Nightlife (Cal Leandros #1)(54)

I raced down the sidewalk, every breath burning in my lungs, every heartbeat threatening to rip open my chest. The knife and the blood were both visible in the harsh glow of the streetlights. It wouldn't be too long before someone called the police, but it didn't matter. By the time they got there, I'd have vanished one way or the other. Whether it was from the street or from this world, I couldn't say, but I'd be gone.

Staring faces, gaping mouths—I saw all of that in the corner of my eye as I ran. I saw people scattering before me until I ducked into an alley out of sight. It was dark, secluded, and a shortcut I rarely took. You never knew what creature feature might be lurking there in ambush, but whatever might be in the alley couldn't be any worse than what was on my tail. I hadn't seen them behind me as I'd fled down the street, but I knew they were back there. Slinking in the evening shadows or leaping from rooftop to rooftop, they were coming. It was inevitable. Neither death nor taxes had anything on the Grendels.

The alley turned out to be empty and silent except for the sound of my pounding feet and the drip of water down grubby worn bricks. Splashing through puddles left by an afternoon rain, I exited the narrow passage and dashed across the street. There was the blare of horns, the squeal of tires, and the curses of pissed-off drivers. I ignored it all, even the bumper that scraped my leg hard enough to stagger me. Managing to stay on my feet, I kept moving. Home and help were only a few more blocks. I could make it. I kept that a single-minded point of focus in my thoughts. I could make it. And despite the doubts snickering in the back of my head, I did.

I didn't slow at the security door. The lock was still broken and the door flew open when I hit it like a runaway train. With the screech of rusty hinges, the door slammed into the wall hard enough to embed the handle into plaster. Job security for the super, just in case cleaning up our dead bodies later didn't keep him busy enough. I hit the stairs, every second an agony of suspense as I waited for the scrape of claws behind me, for the whisper of No more running, bad boy, no more running. When I finally reached the top, the muscles in my legs were in knots and the stitch in my side felt like an ice pick sliding between my ribs. I didn't bother fumbling for my key. Instead, I leaned on the apartment door and hammered the wood with my fist. "Nik!" My voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable, as I dragged air into starved lungs.

The door was jerked open and I lurched into my brother. Niko caught me by my arm with one hand. His other was wrapped firmly around the hilt of his sword. "Grendels?"

I hadn't had to say a word. Only one thing could be responsible for the desperation in my voice, and Niko was well aware of exactly what that was. "Right behind me," I confirmed, my chest still heaving for breath. "They were at the bar. Merry…" Stopping, I pressed my lips tight and then tried again. "Meredith is dead. They ripped her to shreds."

His hand tightened on my arm. "Bastards." The word was bleak with a frozen fury.

I heard Robin's voice, hushed, almost resigned. "The Auphe? They've come?"

Niko slammed the door behind me and locked it. "I have an extra sword in the long bag on my bed, Goodfellow. I would advise you to get it." He would've let Goodfellow run for it if there'd been enough time. I don't know if Robin would've taken the opportunity or not, but there simply wasn't a chance to find out.

"No, thanks. I've been carrying my own since I met you two," he said with grim humor. "Luckily, it's close to trench coat weather, or the fashion police would be on my ass as surely as the Auphe are on yours." Reaching beneath his coat, he armed himself with a wickedly sharp blade.

"I'll take the sword, then." A gun wasn't much use against Grendels, especially in the close quarters of an apartment. There were too many and they were too goddamn fast. It didn't stop me from retrieving one from my bedroom. I might not be able to use it on the Grendels, but if I survived, I might need it later. As I took off down the hall, I could hear Niko and Robin moving furniture. Blocking the door, no doubt. Our locks were the best, but if the entire door is destroyed, locks aren't much use. And then as I hurriedly unzipped Niko's bag and started to pull weapons free, I heard it. Yeah, I heard it all right and I was so not in the mood for this shit. Not now.

The humming was louder than it had been the other night. Louder, faster, and maybe even a bit more cheerful. That was fine by me. As far as I was concerned, it could hum until the sun went out, the moon turned to blood, the seas boiled, and the frigging cows came home. It was the least of my problems and I just didn't have the time. Helping myself to one of Niko's spare hundred or so swords, I returned to the hall. I had every intention of walking past the bathroom without a glance. I nearly made it too—until I heard a new sound. The humming had been replaced by a scraping noise. It was as irritating as the squeal of nails on a chalkboard or the scratch of a diamond against glass. Reluctantly, I stopped in front of the bathroom. While nothing could be more urgent than the current wolf at our door, it was also true that I didn't want an unknown flanking us at one damn inopportune time.

Turning, I went in with the sword held before me. Armed to face the John—this was my life. By turns terrifying and humiliating, it wasn't exactly the stuff of legends. Flicking on the light with my spare hand, I moved in front of the mirror. I'd been through this a few times now and I knew what I'd see: myself… staring back. I'd be pale, I imagined, with eyes dilated with anger and fear. The Grendels had come and I didn't think I'd look too happy about it. I was right. I didn't look happy. In fact, I didn't look anything at all. It wasn't me. For the first time I looked into the glass and saw my stalker. Shit, if the book hadn't gotten it wrong.