“Robin called in a favor of his own.”
That favor was at the door as we spoke. Ishiah’s voice carried when he was annoyed, and he was almost always annoyed. This was no exception. As we entered the living room, he was nose to nose with Robin. “Your laziness and sloth know no bounds, do they?” he demanded. “I have a bar to run, my own life to lead. I do not exist solely to be at your beck and call. And I most definitely do not wake up every morning with nothing but the happy expectation of running errands for you. Difficult to believe, I know.”
Robin yawned in his face. “You’re so very good at that. The temper, the scowl. Absolutely terrifying. You must drink shots of testosterone in your morning coffee.” He nudged the oversized garbage bag at his feet. “Here’s the package. Dump it wherever you like. Stuff it and mount it as a souvenir in your bar for all I care. Your choice entirely.”
“It’s not.” The wings flared, appearing from nowhere, and a few feathers flew free. I picked up one as it drifted to the floor by my feet. Between translucent and white with a dusting of gold, it was twice the length of my hand. Robin had Ishiah so frazzled that he was actually molting. The puck was one gifted son of a bitch, I had to give him that. “You are not handing me a bag of Auphe. I know you are not.”
“Think of it as a conversation piece.” Robin grinned lazily. “And I expect you to take it off my bar tab in trade.”
Refusing to believe it, Ish took a step back, bent, and untied the bag. Immediately, the blue-gray eyes darkened in disgust. “Unholy creature.” He retied the bag, then wiped the palms of his hands on his jeans. “One. You actually managed to kill one. You’ve more survival skills than I gave you credit for.” He looked past Robin as he said it . . . to Niko and me.
“I’ve killed Auphe,” Robin said in protest. “In fact, I’ve killed many whilst I saved the entire world last year. Didn’t you get the memo?”
“I’ve always known about your survival skills.” Ishiah picked up the bag with little effort, despite the weight of it. “That’s why history writes of the Last Stand of the Three Hundred, not the Three Hundred and One.”
“Someone had to live to tell the tale. There’d be no heroes if there wasn’t anyone left to talk them up, now, would there?” Goodfellow gave an arrogant tilt of his lips before muttering, “All I wanted was the company of a few hundred half-naked, oiled-up men, and out of nowhere I’m facing the entire Persian army. Where is the luck?”
“I’m certainly getting none my way.” Ishiah headed toward the door. “The next call I expect will request an anecdote for your eulogy. Anything else, and don’t bother.” He put his all in the growl, but as he’d been the one to save Robin’s life days ago, I had a hard time buying it.
Closing the door behind him, I asked Goodfellow, “Did you ever thank him for saving your ass?”
“Gods, no,” he denied, appalled. “That’s not our dynamic.”
“And what would that be?” Niko said. “Rabid annoyance alternating with intense loathing?”
“Exactly.” He yawned again. “One shouldn’t mess with a proven formula. Wake me for my watch.” Yeah, good luck to Nik there, because I had no desire for a dreaming Robin to mistake me for a Spartan, naked or clothed.
Hours later, I was pulling my sentry duty, moving through the apartment quietly. Niko could remain still for hours at a time if he wanted and stay completely alert. Not me. I was a pacer. If I was off watch, I could snooze on the couch with the TV blaring, no problem. But waiting—that wasn’t my strong suit. And staying still after this last Auphe attack? That wasn’t going to happen. So I walked with skin itching and stomach on edge, waiting to feel the tidal pull of a gate opening. I ignored the faint feeling of being watched. After a battle, paranoia and adrenaline went hand in hand. It just came with the territory.
As for trying to anticipate their next move, I couldn’t do it. To give me some credit, I’d been half right about the last one—too bad half wasn’t nearly good enough. But right now, even with the knowledge of a partially new motive on their part, I still couldn’t begin to try. Not yet. Just . . . not yet.
Coward.
As I moved from the kitchen to the living room and down the hall, I saw them. The door was cracked open enough to let me see Niko sitting on the edge of Promise’s bed. I couldn’t make out many details in the dark, but I could see his hand resting on her hair as she slept. Couldn’t live with, couldn’t live without . . . Nik deserved better. A whole helluva lot better. But I couldn’t help him make this decision, just like he hadn’t been able to help me with George. Everybody had that line . . . the one you couldn’t cross. I’d reached mine, which had led to a loss I didn’t know I’d ever get over. Of course, it also led to Delilah, a wolf with benefits. Life—what could you do?
I didn’t know where Nik’s line would take him, but two days down the road, cabin fever was taking us all someplace. “Why the car lot?” I groaned as Promise’s driver pulled up into the lot Robin owned. “It’s not my idea of a good time.” Although at this point I wasn’t sure anything would be a good time. I would be happy if something just took my mind off the Auphe for a while. I’d given myself a night of denial before forcing myself far from the shores of humanity to where only monsters dwelled, thought, and planned.
But what were those plans? The thoughts came easier. Much too easy. If I could think those same blood-soaked thoughts, maybe I was treading water out where I belonged. I did know if I stayed too long, I wouldn’t make it back to shore again. The more I tried to think like an Auphe, the more I was an Auphe, and I couldn’t deny it. Niko could, but I knew better.
“Yes, yes. I’m sure your idea of a good time is us dropping you off at that werewolf’s place and waiting in the car while you bump furries,” Robin scowled. “But if I’m not getting any, no one is getting any. And for your information, as much as I dislike work, I have a business to run. One that keeps me in fine suits, a magnificent apartment, and wine that would make one weep.”
“Work,” Niko said. “Don’t you mean robbing innocent consumers blind?”
“Caveat emptor. If you’re brainless enough to be ripped off, then you deserve it. Pure economics. Survival of the fittest. Besides, I’m a trickster. It’s my calling.” It was twilight, and the lot was closed for the day. Robin used his key to let us in. We’d come at this time of day for Promise. She was already almost completely healed, but a wounded vampire was extra sensitive to light. Her hooded cloak wouldn’t be protection enough for another day or so.
We followed him into the building and I got a look at a few cars way beyond our reach, although with the pearls we had . . . nah. Niko had a freakish attachment to his beat-up old car. So obsessively neat in every other way, he always drove a piece of shit. When I asked him why he was so fond of something that didn’t work half the time, he’d answered, “I’m fond of you, aren’t I?” And he called me a smart-ass.
“Look at the toys.” Robin waved his hand. “I’ll be in my office. And Cal, do try not to drive through the display window again. As a matter of fact, try not to touch anything. My insurance agent is only so understanding.”
“Ass,” I muttered as he walked away. He was never going to let me live that down. Possession didn’t cut it as an excuse for driving through the plate glass in one of his cars. Just for his comment, I ran a hand along the sleek red hood of a classic Mustang. “If you’re going for old, why can’t you buy something like this?” I asked Niko.
“Because eating and paying rent is preferable,” he answered.
Yeah, the money from those pearls was going into the bank, no doubt about it. No new toys for us. Unless it was a weapon, but those could be fun too. I opened the car door and slid in. Nice. Very nice. “You know, we could really mow down some monsters in this. It’d take them out better than my Glock.”
“Stop dreaming, little brother, and get out of the car. We live in New York now. One car is more than plenty.”