But in my world that wasn't an option. You might think it, but the second that you acted on it you were dead… or worse. Hell, what was it anyway? A singing mirror? Objectively, how scary was that? Movies and little-kid terrors aside, how did a mirror stack up against all the other things I'd faced in my life? Not very damn high. So I did my best to forget my cold sweat and my slamming heart, and I looked.
The crooning stopped, and once again I was staring at my own image. This time I looked less sheepish and more annoyed. A hard smile touched the corners of my mouth, and even in the gloom my eyes reflected brighter and colder, almost silver. "Alice," I said grimly. "You are really starting to piss me off." I flipped the knife in my grip with every intention of smashing the glass with the hilt. After all, what was seven years' bad luck compared with living with a possessed mirror? At the last moment, however, I stopped, the knife only tapping the surface. It wouldn't do any good. It wasn't just this mirror after all. I couldn't go through life breaking every mirror I saw. In the end I just covered it up with a towel, meticulously tucking the cloth under the edges. There you go, Alice, I thought with a healthy dose of self-derision. Let's see you get past that. Forget brick walls or steel; I had the best protection terry cloth had to offer.
The towel might have actually held Alice back the rest of the night, but it wasn't going to do a thing to stand between me and Niko now. When he got out of the shower, I'd have some serious 'splaining to do. I couldn't say why I was reluctant to tell him. It wasn't as if he'd doubt me. It would just be one more thing in a lifetime parade of creepy-crawlies, even if it gave me an odd feeling of déjà vu. We had so much going on right then, though, and that could've been what was bugging me. We were already swimming in so much crap, we didn't need a few more gallons of it dumped on our heads. And while I knew ignoring it wasn't going to make it go away, I wasn't sure I wanted to spend that much time dwelling on it either. I had a musical stalker, so what? As long as it only whistled at me, I could deal.
By the time there was a knock at the door, I'd almost decided to try to slide the whole thing under Niko's radar. I wasn't too optimistic about my chances, but I was going to give it a shot. That thought disappeared quickly as I stared, nonplussed, at the door. Who in the hell could that be? Granted the front door was busted and the buzzer pointless, but Niko and I had never told anyone where we lived. The more anonymous you were, the safer you were. Outside of the odd Girl Scout selling cookies or a Jehovah's Witness selling salvation (and I couldn't remember the last time either of those had braved our neighborhood), there shouldn't have been anyone knocking at our door: When I leaned against the wood and peered suspiciously through the peephole, I got an eyeful of waggling fingers waving in a careless hello. "Jesus Christ," I muttered in surprise.
"Not quite," the muffled comment came through the door. "I dated his cousin, though. Great gal. Had a set of yabbos like you would not believe."
Rolling my eyes, I unlocked and opened the door. "Goodfellow, what the hell are you doing here?" Before he could answer, I added, "And how did you know where we live?"
Robin walked into the room, folded his arms, and gave me a neutral green glance. "Niko called me about half an hour ago. Invited me over. Being that he didn't try to kill me, I didn't see why I shouldn't come."
"Yeah, there is that," I said blandly. It seemed Niko had been up to something before he made it into the kitchen. Sneaky bastard. Turning, I strode to the bathroom door and pounded on it, hard. "Nik, get your ass out here. You have a visitor." When I walked back into the living room, Robin was standing in front of our bookshelf with a bemused expression.
"Quite the diverse selection." He touched a finger to one of Niko's many occult volumes and then to another book on European history. "History, mythology, chemistry, mathematics. Someone is well-read."
"Niko," I replied briefly. "If it's worth knowing, he knows it. If it's not worth knowing, chances are he still knows it."
He cocked his head in my direction as I sat on the edge of the coffee table. "None are yours, then, O member of the ignorant masses?"
I grinned caustically. "That's me. Dumb as a box of rocks."
"Don't believe that for a second." Dressed in fresh clothes, Niko stood in the entrance of the hall braiding his wet hair with skillful fingers. "I homeschooled the brat for a few years. Stupidity is not something I would tolerate. Laziness, however, defeated me. Thank you for coming, Goodfellow. Can I offer you something to drink?"
"And you thought I wanted to kill you," I grunted. "He'll finish the job with carrot juice." I had a good idea what Niko was up to and I wanted no part of it. All I wanted to do was forget about yesterday—every moment of it.
"I never thought that you wanted to kill me, only that you tried." Robin looked away from me to nod at Niko. "Whatever you have will be fine, even"—he made a face—"carrot juice."
"Don't worry. We're all out of carrot juice." Walking into the kitchen, Niko returned with a glass of dark green liquid. "Luckily enough, we do have an entire bottle of wheatgrass juice."
"Your sense of humor isn't all that it could be, you know that?" Goodfellow took the glass and stared into it morosely. He took a sip and the green in the glass was transferred to his face. "Holy Bacchus," he sputtered. "That is against nature and all things divine."
"But it's good for you," I pointed out with dark cheer. I might not particularly enjoy Goodfellow's company, but I did get a kick out of seeing someone besides me suffer Niko's peculiar nutritional habits.
"No doubt. Otherwise it wouldn't taste like warm liquid cud." Running a finger around the rim of the glass, he then flicked a finger against it. The glassy ring filled the room with its echo. It was unsettlingly reminiscent of the mirror creature's impromptu concert last night. "So, Niko, I appreciate the invitation and fungus juice, but what exactly is it you want? Auphe Junior here wasn't precisely expecting me."
I didn't blink at the insult. It was getting more and more difficult to be insulted by the truth. Besides, Goodfellow was more than entitled to a few cheap shots. Niko seemed less inclined to agree. His jaw tightened, but he let it go that time, saying evenly, "We still need a car. We're leaving town and we're without transportation."
"Ah. Business. Goody." He gave us both a mockery of his killer salesman smile. "How soon do you need it?"
Niko's "Immediately" was simultaneous with my "No hurry."
"Cal, do not even start," he admonished sharply.
I shrugged and sat on the couch. "Fine. Get a car. There's no guarantee you'll get me in it."
"I think you'll be amazed at how fast your idiotic ass is thrown into that car and at how little you'll have to say about it."
Robin put his glass down on the table and clucked his tongue. "Do I have to separate you two?"
"If only it were that easy," I grumbled. "Ask him what he has to trade, Goodfellow. You'll have to tow it in off the curb."
Oddly enough, the cutthroat businessman part of Robin seemed uninterested. "Why are you guys taking off anyway? It's not Abbagor, is it? He never leaves the bridge. You should be safe if you steer clear."
It hit me then. Goodfellow wanted us to hang around. Despite what I'd done, he wanted us to stay. He was lonely. Sure, there were monsters aplenty in the city, but Goodfellow wasn't a monster, not really. As we'd never run into any other pucks, I guessed they were few and far between. It had to be a solitary existence, surrounded by the monsters who cared nothing for him and by humans who could never even know him. It was a feeling I was more than familiar with. But for all my bitching, I was the lucky one. I had a brother. I had at least one person in the world, and that was one more than Robin seemed to have.