"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.
Chapter Twenty
Sleep was something I'd always been fond of, in either halves of my whole. I loved the darkness, silent and still, wrapped around me with inexorable arms. There was a difference, though. Humans dreamed; I did not. I didn't need to. Life was all the wish fulfillment I needed, and as for subconscious fears… I didn't have any. I was the fear that ran rampant in dreams throughout history. There was no vice versa. No dreams, no nightmares.
And I refused to start now.
Memories, that's all they were. Just a swirl of memories… once mine, once his… now ours. There was a troll, huge and gloating, Auphe everywhere, and a trailer flaming to the sky. A bitter woman spit words as painful as any stab wound, and there was year after year of running. It should have been boring stuff to one as jaded as me, but it wasn't. There was terror, fury, despair, and a long-simmering anger, but boredom wasn't any part of the equation. Of course by our now-singular nature some of the memories were mine as well. The happier ones. Deshelling a smelly knight without damaging his armor. That had been tricky and, in the end, damn messy. But it'd still been fun as hell. Sinking a canoe of natives into piranha-infested waters. The fish at least had been grateful for that one. It was one of the good things about my vocation in life; it led to my avocation walking directly into my greedy hands. They all came looking for the treasure I was possessing at the time. It was like pizza delivery, only better because it was free.