Or so went the theory.
In reality, Boaz was doing his damnedest to rip my arm from my body. With the last shot in the magazine, I blew off a good hunk of the lower part of his jaw. Pulling my arm free, I wedged a knee between us and flung him off. The brown wolf, half again bigger than a Shetland pony, tumbled onto the table, which promptly shattered beneath his weight. Dropping the gun, I staggered to my feet, unsheathed my knife, and whirled to slash at the throat of the next wolf in line. Vision clearing, I kept Promise in sight out of the corner of my eye. I'd made a pledge to my brother; I wasn't about to break it. Lucky for me, being a little occupied at the moment, she was more than holding her own. In a pirouette as flowing as that of any dancer, she spun her cape of purple silk around one wolfs head, blinding him, and then tossed him headfirst into the nearest wall. I heard something crack… wall or skull, I couldn't say for sure. Then she leaped backward and up, clinging high to the wall and facing the fight with calculating eyes. Now that was something I hadn't seen out of her before. It was kind of… well, spooky as shit just about covered it.
"Okay, Princess," I called out, "you are seriously freaking me out." I didn't mention her real name. Wouldn't do to put any of us on the radar of Cerberus's enemies. Life was complicated enough. She didn't acknowledge the comment, instead descending again into the milling pack with the grace of a diving falcon. Wolves scattered beneath her. Yeah, she was holding her own all right. Now time for me to do the same.
Gushing blood from his carotid artery, my wolf went down and two more rose in his place. These were a little more wary. From the panicked flaring of wolfish nostrils and the rolling of white-ringed eyes, they were far more impressed with my Auphe heritage than Boaz was. What had been a bald guy and a black one had turned into a sadly mangy wolf and a rangy, long-legged obsidian one. Growling and snapping at each other to bolster their courage, they finally managed to get up the furry cojones to make their move. Patches went down with a blade in the eye. I felt queasy on that one. He was a Were determined to rip me into Snausage-sized pieces, but that moth-eaten coat gave him the last-dog-in-the-pound look. Albeit a rabid dog with a thirst for blood and pain. As I pulled the blade free, his pal hit me from the side, and down I went again. This guy had nothing on his boss. He growled like an entire pack of wolves and lunged at my face with snapping jaws, but hesitated for one critical moment when I snarled back.
I took advantage and broke Bowser's top teeth out with the blade of my. knife. Pointed fangs half the length of my hand went flying accompanied by a pained howling. If a wolf had vanity, it lay in his pearly whites. Snatching a glance over my shoulder, I saw the spike heel of Promise's elaborately strappy shoes take one wolf directly between the eyes. He somersaulted head over paws backward with a glazed sheen across his yellow eyes. We had six wolves down for the count, or so I thought. That left three more… three until Boaz resurfaced from the wreckage of the table. Goddamn, what did it take to keep that hairy bastard down? Even in wolf form, oddly enough, his eyes were still black, and they held the same pitiless and implacable chill of death.
It had been barely two and a half minutes since the fight had begun. Still, it didn't surprise me in the slightest when Niko came through the door, a dark-clad missile of destruction. I was wearing a wire for a reason, and my brother wasn't one to let the grass grow under his feet. The wood of the door was sturdy enough; it didn't matter. It disintegrated under Niko's kick. Boaz didn't turn; he didn't have a chance. The gape-jawed wolf was the recipient of Niko's sword through his broad brown chest. "Let's go," Niko ordered tersely. "This isn't what we're here for." Gee, a little death and dismemberment wasn't on the schedule? What a pity. I dodged a big gray wolf—all of them by now had turned—and booted it in the ass hard enough to send it flying into a still-thrashing Boaz. Goddamn, that was one tough wolf.
Promise flowed past me with, if you could believe it, her cloak retrieved and folded neatly over her arm. She paused for the briefest of moments to murmur in Niko's ear and then passed through the door to the outer room. Niko turned his attention to the convulsing Boaz with calculating consideration. I saw his hand tighten slightly on the hilt of his sword before he came to a decision. Killing Boaz wasn't the job we'd taken. It wasn't one we would've taken. Boaz was Cerberus's problem, not that that changed the fact there were three more wolves rushing forward to take us out. Niko looked at me sharply and repeated, "Go."
It was a tone I'd learned not to argue with when I was in diapers. With one arm virtually out of commission I had to leave the Glock. It was stolen and untraceable, with the numbers destroyed by acid, though no one in this crowd was going to be calling the police. It didn't change the fact I was going to miss the hunk of plastic and metal. It had gotten me out of a jam or two in its day. Knife still in hand, I made to follow Promise. "They're going to smell your blood," he added grimly. "So use some speed, little brother."
That Promise, what a tattletale. Cradling my arm against my chest, I went with one parting shot. "Nothing but my dust, Grandpa." Ignoring his snort, I headed out. Speed was a relative term, but I liked to think I set a land-speed record for an injured man in gigolo wear. Throughout the club heads were turning in my direction, some lupine, but not all. I saluted them with my knife hand and drawled, "Good game, great company. Thanks for the hospitality."
Some wanted those thanks personally. Two lamias drifted up and away from their table. The round and blazing gold eyes of owls peered through strands of floor-length inky black hair. Flashes of their pale skin could be seen through the black veils as they moved toward me, their lipless mouths showing round rings of transparent baby teeth in hungry smiles. There was a flutter of silk at my elbow and Promise said firmly, "No. Go back to your muck, leeches. This one is mine." They hesitated for a moment, and taking my good arm, she goaded me into a faster pace. As the relatively fresh night air hit my nose I heard the scrape of more chairs and tables behind me. Everyone smelled the blood all right, and there was plenty of it. The cold sweat of adrenaline and pain was probably a savory olfactory side dish. I wasn't too worried, though. They might be behind me, but Niko was behind them. And that wasn't a fair fight in anyone's book.
Outside, the van was only inches from the door, pulled up on the curb with reckless disregard for the life and limb of your average pedestrian. Robin waved an impatient hand from behind the wheel. "The meter's running, kid. Get your disco ass in here."
Hissing as the movement jostled my arm, I climbed into the back of the van after Promise. "Your evil twin in there isn't nearly the pain you are, but damn if his carbon-copy ass isn't dead-on you."
Dark brows winged upward. "There's another puck in there?" There was definite ambivalence in his voice. "Which one?"
Yeah, that wasn't an unrealistic expectation to dump on me. I doubted they could tell one another apart, supernatural clones that they were. I knew I sure as hell couldn't. "The annoying, smart-ass one," I growled. The van was made for deliveries, and there were no seats in the back. Instead, I took one on the floor and wedged myself into the corner in preparation for a fast getaway. "That narrow it down for you any?" Ignoring his caustic humph, I told Promise, who crouched gracefully by the door, "Better get back. Nik is going to be moving."
That was an understatement if ever I made one. Niko came through the opening so fast I was halfway expecting a sonic boom to follow him. He slid the door into place with a metal-rattling slam a split second before something hit it hard enough to dent the metal. "Drive," he rapped. "Now."