I wasn't precisely dressed for duty, still wearing the sweatshirt and jeans Cal had been in when I'd taken him. Consequently, I left a businessman in one of those dark alleys that felt like home. He was minus his shirt, jacket, tie, and wallet, but he had his life—more or less. So no bitching allowed. The wallet was sadly depleted, but the suit jacket fit well. It was somewhat loose in the shoulders, but nothing too noticeable. The pants had been obviously too big and I hadn't bothered to strip them off his limp form. The tie turned out to be more of a problem. It seemed neither of us, despite my wholehearted appreciation of nooses, had much experience tying one of those. In the end, I tossed it with disgust on the sidewalk and settled for buttoning the jacket. The jeans were still jeans, but it would pass. Cal hadn't exactly been a fashion plate before. I, on the other hand, rubbed fingers along the expensive material of the stolen clothes and purred low in my throat. Nice.
I still had a ponytail holder and pulled freshly dried hair back with a ruthless yank. With sunglasses firmly in place, I made my move. The doorman waved me through without question and I stopped at the security desk and patted the breast of my jacket. "I have tickets for Mrs. Nottinger." Naturally, this guy wouldn't know Promise was of the supernaturally parasitic persuasion, but he was bound to be aware she wasn't a day person. I didn't want to arouse suspicion by insinuating I was here to escort her somewhere this early. A delivery of some sorts seemed the perfect solution.
Luckily for me, I'd seen this guy on night duty before, and he had seen me. He was heavyset with snow-white hair cut bristle short and black horn-rimmed glasses that all said his cop days were long gone. He still had an air of authority, but he topped it off with a pear-shaped butt that doesn't come from slavish devotion to duty. Waving a hand, he dumped his paper-bag lunch out of sight and down behind the sweep of marble counter. Apparently I'd hit him at some kind of shift change. Goody for me, all the better for distraction. "You're that guy Niko's partner, aren't you?" he yawned. "Go on up."
Just like that. Don't you just love it?
In the elevator I hummed to myself. My humming wasn't quite like the human version and after a few floors passed in silent speed, an old woman with an armful of even more ancient dog said, "You have such a beautiful voice. I've never heard anything like it."
I tilted my head and gave her a smile that bubbled with good cheer. "It runs in the family."
Crumpled and decaying rose petals masquerading as lips smiled back at me. Wrapped in mink with the finest leather shoes and purse money could buy, she was dressed like a predator—in her victims. Yet she failed to spot a real one when she saw it. Fluffy saw it, though. Fluffy saw me. Tiny teeth, blunt and worn, were bared at me in a rictus of fear and outrage, and a squirt of warm yellow urine poured over the mink. It only proved that the Fluffys of the world were far smarter than the ones who led them around on shiny rhinestone leashes.
I exited on Promise's floor to snarls and snaps from the dog and yelps from its oblivious owner. If possible, it put me in an even better mood.
Until I saw the door begin to open at the end of the hall. Twenty-three stories up. Who takes the stairs twenty-three frigging flights? It wasn't Promise's personal trainer, that was for damn sure, and that left only one other person.
Niko.
Not that taking on my brother wouldn't be fun. Many, many bloody escapades to be had there and I looked forward to it. Just not right now. Things might not have gone as swimmingly as they could have before I sailed though a shattered window to freedom, but I was distracted at the time. Putting on a new body isn't exactly like grabbing a shirt off the rack. It takes time and finesse to get it to fit just right—to use it as it was meant to be used. I could take him all right; after all, he was only a human. But there was no harm in waiting for a more opportune time.
There was a supply closet to my left and I dived into it, shutting the door behind me. The inside was three times as big as the bug-infested room I had spent the night in. The cleaning supplies were in oak-faced cabinets, tucked neatly from sight. The door itself was an ornately latticed affair, straight out of a sultan's palace. I left the lights off and, standing to one side, peered through one of the minute openings. I kept the sunglasses on. They didn't impair my newly improved vision any and I didn't want a gleam of silver to give me away.
Niko came through the stairwell door. Unwinded by the climb, smug bastard, he moved down the hall. My, my… big brother wasn't looking too hot. It was subtle, and if you didn't know him, you might miss it completely. But I did know him. I knew him inside and out, and I saw every sign of strain on his face. Cheekbones were sharper, lips tighter, and the shadows of sleepless nights were under his eyes. But the best evidence was found in the eyes themselves. They were bleaker than a graveyard gone to rot.
Good stuff. Damn good stuff.