by Rob Thurman
"Now, children," Niko said reprovingly. "Play nice. Ms. Nottinger, I am curious. How did this rather fanatical gentleman discover the truth about you?"
As it turned out Promise had been telling the truth there. He was the great-nephew and only living relative of her last husband. Whether or not he'd been disinherited in favor of his uncle's new wife was a point of contention. Regardless, in his mind it was true. He had done his level best to get something on Promise, anything at all. Yes, she had multiple late husbands, but among the wealthy, that wasn't necessarily that unusual a lifestyle choice. In the end all he could determine was that Promise had some peculiar habits, one of which was not going out in the daylight. Ever. That was still a big jump for your average person to make to creature of the darkness, but from what Promise's late husband had said disparagingly about his nephew, it seemed he'd already had bats in his belfry. It wouldn't be that much harder to turn them into vampire bats.
"He may turn into something of a problem for you, then." Niko tucked his stake away and handed Promise her pill bottle. "How will you handle him?"
"I really only see two choices in the matter." She replaced the pills in her purse and clicked it shut decisively. "The first would be to pay him off. I worked quite hard for that money and am loath to give up even part of it, but…" She shrugged philosophically.
"And if that doesn't work?" I asked.
Delicately pointed teeth peeked out from a pouty upper lip. "Diamonds aren't always a girl's best friend."
Well, the guy had a chance anyway. That was more than most people got in this life. I dropped the cross beside him and we left him in the alley, not too much worse for the wear. Forty minutes later we'd ushered Promise back to her building and watched her get into the elevator. But not before she'd put a finger on Niko's mouth as he'd called her Ms. Nottinger one last time. "I think after all we've been through, Niko, that I would like it if you called me Promise."
As the elevator doors closed, I shook my head despairingly at the bemused expression on Niko's face. "Are you certifiable? She's buried five husbands, not to mention she's the undead. A bloodsucking…" Okay, that wasn't strictly true. I amended, "An iron-pill-popping fiend from hell. She'd eat you alive."
"She would, would she?" Niko said dryly.
"Seriously, Nik, she's dangerous, a predator." This voice-of-reason shit, it had to stop. It was a strain on my resources.
His lip twitched. "And what, little brother, do you think I am?"
Damn. He had me there.
Chapter Eight
Locks.
They kept things in and they kept things out. In theory anyway. But in reality I had to wonder if there were enough locks in the world to keep the Grendels at bay. Whatever doubt I had, though, it wasn't enough to keep Nik from installing the best money could buy not even twenty minutes after we'd moved into the place two years ago.
I stripped off Niko's ruined jacket, wadded it into a ball, and tossed it into a corner. Outside the bedroom I could hear him checking the locks on the door. Never mind the things were so sophisticated they practically locked themselves; he still tested them. Every night. Even in the throes of a star-crossed vampire love, that wasn't going to change. Snorting to myself, I sat on my bed and toed off my shoes. My sister-in-law, Countess Dracula. It could've been funny. Hell, it should've been hilarious, but it wasn't. Yeah, hard to find the humor when you realize that thanks to you there might never be a sister-in-law, human or no.
Life on the run didn't lend itself to long-lasting relationships. And lying about your past, your present, your whole damn life, didn't much lend itself to relationships of any kind. I could count on one hand the people we considered even acquaintances… and most of them didn't really come under the typical designation of "people." Boggle was one, although in actuality he was more of a restrained enemy. There was a witch in Louisiana that dabbled in everything from Wicca to voodoo, a Selkie that swam the Oregon coast, and the closest, a healer that lived on Staten Island. Rafferty was the first and only healer I'd ever met. I had no idea how prevalent a talent that was in humans, but Rafferty damn sure had a handle on it. It was a shame he was practicing under the radar in med school. But then again he didn't need med school. In minutes he could do what most doctors couldn't achieve with hours of work and years of education. Of the few people we'd actually taken the time to know over the years, he was the only one I regretted not being able to take the final step with from acquaintance to friendship. It couldn't happen, not without trust. And Nik and I had never been in the trust business. We couldn't afford to be.
Now that life, or lack of it, was going to cost Nik a rare opportunity. Without removing any more clothes, I fell back onto the mattress and studied the ceiling with sleepy eyes. Not that Niko blamed me; he wouldn't. We were family. Considering the way we'd grown up, if we didn't look after each other, it was a fact that no one else was going to step up to the plate to do it. No, he didn't blame me, but that didn't mean I couldn't blame myself. Rolling onto my stomach, I pounded the pillow and dropped my head onto it. Guilt, it got old sometimes.
So did the running.
So what if we saw one Grendel? It had been years since the last time they had caught up with us. As a matter of fact, that had been the event that had propelled our asses to the big city. We'd been lucky that time. No fire, no melting trailer, no mother going up like a Roman candle, just swords, knives, and the purple blood of monsters. But that had been nearly three years ago. At some point the Grendels had to give up, didn't they? At some point didn't they have to cut their losses and chalk me up as the one that got away? I had no idea what those bastards wanted with me, but whatever it was, there had to be a time when enough was enough. Even for the Grendels. Had to be.
Rolling out of bed, I shook off the thoughts and headed to the bathroom. As my hand went to the light switch, I hesitated and then left the bathroom in darkness. I wasn't still jumpy over the mirror incident at the Waldorf; I just didn't need the light. And if I avoided my shadowy reflection in the mirror, it was purely by accident. I didn't need to see myself to brush my teeth. Some things are best done unseen anyway.
Lying to yourself is one of them.
The next day didn't improve my mood any. And there was one big obnoxious reason for that. Robin friggin' Goodfellow. The guy was like a hangover without the actual alcohol. Too loud. Too bright. Too everything.
I'd spent the day grabbing an early shift at the bar while Niko did the same at the dojo. Then we had eaten a quick dinner before making our way to the meeting at the car lot. I was tired, sweaty from the unexpected October heat wave that had descended that day, and in no mood to hear this guy run his mouth. But I guess that was tough shit for me because run it he did. Continuously. Nonstop. Ad infinitum and any other fancy words for "would not shut the hell up."
There he sat in a position already becoming familiar, his feet crossed casually at the ankles and propped on his desk, while he ate noodles out of a cardboard box with chopsticks. "You sure you guys aren't hungry?" He waved a chopstick at the numerous boxes littering the office. "I got Moo Goo Gai Pan. Fried rice. Sweet-and-sour pork."
Niko shook his head. "No, thank you. We've already eaten." He cast a dubious eye at all the food. "You must have quite the appetite for Chinese."
Robin flashed an insatiable grin. "I've a lot of appetites, compadre, and not just for Chinese. Did I tell you about the time… ?"
Here we go, I thought with a groan. We'd learned fast yesterday that once those words came out of his mouth he'd be heading at a rapid gallop down memory lane. And most of his memories were as off-color as month-old bologna. "Save it for later, Sir Raunch-a-lot," I rapped. "We're here about the Auphe. 'Robin Does Rome' can wait until later."
He contemplated me for a moment, measuring me with eyes an intense, serious green. Then he pointed a chopstick at me and announced, "Kid, you need to get laid in the worst way."
Niko coughed abruptly, throat spasming over what I strongly suspected w
as swallowed laughter. The bastard. "Yeah?" I gritted between clenched teeth. "You wanna talk laid? How 'bout I lay you out like a rug? Then I kick your ass for the annoying son of a bitch you are?"
"Cranky. Cranky." Unperturbed, he took another bite of his noodles. "Just like an Auphe. No sense of humor."
I was coming up out of my chair with a growl when Niko snagged the back of my shirt and pulled me back down. "As entertaining as all this is, gentlemen," he said mildly, "we are here for a purpose. Let's pursue it, shall we?" He added as Robin put down the carton and swung his feet to the floor, "Also, Goodfellow, I would prefer that you not compare my brother to the Auphe again. Ever. Are we crystal clear regarding that particular subject?"
Robin cocked a sardonic eyebrow at me. "You feed him dictionaries for breakfast or what?"
I twisted my lips in reluctant acknowledgment. "Yeah, he's a regular alphabet soup dispenser." Leaning back in the chair, I stretched out my legs and inwardly accepted there was no rushing a puck. You might as well sit back, enjoy the ride, and pray your Dramamine kicked in. "So fill us in, Loman. You find out anything?"
The cocky expression melted off Robin's face as he speared the chopsticks into the box and dropped it onto the desk. "Not exactly," he hedged grimly. "But I was able to track down someone who might be able to help. A troll."
"A troll?" Niko echoed. "Are they especially knowledgeable about the Auphe?"
Robin's mouth thinned contemptuously. "Trolls are knowledgeable about quite a few things, all of them unpleasant. Whether or not it'll care to tell us anything is a different story." Then his expression lightened and he said slyly, "But you pups seem like you might be good at getting people to open up. Look what you did for me. Must be those friendly, honest faces."
"Yes, it must be." Niko's smile was like a sliver of ice in the heart.
"We're just sharing the love." I stood and slapped a hand on my leg. "So just where is this troll? Under the Brooklyn Bridge?"
Robin grinned like the Cheshire cat. "He shoots; he scores."
"Damn, really?" I guessed it wasn't such a wild supposition. The fairy tales couldn't all be wrong.
The fairy tales, however, hadn't said anything about the smell. In the shadow of the bridge with the river at my feet, I bent over, resting my hands on my knees, and concentrated on not hurling dinner all over my sneakers. The rank scent of troll was everywhere and choking in its intensity. Thick as molasses, it saturated every molecule with the putrid stench. "Jesus, how can you not smell that?" I gasped.
Niko's steadying hand rested on my back. "I don't smell anything except the East River, although that is fairly unpleasant in and of itself."
"The Auphe do have sensitive…" Robin let the words trail away as Niko's withering gaze hit him. Clearing his throat, he crouched in front of me. "You going to make it, kid?"
I glared at him through watering eyes. "I'll make it." Coughing twice, I pulled in air through my mouth instead of my nose. It didn't help much. Straightening, I rubbed a hand across my face. Breathing… who needed it? "Okay, let's do it."
Robin followed suit. Crossing his arms, he made a face as water lapped near his immaculate loafers. "Filthy river."
In black pants, shiny black shoes, and a forest green shirt I'd bet my last buck was 100 percent silk, Robin wasn't exactly dressed for roughing it. He was in stark contrast with Niko, wearing a long black coat despite the heat, and me in a navy blue T-shirt and worn charcoal gray sweatpants. "Don't you think you could've gone a little more casual?" I asked caustically.
Robin threw me a disbelieving look. "What are you talking about? These are my casual clothes."
"Why am I not surprised?" I made my way past him, the mud sucking at my shoes. "So where's your pal, huh? Where's the bane of Billy Goat Gruff?"
"He's most certainly not my friend. Don't for a minute go into this thinking that. He's not necessarily my enemy, but that's the best interpretation you can put on it. Trolls are like storms. They're a force of nature, deadly and completely without conscience. Forget that and you could be killed in a heartbeat." Goodfellow's voice was as serious as I'd ever heard it.
"That's if the smell doesn't get me first," I grunted, slogging on. The sun had long since disappeared, but the light from the bridge was more than enough to see by. Not that there was much to see besides muddy water and bleak concrete. "Where is he?" I repeated. "This is one damn big bridge to be hiding under."
"An accurate assessment, to say the least." Niko had moved up silently beside me, seemingly skating along the mud that was miring me down. "The troll could be anywhere."
Following behind us fastidiously, Robin shook his head. "Could be, maybe, but he isn't. Abbagor likes to roam the undercarriage of the bridge, but he needs a hidey-hole too. A place for his… leftovers. It's early yet. He'll be there." Picking up the pace, he moved in front of us and led the way around the nearest abutment to a rusted iron grate set flush into the concrete. It was just like the ones you were afraid to walk over as a kid because you knew, just knew, that if you did, you'd plunge to the center of the earth never to be heard from again.
"In there?" I groaned at his affirming nod. "Great. Just goddamn peachy." Aiming a solid kick at the metal, I rammed my foot against it, sending a shower of orange rust flakes into the air. "Yo, Avon calling."
"You are just the soul of finesse, aren't you?" Robin shook his head in disbelief and disapproval.
"It isn't precisely his strong suit." Niko pushed my foot aside and grasped the grate with both hands, yanking it free with a tortured screech of metal. "Who wishes to go first into the gaping maw of hell?"
Ignoring his mockingly dry tone, I crouched and then dropped feetfirst into the hole, the inky blackness swallowing me instantly. It wasn't as far as the earth's center, but it was far enough to send an unpleasant jolt through my legs as I landed. Pulling a small flashlight from the waistband of my pants, I switched it on. Partially shielding it with my fingers to let my eyes adjust, I called upward, "Come on in. The water's fine." Gagging for a moment, I muttered to myself in the rising waves of troll reek, "Smelly as hell, but fine."
Niko landed beside me as agilely as a cat. Robin followed immediately, nearly as light-footed as my brother. I guess you'd pick up a bit of dexterity over a few thousand years or so. He wasn't as silent as Nik, though. "Grimy. Filthy. Putrefying. Abbagor, you abominable beast, wallowing in filth like a pig. This is silk. It will never come clean."
As he rambled on, becoming more and more outraged as he went, I shot the beam of the flashlight around the artificial cavern. The concrete walls were liberally coated with a wash of green slime, doubtless either fungus or mold. What the floor was made of was a mystery, as we stood almost calf deep in bone-chilling mud. "Helluva bachelor pad your pal Abby's got going for him," I offered with a curl of my lip. "Wonder if it's rent-controlled?"
"It appears to be a long-forgotten maintenance area," Niko commented. Taking the light, he picked out a far corner with it. "Ah, a tunnel, and not man-made, I believe."
Not man-made? Just because the concrete looked to have been gouged and ripped away in chunks by claws that had left scoring over an inch wide? Hey, let's not jump to any wild and crazy conclusions. "That'd be the front door," Robin said matter-of-factly before heading toward it, the mud making every move an exaggerated giant step from that old kids' game of "Mother, May I?"
"Let's get this over with so I can burn these clothes and take an hour-long shower." He glanced back over his shoulder with a lascivious grin. "It's a big shower. Anyone care to join me?"
"This little adventure just keeps getting better and better," I hissed, mud sluicing up my legs and threatening to pull off my shoes as I went. "Nik, you want to poke me in the eye with a sharp stick, top the whole night off?"
"As amusing as that sounds, perhaps later." Niko passed me with ease. I could see he'd discarded his shoes and moved on silent bare feet. It was a good idea and I stopped for a second to pry mine off and toss them aside. I wasn't as
quiet as my brother with the mud squelching between my toes, but it was still an improvement.
The air in the chamber, while rancid with the essence of troll, was still the air of New York. Unaccountably warm and humid for the season, thick with pollution, but still the same old air you breathed day in and day out. That all changed when we passed through the homemade, troll-made doorway. Every ounce of warmth was leached away and every bit of movement died with it. It became an atmosphere, heavy as stone, cold as the metal drawer in a morgue, and lifeless as the corpse in it. It was like breathing ice cubes. Chunks of it passed painfully through your windpipe and sat in your lungs like lead. The smell even faded some. After all, there had to be some movement to carry a scent, right? And there was none here. Even the very molecules seemed frozen, nothing daring to move, nothing daring to attract attention.
A deadly attention.
"Abbagor!" I yelled, my voice promptly echoing into the distance as a distorted gibbering howl. I had no problem with attention. After all, that's what we were here for. And quite frankly, I would rather have Abbagor front and center where I could see him, no matter how pissed he was, than lurking unseen in the darkness contemplating us with empty, soulless eyes. How did I know they were soulless? Hell. I didn't have a clue. But I knew. And when Niko's hand floated out of the darkness to fasten on to my arm and pull me closer, I could see he knew too. Niko always looked out for me, but he also knew in most cases I could more than take care of myself. This… this did not have the smell of most cases.
"I can't see a damn thing," Robin said, his voice tense. Apparently, he hadn't been lying when he'd said the troll was no friend. "Abbagor, we don't have all night. We want to talk with you. And could you take pity on us lesser beings and shed some light on the situation?"
"Afraid of the dark, randy little goat?" A cold, cold voice drifted from above. "Be very sure the dark isn't afraid of you."
