Nightlife

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.

It's damn near poetic.

The Auphe didn't seem to appreciate the poetry of it, though. Barbed claws circled Samuel's wrists and squeezed until blood flowed freely. "Such a strong-willed sheep. So very disobedient. What shall we do with a sheep who dares to question his shepherd?" He was waking up now, red eyes flaming torpidly to life. He didn't look especially hungry, but who among us is above a snack or two out of pure boredom? It looked like my pal Sammy was about to get sheared or eaten. Neither would leave him functioning. Too bad for Sammy. If I hadn't needed him, I would've enjoyed my ringside seat.

"Boss," I said mildly. "Mind if I have him for a while? I need him to do something for me."

The narrow face sharpened in vulpine annoyance as the Auphe hissed several words that were jagged with edges that cut the air like a rusty razor. They were words that no human would understand, although simply hearing them would give him a fierce headache. I answered back in the same language, more or less, and outlined what I wanted. It was hard to wrap a human tongue around the fifteen vowels and more than a hundred consonants, but I made do. With a peeved snort through moist nostril slits, my boss turned Samuel loose and loped off, licking the blood from his long multijointed fingers as he went. Mmmm. Finger-licking good, I thought wistfully.

Turning back to Samuel, I slipped a hand into his pocket and deftly removed his wallet. There was something I wanted to check. Ignoring his snarled curse, I straight-armed him and rifled through the contents. I stopped at several family photos and gave a self-satisfied smirk to myself. That explained it. That explained quite a lot. "I thought you looked oddly familiar." I tossed the wallet back to him and smiled placidly. "Seeing you with new eyes and all." I walked over to a wooden crate and sat down, my hands casually cupping a knee. "Did you know I can sing? Well, not so much sing as… never mind. You'll see soon enough. Let's get down to it, Sam-I-am. I need your band's sound system and I need you to bring it here. Tomorrow night."

"What the hell makes you think I'll do anything you say?" he spit, clenching his wallet tightly in one hand.

"A sick brother, huh?" I kicked a heel against the crate. "So very, very sick. It's sad. Sad for you… sad for his wife. Sad for his precious red-haired little girl. Sweet Georgie Porgie, does she know what her uncle Sammy is up to? I wonder."

Of course she did, even though it was a fair assumption that he'd never told her. That's what she did; that's what she was. It went a long way toward explaining why she'd lied to Niko and Cal and why she'd cried. It had to be a confusing situation for anyone, even a petite psychic who had her finger on the pulse of the universe. It came with the job. Finding lost dogs was a good day; your father dying, your uncle crossing a line, betraying your friends… that was a bad day. What was the worst day? She'd find out. I hadn't met a psychic yet who'd led a long and happy life. Long and miserable, yes. Long and happy… never. Wasn't part of the great game of life. Still, I had the feeling she would do her best to rise above it. She would strive to not let it destroy her, strive always to serve the greater good.

How nauseating can you get?

"Georgina." Samuel said her name softly. He didn't say "Stay away from her," or "Leave her out of this," none of the usual cliches. I guess, facing me, facing the Auphe, he had to know that would be pretty pointless. Staring at me, he demanded without emotion, "Can they heal him? Can those things heal my brother?"

"Nope." I stood, rocked on my heels, and continued cheerfully, "They couldn't even if they wanted to. As far as the Auphe are concerned, if you're sick, you either get better or you die. That's the sum total of their medical knowledge." I tilted my head as his face spasmed. "But all is not lost, Samuel. You can still save someone. You can save your Chatty Cathy niece. I know where she lives, where she goes to school, her favorite ice-cream shop. It'd be interesting to see how long her Pollyanna attitude would last with me playing 'cats in the cradle' with her intestines."

Predictably enough, he lunged at me, his hands on my throat with a strength borne of pure desperation. I let him squeeze for a while until spots darted across my vision. It was good for him, gave him hope. It's more amusing to crush someone when he thinks he still has a chance. The hopeless are massively boring. They lie there and cry or curl up in a catatonic fetal ball. Where's the sport in that? He growled and tightened his choking grip on me.

Tiring of the game, I peeled back his hands, dislocating one of his fingers in the process. "Oh, hey, look at that. Here, let Mommy make it all better." Holding on to his hand despite his efforts to break free, I yanked the finger back into place with a pleasing crunch of bone. I could've been quicker about it, it's true, but his complete lack of gratitude was still uncalled for. Balling up his wounded hand, he cradled it against his chest and glared with an unparalleled fury. The guy had guts—I had to give him that. Later on I was hoping for a firsthand look at them. But right now that was neither here nor there. Right now we had business to conduct.

"Bring the equipment here tomorrow night," I reiterated gently. "And, Samuel? Don't think you can hide her. You can't. I'd find her and if I didn't, my employers would." I tapped my bottom lip and considered. "I'm not sure which would be worse. There certainly wouldn't be enough left of her to ask."

He stood motionless, jaw working. Then he gave one jerky nod, turned silently, and left. He was down in the mouth, but you had to be firm with the puppies. Spare the rod, spoil the human. At least that collection of monkey scribbles had gotten one thing right.

Sighing glumly, I settled back against the crate and steeled myself to a miserable night sleeping on a cold, hard floor with only the heat of enraged and unruly spirits to warm me. The claws that scrabbled down the wood to pierce my shoulder weren't any huge surprise. I'd been waiting for it the moment I'd walked into the warehouse. "Can I help you, boss?" I asked with false cheer.

"What have you been doing, maggot food?" the Auphe's fetid breath cooed in my ear. For one split second a shiver raced down my spine. It wasn't an Auphe, nor was it a creature I'd had a business relationship with over thousands of years. It was a Grendel. It was a horrifying creature that had snatched me from bed and all but destroyed me. I stopped that thought in its tracks. No, I wouldn't even accept that it was a thought. That would mean there was a consciousness that had made it. Cal was no more and neither was his consciousness, not as a separate entity. It was just an emotion stored in the neurons of this peculiar brain.

"Nothing, boss," I answered promptly. "Just laying low like you told me to. Just following the plan."

A cold finger traced my jawline. "Then whence came this bruise? It's nearly as large as your rampant ego. You wouldn't be lying to me, would you, Darkling? You wouldn't try to deceive your betters."

My teeth clenched and I choked down the black bile of fury. Betters? I had no betters, but if I had, Auphe would certainly never have been on the list. "Merely a disagreement with a mugger in the park who mistook me for a human. I assumed you had no problem with self-defense. I know this body is a precious commodity to you." I raised eyes to his red ones as he crouched on the crate above my shoulder. "Much as I am."

He considered my words carefully. Cold and calculating, but in the end he was still backed into a corner he couldn't escape. I was precious to him, as much so as Caliban's body. The Auphe couldn't pull this off without the both of us, and they knew it. "A mugger." The disbelief was rich in his voice, but so was acceptance of his position. "You're losing your touch, Darkling." With that, he retreated back over the top of the crate and vanished. I had the upper hand now, and he knew it. Later, however, I'd better watch my back.

Or I'd better run for my life.

I pushed the gloomy, defeatist thoughts out of my head. I'd come out on top. I always did. I abandoned the crate and curled up on the floor. There was no risking a hotel now, not on the last night. There would be no electric blanket, no champagne, no room service. What a world. It was the same world that would end tomorrow night.

Now, that was something to sleep on.