Nightlife (Cal Leandros #1)(75)

Niko and Robin were surging through the door as I picked up Goodfellow's desk and tossed it through the plate glass of the office wall. Somersaulting over the sill after it, I hit the ground running. I could hear the sound of glass crunching beneath their shoes behind me as I threw myself into one of the display models. It was a cherry red Porsche with the keys considerately dangling from the ignition for a test rev, but I was interested in more than just hearing the engine purr. I was taking that baby for a drive. As I rammed it into gear, somebody hit the back of the car hard enough to jar it. I didn't bother to look to see who it was. Either Goodfellow or Nik—bad news or worse news, it didn't much matter which. Reflecting on the joys of all the plate glass so cherished by car dealerships, I slammed my foot on the gas and rocketed toward the street. The wall-sized window disintegrated before the car like brittle ice and we hit the pavement with a screech of tires—not to mention the satisfying thump of a body falling away. I took one last look in the rearview mirror to see a figure on all fours in the street. Its blond hair was a pale glow under the streetlights, and I put an arm out of the window to give my brother one last wave. One final, happy adiós. Then it was time to get back to business. No more goddamn games.





Chapter Nineteen




There was a time in every monster's life to take stock. You had to decide where you were, how you got there, and how to get back on track. I knew where I was and I knew how to get back. That was the easy part. The more difficult task was admitting just how I'd managed to get my ass in that sling to begin with. Ego. My big fat ego. I'd played when I should've been deadly serious. I'd overestimated my allies and, worse, underestimated my opponents. In retrospect I should've handled it all myself. I should've separated them and taken them out one by one. No warning, no taunts. It would've been quick and efficient.

But not nearly as much fun.

Ah, well, every experience is a learning one. I was still the baddest son of a bitch around. I didn't see any reason that had to change. I also didn't see any reason to share the recent debacle with the Auphe. After the warning they'd given me, they would not be amused, and when the Auphe weren't amused, no one was. I dumped my appropriated car several blocks away and walked the rest of the way to the Auphe's warehouse. It was considerably changed from the last time I'd seen it. All the debris had been pushed and stacked against the walls to clear the floor, which now virtually bubbled with a choking red rage. You could see the shimmer of it in the air like heat rising from a blacktop road. I stood for an exhilarating moment and basked in the spine-shivering pleasure of it. Good stuff.

Reluctantly pulling myself away from the maelstrom of dark emotions, I went over to check out the situation against the far wall. A human was raising his voice to an Auphe. Interesting. If entrails were going to be flying, I wanted to be in on it. The human turned his head toward me as I walked up and I saw a face I recognized. Imagine that—it was my buddy from the bar. Samuel. I'd thought he'd seemed more good-natured than your average New Yorker. Apparently I wasn't the only hired help on the scene. Clever Auphe. No one did sneaky better than they.

"Sammy." I grinned happily. "Well, color me surprised. You have some serious acting chops, pal. Oscar quality, truly."

His skin bleached slightly, turning an ashy gray, as he took me in. "Your eyes… Jesus."

Oh, fine. He could look at an Auphe without flinching, but my sparkling silver eyes did him in? That hurt my feelings, it honestly did. Samuel looked away from me quickly and I decided that maybe it was less aversion and more guilt that was etched on his face. "So, I'm curious," I drawled, and draped an arm over his shoulders. "The bosses here hired you to keep tabs on Cal in his last days. That's pretty obvious." Not that they had told yours truly about it, closemouthed bastards. "My question is, what did you get out of it? What'd you get in trade for the big chunk of your soul, huh? Something bright and shiny?"

I could feel his flesh crawl under my arm as he shook me off. Steadfastly ignoring me, he addressed the bored Auphe that crouched before him. I could see by the dull glaze over its scarlet eyes that it was more than half asleep and not energetic enough for any mutilation. Disappointing. "You said you'd heal my brother. I did what you wanted. It's time for you to keep your half of the bargain, before it's too late."

Damn, he was nothing but a big teddy bear. A sick brother. Did it get more heartwarming than that? I ask you. Yeah, Samuel was a real philanthropist. Too bad that was coupled with the brainpower of a rock. The Auphe heal? Not likely. Hell, if peckish enough, they would eat their own wounded. They had no inclination and no talent in the healing field, but they did have an affinity for lies: little white ones, big black ones, and all shades in between.

This particular Auphe had a gleeful glint behind his sleepiness that demonstrated how much he'd enjoyed dangling Samuel on a string. However, dangling time had to be nearly over. They would have no further need of the guitar player now—but I might. As I was thinking that over, the Auphe yawned, its plush velour tongue flexing behind several rows of metallic teeth. It was the last straw for Samuel. Dark hands seized the Auphe by the narrow shoulders and shook hard. "You bastard, you promised. You swore."

Have you ever noticed how people, humans, tend to revert to children in times of great stress? It's not necessarily that they want someone to take responsibility or to take care of them. And it's not that they lose the capacity to understand what's going on. What they do lose is the knowledge that life isn't fair. As their life is falling apart around them, they absolutely refuse to believe it's happening, right down to the last second. They start life as a child; they end life as a child.