Nightlife (Cal Leandros #1)(52)

"I gathered that was a recurring theme for him." He frowned. "I may have let it slip that we were leaving town. He offered us money to help him unload his equipment Friday. When I said we would be unavailable, I might have hesitated too long."

"Shocking indiscretion," I drawled. "I've lost all respect for you, Cyrano. Though in all fairness I blame it on the one mouthful of beer you drank." Leaving town. As if it were a foregone conclusion. All my arguments to the contrary hadn't made a dent in Niko's determination. I could still argue and I would, but I didn't have much doubt who would come out on top. When it came down to sheer ruthlessness, damn if my brother didn't put me in the shade. He'd threatened to physically put me in the car. That threat could and would become an accomplished fact in a heartbeat if I dragged my feet for much longer.

Robin ran both hands through wavy hair and then scrubbed his face with them. It didn't make him look much more sober, but he was giving it his best shot. It was an oddly forlorn gesture. "Are you sure leaving's really necessary? Who's to say the Auphe situation wouldn't be worse elsewhere? You've only seen the one here, and it's no more."

"Better safe than sorry." The black humor in Niko's next words was softened with a hint of sympathy. "If I did have something inscribed on my ass, Goodfellow, that is what it would be."

In Robin's life people were bound to come and go; I'd seen the result of that in his eyes. Considering his long life span, it probably happened with a depressing regularity. If they didn't leave, he'd soon be forced to leave himself to avoid discovery. His life had to almost rival ours for rootlessness. Hell, if we were in a Western, it would be time for the image of a lost and lonely tumbleweed to go drifting across the screen. But no such luck. It was always so much easier in the movies. I didn't envy Robin his near immortality at all. Mortality was more than challenging enough.

"Cheer up, Loman." I punched his shoulder lightly. "We'll send you a dirty postcard."

"Really?" He squared his shoulders and gave us a smile, breezy, carefree, and nearly convincing. "I'll hold you to it. You going to finish that?" He didn't wait as he picked up my beer bottle and took several long drafts.

"I think this evening is winding to a close, festive though it was. Pay the bill, Cal." Niko carefully pried the bottle out of Robin's hand and set it out of reach. In some strange, convoluted way I think we both felt a responsibility for Goodfellow's condition. If we hadn't stumbled onto his place of business, there was a good chance Robin wouldn't be drowning his sorrows now. It's easier to be alone when you're used to it, when there's no other option. It was just Robin's bad luck we'd presented a fleeting alternative, and now we were pulling his unexpected life preserver away. The hypnosis's going south in a big way hadn't helped him much either. Spreading cheer and joy wherever I went, the story of my life.

I dug out a handful of cash from my pocket and scowled pessimistically at it. There was no way in hell I could cover what Robin had drunk with two tens and a five. Sliding off the stool, I gave Meredith a casual wave. "Merry, I'll settle up tomorrow." Ignoring her outraged call of my name, I jerked my head toward the door. "Let's get out of here before she takes it out of my hide."

"The attack of the vicious barmaid. Your fear is quite understandable." Niko gave a disdainful snort and heaved Robin to his feet. "Goodfellow, you can sleep on our couch tonight. In your condition, even a human mugger could give you a run for your money." That was the ultimate put-down in Nik's book, a mere human giving one trouble. Niko may have been all human, but he was anything but mere.

"The couch?" Robin swayed and yawned, sleepy green eyes nearly closed. "How 'bout—"

"Don't say it," Nik cut him off immediately. "For that matter do not even think it."

"Spoilsport," Goodfellow grumbled as he was efficiently ushered toward the door.

I took one long look behind me as I followed them. Chances were, tomorrow would be the last time I was at the bar. It would be the last time that I'd smell that unique scent of sawdust and vomit. The last time I stepped over a regular to get to the bathroom. And it would be the last time I watched the rise and fall of the best-built edifice around, Meredith's breasts. It was a lot to say good-bye to, both good and bad. But one way or another life went on.

Unfortunately, I was only half right.





Chapter Thirteen




The things you think in certain situations… the thoughts that run through your mind, they're never what you think they would be. Maybe never even what they should be. My thoughts should have been solely on what was before me, but instead they twisted into one barely coherent whole that was practically screaming into my brain, "Run!" Survival instinct is, after all, an ultimately selfish mechanism. It's also damn hard to ignore, but I gave it my best shot for a few moments and knelt on the scarlet floor.

Blood was a sight, even a smell, I was used to. Thickly cloying, the copper of it coated the back of my throat until I could all but taste it in the air. You could say I'd come across a lot of blood in my time, mostly monster, but some human too. But I'd never seen it quite like this before.

"Merry?"

It was my voice, cracked and empty as a broken eggshell. My voice and then my hand reaching up to touch a velvety cheek, still soft, still warm. It was my voice and my hand, though I couldn't recall speaking or even moving. I cupped her face. It was like cradling a peach warmed by the hot summer sun. Magical, until the sensation of blood staining my hand registered. And suddenly what had been a person, a beautiful and carefree woman, was gone. Shallow, yeah, she'd been shallow. So what? She'd also laughed, flirted, worked, and goofed off by turns, and had more boyfriends than I could keep count of. She'd carried a picture around of a mangy alley cat she'd rescued, and applied five pounds of makeup per square inch. She'd tried to sing, but was tone-deaf beyond redemption. She'd danced like a goddess, albeit a goddess with two left feet. She'd been annoying, spoiled, and even manipulative, but she hadn't deserved this. No one did. What had been a gorgeous, living creature was now nothing but a pile of meat.