Surprisingly, the bouncer at the door was female and petite. That only meant she was more dangerous, a buck five of ass-kicking fury. Inky black hair pulled back in a long tail was paired with arresting yellow green eyes. To your casual human eye the split upper lip could've easily been mistaken for a cleft lip and not the beginnings of a muzzle. It kept her from being classically beautiful, but that didn't mean she still wasn't gorgeous. Exotic and strange, but gorgeous nonetheless. As we approached the door, she looked us up and down, sniffed, and then wrinkled that bifurcated upper lip in disgust. It was the same reaction I'd gotten from the albino wolf at Cerberus's office. The wolves I'd come into contact with last year, when I was possessed by Darkling, had been fascinated with my scent. The combination of human, Auphe, and Darkling had been a canine potpourri, a feast for the senses. Apparently plain old half-human, half-Auphe wasn't nearly as pleasing.
Tainted or not, we were allowed to pass. And lucky us, there was no cover charge. The club was smaller than I would've guessed from the outside. That indicated either a helluva lot of walk-in closets or a few back rooms set aside for more interesting activities. Taking a look around, I didn't see too many fashion plates in the immediate area. All right, then… back room it was. No doubt that was where the poker game went on. The rest of the place was typical for what it was. Roulette and blackjack tables, occasional slot machine, tables and chairs, suspiciously wet floor, empty makeshift stage, poor lighting. Except for the regulars, it looked like every bar I'd ever slung a brew in. "Drink?" I asked Promise.
Raising her eyebrows, she declined. "That adventurous I am not. But, please, help yourself."
At the bar I ordered a beer, less for drinking and more for blending in. Not having had my rabies shot, I made sure it came in a bottle. The bartender was a surprise. A big one. Bored green eyes, wavy brown hair, and a foxlike face that was all too familiar. I couldn't help but stare. It didn't go unnoticed.
"You seem to have a problem, freak." It was Goodfellow's voice, only arctic and empty. Goodfellow's face, although set with a supercilious sneer. His eyes, lacking even a sliver of a soul. "Shall I cure you of it?" The blade he laid on the counter beside the beer was a Spanish poniard, more ice pick than dagger.
"No problem," I said evenly. Now was not the time or place for a fight. Not if we hoped to get in a game with Boaz. Pissing off the bartender—and, if I knew pucks, the owner of the club—wasn't the way to go about that. "It's just been a while since I've seen a puck," I continued on, lying smoothly. "Hard to believe this city is worthy of your presence." Complete sincerity over unadulterated bullshit.
The toxic ennui in his eyes was eddied momentarily by conceit and self-satisfaction. "None is worthy. What can one do?" He tossed a towel over his shoulder and said dismissively, "Take your drink and go, freak. That shirt is an assault to my eyes." Freak. He was even quicker to pick up on the Auphe in me than Robin had been. Maybe like called to like. I'd never thought of Goodfellow as a monster. Annoying, vain, arrogant, glib, unscrupulous… and, yeah, an out-and-out crook, but never a monster. This guy was. It came off of him in waves. A rapacious predator, an utterly amoral sociopath… this particular Pan would gut you in a heartbeat for a penny. He did have better taste in shirts than Goodfellow, though. I had to give him that.
Picking up my beer, I left as ordered. I, better known as the freak, would've preferred to take the poniard and pin his hand to the bar or at the least plant a fist in his face. But neither was an option, not right now. Undercover work, let me count the ways in which it sucked. Promise tilted her head as I approached. "Peculiar, is it not?" she said as her eyes rested on the puck across the room. "How identical they all are… what few that are left."
"Trust me," I responded soberly. "They're not identical."
We chose a table close to the back of the room. We sat side by side, both of our backs to the wall. Niko would've been proud. The place was half-empty; it was still fairly early. Within the next hour that began to change. Moonshine might've been a predominantly wolf hangout, but it attracted all kinds. Sprinkled among the lupines were an afreet, a few ghouls, succubi plying their dangerous trade, and three lamias on what looked like a girls' night out. There were others, creatures I didn't recognize. Promise probably did, but quite frankly my curiosity just wasn't high enough to ask her. I was more concerned with Boaz. When Niko had called Caleb to accept the assignment, he'd gotten a description of our mark, but so far I hadn't spotted him. Around us the wolves, some in human form and some not, drank, laughed, howled, cursed, and fought. It brought back memories, not particularly good ones. The last time I'd been in a bar like this had been to hire a pair of assassins. And although I hadn't been behind the wheel of my own body at the time, it was hard to forget that except for Niko and Robin, George would be dead now.
"Niko is a fabulous lover."
It was a good thing the beer was only for decoration. Otherwise I would've choked on it, or at the very least spewed it a few feet. As it was, I felt my face take on a hunted expression. As subjects go, this was not one any brother wanted to discuss. "Jesus, Promise," I said with not a little desperation, "that's the kind of information that could scar a man for life."
A dimple appeared in an ivory smooth cheek. "I'm sorry, Caliban. I was only testing you. Your attention seemed far from here."
"Yeah, it was. Sorry." Rolling the now-warm bottle between my hands, I scanned the crowd again.
She gave a gracious nod before speaking again. "Actually, Niko and I have not yet—" I groaned out loud, cutting her off. Amused, she relented and changed the subject… sort of. "Tell me, what was Niko like as a child?"
What had my brother been like as a child. It seemed like a simple question. But like most things that seem simple on the surface, what lurked beneath was a different story. Niko was two years older than I was, although when we were children he'd been four ahead. Neat trick, eh? When the Auphe had kidnapped me at the age of fourteen, they'd taken me to a place where time ran differently than it did here. For Niko it seemed as if I were gone only a day, but I had come back approximately two years older. I'd also come back a raving lunatic, but that was beside the point. Niko dealt with it, just as he always had.
One of my earliest memories as a kid was around the time I was four. I'd been sick. Who knows with what? It was mostly fuzzy, but I did remember vomiting miserably all over myself. And I remembered it had been Niko cleaning me up while Sophia drank whiskey in the next room. He would've been eight. And when I was well enough to eat again, it was Niko who fed me soup and crackers. It was Niko who walked me to school and picked me up afterward. Niko who bought me birthday presents, complete with a grocery store cupcake and candle. Promise wanted to know what he was like as a child?
"He never was one," I said soberly.
That was when Boaz walked through the door. I didn't need his description to know who he was. He strolled in like he owned the place… owned the world. He, like the higher wolves, was able to convert completely to human form. Whippet lean, he had his pale brown hair shaved close to his skull and a face carved from cold white marble. With eyes so black that they swallowed the light, he looked over the crowd with a curl of thin lips. Then motioning to the four wolves flanking him, he moved toward the back and disappeared through the only door. So much for ingratiating our way into a game.
"Well, shit," I growled succinctly.
"That does seem to sum it up." Promise rose and discarded her cape over her chair. "Give me a moment." With that, she then moved toward the one wolf left guarding the door.
It was something to see, Promise at work. It brought home how much she truly cared for Niko. I had never seen her use on him what she laid on that poor goddamn wolf. It wasn't sex or even the hint of it, although it was erotic as hell. I'd compared her to royalty before and that was part of it. She was a goddess come to earth; at least she made you believe that. She didn't walk; she flowed. And when she smiled, she put the Mona Lisa to shame. Promise was a promise of more than you could ever imagine.