Nightlife

Chapter Thirteen

The things you think in certain situations… the thoughts that run through your mind, they're never what you think they would be. Maybe never even what they should be. My thoughts should have been solely on what was before me, but instead they twisted into one barely coherent whole that was practically screaming into my brain, "Run!" Survival instinct is, after all, an ultimately selfish mechanism. It's also damn hard to ignore, but I gave it my best shot for a few moments and knelt on the scarlet floor.

Blood was a sight, even a smell, I was used to. Thickly cloying, the copper of it coated the back of my throat until I could all but taste it in the air. You could say I'd come across a lot of blood in my time, mostly monster, but some human too. But I'd never seen it quite like this before.

"Merry?"

It was my voice, cracked and empty as a broken eggshell. My voice and then my hand reaching up to touch a velvety cheek, still soft, still warm. It was my voice and my hand, though I couldn't recall speaking or even moving. I cupped her face. It was like cradling a peach warmed by the hot summer sun. Magical, until the sensation of blood staining my hand registered. And suddenly what had been a person, a beautiful and carefree woman, was gone. Shallow, yeah, she'd been shallow. So what? She'd also laughed, flirted, worked, and goofed off by turns, and had more boyfriends than I could keep count of. She'd carried a picture around of a mangy alley cat she'd rescued, and applied five pounds of makeup per square inch. She'd tried to sing, but was tone-deaf beyond redemption. She'd danced like a goddess, albeit a goddess with two left feet. She'd been annoying, spoiled, and even manipulative, but she hadn't deserved this. No one did. What had been a gorgeous, living creature was now nothing but a pile of meat.

Meredith lay sprawled in the back room of the bar. She was draped over Tallywhacker's desk, a sacrifice on an altar, her hair cascading over the side like a carmine waterfall, made even redder by the blood from her throat. It lay in a pool under her head and mixed with her hair like a kiss. The white skin of her neck was slashed in parallel rows, each deep enough to show muscle and cartilage, deep enough to open her trachea and let her drown in her own blood. Her clothes had been shredded, and then the skin underneath. Slender arms, long legs, breasts, and stomach, nothing had been spared. Her brown eyes, now as dull as muddy stones, stared blankly up at the ceiling. It looked as if she were seeing something beyond this place, but I knew that she wasn't seeing anything at all, and that she never would again.

I stood clumsily, the knees of my jeans wet with Meredith's blood. I was completely numb, my legs, my arms, even my face. My heart was pounding hard enough that I could hear the echo of it in my ears. "I'm sorry, Merry." Unfeeling lips could barely push out the words, but I had to. I had to say it, because I was sorry. Sorrier than hell. It was easy to be when I'd known instantly what had ended Merry's life by ripping out her throat. I recognized the method of it, the brutality of it.

Grendels.

Grendels had done this. And with her skin still warm, her blood still wet, it hadn't been very long ago. I'd left my gun at home. I usually did unless I knew I was coming up against something big and bad. The police tended to take a dim view if you were caught in a conceal and carry. A knife was easier to hide and easier to toss. But as my fingers closed around the hilt, I couldn't help wishing it were something a shade heavier and a damn sight more lethal. Although, if I was going to wish for lethal, I might as well go for the big guns and wish for Niko at my back.

But Niko was back at the apartment with Robin. We'd spent all day packing, wrapping up loose ends, and waiting for Goodfellow to come through with a car we could afford. By the time I'd made it to the bar to pick up my last paycheck and pay off the tab, it was already dusk with an early moon coin bright in the sky. The door had been locked, which was odd. The place should've been open. Our regulars were probably halfway to D.T.'s by then. Shoving at the door, I'd discovered it wasn't locked after all, but rather blocked.

Talley's body, his hairless white gut hanging out from beneath a T-shirt, had been crumpled against the bottom of the door. His throat was slashed, the confetti of a shredded porn magazine pasted to the floor around him by blood. At least he'd gone out with his one true love by his side. I should've run then, the moment I saw him. But I couldn't. I knew Meredith was supposed to be at work. I was hoping that she'd be late as usual. I was hoping her bad work habits would save her life.

I had hoped in vain.

I tore my eyes from Meredith's limp form and took a step backward as I searched the room with a desperately feral gaze. The only light was from a single dim bulb overhead and it left the corners of the office impenetrable and thick with shadows. The Grendel scent was heavy in the air. Not a reek like that of a troll, it wasn't even that unpleasant. It was the smell of wet leaves, damp earth, and the acrid sizzle of lightning-touched ozone. Maybe it was the smell of an autumn rain or maybe it was that of a long-overgrown graveyard. And maybe if I stopped sniffing the air, I could avoid my own grave for a little while longer.

Turning swiftly, I ran. Knife in my hand, heart in my throat, I ran without a backward look. My good-bye to Merry was already said. My apologies would take longer. I'd led the wolves to the sheep and the sheep to slaughter. I wasn't sure there were enough "sorry's" in the world for that, or enough time to make them. I found that out for sure at the front door.

It wasn't dear old Dad. I'd come back through the gate an incoherent mess with no idea where I'd been, barely an idea of who I even was, but deep down, there had been one thing I had known. The Grendel that had dragged me off would never take me anywhere again. And I knew something else as well. Somehow, I was responsible.

So, no, it wasn't Daddy dearest, but in the end there was no difference. It was still a Grendel, still an Auphe—still a nightmare of claws, needle teeth, and an endless appetite for death and destruction. And more importantly, it was still between me and the door. It crouched atop Talley's body, its claws doodling idly in the blood on the floor. The pointed face looked up at me with fiery eyes and teeth glittering in a rapacious grin. "Cal-i-ban." A black tongue flickered in the air. "No more running, wretched boy."

From behind me I heard a second hiss, "No more running." I turned my head just enough to see five more Grendels behind me, pale skin and paler hair a luminescent smear in the gloom. Every eye was fixed on me with a maniacal and almost coveting glee.

It was judgment day.

Niko had been right all along. He always was, even when I wished with every fiber of my being that for once, just once, he wouldn't be. I only wished he were there to rub it in my face. It would've improved the odds a whole helluva lot. Instead, I stood alone with six Grendels. Alone—it was no way to live and it was no way to die.

"No more running."

"No more running."

"No more running." Different voices, but all chanting with the same serpentine gloat.

They could chant all they wanted because I was moving like a bat out of hell. Running? Hell, I was flying. I slammed into the Grendel by the door and opened his belly up with the backward slash of my knife. Ropy, almost delicate strings of intestines spilled out as it screamed with the agony of a burning man. Which, fortunately for me, was not my problem. Throwing him aside, I hit the door and then I was out. Not free, not safe. There wasn't much chance of that, not really. But I was out and I was running. If they wanted my ass, they'd have to catch it first. You'd be amazed how fast you can run when you're scared shitless. It also helps when you're running covered with blood, as people tend to clear out of your way. And when it's not your blood, they move even faster.

I raced down the sidewalk, every breath burning in my lungs, every heartbeat threatening to rip open my chest. The knife and the blood were both visible in the harsh glow of the streetlights. It wouldn't be too long before someone called the police, but it didn't matter. By the time they got there, I'd have vanished one way or the other. Whether it was from the street or from this world, I couldn't say, but I'd be gone.

Staring faces, gaping mouths—I saw all of that in the corner of my eye as I ran. I saw people scattering before me until I ducked into an alley out of sight. It was dark, secluded, and a shortcut I rarely took. You never knew what creature feature might be lurking there in ambush, but whatever might be in the alley couldn't be any worse than what was on my tail. I hadn't seen them behind me as I'd fled down the street, but I knew they were back there. Slinking in the evening shadows or leaping from rooftop to rooftop, they were coming. It was inevitable. Neither death nor taxes had anything on the Grendels.

The alley turned out to be empty and silent except for the sound of my pounding feet and the drip of water down grubby worn bricks. Splashing through puddles left by an afternoon rain, I exited the narrow passage and dashed across the street. There was the blare of horns, the squeal of tires, and the curses of pissed-off drivers. I ignored it all, even the bumper that scraped my leg hard enough to stagger me. Managing to stay on my feet, I kept moving. Home and help were only a few more blocks. I could make it. I kept that a single-minded point of focus in my thoughts. I could make it. And despite the doubts snickering in the back of my head, I did.

I didn't slow at the security door. The lock was still broken and the door flew open when I hit it like a runaway train. With the screech of rusty hinges, the door slammed into the wall hard enough to embed the handle into plaster. Job security for the super, just in case cleaning up our dead bodies later didn't keep him busy enough. I hit the stairs, every second an agony of suspense as I waited for the scrape of claws behind me, for the whisper of No more running, bad boy, no more running. When I finally reached the top, the muscles in my legs were in knots and the stitch in my side felt like an ice pick sliding between my ribs. I didn't bother fumbling for my key. Instead, I leaned on the apartment door and hammered the wood with my fist. "Nik!" My voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable, as I dragged air into starved lungs.

The door was jerked open and I lurched into my brother. Niko caught me by my arm with one hand. His other was wrapped firmly around the hilt of his sword. "Grendels?"

I hadn't had to say a word. Only one thing could be responsible for the desperation in my voice, and Niko was well aware of exactly what that was. "Right behind me," I confirmed, my chest still heaving for breath. "They were at the bar. Merry…" Stopping, I pressed my lips tight and then tried again. "Meredith is dead. They ripped her to shreds."

His hand tightened on my arm. "Bastards." The word was bleak with a frozen fury.

I heard Robin's voice, hushed, almost resigned. "The Auphe? They've come?"

Niko slammed the door behind me and locked it. "I have an extra sword in the long bag on my bed, Goodfellow. I would advise you to get it." He would've let Goodfellow run for it if there'd been enough time. I don't know if Robin would've taken the opportunity or not, but there simply wasn't a chance to find out.

"No, thanks. I've been carrying my own since I met you two," he said with grim humor. "Luckily, it's close to trench coat weather, or the fashion police would be on my ass as surely as the Auphe are on yours." Reaching beneath his coat, he armed himself with a wickedly sharp blade.

"I'll take the sword, then." A gun wasn't much use against Grendels, especially in the close quarters of an apartment. There were too many and they were too goddamn fast. It didn't stop me from retrieving one from my bedroom. I might not be able to use it on the Grendels, but if I survived, I might need it later. As I took off down the hall, I could hear Niko and Robin moving furniture. Blocking the door, no doubt. Our locks were the best, but if the entire door is destroyed, locks aren't much use. And then as I hurriedly unzipped Niko's bag and started to pull weapons free, I heard it. Yeah, I heard it all right and I was so not in the mood for this shit. Not now.

The humming was louder than it had been the other night. Louder, faster, and maybe even a bit more cheerful. That was fine by me. As far as I was concerned, it could hum until the sun went out, the moon turned to blood, the seas boiled, and the frigging cows came home. It was the least of my problems and I just didn't have the time. Helping myself to one of Niko's spare hundred or so swords, I returned to the hall. I had every intention of walking past the bathroom without a glance. I nearly made it too—until I heard a new sound. The humming had been replaced by a scraping noise. It was as irritating as the squeal of nails on a chalkboard or the scratch of a diamond against glass. Reluctantly, I stopped in front of the bathroom. While nothing could be more urgent than the current wolf at our door, it was also true that I didn't want an unknown flanking us at one damn inopportune time.

Turning, I went in with the sword held before me. Armed to face the John—this was my life. By turns terrifying and humiliating, it wasn't exactly the stuff of legends. Flicking on the light with my spare hand, I moved in front of the mirror. I'd been through this a few times now and I knew what I'd see: myself… staring back. I'd be pale, I imagined, with eyes dilated with anger and fear. The Grendels had come and I didn't think I'd look too happy about it. I was right. I didn't look happy. In fact, I didn't look anything at all. It wasn't me. For the first time I looked into the glass and saw my stalker. Shit, if the book hadn't gotten it wrong.

Alice was hideous.

Round eyes as silver as the moon blinked lazily at me. Black claws flexed on the other side of the mirror. Everything about the creature was black except the eyes. The skin was polished ebony, smooth with the moist skin of a salamander burrowing in the darkness. The head was a mixture of reptilian and humanoid, as tapered and predatory as that of a rattlesnake. About the size of a Grendel or slightly smaller, the creature exuded the same evil, the same poisonous nature. The tip of a forked tongue touched the invisible barrier between us with a silent caress. Delicately vicious fangs the same color as its skin curved back like hooks. It was grotesque and yet… somehow… it was also beautiful. It was a bizarre and unsettling combination, the ravenous scuttle of a spider crossed with the sinuous grace of a feline, alien and stomach churning all at once. Except for its voice. That was simple and pure, like low-throated wind chimes, the shifting beauty of a wolf's howl, or the sound of air sifting through an angel's wings. It was the voice of a messenger of God… wrapped in a less-than-holy package. Its words, though, were mundane, if nonsensical.

"You don't look like a treasure," came the molasses-coated purr. The head tilted curiously to one side as talons drummed casually on the glass. "Value is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose." An eye winked slyly. "Just like beauty."

Then it exploded through the mirror to land on my chest, slamming me against the tiled wall. Shattered shards of silvery glass stung my face before falling with a tinkle to the floor. Eyes just as silver stared into mine from bare millimeters away. "Remember me?" it asked conversationally before laving my skin with its tongue. "You look lonely in there. Mind if I join you?"

I had no idea what it meant by that, but I did know it didn't sound good. Waiting around to discuss it didn't seem like the smartest option. Grabbing it by the throat, I flung it away before lunging at it with the blade. I missed. Of all goddamn things, I missed. The evil little shit was quick, I had to give it that. It flipped over my head with blurring speed to land high where the wall and ceiling met. Gazing at me complacently from an upside-down position, it mocked in a singsong, "Little piggy, little piggy, let me in."

I narrowed my eyes and balanced loosely on the balls of my feet. "I've got something you can blow all right, big bad wolf. So come and get it." The splintering crash of the front door interrupted my bravado. An inarticulate shout from Goodfellow and the meaty thud of steel in flesh had me turning my back on Alice. I fully expected the burning pain of claws in my spine as I raced down the hall to the living room, but only its laughter followed me. I wish I could've been as carefree, but the sight that met me as I exited the hall fixed that fast enough.

Grendels were everywhere. There had to be at least twenty swarming through the apartment. They were unarmed except for the weapons of nature, but slashing claws and a myriad of shredding teeth were weapons enough. Robin had speared one Grendel in the stomach, but another had a pale sinewy arm wrapped around his neck, its teeth buried in his shoulder. Nik… Nik was already surrounded by bodies. Four of the dead lay scattered at his feet as he swung a blade to take off the head of a fifth. The dislike of dulling his blade on bone had apparently been forgotten. With my brother in full swing and surviving, I charged the Grendel on Goodfellow's back. Cutting its legs from beneath it, I grabbed a handful of oddly silky hair and jerked the monster off Robin before heaving it across the floor. Grunting a thanks, Robin plowed into two more, wielding his sword with a desperate and deadly skill.

Turning my back to his to protect our flanks, I prepared to fend off some monsters of my own. God knew there were plenty left. But strangely enough, they didn't seem to want to cooperate. Concentrating on Niko and Robin, they either ignored me or skipped out of my reach. After an entire lifetime of being watched and then pursued, now that I was actually caught the Grendels seemed oddly uninterested. Growling with frustration, I lunged at the nearest one, slicing it across the rib cage to spill blood. It hissed with pain and outrage and started to swing jagged claws at my throat. Bare inches away from my skin, it stopped, its hand hovering in the air with fingers flexing. Then it smiled and grated, "Not so easy for you, brother. Never so easy for you."

Not disinterested, then. They didn't want to hurt me, simple as that. After all, they had plans for me, didn't they? And whatever those involved, it was apparently better for them that I was in one piece. Better for them, but no way in hell it could be better for me. Being dead was an option; going back with the Grendels was not. If they wouldn't fight me, fine. I didn't have a problem taking the fight to them. I lunged at the bleeding one, intent on slicing the smug son of a bitch in half. Niko was still on his feet with one hand clutching the throat of a Grendel as he buried his sword in its belly. Robin was holding his own as well, although he had a streak of blood on his face and one on his neck. The odds were bad; shit, they were goddamn awful. Still, I wasn't about to give up. I would live here or I would die here, but with Nik and Goodfellow at my side, the odds might just take a beating. The Grendels were tough, a force to be reckoned with. So were we. We had a chance. It wasn't much of one, but I'd take any port in a storm, any straw I could grasp.

Then that straw slipped through my fingers as what I thought was the least of my problems suddenly turned out to be by far the worst. Alice came loping along the wall. It was on all fours and moving with the speed and intensity of a greyhound. The big bad wolf was done playing and ready to get down to business. It was just my bad luck that its business seemed to be me.

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."

"You couldn't." He seemed very sure of that, jaw set. Too bad he was wrong.

"You mean he couldn't, but we can." I curled up the corner of my mouth. "And we will." Pulling the trigger was easy, so damn easy.

Hitting the target, though, turned out to be more difficult. Where Niko had been, suddenly an Auphe was standing, whom I unfortunately ventilated. It wasn't the most respectful way to treat an employer. "Whoops. Sorry about that, boss," I apologized. "Totally my fault." It crumpled, the light fading from its eyes. There went any chance of a bonus.

Niko had managed to wrest himself free of some of the Auphe, but was still entangled in several rolling around on the floor. It was a vicious fight and I wished I had time to watch, but orders were orders. I couldn't get a clear shot at Nik, and Robin wasn't much of a threat. My reputation preceded me there and I fully expected Goodfellow to pack his bags to hop the nearest plane. He was out of here, no doubt, and although Niko would definitely still be a problem, there wasn't anything I could do about it now. Later, though… we'd see.

Turning, I ran. I heard the the clink of metal against wood as the gun hit the floor behind me… It was like the peal of a bell. I kept running, took a deep breath, and dived. I don't know if Nik got away from the Auphe or whether they let him go to follow me. Either way, it didn't matter; I knew it was his fingers tugging at my shirt. I knew it was his fingers trying to hold me back, but I still slipped free.

And then I was soaring.

Through the window and into the night. Air rushed up past me as I fell. Lights dopplered as the street rose beneath me with dizzying speed. Behind and around me I could hear the Auphe, laughing as happily as a weasel in a nest of baby rabbits, their white hair streaming like the tail of a comet. We plummeted together, joined by a murderous purpose and the sheer joy of raising hell. Then the gate opened and we exited the world together. But we would be back, to remake that same world into a new image, or rather an old one… very, very old. For now, however, to this place we were no more. Elvis had left the building.