I stepped away from the wall and moved in silently behind him. His bony shoulders were scarecrow thin and so tense it looked as if he'd shatter with one touch. Always being the curious sort, I gave it a try. Pulling a knife, I tapped him politely with the blade. "I think you took a wrong turn off the yellow brick road, pal. A seriously wrong turn."
They were words he took to heart, demonstrated by his next turn. He swiveled around with a slippery speed, his coat fanning out behind him and his hand thrusting with avalanche force toward my face. It happened with such speed and fury that it was like an act of God, inescapable. Not to mention uninsurable. I backpedaled, blocked the blow with my forearm, and aimed my knife for his abdomen. The metal cutting the air, I was just about to open him up like a piñata when I was able to make out what was flying toward my face. Not a knife, not a gun, not even a goddamn slingshot. It was a cross. It was a hugely ornate one, gleaming with a softly metallic sheen in the weak light. Still, as big as it was, it wasn't enough of a threat to justify slicing and dicing the guy. Not yet anyway. Hope springs eternal, though, right?
I pulled my blade up, and landed a hard elbow in his gut instead. He dropped like a rock, gasping for air, but stubbornly clinging to the cross. Squatting on my heels, I patted him down as he curled in a fetal position, on the pavement. Out of his pockets I fished another smaller cross and a vial of colorless liquid. I opened it and was sniffing it cautiously when Niko appeared, empty-handed and apparently weaponless except for the wickedly amused twitch of his lips. "Embracing that old-time religion, are we?"
Grunting, I replaced the lid. It was just water. "Embracing it with my face, you mean. He nearly put a dent in my skull. Thanks for the help, by the way."
"If you couldn't handle one unarmed fanatic, Cal, then you are too frail for this world. Best to shuffle off that mortal coil before someone places you in a bubble for your own good." He reached down and took the small container from my hand. He didn't open it, merely held it up in the dim light and said simply, "Ah." Looking down at our mysterious lunatic, he tossed the vial from hand to hand. "Now, isn't this interesting?"
Annoyed, I puffed out air and grumbled, "Care to share with the class, Sherlock? Your leaps of logic tend to leave me motion sick."
An eyebrow rose. "Cal, it's obvious. A cross, what appears to be holy water. Our nutritionally challenged friend is after a…"
"Vampire," the man wheezed, his empty hand scrambling weakly at the alley floor. "She's a vampire." He coughed, sucked in a whistling breath. "A monster… a fiend from hell."
Well, how about that? Promise was a sister. "Is that a fact?" I commented neutrally, rising smoothly and planting a heavy foot in the small of the scarecrow's back to keep him down. "Did she happen to mention that when she hired you, Niko? That whole bloodsucking thing ever come up?"
"Mistress of the devil. Satan's scarlet whore," the voice rasped on from beneath my foot.
"Yeah, yeah, buddy," I said impatiently. "We got it. Zip it already."
"Queen of everlasting darkness…"
I sighed and delivered a short, sharp kick behind the nut job's ear. His head snapped forward and instantly he was out like a cheap lightbulb. He'd wake up with nothing more than a pounding headache, and I was betting it wouldn't be any worse than the one he'd given me. "You just can't reason with people these days. It's a goddamn shame."
Niko gave me a look of distinct exasperation. Was it disappointment for my silencing of the annoying fruit loop, my lack of the milk of human kindness for the overly mouthy of the world? Hardly. "Not quite as shameful as your sloppy footwork. An inch to the left will give you a much longer duration of unconsciousness. Did you even read that anatomy book I gave you, or are you using it as a coaster?"
"Actually it's propping up the kitchen table." Impatiently, I gave a nod to the shadows behind him. "Maybe your client could give us etiquette tips on that after she sucks out all our blood. What do you think?"
Raising his eyebrows, my brother gave an amused snort, then lowered his voice to a level for my ears only. "Do you actually believe that maniac, Cal? If she were one of the undead, don't you think I would have known, that you would have smelled her?"
I followed suit and answered with frustration, "I can't smell anything over her perfume. I'm half Grendel, not half dog."
"It is pleasant. Feminine and potent, yet fresh and clean," he mused. "Quite nice."
The voice of reason wasn't a hat I usually wore. "Niko, do you want to kill the monster or just date it?" I snapped with exasperation.
At that moment Promise stepped into view, a vision of tranquillity as her twilight-colored eyes lingered on the unconscious man. She shook her head, the silk around her shoulders shimmering from the movement. "Obviously a very disturbed individual, yes? A distant relative of my last husband. He has been following me for days saying the most bizarre things. Insane things."
"Then I suppose we should call the police and have him taken into custody." The sensible words hung in the air, but before Niko made a move to retrieve his cell phone, Promise held up a hand.
"Wait." She swallowed, a smooth motion under flawless pale skin. "Don't."
Niko's eyes darkened, the fascination with her perfume already a distant memory. He moved to her side, his face neutrally blank. Gravely apologetic, he said, "Ms. Nottinger, if you please." With the utmost care he cupped her chin and, using his thumb to delicately lift her upper lip, revealed exquisitely tiny pointed canine teeth.
I raised my hands and let them fall. "Jesus, Niko, are you the only human in this goddamn city?"
His old-world courtesy melting, Niko had already reached a hand into his coat to take out a long wooden stake. Knives, swords, stakes—he had it all and then some. It wouldn't surprise me if one day he pulled Jimmy Hoffa out of there. Keeping an eye on the deceitful Promise, I bent down and retrieved the cross from our stalker's slack fingers. I'd seen Niko handle any number of demonic creepy-crawlies over the years, so I didn't believe a petite 110-pound vampire would get the best of him. That is, unless her perfume overwhelmed him, I thought caustically. "Whatever you do, Nik, don't smell her," I drawled as I hefted the cross to shoulder height in my best traditional "Back, creature of the night" stance.
Before he could skewer me with a comeback or Promise with the stake, she touched his arm lightly. "It isn't like that, Niko," she said solemnly. "I swear to you. I may not be human, but neither am I a monster."
The point of the stake dimpled the skin over her breastbone. "Oddly enough that's what I imagine most monsters would say in your position," Niko countered without emotion, his hand holding steady. "Answer me this, then, Ms. Nottinger. Did all your husbands in fact die of natural causes or did they cut themselves shaving… perhaps with your teeth?"
I thought "natural causes" was covering a pretty broad range, but since the FBI had yet to register sex as a deadly weapon there wasn't much I could say. Watching carefully, I saw Promise's mouth firm and her chin lift. "I don't drink human blood. Not all vampires do. Not the younger ones. There are better ways now."
"Really?" I snorted. "And what are those better ways? Pigs' blood? I'll bet you drink it from a crystal goblet, right?" There was no way I could picture that, her aristocratic lips swilling the blood of livestock as if it were wine.