Moonshine (6 page)

"So Cerberus is wanting to take this guy on a ride, then?" I asked. "Put the kibosh on him. Have him sleeping with the fishes."

Blue eyes blinked; looking bemused, Caleb said, "No. He wants to kill him."

Apparently Caleb didn't watch a lot of TV.

"And his Alpha wouldn't care for that? I thought that was the general method of advancement among his pungent kind," Promise pointed out.

"Normally. You know the wolves well." The pen continued to tap and the smile continued to beam. Slimy, ass-kissing toad. I was surprised he had the balls to even
think
that soul remark, much less to have let it slip. "However, Cerberus is in a unique position among the Kin. What he does is scrutinized far more thoroughly. A misstep on his part will not be tolerated." And there was the smile again. So polite, so helpful… it made the old Tarzan movie flashbacks I was having even more bizarre. A leg falls into the river and is cleaned to bloody bone by teeth precisely like that. Terribly sorry to have eaten you, dear fellow. Mea culpa.

Niko paid little attention to the bowing and scraping as he demanded, "And if we obtain proof that Boaz intends to make the first move, that will put Cerberus in the right with the Alpha."

"He believes so."

There were more details, just as Niko had asked for: where would be the best place to catch Boaz off guard and loose of lip. Who he ran with. How best to introduce Cerberus into the conversation. "He likes to gamble, poker specifically," Caleb said with an accountant's disdain for a waste of good money. "And when he gambles, he drinks. And when he drinks, he talks. Endlessly." There was a roll of blue eyes.

I could see Niko turning it all over in his head, every fact and nuance. There wasn't much the man would miss in the way of strategy and consequences; I had faith in that. Finally, he folded his arms and slid a glance toward Promise.

Immediately, she stood and said coolly, "We shall discuss it and get back to you."

Caleb was disappointed, very much so, but tried to take it manfully. Or monsterfully, depending on your point of view. Already fair, he paled to a transparent white and his hand shook hard enough that the pen tumbled from his fingers. But he swallowed and said tightly, "I bow to your business protocol, of course. Please, call me when you've made your decision. Day or night. I'll make myself available."

From the looks of it, Cerberus would be even more disappointed, which obviously didn't bode well for our favorite accountant, but color me unsympathetic. When the door was shut behind us and we were making our way out of the building, I said with a grimace, "I'm thinking Cerberus is one big, bad puppy dog. Caleb is all but pissing his pants."

"Disgusting, but accurate," Promise agreed, her full lips twisting slightly. "Obsequious creature. I apologize, Caliban. He was much more socially acceptable at the first meeting. If I had known he would bring up your…" She hesitated and then finished, "I would never have considered him as a client."

I shook my head at the words. "Hey, don't worry. It's not the first time it happened and it won't be the last." It never would be the last, so I'd better suck it up and learn to deal. "So, Nik, what do you think?" I added ruefully, "About the job, not our piranha-toothed pal."

His lips thinned in distaste, but he allowed himself to be moved on to the more financially pertinent subject. "I think that the question would be, is Boaz worse than Cerberus?"

"That's what it comes down to, huh?" I snorted. "Bad against worse." I wasn't surprised. Life usually did end up on that particularly nasty seesaw. It was the way of the world. I gave a mental shrug and kept walking down the hall. I passed the bank of metal elevator doors without slowing. Promise, already familiar with my brother's ways, followed along with a gentle sigh.

Niko wasn't one for elevators. He always said if something was trying to kill you, a metal cage isn't the place to be. It made sense… assuming my brother wasn't just an ass who enjoyed watching me sweat and swear my way up and down twenty flights. He opened the door to the stairs to wave me ahead with a bow, and then offered Promise his arm. "As our client would be sure to tell you," he said dryly, "every dog has his day. We simply have to make sure it's the correct dog." I had a feeling that would be easier said than done.

And for once I wasn't wrong.

The next night, the stack of Niko's books was tumbling to the floor as I bumped the kitchen table in passing. I dodged the dusty avalanche and said in exasperation, "Cyrano, you have got to get out more often. Seriously. I mean it." Stepping over the pile, I promptly stuck my head in the refrigerator. "If financial planning's not your thing…" I continued slyly as I sniffed the colorful contents of a casserole dish. It was an attractive color; I just wasn't sure if that was the
original
color. "… then check out a bar. Go see a movie. Read something noneducational for once, like the
Post
."

"I happen to like financial planning," he said, more amused by my sniping than anything else. Obviously, the Promise situation had been good for one cheap shot and no more. Pity. I did live to annoy. "Actually I have a session scheduled in a few more hours." He moved up behind me and peered over my shoulder into the depths of the icebox. "Over candlelight, wine, and dinner." Uh-oh. I slid a slightly panicked look his way. Don't say it, I thought. Do
not
say it. "Why don't you and Georgina participate in the brainstorming?" he finished, his mocking gray eyes fixed on mine.

Too late, I thought to myself morosely. It's out there now. The infamous double date. Determined to do what damage control I could, I carried the casserole to the microwave. "No, thanks," I declined casually. "All that restrained passion and lust in the air is bad for my sinuses. And George is just a kid. You'd scar her for life." I popped the glass container in and twisted the dial, relying on good old cancer-causing waves to zap the food fungus free. "Hey, here's a thought. Call me crazy, but why don't you tell Promise it's a date—a real live date for grown-up boys and girls who are so horny they can't stand it?" The microwave pinged and I finished with a shrug and a wave of my hand. "Like I said, just a thought." The fungus was still there, only now brown and singed. Joy.

"Georgina is two years younger than you, Cal. That hardly makes her a little girl in pigtails." He handed me a fork with a challenging quirk of his lips. "As for passion and lust, what makes you so sure it's that restrained?"

He had me there. I dumped the fork and the dish in the sink and then gave him a good once-over. I'd said at the carnival that he'd become unbearable since he'd been getting some, but I hadn't really believed it. Well, the unbearable part I believed, in spades. But the other? Furrowing my brow, I tilted my head, then shook it. "Nope. I stand by my original assessment. Restrained lust, all the way." I held my thumb and forefinger about half an inch apart. "You're almost there, which is why you're so goddamn happy all the time." I looked at him again,
tsk
ed under my breath, and moved my fingers a little bit farther apart. "Almost, but just not quite. Maybe Goodfellow could give you some lessons."

Now he was annoyed, which meant my work was done for the day. "Do you really wish to go there, little brother?"

I had a thousand and one sensitive spots, some reasonable… some not so much. Nik, however, had only a few. Robin's past jones for him being an extremely humorous one. Humorous for me at any rate. "Nah, that's okay." I returned to the fridge. "I'm too hungry to get my ass kicked right now. When you see Promise, bring her up to speed." A thought hitting me, I stood and draped myself over the top of the refrigerator door. "Oh, and tell her I suck at poker. So she better draw up some subcontractor fees, because Goodfellow isn't going to come cheap." I waggled my eyebrows. "Although you could maybe bargain him down. You know, with your studly body."

Hungry or not, I ended up with an ass kicking to my name anyway. It was all in good fun. Good black -and-blue fun, but more important, Niko had forgotten the entire George issue. At least I was hoping he had.

As a further diversion, I told him I'd put a call in to Robin and see if he was up for a little undercover work in case we decided to take the assignment. And as there were three or four reasons we shouldn't as opposed to fifty thousand why we should, I had a feeling how the decision was going to go. Cerberus might not be who I'd want carrying my slippers and bringing me the paper, but was he worse than any of the other Kin? There was only one way to find out. Take his money and check out this Boaz. The worst we would be out was a little time, and that we'd be well compensated for.

"How do you know that Goodfellow even plays poker?"

I commented in disbelief, "You're shitting me, right?"

"In retrospect, not the most astute question, I admit," Niko sighed. "Well, he is an excellent fighter… when he wants to be. Since you seem to be under the impression Georgina is still in diapers, why don't you and Robin meet Promise and I for dinner? We can discuss all of this then."

"And after?" I grinned.

"You and Robin go home, before dessert, politely minding your own business." And from the iron in his voice, I knew that was probably exactly the way it would be.

"Do I play poker? He really asked if I played poker? Hermes save me." Robin was on his seventh glass of wine and was still sober as a judge, the non-Southern variety. After thousands of years of good living, his tolerance was legendary, though the waiters at the dim sum place we'd stopped at in Chinatown were clearly taking bets on when he'd pass out. Of course everything about Goodfellow was legendary, as he would tell anyone who cared to listen. Repeatedly. "I
invented
poker. It was about two thousand b.c, and naturally it wasn't called poker then. What a crass name. I called it…"

I let the words wash over me, the background noise of the never-ceasing surf, and gave Niko a grin. He seemed less entertained by the situation, which naturally made me enjoy it all the more. What Promise thought I wasn't sure. She sat to Niko's right, a serene presence in a sleek sheath of dark violet silk. Black pearls with a peacock sheen looped around her ivory neck and her striped hair was swept up into an intricate coil. She looked like a queen, but the glitter in her eyes was anything but queenly. It was sharply annoyed, down and dirty. She and Goodfellow had crossed paths only rarely, and their interactions were prickly at best, Niko being the juicy bone of contention between them. A front-row seat to the sniping was better than cable any day of the week. Still, if nothing else, Robin and Promise had a mutual respect… of sorts, at least enough of one to keep them from killing each other. For now.

I crossed my fingers under the table, then reached for my own glass of wine. It was still my first. Dear old Mom had been an alcoholic, along with her other even less pleasant vices. Niko didn't drink at all and I drank only in moderation. Tempting fate had never been much of a hobby for either of us. Still, a little something for jangled nerves was called for. I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting George to show up again. My defenses were getting less and less effective all the time, and, damn it, I thought that she was more than well aware of the fact.

"So, up for it, Loman?" I asked after one more suspicious glance around the room. "Wanna pull the tail of this mutt?"

"No tail pulling," Niko corrected instantly. "This is reconnaissance work, not a stick-poking exercise for your personal entertainment."

"Spoilsport," I grumbled, and shoved my untouched salad to one side. Rabbit food, no, thanks. "Robin?"

"It sounds diverting." He finished his glass and waved a peremptory hand at the waiter, who promptly scampered for another bottle, bowing and scraping the entire way. I didn't know if it was the cut of Goodfellow's suit or the fact that he seemed to ooze dollar signs, but the waitstaff hung on his every gesture. Promise received the same attention. Niko and me, they tended to study with cautious curiosity. We didn't quite belong. In many ways a puck and a vampire fit into the mundane world better than we did. Maybe it was the clothes, I thought ruefully as I took a look at the tie I'd borrowed from the maître d'.

"Gambling, drinking, furry women," Robin continued with an arched and sly eyebrow. "Furry men. What's not to like? Count me in. We'll play your little game and come out a few thousand to the good on top of the fee. And, by the way,
my
fee is fifty percent."

"Fifty?" Promise repeated with an outrage that was all the more evident for the simmering restraint in her smooth voice. "Twenty-five thousand and for what, pray? For you to drink, flirt, and steal money from the unwary?"

"It's nice to meet someone with an identical life philosophy, isn't it?" Robin raised his newly filled glass to her in salute.

I quickly reached for a roll and took a large bite. It wouldn't be the smartest thing to give myself away with a shit-eating grin. I had no idea how Promise's five husbands had shuffled off this mortal coil, but I did know I wasn't looking to find out. Niko was making his serene way through his salad. It was impossible for him to be oblivious to the conversation, but that didn't stop him from pretending.

Chewing and swallowing the bread, I said softly, "
Bwok, bwok
."

The precisely placed sharp kick to the side of my knee had the nerve there tingling as Niko calmly took another bite of his salad. His movement hadn't even rippled the water in the glittering crystal glasses on the table. As I hissed in pain and rubbed my knee, I noticed Promise's and Robin's attention had turned from each other to me. Not the happiest turn of events for yours truly. "Surely it wouldn't be such an injustice to slide a portion of his split my way," Goodfellow drawled.

On that, Promise agreed with Robin, not the disputed fifty percent, but one hundred. "No injustice at all," she murmured as she rang a painted nail on the rim of her wineglass.

I gave my knee one last massage and scowled. "As always, everyone's against me," Deciding a change of subject was my only hope, I demanded, "Where the hell's the real food?" A long time coming, apparently, as the waiter ignored me as thoroughly as he'd slobbered to do Goodfellow's bidding. I might be a dark and brooding figure of mystery, albeit in a bad tie, but apparently the dark and brooding don't have a history of tipping well.

After putting me in my place, Robin and Promise eventually came to a figure that they were both satisfied with. Not that it stopped the squabbling between them. Only a well-placed sword and stake were likely to do that. Aside from Niko, the two of them had little in common… beyond the supernatural thing. Goodfellow was vainer than hell and showy as a peacock, bragged to infinity, and talked even beyond that. He was a walking, talking, screwing party and he was coming to a town near you. Promise was in all those things the exact opposite. She was calm tranquillity, an enigma in silk. She rarely spoke, and when she did it was never about herself. Everything I knew of her was from direct observation and the grapevine. I had the feeling, though, she might be a little more forthcoming with my brother. There was something in their shared glances… You only had to see it to know.

Robin saw it too. He didn't want to, but he did. And when we left Niko and Promise, before dessert as commanded, I caught him looking back wistfully. Affection toward someone other than Niko didn't come easily to me. Still, I raised a hand and awkwardly gave Goodfellow's shoulder a squeeze. Envy shifted from melancholy to rueful resignation and he shrugged. "They're a good match. Dull and duller."

I knew all about sour grapes myself. "Too dull to live," I agreed. "Besides, only the undead could deal with Nik's snoring."

We'd reached the street and he exhaled, then looked up at nonexistent stars. "I was to be married once, did you know?"

Surprisingly enough, no, I didn't know. That was a story he hadn't told me before, a miracle in and of itself. Add the combination of Robin and marriage to it and my mind reeled. "Really? You? No shit?"

"Really." The corners of his mouth tugged upwards. "Me. I shitteth you not. It was in Pompeü. Cyrilla." There was a thread in his voice, one of softness and reverence I wouldn't have guessed he had in him. Or maybe I simply thought he wouldn't let anyone
see
it in him. "She had a way of tolerating my gloriousness that brings you and your brother to mind."

"Gloriousness?" I grinned.

"Gloriousness… eccentricities." He rocked back on his heels. "One and the same."

"You and monogamy. There's a helluva concept. So, why didn't it happen?" Sometimes your mouth is faster than your common sense by barely a second. It's a nasty sensation. The mind does flip-flops, flailing mentally to recapture the words, but it's too late. They hit the air as garish as neon and then there's no taking them back. There's only mumbled apologies. "Sorry. I didn't think." Pompeü. Even a lazy student of history like me knew about Pompeü.

"Don't worry. It was a long time ago." From the tight set of his jaw, long was a relative term at best. He began to walk, and I followed along beside him. "Sometimes I lie in bed and try to recall her face… the feel of her skin against mine." He paused, eyes distant, before shaking his head slightly. "I can't. I remember she had black hair that fell in long curls over her breasts. I remember that her eyes were brown and her skin pale gold. I remember the color of the paints… but I can't see the picture." Matter-of-fact, he added, "Someday Niko will be that to me as well, a beautiful shadow long passed from this world." He shook his head briskly, did a Goodfellow lightning change of mood, and asked cheerfully, "How goes it with your girl? Georgie Porgie pudding and pie? Discovered what flavor she is yet?"

Cinnamon ice cream, I thought instantly before I could rein in my traitorous imagination. I hadn't kissed George. I might never kiss her, but I knew without a doubt what that kiss would taste like. "How about we don't go there?" I countered grimly.

"Oh, I beg to differ. How about we do?" His grin was simultaneously wicked and cajoling. "I'm in pain, mortally wounded. Distract me from my grief that I shall never know the size of Niko's most infamous sword."

"Jesus, Loman. I just ate. Cut it out, will you?" Still walking, I watched as his hand, featherlight and hummingbird swift, drifted out to one side and returned with a plump wallet that had belonged to a heavy-jowled businessman. Robin liked to keep up his skill in petty larceny. The original trickster, he said it paid to stay in practice… for the good of his magpie soul if nothing else. I would've checked the silverware every time he came to the apartment except for the fact we had nothing in that department worth stealing.