Nightlife

Chapter Eight

Locks.

They kept things in and they kept things out. In theory anyway. But in reality I had to wonder if there were enough locks in the world to keep the Grendels at bay. Whatever doubt I had, though, it wasn't enough to keep Nik from installing the best money could buy not even twenty minutes after we'd moved into the place two years ago.

I stripped off Niko's ruined jacket, wadded it into a ball, and tossed it into a corner. Outside the bedroom I could hear him checking the locks on the door. Never mind the things were so sophisticated they practically locked themselves; he still tested them. Every night. Even in the throes of a star-crossed vampire love, that wasn't going to change. Snorting to myself, I sat on my bed and toed off my shoes. My sister-in-law, Countess Dracula. It could've been funny. Hell, it should've been hilarious, but it wasn't. Yeah, hard to find the humor when you realize that thanks to you there might never be a sister-in-law, human or no.

Life on the run didn't lend itself to long-lasting relationships. And lying about your past, your present, your whole damn life, didn't much lend itself to relationships of any kind. I could count on one hand the people we considered even acquaintances… and most of them didn't really come under the typical designation of "people." Boggle was one, although in actuality he was more of a restrained enemy. There was a witch in Louisiana that dabbled in everything from Wicca to voodoo, a Selkie that swam the Oregon coast, and the closest, a healer that lived on Staten Island. Rafferty was the first and only healer I'd ever met. I had no idea how prevalent a talent that was in humans, but Rafferty damn sure had a handle on it. It was a shame he was practicing under the radar in med school. But then again he didn't need med school. In minutes he could do what most doctors couldn't achieve with hours of work and years of education. Of the few people we'd actually taken the time to know over the years, he was the only one I regretted not being able to take the final step with from acquaintance to friendship. It couldn't happen, not without trust. And Nik and I had never been in the trust business. We couldn't afford to be.

Now that life, or lack of it, was going to cost Nik a rare opportunity. Without removing any more clothes, I fell back onto the mattress and studied the ceiling with sleepy eyes. Not that Niko blamed me; he wouldn't. We were family. Considering the way we'd grown up, if we didn't look after each other, it was a fact that no one else was going to step up to the plate to do it. No, he didn't blame me, but that didn't mean I couldn't blame myself. Rolling onto my stomach, I pounded the pillow and dropped my head onto it. Guilt, it got old sometimes.

So did the running.

So what if we saw one Grendel? It had been years since the last time they had caught up with us. As a matter of fact, that had been the event that had propelled our asses to the big city. We'd been lucky that time. No fire, no melting trailer, no mother going up like a Roman candle, just swords, knives, and the purple blood of monsters. But that had been nearly three years ago. At some point the Grendels had to give up, didn't they? At some point didn't they have to cut their losses and chalk me up as the one that got away? I had no idea what those bastards wanted with me, but whatever it was, there had to be a time when enough was enough. Even for the Grendels. Had to be.

Rolling out of bed, I shook off the thoughts and headed to the bathroom. As my hand went to the light switch, I hesitated and then left the bathroom in darkness. I wasn't still jumpy over the mirror incident at the Waldorf; I just didn't need the light. And if I avoided my shadowy reflection in the mirror, it was purely by accident. I didn't need to see myself to brush my teeth. Some things are best done unseen anyway.

Lying to yourself is one of them.

The next day didn't improve my mood any. And there was one big obnoxious reason for that. Robin friggin' Goodfellow. The guy was like a hangover without the actual alcohol. Too loud. Too bright. Too everything.

I'd spent the day grabbing an early shift at the bar while Niko did the same at the dojo. Then we had eaten a quick dinner before making our way to the meeting at the car lot. I was tired, sweaty from the unexpected October heat wave that had descended that day, and in no mood to hear this guy run his mouth. But I guess that was tough shit for me because run it he did. Continuously. Nonstop. Ad infinitum and any other fancy words for "would not shut the hell up."

There he sat in a position already becoming familiar, his feet crossed casually at the ankles and propped on his desk, while he ate noodles out of a cardboard box with chopsticks. "You sure you guys aren't hungry?" He waved a chopstick at the numerous boxes littering the office. "I got Moo Goo Gai Pan. Fried rice. Sweet-and-sour pork."

Niko shook his head. "No, thank you. We've already eaten." He cast a dubious eye at all the food. "You must have quite the appetite for Chinese."

Robin flashed an insatiable grin. "I've a lot of appetites, compadre, and not just for Chinese. Did I tell you about the time… ?"

Here we go, I thought with a groan. We'd learned fast yesterday that once those words came out of his mouth he'd be heading at a rapid gallop down memory lane. And most of his memories were as off-color as month-old bologna. "Save it for later, Sir Raunch-a-lot," I rapped. "We're here about the Auphe. 'Robin Does Rome' can wait until later."

He contemplated me for a moment, measuring me with eyes an intense, serious green. Then he pointed a chopstick at me and announced, "Kid, you need to get laid in the worst way."

Niko coughed abruptly, throat spasming over what I strongly suspected was swallowed laughter. The bastard. "Yeah?" I gritted between clenched teeth. "You wanna talk laid? How 'bout I lay you out like a rug? Then I kick your ass for the annoying son of a bitch you are?"

"Cranky. Cranky." Unperturbed, he took another bite of his noodles. "Just like an Auphe. No sense of humor."

I was coming up out of my chair with a growl when Niko snagged the back of my shirt and pulled me back down. "As entertaining as all this is, gentlemen," he said mildly, "we are here for a purpose. Let's pursue it, shall we?" He added as Robin put down the carton and swung his feet to the floor, "Also, Goodfellow, I would prefer that you not compare my brother to the Auphe again. Ever. Are we crystal clear regarding that particular subject?"

Robin cocked a sardonic eyebrow at me. "You feed him dictionaries for breakfast or what?"

I twisted my lips in reluctant acknowledgment. "Yeah, he's a regular alphabet soup dispenser." Leaning back in the chair, I stretched out my legs and inwardly accepted there was no rushing a puck. You might as well sit back, enjoy the ride, and pray your Dramamine kicked in. "So fill us in, Loman. You find out anything?"

The cocky expression melted off Robin's face as he speared the chopsticks into the box and dropped it onto the desk. "Not exactly," he hedged grimly. "But I was able to track down someone who might be able to help. A troll."

"A troll?" Niko echoed. "Are they especially knowledgeable about the Auphe?"

Robin's mouth thinned contemptuously. "Trolls are knowledgeable about quite a few things, all of them unpleasant. Whether or not it'll care to tell us anything is a different story." Then his expression lightened and he said slyly, "But you pups seem like you might be good at getting people to open up. Look what you did for me. Must be those friendly, honest faces."

"Yes, it must be." Niko's smile was like a sliver of ice in the heart.

"We're just sharing the love." I stood and slapped a hand on my leg. "So just where is this troll? Under the Brooklyn Bridge?"

Robin grinned like the Cheshire cat. "He shoots; he scores."

"Damn, really?" I guessed it wasn't such a wild supposition. The fairy tales couldn't all be wrong.

The fairy tales, however, hadn't said anything about the smell. In the shadow of the bridge with the river at my feet, I bent over, resting my hands on my knees, and concentrated on not hurling dinner all over my sneakers. The rank scent of troll was everywhere and choking in its intensity. Thick as molasses, it saturated every molecule with the putrid stench. "Jesus, how can you not smell that?" I gasped.

Niko's steadying hand rested on my back. "I don't smell anything except the East River, although that is fairly unpleasant in and of itself."

"The Auphe do have sensitive…" Robin let the words trail away as Niko's withering gaze hit him. Clearing his throat, he crouched in front of me. "You going to make it, kid?"

I glared at him through watering eyes. "I'll make it." Coughing twice, I pulled in air through my mouth instead of my nose. It didn't help much. Straightening, I rubbed a hand across my face. Breathing… who needed it? "Okay, let's do it."

Robin followed suit. Crossing his arms, he made a face as water lapped near his immaculate loafers. "Filthy river."

In black pants, shiny black shoes, and a forest green shirt I'd bet my last buck was 100 percent silk, Robin wasn't exactly dressed for roughing it. He was in stark contrast with Niko, wearing a long black coat despite the heat, and me in a navy blue T-shirt and worn charcoal gray sweatpants. "Don't you think you could've gone a little more casual?" I asked caustically.

Robin threw me a disbelieving look. "What are you talking about? These are my casual clothes."

"Why am I not surprised?" I made my way past him, the mud sucking at my shoes. "So where's your pal, huh? Where's the bane of Billy Goat Gruff?"

"He's most certainly not my friend. Don't for a minute go into this thinking that. He's not necessarily my enemy, but that's the best interpretation you can put on it. Trolls are like storms. They're a force of nature, deadly and completely without conscience. Forget that and you could be killed in a heartbeat." Goodfellow's voice was as serious as I'd ever heard it.

"That's if the smell doesn't get me first," I grunted, slogging on. The sun had long since disappeared, but the light from the bridge was more than enough to see by. Not that there was much to see besides muddy water and bleak concrete. "Where is he?" I repeated. "This is one damn big bridge to be hiding under."

"An accurate assessment, to say the least." Niko had moved up silently beside me, seemingly skating along the mud that was miring me down. "The troll could be anywhere."

Following behind us fastidiously, Robin shook his head. "Could be, maybe, but he isn't. Abbagor likes to roam the undercarriage of the bridge, but he needs a hidey-hole too. A place for his… leftovers. It's early yet. He'll be there." Picking up the pace, he moved in front of us and led the way around the nearest abutment to a rusted iron grate set flush into the concrete. It was just like the ones you were afraid to walk over as a kid because you knew, just knew, that if you did, you'd plunge to the center of the earth never to be heard from again.

"In there?" I groaned at his affirming nod. "Great. Just goddamn peachy." Aiming a solid kick at the metal, I rammed my foot against it, sending a shower of orange rust flakes into the air. "Yo, Avon calling."

"You are just the soul of finesse, aren't you?" Robin shook his head in disbelief and disapproval.

"It isn't precisely his strong suit." Niko pushed my foot aside and grasped the grate with both hands, yanking it free with a tortured screech of metal. "Who wishes to go first into the gaping maw of hell?"

Ignoring his mockingly dry tone, I crouched and then dropped feetfirst into the hole, the inky blackness swallowing me instantly. It wasn't as far as the earth's center, but it was far enough to send an unpleasant jolt through my legs as I landed. Pulling a small flashlight from the waistband of my pants, I switched it on. Partially shielding it with my fingers to let my eyes adjust, I called upward, "Come on in. The water's fine." Gagging for a moment, I muttered to myself in the rising waves of troll reek, "Smelly as hell, but fine."

Niko landed beside me as agilely as a cat. Robin followed immediately, nearly as light-footed as my brother. I guess you'd pick up a bit of dexterity over a few thousand years or so. He wasn't as silent as Nik, though. "Grimy. Filthy. Putrefying. Abbagor, you abominable beast, wallowing in filth like a pig. This is silk. It will never come clean."

As he rambled on, becoming more and more outraged as he went, I shot the beam of the flashlight around the artificial cavern. The concrete walls were liberally coated with a wash of green slime, doubtless either fungus or mold. What the floor was made of was a mystery, as we stood almost calf deep in bone-chilling mud. "Helluva bachelor pad your pal Abby's got going for him," I offered with a curl of my lip. "Wonder if it's rent-controlled?"

"It appears to be a long-forgotten maintenance area," Niko commented. Taking the light, he picked out a far corner with it. "Ah, a tunnel, and not man-made, I believe."

Not man-made? Just because the concrete looked to have been gouged and ripped away in chunks by claws that had left scoring over an inch wide? Hey, let's not jump to any wild and crazy conclusions. "That'd be the front door," Robin said matter-of-factly before heading toward it, the mud making every move an exaggerated giant step from that old kids' game of "Mother, May I?"

"Let's get this over with so I can burn these clothes and take an hour-long shower." He glanced back over his shoulder with a lascivious grin. "It's a big shower. Anyone care to join me?"

"This little adventure just keeps getting better and better," I hissed, mud sluicing up my legs and threatening to pull off my shoes as I went. "Nik, you want to poke me in the eye with a sharp stick, top the whole night off?"

"As amusing as that sounds, perhaps later." Niko passed me with ease. I could see he'd discarded his shoes and moved on silent bare feet. It was a good idea and I stopped for a second to pry mine off and toss them aside. I wasn't as quiet as my brother with the mud squelching between my toes, but it was still an improvement.

The air in the chamber, while rancid with the essence of troll, was still the air of New York. Unaccountably warm and humid for the season, thick with pollution, but still the same old air you breathed day in and day out. That all changed when we passed through the homemade, troll-made doorway. Every ounce of warmth was leached away and every bit of movement died with it. It became an atmosphere, heavy as stone, cold as the metal drawer in a morgue, and lifeless as the corpse in it. It was like breathing ice cubes. Chunks of it passed painfully through your windpipe and sat in your lungs like lead. The smell even faded some. After all, there had to be some movement to carry a scent, right? And there was none here. Even the very molecules seemed frozen, nothing daring to move, nothing daring to attract attention.

A deadly attention.

"Abbagor!" I yelled, my voice promptly echoing into the distance as a distorted gibbering howl. I had no problem with attention. After all, that's what we were here for. And quite frankly, I would rather have Abbagor front and center where I could see him, no matter how pissed he was, than lurking unseen in the darkness contemplating us with empty, soulless eyes. How did I know they were soulless? Hell. I didn't have a clue. But I knew. And when Niko's hand floated out of the darkness to fasten on to my arm and pull me closer, I could see he knew too. Niko always looked out for me, but he also knew in most cases I could more than take care of myself. This… this did not have the smell of most cases.

"I can't see a damn thing," Robin said, his voice tense. Apparently, he hadn't been lying when he'd said the troll was no friend. "Abbagor, we don't have all night. We want to talk with you. And could you take pity on us lesser beings and shed some light on the situation?"

"Afraid of the dark, randy little goat?" A cold, cold voice drifted from above. "Be very sure the dark isn't afraid of you."

"Come on, Abbagor, old buddy, old pal," Robin wheedled, slipping smoothly into his sales persona without a hitch. "Help me out, for old times' sake, and we'll be out of your tendrils in no time. My word on it."

"Older times. Moldered times. In all times, Goodfellow, you are the same. A boil refusing to be lanced." The words were amused, but it was the humor of a fat spider curled in its web with all the patience in the world. "If only you would hold still, I could remedy that."

Despite the less-than-comradely words, it looked as if Robin's request was being carried out. Light was slowly creeping into the air around us. It was a leprous and sickly pale green glow that seemed to be cast by a particularly repulsive mold sliming the walls with an infinite number of greedy fingers. It was just enough illumination to sketch a vision of a ceiling that arched nearly three stories above our heads. We must have passed into an area under one of the masonry towers. Abbagor had hollowed himself out quite a roomy lair. Shifting on frozen feet to sink a few inches deeper in the muck, I searched the artificial cavern with wary eyes. The troll was talkative enough, sure, but where the hell was he?

"Abbagor, Abbagor," Robin clucked his facile tongue with a practiced ease that would've been believable if not for the skin stretched tight around his eyes. "You'll make me think you haven't missed me these past, what, fifty years now?"

"Missed." The word was shaped with contemplation. "So many interpretations to be lavished there. Yes, I did miss you. Perhaps this time I won't." There was movement in the deepest shadows high above us, coiling and sinuous. "You may have slowed in your old age, little goat. Be assured I have not."

And that's when Abbagor came knock-knocking on our door.

I was wrong when I'd guessed the troll would have the soulless gaze of Eden's resident serpent. For that he would've needed eyes. He had none. But even without them, I was convinced he could see every inch of us, from the glistening sheen of our own eyes to the pulse beating in our throats, in rich predatory detail. "Holy shit." I wasn't sure if I said it aloud or not, but I stood by the sentiment. Abbagor was holy shit and a whole lot more.

He descended from on high like a skyborne plague. Thick dark gray filaments kept him suspended nearly ten feet above us. It wasn't far enough, not by a long shot. I'd never seen a troll before—didn't really have a clue what one looked like—but this was nothing I would've pictured. Abbagor was vaguely man-shaped, with hulking shoulders, and massive arms and legs. All right. No problem, that was doable. No different from a hundred other monsters out there. What was different was that he looked to be made of a convolution of fleshy cords knotted and wrapped around themselves, a mass of twisted tendrils given shape and form. Shape, form, and a hideously twitching life.

"I don't remember that in your goddamn mythology book," I gritted in a low tone to Niko.

"That would be assuming you'd actually read it, little brother. A rather optimistic assumption at best." His hands still stood empty, his shoulders were relaxed, and there was no tension audible in his voice. You'd think the son of a bitch was stargazing at the planetarium, the way he looked up with calm curiosity. Oh, the Big Dipper, you say? How interesting. And if it weren't for the fact that somehow, without even seeming to move, he'd managed to ease a protective shoulder in front of me, it might even have been believable.

Robin sketched a salute upward with a broadly artificial smile. "Abbagor, you're looking good. You been working out? You seem…" He swallowed. "Bigger. Definitely bigger than I remember."

"Big" was not the word. If he'd been on the ground, he would've stood at least nine feet tall and would've been nearly as broad. But you know what they say… Size isn't everything. Of course the people that say that are divided into two categories: dickless wonders and those not facing the troll that could've eaten New Jersey.

Okay. He was big. So was Boggle, and we kicked his ass on a regular basis, I told myself sharply. Get a grip, change your shorts, and move on to the task at hand.

"Yeah, he's huge." I elbowed Robin pointedly in the ribs. "Buff as hell. The Brothers Grimm on steroids. Can we get on with this?"

The large head crowned with the upswept ears of a vampire bat turned in my direction. "An infant Auphe." The tiny slit of a mouth suddenly unhinged, dropping open like that of a python preparing to swallow a pig whole. "A bad choice of pets, Goodfellow. They always bite the hand that feeds them." Abbagor dropped closer, the tendrils reeling him down for a better "look." "It seems to have lost its collar. What a bad, bad boy."

That was enough, more than enough. Next he'd be suggesting I be neutered for a better temperament. Robin seemed to realize how close to the edge we were and spoke up before I could say anything stupid or inflammatory. And it would have been both—there was not a friggin' doubt in my mind. The relationship between my brain and my mouth tended to be casual at best. "Caliban isn't Auphe," Goodfellow denied hastily. "Not so much anyway. But that is why we came. We were hoping you could tell us about the Auphe. You've been around much longer than I have. Almost as long as the Auphe. If anyone knows them, it would be you."

"Slippery flattery from a slippery tongue." Abbagor's feet hit the ground and despite the thick cushion of mud I still felt the impact. The remaining filaments that had held him up wrapped around his body, wriggling and twisting, until they became part of the whole. It was enough to guarantee I never ate spaghetti again. "Why do you care about the Auphe? They are nearly gone from this world, entertaining though they were."

True. There was nothing quite like rabid homicidal mania. Better than cable, even. "Yeah, them and the dodo. And won't they be missed?" I shifted until I was shoulder to shoulder with Niko. I ignored his narrow-eyed look of disapproval and went on. "That doesn't keep me from wondering why the hell they made me."

Because basically that's what it was. I had been made. I wasn't created out of love and fidelity. I wasn't the result of horny teenagers caught up in the passion of the moment, or even just a busted condom. I was an experiment, the result of some cold calculation. That, I couldn't change, but if I could find out the reason behind it, it might just help to keep Niko and me alive.

The massive head tilted in Robin's direction. "You taught it to speak. Impressive. Does it get a treat now?"

Goodfellow spread his hands placatingly, although I wasn't sure the gesture was aimed at Abbagor or me. "Abbagor, please," he coaxed. "We're somewhat pressed for time. As much as we enjoy being toyed with for your amusement, and it's quite the party, I assure you, could we move on to the subject at hand?"

Only with the puck could pleading come off as a sarcastic demand. Abbagor let it pass, though, surprisingly enough. Either tiring of Robin or of the game of bait-the-doggy, he filled the air with a sound like the last breath escaping a dead man. It took me a moment to realize that was a venomous version of a snake's wistful sigh. "Very well. The Auphe. Since the dawn of time, perhaps before it, they have abided here. As old as the sun in the sky, maybe even the sky itself. They ruled this world long before man infested the globe with his stink." Ebon-rimmed nostrils flared with distaste. Now, there was the pot calling the kettle black. "But as the ages passed, the Auphe's iron hand became a child's feeble grip. They grew complacent… smug… and by the time they woke up to bitter reality it was too late. They were too few. Man was too many. And even the most pure, the most glorious of maniacal violence can be quelled by dullards if their number is large enough."

I aimed a whisper from the corner of my mouth toward Niko. "Score one for the dullards." A nearly inaudible snort was his only reply. Robin's comment was much more to the point. His hand circled my upper arm and squeezed warningly. I began to shake him off when I noticed the moisture on his upper lip and his tightly clenched jaw. He'd already told me Abbagor wasn't one to be messed with, and he didn't appear to have changed his mind. I decided, reluctantly, it might be for the best if I tried to behave… even as Abbagor centered his attention on me.

"And now the last remnants of the world's first dynasty has made you." It was enough to make me wish he had eyes. To be so thoroughly examined, so completely dissected, by a blind gaze was unnerving as hell. As Abbagor continued to ruminate, something stirred on his abdomen. It was just a slight twitching, a minute slithering, but it was almost enough to make me miss his next words. "It is a curiosity."

Almost, but not quite. My best intentions to watch my mouth went flying out the window. " 'Curious' is a good word," I drawled. "If it wasn't so goddamn curious, we wouldn't be standing here smothering in your BO. So if you have anything actually worthwhile to contribute, Abby, now'd be the time."

Behind me Robin gave a low moan of frustrated despair. Abbagor, however, didn't seem to take offense. If anything, his grin, if you could call it that, widened. "Sullen, resentful, full of rage. The apple never falls far from the tree. It makes one nostalgic."

The nest of tendrils on his stomach continued to writhe, revealing flashes of a pale color between strands of gray. "The Auphe were big pals of yours, huh?" I said, eyes riveted to the patches of white. What the hell was that, anyway?

"No, they were not my friends. They were something far more amusing than that." It was a hand. Holy shit, it was a hand. And it was moving, fingers bending and flexing. I felt my stomach do a slow roll.

"More amusing?" Niko questioned. I knew he saw it; there was no way you could miss it. But from his mellow baritone you would never have guessed that he saw anything out of the ordinary. "Then I take it they were your enemy."

"What could be more amusing than that?" The hand began to stroke the slate-colored flesh. Abbagor didn't seem to notice any more than Niko did. "They weren't particularly intelligent, no, but they more than made up for it in sheer ravening fury. I cannot deny I enjoyed our battles. But those days are no more. There are too few now. They avoid me, deprive me of the auld lang syne. Utter selfishness."

I said something then, something smart-ass I'm sure, but whatever it was it didn't even register in my brain, much less my ears. Concentration was just a little beyond me in that particular moment in time, as I noticed the hand had a tattoo. It was just a small one, a miniature red rose on the webbing between the thumb and the forefinger. A red rose and the name "Lucy." It wasn't anything special. But it was enough to let me know it was a human hand, a living, moving human hand. What it was doing in Abbagor I didn't know. Truthfully, I didn't even want to know. If I did want anything, it was to have never seen it, to not have to wonder what kind of existence it was to be buried in the body of a troll. Enslaved in rancid flesh.

As the hand continued its grooming, Abbagor's head bent lower toward me. Whatever I'd blurted out apparently wasn't worth a response because his words were back to the subject at hand. "Whatever the Auphe have in mind, you can rest assured that it can only be a mechanism to regain the domination they once had. That could be their only thought, their only dream. And since they made you, Aupheling, you must be part of that dream." More hands, then arms erupted from his body, muscles bulging, fists clenching. Abbagor's grin widened so far his jaw threatened to dislocate. "I wonder what they would do if I unmade you."

Abby wanted to play with the Grendels again and it looked like I was about to become the engraved invitation to his tea party. RSVP on my entrails. Niko had already prepared his own response by drawing a sword from beneath his long coat. "I would rethink that scenario, troll. Rethink it quite thoroughly." There was the lazy swing of silver metal. "Or some pruning may be in order."

God knew there were enough limbs there to keep a tree surgeon in business for a month. I backed up a step, using the momentum to propel Goodfellow several feet behind us. "Run," I ordered flatly.

He didn't run. Instead he staggered from my push, nearly falling before catching himself to say with desperate determination, "Abbagor, wait. We came to you for help, with respect for your connection to history. This isn't a game."

"All of life is a game, little goat. Ancient history will never change that." A snarl of small tentacles shot out with lightning speed to snare my right arm. "And the best games are those that end in a shower of blood." As the last word was still echoing in the air, I was yanked off my feet and dragged at a furious rate through the mud. But I was abruptly freed when Niko swiveled and swung his blade at the long streamers of flesh in one fluid motion, parting them like cheap party streamers. The dark purple blood that spattered my skin burned like acid and I swore as I backpedaled away from the troll.

"All right, asshole," I snarled. "We're gonna finish what Billy Goat Gruff started." Surging to my feet, I pulled my own knife. It was shorter than Niko's sword but just as sharp. "Loman, this is your last chance to get your ass the hell out of here."

A bright flash I saw from the corner of my eye turned out to be Robin with his own sword. Where in the world he'd hidden it was a trick only Siegfried and Roy could've solved. "I've had fights that have lasted longer than your entire short life," he countered grimly, hefting the weapon. "Take care of your own ass, Caliban, because I can certainly take care of mine." Good to know, because in this battle it looked like the devil would take the hindmost, and I wasn't at all sure that the devil had anything on Abbagor.

"You could let us walk out of here, troll." Niko's poker face didn't shift an iota, but that didn't keep a carnivorous light from flashing in his eyes. "Not, mind you, that we wouldn't enjoy dicing you to a fine purple spray, but we are on a tight schedule. I'm sure you understand."

"Now, what kind of host would I be if I let you leave without providing some entertainment?" Abbagor bounded from the ground to adhere high to one concrete wall without any regard to gravity. Hanging with his head down, he twisted it to aim his python smile at us. "And mutilation can be so very entertaining." Then he was on top of us like a falling mountain.

And that's exactly what it felt like when he hit. I was the lucky one; he struck me with only a glancing blow—and that was more than enough to catapult me through the air and slam me into the far wall. I impacted on my left shoulder and hip and then landed hard on my stomach. Mud splattered up into my face and mouth as I gritted my teeth against a groan. My hip ached viciously and my shoulder felt on fire, maybe dislocated. Pushing up on one arm, I managed to slowly get the other one to follow suit. Not dislocated, then, just sprained or badly bruised. Either way, it didn't matter. What was going on in front of my eyes pretty much banished any pain to the back of my mind. "Shit."

Robin was half buried in mire, an enormous foot planted on his back and shoulders. His head was completely under the muck and I could see his arms flailing as his body twitched frantically for oxygen. Niko… Niko hung from Abbagor's own huge fist. Other hands, tattooed and not, grabbed blindly at my brother's body, restraining his legs as he kicked with desperate but controlled strength. His face was turning blue as his hands tore at the steely gray flesh around his neck. Abbagor must've landed directly on him, half crushing him, before hoisting him high in the air. It was the only way Niko would've lost his sword. And the only way he would be in danger of losing his life.

Knife still in my hand, I shot to my feet. My left leg nearly buckled under me, but it still managed to hold as I ran. It probably hurt like hell, and maybe later I'd have the luxury of noticing it. But not now. Not when my brother was having the life systematically choked out of him. After a few steps the leg stabilized and I sped up. Just before I reached Abbagor I dived toward the ground, rolled, and scooped up Niko's fallen sword. "Niko!" I tossed the blade up with the unshakable faith that he would catch it. Absolute, utter faith, but that didn't keep me from saying a silent prayer. The second I saw his hand close around the grip, I turned and slammed my knife in the troll's leg, the one that was currently entombing Goodfellow in a makeshift grave.

"Naughty. Naughty." The leg didn't move, not even a millimeter, as dark blood coursed down it. The knife hadn't fazed Abbagor in the slightest. However, when Niko's sword embedded itself in the pulsing gray throat, that became a different story. Abbagor reeled backward one step, and then another. As he did, Robin came up out of the filth, spitting mud and spitting mad. He swung his own sword, slicing Abbagor across the muscled thigh. Blood sprayed several feet as Niko fell from the troll's grip to land beside Robin. I grabbed a handful of his coat to steady him as he caught his breath. He coughed, the blue fading from his face.

"You okay?" I demanded sharply. A single strand of long blond hair hung free from his braid as he sucked in deep breaths. It was the most disheveled I'd seen him since Meredith had last trapped him in the storage room. "Niko?"

"I'm all right." He squared his shoulders and went on calmly, if hoarsely. "Annoyed, quite annoyed. But basically in one piece. You?"

I didn't have a chance to reply and play the stoic hero as Abbagor gave a gurgling roar and spit blood. "Red rover, red rover, who shall I dare over?" It wasn't a roar after all. It wasn't even a growl. It was a laugh. The son of a bitch was laughing. He was having fun. Hell, he was having the time of his life. Wiping at the blood pouring down his neck, he licked it from his fingers as if it were the finest wine.

In unwitting imitation, Robin wiped a hand across his grimacing face, making a muddy mess even worse. His disgust, however, turned instantly to anguish as he looked down to see what was left of his cherished shirt.

And although he'd been as cyanotic as Niko, the lack of air didn't keep him from snarling at Abbagor, "I've always hated you, you walking piece of rancid calamari. Did I ever tell you that? You make my flesh crawl, every homicidal, putrid inch of you. You make me want to vomit until my insides beg for mercy. The very sight of you fills me with a repugnance so strong that—"

Niko flicked Robin's ear and suggested firmly, "You may want to save your breath for fighting, Goodfellow. I believe you're going to need it."

"The wise words of a dead man." The troll executed a spectacular backward flip off the wall to land behind us. I wheeled about as fast as I could with the mud dragging me down. It was just in time for a monstrous hand to seize me by the shirt and shake me like a rag doll. My T-shirt tore almost immediately and I dropped back to my feet. Lunging to one side, I managed to avoid another swipe and plunged my knife to the hilt in Abbagor's arm. This time I lost it. Tendrils lashed around my wrist and it was all I could do to pull myself free. The knife was history.

Niko instantly moved between Abbagor and me, lopping off two of the imprisoned arms with one stroke. I knew they couldn't belong to people, not people as we knew them anyway, not anymore. But it still sent an atavistic shiver down my spine. With fingers curled over the palms, the naked hands lay on the ground, leaking blood that was a nauseating mix of human red and troll purple. Robin didn't spare them a glance as he broke right to come around to Abbagor's flank and aimed a blow at his back. He managed to slice away a large portion of slithering flesh and received a punishing swat that sent him flying for his trouble.

And Abbagor continued to laugh. It was a dark gloating sound that filled the cavern with the peal of satanic church bells. It was nice to know somebody was enjoying himself. I figured I might have a better time if I rearmed myself. Dropping to one knee, I pulled up the leg of my sweatpants. I felt metal under my fingers, but my hand froze as I saw Niko disappear before my eyes. One moment he was there, the next gone.

Just gone.

Hundreds, thousands, of gray filaments hit him, cocooned him, and pulled him into Abbagor's body in less time than it took me to blink. Then there was nothing left of my brother but a sword half swallowed by the swamp under our feet. My throat was scorched by rising bile as I felt everything around me fade away to insignificance, everything but the monster before me. "Nik?" It wasn't my voice. It couldn't have been. That strained shadow, harsh and desperate? No.

How I made my way to my feet I didn't remember. One moment I was crouched on one knee; the next I was shoving Robin out of my way. His hand was on my shoulder trying to push me back and he was shouting something. "He's gone," I think it was. I wasn't exactly hearing straight, but yeah, I'm pretty sure it was "He's gone." No shit, Sherlock. No fucking shit.

I snarled silently and decided that it was time Robin stepped up and took one for the team. Without another thought I took a fistful of his shirt and gave him a hard push directly at Abbagor. He still had his sword. It was possible he could hold out for a second or two, and that was all I needed. The troll was reaching out for Good-fellow with a long arm, lethal claws slicing the air, when I ran past him, the air burning in my lungs. When I came up behind Abbagor I leaped. No fancy somersaults for me. I simply vaulted onto his back and using the tentacles as handholds, I climbed to his neck. Over his shoulder I could see Robin trying to fend him off with a blade that was now broken to half its length. Still alive. He'd proved already that he was tougher than he looked. But that was just a background musing, white noise, Muzak. I had only one thought, one goal. The cool metal in my hand was going to take me one step closer to it.

Pressing the muzzle of the semiautomatic SIG Sauer P226 against the back of Abbagor's head, I rasped, "I'm not quite as old-school as my brother, Abby." Then I emptied the clip into his mammoth skull.

He exploded. Not literally, but it felt that way. As he convulsed wildly I was thrown off. Hitting the ground, I rolled and was back on my feet before the troll even fell. And fall he did, shaking the cavern like an earthquake. By the time Handed on his chest I'd jammed another clip into the gun. Nothing like progress, is there, Abbagor? I thought savagely. Ramming the gun under his chin, I held the trigger down until there was a smoking silence. And with that silence, Abbagor stopped moving. God bless Charlton Heston and the NRA.

Shoving the gun into the waistband of my sweats, I used both hands to tear at the now limp tendrils. Within seconds I found a familiar black coat and purple-stained head of blond hair. Sucking a painful breath into lungs that refused to work, I yanked with all my strength. Joined by Robin, I pulled Niko free. His face was transparently pale; his eyes were closed. The breath that had never been accepted by my lungs exhaled harshly on his name. "Nik?" My hand clenched of its own volition in his black shirt. "Niko?"

Slowly his eyes opened, bloodshot and more than a little irritated. "What… took… you so long?"

I dropped my forehead onto his shoulder. "You son of a bitch," I laughed shakily. At least I tried for a laugh. I wasn't at all sure I pulled it off. "You goddamn son of a bitch."

His ragged breaths hit my ear as he regained his wind. "Where's the troll?"

I straightened and eased hands under his arms to help sit him up. "You're lying on him."

Niko frowned as he looked down on the limp pile Abbagor had become. "He's dead?"

Robin spoke up, tone as brittle and cutting as glass. "Hardly. I would advise we get our well-shaped asses out of here while we have the chance."

"Not dead?" I snorted. "You've got to be—" Kidding? Nope, he wasn't. Abbagor chose that moment to twitch beneath us. "Okay," I said hastily. "The exit's in the rear. How about we use it?" Keeping a hand on Niko's arm, I jumped down and hit the ground running. I didn't have to support my brother for more than a few seconds before he steadied and kept up without difficulty. Goodfellow was hard on our heels before passing us without a backward glance. I didn't take it personally. In the scheme of things it wasn't nearly as amoral a consideration as that I'd shown him. For all Niko's denial that I was Grendel, Robin had just discovered I was more Auphe than Niko liked to let on.

Behind us I could hear a now familiar slithering and a voice choked with blood and brain matter. "Aupheling… little goat. Come baaaaaaack."

Needless to say, we didn't.

Standing on my shoulders Niko managed to clamber out of our reeking pit. Then tossing down a rope, he reeled Robin and me out. Where'd he get the rope? His coat, the same place he got his multiple blades, stakes, and the occasional throwing star. That coat had more concealed weaponry than the entire state of Texas.

And then we were on the streets, free and alive. Of course, I was shirtless, Niko was liberally coated with purple blood, and Robin was five steps below a street person in the category of personal hygiene. In addition, we all looked as if we'd been on the losing end of a mud-wrestling match. But none of that mattered. We were free.

Wincing at the movement, Niko straightened his coat as best as he could and shook his head. "Well, we didn't learn much, but the effort is appreciated, Goodfellow." Brown hair plastered to his skull, green eyes as opaque as stone, Robin ignored him and kept walking, pulling away from us. Niko's blond brows drew into a puzzled V. He turned a curious look on me.

"Let him go, Nik," I said quietly. Because, really, wasn't that the best thing for the puck? It wasn't every day you survived a troll and a Grendel. Best to consider yourself lucky and hit the road before anything else tried to kill you. The devil you knew and the devil you didn't—both were dangerous in this world. Robin was old enough to know that. And if he'd forgotten, I had just succeeded in reminding him damn thoroughly. Yeah, I was a regular humanitarian.

Considering I wasn't even human.