Luckily enough, I had my plan to take care of Niko, and now Goodfellow, already in place. As for George, she'd have to be moved to the back burner. Either she hadn't talked or it was too late to worry about it now. I was going with my gut instinct that she hadn't. In the soda shop when one and one had been but a half I'd seen her tears. Fatalism had surrounded her like a nimbus of blue light. What will be, will be and not in that happy "que sera, sera" way either. There's a theory that destiny cannot be changed, cannot be maneuvered, cannot even be tweaked. If you ascribe to that philosophy, then delivering bad news is rather pointless… unless you enjoy the look on someone's face when you tell him a piano will fall on his head next Wednesday and there's not a damn thing he can do about it. While that'd be reason enough for me, sweet little Georgie Porgie probably wouldn't go for it.
What was my philosophy? you might wonder. Simple. Live in the moment. Yeah, yeah. Sounds pretty familiar, I'm sure. Every self-help guru, every pseudoenlightened nut job, everyone who thought they were deeper than a parking-lot puddle, they all spouted it. No doubt about it, it was cheesy. But it was also true. Let the Auphe worry about the glorious past and the inhospitable future. The past was lousy with great memories, the future rife with possible ones, but so what? Nothing mattered but the here and now. Oceans of blood from the good old days weren't worth that one scarlet drop silky between your fingertips in the blessed here and now. Live in your past accomplishments and it's hard to keep up with, much less enjoy, your current disembowelments.
But that was my outlook on life and as happy as I was with it, my bosses weren't likely to agree. Or to even give a shit for that matter. Tucking the distracting thoughts out of the way, I left the hotel room. Sooner or later someone would be looking for me, what with the dead werewolf on the bathroom floor. The policy at the desk had distinctly stated No Pets.
Chapter Seventeen
Outside I walked, rode the subway for a bit, and then walked some more. When I reached a certain corner on a particular block, I made another call on my cell phone. This time I got Niko, and damn, was my brother pissed. A curt "Yes?" echoed in my ear. The word could've been carved from dry ice, cold and searing all at once. So much unadulterated fury buried infinitely deep beneath the arctic tundra, damned if it didn't gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling. Playing with Niko was like playing with fire, and any pyromaniac could tell you that's more fun than a barrelful of rabid monkeys.
"Hey, Nik, how's it hanging?" I waved at the doorman across the busy street. He squinted, then gave me a two-finger salute from his cap, remembering me from the day before. "Guess who?"
"You." Succinct, my brother. You had to give him that.
"Is that any way to be?" I offered mournfully. "Why can't you call me Cal, big brother? I'm still family, right?"
"Cal is my family, not you. I know your name, Darkling. I know what you are, and you are not my brother. Do not for one moment think you can play some foolish game with me."
"Why not? You've played enough games with me over the years. Thrown me here, tossed me there. All in the name of being a good brother, of course, teaching me to protect myself. Aren't you curious to see how much I've learned?" I smiled wolfishly. Maybe he couldn't see it on my face, but I knew he could hear it in my voice. "I know I am."
"I wouldn't exactly call it curious," he responded flatly. "But if that's what it takes to get us face-to-face, then I'm more than willing."
"More than willing" being quite the understatement, even for the habitually understated Niko. He would do anything to see his brother. It was too bad for him that he never would again, not even when he stood and stared into the depths of my eyes. I wondered if he would live long enough to realize that. Here was hoping.
"Face-to-face," I mused with a flickering of memory. "And through a glass darkly. Soon, Cyrano. I'm not quite ready, not yet, but soon." With that lie still sweet on my tongue, I added, "Was Promise naked under that silk robe? Was she nothing but smooth skin and creamy pearls? You know what? Maybe I'll just have to see for myself." Without waiting for a response, I flipped the phone shut. Now, Niko… now we see just how good you are.
It wasn't long before they showed up, Niko and his motormouthed sidekick. Thankfully the utility belts and tights were left at home for the date crowd. Goodfellow drove his expensive sports car carelessly up on the curb and bailed out hastily to follow Nik towards the doors of Promise's building. Ignoring the outraged arm-waving of the doorman, they were almost inside when I drew them up short with another call.
"You beat me to her, big brother," I said with mock wistfulness as I heard his phone click on. "Or did you?" I knew he had called her to warn her, but a sliver of anxiety, no matter how illogical, can still give a knot to the stomach and the burn of sweet acid to the throat. And I was nothing if not about the giving. "Vampires don't turn to dust, did you know that? More of a puddle of goo really. Sticky too. The maid might want to bring an extra mop."
"You—"