Nightlife (Cal Leandros #1)(79)

"You're a good puppy, Sammy. Keep this up and you'll get a nice treat." I turned and gave him a sunny grin. I'd heard him come in, heard his breathing, heard every measured tread. There hadn't actually been any doubt in my mind that he would do as I said, but I still had to admit it was gratifying. Made for a smoother schedule, and I'd had enough aggravation lately. "You bring Genghis with you?" I brushed disparagingly at my jeans. "I could use a pair of leather pants." Another hunger pang prompted a wistful addition. "And a snack." Genghis wasn't a cheeseburger, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Where do you want it?" he asked, disregarding my comment. He was all business, grim and humorless as a Baptist in a whorehouse.

Hours had passed while I was relearning the ins and outs of gates. It was coming down to the wire. "In front of the far wall, about twenty feet back." I tossed a casual hand toward the one wall not covered with boxes and crates. "Keep them to the side and leave a path. And jack the amps all the way up, Sam-I-am. I'm going to make some serious noise."

Nodding curtly, he spun on his heel and moved off. I called genially after him, "Need any help, buddy? It'll be just like old times. You won't even have to pay me this time."

"No, thanks." He brushed me off without turning. "I didn't bring my long spoon."

Literate bastard, I thought with amused tolerance as I watched him go. I could have told him there was no devil. The rest of us wouldn't have stood for the competition. I let him alone while he set up the speakers; they were an impressive set for a rinky-dink bar band. Samuel had to bring them in on a dolly and it was still a struggle—they were that massive. It was good luck for me. I had Caliban's breeding, I had the supernatural battery beneath the floor, and I had the Auphe's guidance. But more than that, I had myself. I had talents of my own and that would be the deciding factor. Millions of years was a huge chasm to bridge. It wouldn't hurt to get a boost. And if the humans' own technology led to their downfall, hell, that was just a bonus. Any ambivalence I had about losing this world's luxury disappeared under the sheer ego boost of what I was about to do… what only I could achieve. In the entire realm of existence only I could make this happen. Only I held the power.

"Where do you want the microphone stand?" came another question, detached and toneless. Samuel was becoming less and less entertaining as the seconds passed. His face set and remote, his eyes stony, he looked just past me as he waited for my answer.

I took a step sideways, planting myself firmly in his line of sight. I wasn't going to let him hide from what was happening. What ticked me off, though, what gnawed at me with sharp rat teeth, was that I didn't know if it was the Darkling part of me or the portion that had once been Caliban.

I thought the Auphe were damn cunning in regard to Samuel. They had finally located Cal and his brother, had shadowed them from a safe distance for nearly a month, and hadn't been found out. They had known about the friendship with Georgina. They'd known about her dying father. They'd even discovered an in with her devoted uncle Samuel, and they'd used it ruthlessly. He could do what the Auphe couldn't and watch the brothers from a front-row seat, keep tabs on them during the time his masters searched for a suitable location for the gate. He could get up close and personal with the brothers in a way that wasn't possible for the Auphe. He was the one that sniffed out that they were going to run, too. Good nose on him… for a human. You had to hand it to the bosses; they had tied everything in a neat and inescapable knot. Admirable.

Of course Cal would've had a slightly different opinion. His would've been more in the realm of betrayal and rage, with a generous helping of homicidal fury. I wanted to kill our good buddy Samuel—don't get me wrong. But whereas I wanted to kill him for fun, Cal would've wanted to do it out of a sense of vengeance. He would've wanted payback. He would've wanted justice.

I didn't give a shit about what he would've wanted. Caliban was gone. There was only me and when I tormented Samuel it was for kicks only. That was the end of that particular story. "No stand," I answered. "I saw your singer use a headset. That's what I want." I'd need my hands free to open the gate. Clamping on to his arm with a tight grip, I stopped him as he started to move away. "Another thing, Samuel. Since you've been such a good guy, been such a pal." I bared my teeth in a travesty of a grin that predated my human form. "I'd like you to stick around and see the show. Admission is free." More or less.

He didn't avoid my gaze this time, but simply met it with eyes as empty as what was left of his soul. "All right." He knew what was coming, knew it and wasn't going to avoid it. The curse of a conscience wasn't a problem I was familiar with, but I had heard rumors. "I'll be back with the headset." I released him and he made his way through the gathering Auphe. Frowning, I watched him go. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that I wasn't going to have the opportunity to kill Samuel. He was making it entirely too easy; it took all the fun out of it. Either way, it didn't matter. Once the Auphe went through the gate there wouldn't be a Samuel to kill. There wouldn't be a Georgina either, and if Samuel had known that, I don't think he would've have been quite so resigned.

"It is time."

The whisper of the Auphe was repeated a hundred times over, rising in an atonal concerto that swelled high to the rafters. The words then melted into an inarticulate, needful moan that twisted the air in the same way a knife twisted guts into shredded flesh and spilled bile. It was the sound of a multitude of monsters calling for home. They stood shoulder to shoulder and watched me with the intensity of an exploding sun. Hundreds of bloody eyes were locked unswervingly in my direction. I could feel the heat of it on my face. Their icy, fetid breath panted in short, excited bursts as long fingers clenched and unclenched into spidery knots. Mouths gaped, lips skimming over adamantine teeth, as they mewled uncontrollably. They were the right hand of death itself, pale and pitiless.