Nightlife (Cal Leandros #1)(62)

Bingo.

Boggles were big and they were fierce fighters, but you couldn't accuse them of being the smartest mud pies around. Tactics escaped them and their attention span wasn't all it could be. They weren't exactly fish in a barrel, but neither were they at the top rung in life's pantheon of creepy-crawlies. With a shred of perseverance and just a bit of forethought, it wasn't that difficult to get the better of them. With guidance from me, though, my particular boggle would do in a pinch.

Pocketing the money, I hailed a cab to the nearest pawnshop. The backseat was as smelly as Bog's pits and not quite as hygienic. The driver was a ghul. I hadn't seen one of those in a while. This one was masquerading as a shriveled older woman with matted locks, John Lennon glasses, and a mouth like a rat trap. Most ghuls originally came sweeping out of the deserts of the bedouin like a foul wind. They lived to bedevil and annoy travelers, to lead them off the beaten path and on occasion eat them. What better disguise for that than a taxi driver? And what could be more annoying than being eaten?

It rolled a bloodshot eye back in my direction and decided it would just stick with overcharging me. I was in such a good mood that I actually paid the fare. It was the city. I loved it. The atmosphere was charged with the energy of supernatural beasts in the thousands. In an age where we had come to be few and far between, there was a heady jolt to being among so many non-humans. When I closed my eyes, the electricity was visible, crackling in blue and green bolts. It was like the old days. I hadn't realized I'd missed it like I did. On the other hand, I was also rolling in the biggest concentration of cattle on the East Coast. There was a time when that would've been entertaining as hell. Unfortunately, humans were not as fun as they'd once been. They were softer and slower now. They had better weapons, it was true, but as they no longer believed in us, it didn't do them much good. The challenge there had been when they were savages was gone, but soon enough, it would be back. The entire landscape would change, physically, culturally, and in every other way. Thanks to the Auphe, we had the technology; we could unbuild them.

The pawnshop guy was a human, but not as soft and slow as most. He peered at me with pebble eyes from behind rusting bars. "Yeah?" A shaved head gleamed faintly under dim fluorescent lights. Pocked skin was marked with the shadow of a heavy beard, and a black tattoo of barbed wire circled the thick neck. Here and there a drop of blood was shaded in crimson dripping tastefully from the barbs. It was sharply ugly and jaggedly brutal. I touched the pad of my thumb to the side of my throat and considered how one might look on me.

Dropping the jewelry into a metal tray, I watched as it was pulled with a jerk back through an opening through the bars. "Grandma left me some of her baubles," I said with a winning smile.

The guy held up one thick chain with an oversized gold pot leaf hanging from it. "I'll bet," he grunted as he continued to root through the tangle of precious metal.

"Hey, Granny was a progressive broad." Adjusting my sunglasses, I drawled, "So what will you give me for them?"

"Eight hundred," he responded with disinterest.

I rocked back on my heels and folded my arms. "Let me rephrase that. What's it worth?"

Yellowed teeth showed in the frozen grin of a rabid dog. "Nine, ten thousand. You, valuable customer, get eight hundred. You want it or not?"

I'd like to say I dickered with him, got the cheap bastard up to at least three thousand. Didn't happen. My persuasive powers, awesome though they were, bounced off this block of concrete without result. I could've shot him, if I hadn't lost my gun and the bars weren't sandwiched between two layers of bulletproof glass. Just yesterday I would've been able to slither through the molecules and strip his flesh into yummy bite-sized bits. But today, I was different… We were different. So I swallowed my pride, accepted the money, and started to leave. Pausing, I asked him, "You have some matches, smiley?"

Tossing a book into the tray, he pushed them out to me with an oily gloat sheening his eyes. "The least I could do for you, buddy."

Well… not the very least. I moved into the back alley beyond the shop, and as luck would have it, I found a homeless guy curled up in a doorway with an almost full bottle of vodka. I hummed happily. It saved me a trip to the local liquor store. Within two minutes the back of the building was in flames, the bum was scuttling for safety, and hopefully Smiley was roasting like a pig at a luau.

Hearing the wail of approaching sirens, I strolled after the bum. It was possible Smiley would make it out, and it was a shame I couldn't hang around to make sure that didn't happen. Even so, I was betting nine thousand dollars' worth of my gold wasn't going to pay for the skin grafts, much less rebuild the shop. As I passed a plate glass window, I touched a finger to my temple and gave my reflection a snappy salute. Now you're a monster, Caliban. Ain't it great?

Ain't it just friggin' great?

I used some of my newfound wealth to get a real hotel room, one with chocolates on the pillows instead of drool stains. I also bought a cell phone. All work and no play made Cal a dull boy. We wouldn't want that. I could keep my eye on the prize and still indulge myself. A fine line, but I had faith that I could walk it. But more than that, more than the confidence I had in myself, I wanted to walk it. I wanted to live life as half of me always had… with reckless abandon. It was who I had been and who I still was to a large extent. Without risk the eons could get boring as hell. Humans had a natural adrenaline. Nonhumans… the majority of us had to manufacture our own.