Nightlife (Cal Leandros #1)(56)

I did try to get away. I'd been in enough fights not to freeze and I'd seen shit a damn sight scarier-looking than Alice. The trouble was that even though my brain agreed with all that, every other part of me was screaming a warning. It made my attempt to dive to one side seem impossibly slow, as if I were a fly trapped in amber. I heard Nik shout my name and heard Robin say a word I didn't recognize, and all the letters crept snail slow into my ears.

Then Alice hit me and all wondering stopped.

"Little piggy." A tongue touched my jaw again as gently as that of a mother nuzzling her newborn.

The body slam had knocked me over our recliner. I lay stunned in its splintered ruins with Alice crouched on my chest. The sword had flown far from my hand as my breath had been knocked painfully from my lungs.

With pale eyes staring into mine, I struggled to breathe and I struggled to say one word. "No." I didn't even know what I was saying no to. But I did know Alice wasn't looking to do me any favors. The weight on my chest, the trail of saliva on my face, the eyes as hypnotic and consuming as a cobra's—it was all wrong. Wrong in the way murder is wrong, wrong in the way torture is wrong, wrong in every way there is to be wrong. "No," I repeated, my voice brittle as glass. "No, you son of a bitch. No."

Talon-tipped fingers cupped my chin, holding my head still. "Don't worry, Caliban. You don't have to open the door," it soothed before giving me a smile brilliant with triumph and vicious with glee. "After all, no lock has ever kept me out."

Alice was right. My locks held less than a second before it helped itself and moved on in. I tried to fight. God, I fought like ever-living hell. Every inner touch, every one of its fingerprints on my brain, burned like acid. It shredded the walls of my soul like tissue paper, tore aside my willpower like the filmiest of curtains. As it clawed its way to my very center, I couldn't tell anymore where it began and I ended. It poured into me like a river into the sea, mixing, melding, until we were one. One. For better or worse.

Until death do us part.

Suddenly I saw the world in a whole new light… and it was goooood. Sitting up, I held my hands in front of my face and wiggled my fingers. Warm-blooded. It was a weird feeling, at once odd and familiar. Looking a little farther down, I took in the result of that warm blood mixed with adrenaline and grinned. "Humans. Gotta love the horny little bastards." Rising, I pulled at my sweatshirt, snorting in disgust at the faded material.

"You have got to be kidding." Well, there was time enough for that later. After all, world domination came with a schedule and if I didn't get my ass in gear, I'd throw the Auphe off before they even got started. Couldn't have that. The customer's always right and all that bullshit.

Niko was still yelling my name, although now he was held back by seven of the Auphe. Goodfellow stood alone. What he knew, what he saw before him, held him just as solidly as the Auphe held Nik. His blade hung slack in his grip, the point resting on the floor. His mouth shaped a silent word. It was the same word I hadn't recognized only moments ago, but now I knew it as well as my own name. Because, hell, it was my name.

"Darkling." This time he got some air behind it so that I actually heard it.

I waggled my fingers at him in a cheerful wave and gave him an acknowledging wink. "He shoots; he scores. Too bad 'Better late than never' doesn't apply here, eh, Goodfellow?"

"Darkling" it was… or "banshee"—I went by both. Not that I got a lot of face time in any mythology book. The female banshees, whiny bitches that they are, were all over the place, but me? Their humble brother, one of the few male banshees in existence? Jack shit, that's what I got. I was robbed, I tell ya, robbed. For a creature of my talents to be toiling in relative anonymity, it was a crying shame.

"Caliban."

I turned to look at Niko. As the King would say, he was all shook up. I couldn't remember him ever calling me Caliban. He knew I linked the name with being a Grendel and that was an idea he wouldn't ever give validity to. Nik lived his life denying my heritage, denying that I was a monster. Now, there was a thought that made me smile. Monster. When I thought of all the long years that I'd moaned and wailed about being a monster… shit. Now I knew what a monster really was. Now I knew what I'd been missing.

But… business before pleasure.

I sighed regretfully and reached for the gun stowed in the waistband at the small of my back. "Sorry, big brother. I'd love to stay and shoot the breeze, but I've got places to go, worlds to destroy. Busy, busy, busy."

Niko's face hardened. "Give him back. Whatever you are, give my brother back." His eyes, promising all sorts of dire consequences, were locked on mine. I knew what he was seeing, once-gray eyes now turned mirror bright.

"Back?" I raised my eyebrows and shook my head. "I haven't even gone for a test drive yet. Besides you act as if this is some sort of Exorcist rip-off. That you can throw a few splashes of holy water on me and poof, all gone. Sorry, Cyrano, it doesn't work that way." Abruptly, I turned and fired the gun.

The panoramic window shattered. A fiercely frigid wind whipped into the apartment. It tore at my hair, scattered an evening paper, and whipped away drops of blood from where the Auphe's claws had punched through Niko's skin. Glass glittered like shards of ice on the floor, and outside darkness beckoned. I could smell the city, smell the freedom. It was a wonderful moment, goddamn great in fact. Only one thing could possibly make it better. Swiveling around, I placed the muzzle of the thirty-eight lightly against my brother's chest. "Time to go, Nik." I couldn't leave him alive. He would never give up searching and that could put a bit of a crimp in the plan. I couldn't have that. "For me and for you."