," he said with grave apology. "You could still be young while he's old or even…" He didn't finish; he didn't have to.

I took another sip of my beer before replying matter-of-factly, "No, I won't."

"But, you could. The Auphe are enormously long-lived, as much so as I am. You may have inherited that. You could conceivably live hundreds, even thousands of years."

He thought that I didn't understand, that I didn't grasp what he was telling me. But he was the one who didn't have a clue. There was no way I was living without Niko, no way I could survive without my only family. No way I even wanted to. I pushed his glass closer to him. "Drink your Scotch, Loman. We're all fairy-tale creatures here, remember? Everyone lives happily ever after."

I wasn't sure if he read between the lines or not, but the gulp he took of his drink emptied half the glass. A cheerful rumble came over my shoulder. "You might want to cut your buddy off before he passes out."

I turned my head to see a familiar face. It was Samuel, the guy from the band, still as *footed as ever. "You wouldn't say that if you'd actually spent time with him," I countered with mock gloom. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't playing until Friday."

He leaned against the bar, a grin splitting his face with a blinding flash. "What? This isn't the place to be? Can't a guy come out for a brew?"

"No, it's not the place to be and I think Fellows here already drank all the brew." After leading a wholly solitary life except for Niko, I suddenly felt like I was developing an entourage.

A comradely hand slapped me on the back. "Well, I've never been one to get between a man and his liquor. Actually I came to pick up our money from last weekend. Genghis is running short of leather-pants funds. Your boss in the back?"

"Tallywhacker? I've never seen him anywhere else," I grunted. "Good luck prying dough out of his sweaty hand."

"I have ray ways." He waved and disappeared toward the back.

As I looked over my shoulder toward Goodfellow, Meredith caught my eye. She was checking her reflection in a small hand mirror, primping like she always did. It wasn't her but the sight of the mirror that made me take notice. Abruptly, I asked Robin, "Goodfellow, you know anything about haunted mirrors?"

He raised his eyebrows, fingers curled around a now empty glass. "Now, that is out of the blue." The words were only the slightest bit faded around the edges, not slurred, but not crystal edged either. "Haunted mirrors? As in ghosts?" He wiggled fingers in the air. "As in 'boo'?"

"Never mind," I said dismissively, signaling for another beer. "It's nothing."

"Caliban, wait. I didn't mean anything by it." He paused as I received my new brew, then continued as Meredith passed out of earshot. "Tell me about your mirror problem."

I shot a glance toward the men's room. Niko had just stepped out, but Samuel had stopped him and was talking to him. Good. "It's not exactly a problem. More like a nuisance. A little annoying, a little irritating. Kind of like you, in fact."

"And you actually want my help," he said sourly. "That's what makes it so amazing."

It was my turn to say I was sorry. It seemed like I was doing that a lot lately and I wasn't so sure I liked it. What had happened to the unapologetic son of a bitch I'd always been? "Sorry." Shrugging uncomfortably, I went on. "Something's been sort of following me from mirror to mirror, bizarre as that sounds. And it's weird, but I have the feeling it's happened before now. I've never actually seen it, but I hear it. It sings… Well, it hums anyway. Maybe it doesn't know the words."

"That's not much to go on." Robin furrowed his brow and scratched his chin. "Lots of creatures are musically inclined. Sirens, for one. That guy and his rats, for another."

"The Pied Piper? Damn, was there anyone you didn't know?" I held up a hand just in time. "Rhetorical question. And anyway, didn't you play the pipes?"

"Who do you think taught Rat Boy? The ungrateful bastard." He sighed, leaning a bit harder on the bar. "Ancient history. Point is, between sirens, ghosts of opera singers, and hundreds of others, it could be anything. The mirror, though, that's more esoteric. Let me think on it." A slightly sheepish smile curved his lips. "When my thoughts aren't quite so bogged down in Scotch…"

"Okay." Niko had finished talking to Samuel and was walking in our direction. "Don't mention it to Nik, would you? I think he has more than enough on his mind."

He clicked a tongue against his teeth and shook his head. "All right, but it's not my ass on the line. Don't forget that when he's kicking yours high unto heaven."

I gave him a silencing hiss and was drinking my beer with casual aplomb when Niko moved up beside us. "Your friend Samuel is quite friendly." That wasn't a compliment, coming from Nik, no matter how it sounded. I might not have gotten my cynicism from my brother, but every bit of suspicion, caution, and flat-out paranoia, I'd learned from him.

"Except when it comes to his singer," I pointed out. "No love lost there."