CHAPTER EIGHT
CAL
Early shift at the Ninth Circle was worse torture than being at home when Niko had a day off. No one made me watch documentaries or tested my knowledge on Geography and History. No one forced me to jog around the park for miles upon miles, but I still hated it. It was boring. Actually, boring didn't even begin to cover it. Ishiah kept the bar open as New York law dictated. Although considering we could technically open at 7am, he was still putting his own two cents in and moving that back considerably to three in the afternoon. Most of our clientele were nocturnal so opening any earlier would be pointless and a waste of an electric bill.
This was the time in human bars when the dead-end-job, loathing-life barflies came in. Getting an early start in drinking away their sorrows. Not at the Ninth, which was a shame because those barflies had some interesting stories and it was even more amusing to listen to them become wildly inventive by the sixth shot with a beer chasers.
The Ninth wasn't the first bar I'd worked at, but it was by far the longest stint I'd held onto; if one counted all the days I was absent chasing monster, chasing my lover, or just saving the world. It was nothing like the human bars by appearance, but at its core they were one in the same. Pitiful moaners hating themselves, life, or something even more insignificant. The showboats trying to get laid or get into a fight to gather better stories than those they actually lived. The casteless just looking for a place to warm up and watch the world go by. The leeches clinging to anyone who might give them a speck of self-worth, monetary scraps, or just a drink. In a paien bar they were all there too. Except the leeches were weird-looking slug-like creatures with round parasitic mouths lined with razor teeth; they had to be cousins to the vodyanoi, there was no question there.
At the moment, I had the showboat of all showboats in front of me, rattling on and on about Bacchus the amazing vampire lord who made it to godhood. Pretty much everything I'd been avoiding listening to when I walked out of his apartment yesterday. I sliced limes with a little more vigor than usual to drown the puck out. Not that he was getting the hint; he wasn't really clucking at me anyway, but with the way Bacchus Jr's Junior had been eyeing Cassie I didn't really want her listening to this fanfare either.
"He, of course, came to me first," Goodfellow went on (and on). "Unsure of how to capture the verbose taste of the first batch. This often happens when one doesn't keep proper notes during experimentation. I was able to enhance the flavor with…"
His voice droned, but I'd lost interest at the first word in his version of how wine was made. When I finished cutting up the lime, I gripped the handle with great deliberation. I almost would have rather hear him bellow at me for taking off his finger, just one. He had nine others.
Cassie smirked at me and ticked her finger in warning. She'd obviously lost interest too, but she wasn't abiding my violent fantasies. I grabbed another lime, flipped the knife, and went back to chopping.
Other than employees and the two freeloaders in front of me, the bar was empty. Dante promised to come by at seven when I would leave with Nik for our Nero meeting, where I would probably hear all this shit again. He was taking watch over Cassie in his book, but this time I wanted my lover to swung it around and corner him about his recent vanishing act. He'd evaded me last night, coming in after Cassie had exhausted me enough to pass out, and he slipped out this morning too – he'd showered and left while Niko dragged me around the park track before the sun rose. All I'd gotten out of him was that it was nothing and that it wasn't dangerous. Our definitions of that word were probably vastly different.
Another hour, I reminded myself. Honestly the only reason I'd come for a the early shift at all was to avoid Niko tying me to a chair to do 'research' before the meeting. Apparently, Salamandier had sent over some interesting information about the Vigil he'd dug up from the jump-drive we'd sent him. Of course, the alchemic mishap hacker had probably graduated to the Vigil's secure system by this point, but either way didn't want to know. I did want to know, but I didn't want to sift through all the script until my eyes went red around the edges like Nik did. My brother would be informing Cassie of what he found anyway, so I'd just wait for that.
"Ah, yes, the coliseum was both christened and desecrated in so many fashions that night," Robin hummed nostalgically.
Cassie was grinning slyly as she poked at the ice in her water with a half extended Auphe nail. It had become cute at this point –the way she used the formally nightmareish talons for mundane daily things. Partially due to the fact, I was sure, that she could retracted them completely into her fingers with that paien magic. Dante could too, though his seemed to be stunted in comparison. Castiella's six inches verses his three; for my boy's benefit I hoped that wasn't a euphemism. He and I had yet to get to the point of competitive measuring…I never really got to that point with anyone actually. I took a moment to wonder if that was actually something guy's did as Cassie wound up her comeback.
I'd seen it coming. I knew that look in her eyes and the roll in her shoulders. She was going in for an easy kill. Of course, I usually saw that look with more passion when she was about to tackle me to the bed, but sometimes she would give that half smile right before she corrected Niko or, as in this case, burst Goodfellow's exaggerated ego. "So after five hundred years, he just welcomed you back like the mentor of gods and a mass orgy ensued with wine flowing over everyone's bodies?"
"Hardly elaborate enough a picture to envision the worship and carnal passion of that," he stopped short, tilted his head to reconsider, then frowned. "You were there." As he'd obviously forgotten.
"He punched you in the gut while simultaneously trying to rip off your genitalia," Cassie said, footnoting the story with a much more amusing deleted scene.
Robin waggled a finger at her, still grinning. "Ah, but how did the night end?"
"With me leaving once the gyrating mounds became too jumbled to figure out what was whose."
"Exactly. Bacchus had a fine time that night."
She took a pull from her water, dark eyes on me with a quick lift of her eyebrows. "He still punched you."
Goodfellow's stories were always so much better with Cassie around. I didn't get to hear much more of the tale before Niko came in with Dante, motioning for me to wrap it up and not even taking a seat. I didn't blame him for the briskness. We denied the old jackdaw help, which meant wherever this was going we weren't getting paid. That also meant I was just as eager to get this shit done and over with. The art history nuance died long ago.
But first. "Hey, Champ," I teased with a brazen smile. He gave me his typical look of uncertainty. Uncertain that he knew what I wanted and uncertain if he cared. I continued to grin as he eased into the barstool next to his mother. "What have you been up to this morning?"
Dante's full lips dipped into a little frown. "Am I upsetting you by leaving? I try to assure you of my plans and I am safe on the streets."
I snickered. Only my son could make me feel guilty about knowing where he was. I tried to not suffocate him, but after losing him for fourteen years or so to the worse evil in the world made me a little more than paranoid when I didn't know where he was. Cassie was able to vocalize my concerns a little more sufficiently, which was probably why I had initially wanted her to talk to him about this. "It isn't your absence that concerns us, hon. We just feel you're trying to hide something from us and you know there is no reason for you to do so. You are free to live as you see fit, but it would be nice for you to keep your parents in the loop."
"I didn't want to bother you with this…acquaintance," Dante started. Samyel interrupted us for a moment as he put a glass of Coke in front of Dante and dusted his palm over the kid's hair with affection. It was amusing how much my co-workers liked my lover and my son more than me. Not that there wasn't a ton to love, his constant puppy-like curiosity, his steady temperament, and –let's face it – his adorable pout that he got from his mom were enough to made the coldest of hearts turn up a degree or two. When he was a baby he even got Ishiah making cuddly faces.
When Samyel moved off to continue chatting with Carfuel at the other end of the bar., finally, our first paying customers came in. It was just a couple of vampires in dark hoods to stave off the muted light from the sun setting. They were regulars and ones that got along well with pretty much everyone, but me. That was a common occurrence really. I leaned in a little closer to Dante and my lover; they were regulars, but that didn't mean I trusted them.
"You were saying?"
"When I was being held by the Auphe there was someone guarding me. Distantly, but he saw me leave them. He could have announced my intentions and the Auphe would have found me before I found you. He didn't and I owed him for that." Dante paused to take a sip at his drink and I took the time during his explanation to gather my things. Niko seemed antsy about this meeting, or maybe that was still a little fanboy butterfly fluttering about in his stomach.
"There was also someone with him that I was fond of and I wanted to make sure that person was well. The last few days I was taking some of my spare time to help him locate an article he'd been searching for. It's nothing more than a trinket, a bauble. I'm sure it only holds sentimental value to him." He turned in his chair as I came around the bar to give Cassie a kiss goodbye. "And it's done. So you have no worry for me to wander off again."
I clasped my hand over my son's nape and gave it a short squeeze. "I don't worry about you wandering off. I worry about you not wandering back."
"I'm a Leandros," Dante countered with a little smirk that mimicked mine more than it would ever resemble Cassie's sweet smile. "I'll always come home."
I pressed a kiss to his forehead, ruffling his hair a little more roughly than Sammy had. "I'll see you guys and a couple of hours. Don't be shirking on your protective detail, hm?" Cassie rolled her eyes at that and smacked me across the ass as I tried to sidestep away.
I left the bar with a grin on my face. Happy again, now that I knew Dante's little secret. The Leandros' didn't keep secrets. It was good to know he finally understood that. Even the Grays seemed to hold that motto among family, outsiders though, they were rather tight-lipped with.
Nero didn't live far from the penthouse, but it was clear his posh studio was rented. He didn't plan to stay in Manhattan long, but while he was here might as well rent in style. His greeting was just as polished, shaking both Nik and my hands and motioning us inside almost with a bow. He didn't even flinch when touching me; he got credit for that.
"Is it just the two of you?" he asked as he guided us to a set of four modern black chairs gathered around a marble coffee table. It was only bistro-sized with nothing but a weird silver hand sculpture in the center. The whole room was designed with hard edges in black, silver, and white. There was a pop of red here and there, but it felt cold, even for a vampire. Maybe I just expected something more dated. Victorian crown molding or a chez lounge or something. He was dressed no differently than before, actually he was dressed no differently than Robin might. His shirt was gray and pinstriped and his slacks were immaculate. I wasn't, but that didn't stop me from plopping my rustic black jeans down on his pristine chair.
"You asked to see Niko," I countered and adjusted my gun as I sat. The chairs were more comfortable than they looked.
"Ah, yes," Nero stumbled. He left us in the mini-living area as he flit into the kitchen alcove. His pillow-top bed was tucked away to the left and made in a more militant manner than Niko's bunk. Other than the bathroom everything was 'open concept'. Good thing he lived alone. It did have a wet bar, of course. A two range stove and a rolling dishwasher, but it had a wet bar. "I just assumed your family would be joining you. You seemed partial to that…familial togetherness."
I glared at him. The vampire was trying to be slick, plunking ice into three rocks glasses; it didn't matter how amazing his liquor cabinet was, Niko wouldn't be using his glass. It didn't take a genius to read my brother's body language – he hadn't even sat down yet, still looking around the studio in search of exits and possibly clues that Nero would gloss over. It also didn't take much to read between the lines and grasp that Nero was really asking where Cassie was. Unless he was sweet on Dante too.
"You can't handle her, stud," I growled. Both of them shifted to look at me. Niko had a view of the back of my head, but he knew me better than a fat kid knew the bottom of a bag of cookies and probably saw my peacock feathers shuddering as I propped my ankle over my knee. Nero eyed me as well, though his expression was one of meditative consideration. After a moment he went back to pouring two glasses of scotch with one of those shit-eating smirks on his lips.
"The jealousy is interesting," he commented. "I wouldn't have thought it to be an emotion that an Aupheling could display. Of course, I know very little about your kind. Or your ancestors." He pulled a mini water out of the equally tiny fridge behind the counter and unscrewed the cap. "I'm also impressed by your immediate deduction that I was asking about Castiella. Agnes chose well when she attempted to hire you." He tipped the water into the third glass, watching the bubbles slip between the ice. "Although I wasn't asking due to a romantic interest."
I shifted in my chair, getting more comfortable but also loosening my jacket to let my holster peak out. He was making his way around the bar, first taking the water to Niko, which was highly surprising he was that deductive. My brother accepted the glass and I certainly wasn't going to turn down a good drink. Mommy dearest and her drunken fits and blackouts had Niko and I cautious with the hair of the dog, him to the point of complete abstinence while I drank with that thing called moderation. The thumbs width of scotch Nero offered me wouldn't affect me at all. Even if it was a thumb's width of poison I doubted it would do much more than make me gag. Poisons had a tendency to fall to their knees before the Auphe genes.
"She's pregnant, yes?"
I nearly broke the rocks glass. I controlled the reaction though. "Excuse me?"
Nero gave another brash smile, pointed at me with one finger unwrapping from the drink, then turned around. He rushed over to a bag propped up on a luggage stand against the wall near the door and riffled through. "This isn't what you have come to me for but I have a certain affinity for the talents of a healer. My own ancestors, as your Castiella pointed out, are the Gwragedd Annwn. Most are born healers, but I don't hold that gift so I strive to understand other species through other means."
"What's your point, Nero?" I demanded and put my glass down on the coffee table. That scotch was certainly not enough to calm the sudden need I had to plug this asshole in the back of the head and walk out. Call it overprotection of my lover and unborn son, but I really didn't like it when someone other than family was in on the celebration.
He found whatever he was looking for, reached back and put it on the wet bar, then dove back into the bag. "You're also, from what I can tell, rather reckless. Am I correct? You have your fair share of scars."
Niko snorted behind me in wordless agreement. Not that he was one to talk; he had plenty of scars himself, it was just that most of them were accumulated on his path to becoming the amazing untouchable ninja. Since he was the one that gave any affirmative response, Nero moved over to him and handed over two more tins like the one he'd showed Cassie outside of Robin's apartment. "As a precursor, I suppose I should explain that I've lived with the Gwragedd Annwn tribe for the last five hundred years and have been learning all they can feasibly teach one that doesn't hold the same gift as them. A lot of it has to do with chemical and—"
"Not why we are here," I snapped. The heels of my dirty boots to his glass coffee table were a punctuation of my irritation. I didn't care if he was cooking meth in an abandoned storage unit, I wanted him to tell us what the hell he wanted and wanted to get out of here.
Nero ignored me. Well, he offered a quick glance in my direction like a scientist watching a mouse run a maze, then tapped his finger to the blue rimmed tin. "The blue is for Castiella. It is a salve for Caliban to apply over her stomach. It will benefit the child, make it stronger and Castiella healthier." He half turned to me with a hand that could have been offering me a pissed off scorpion for all I was willing to take it or anything he was about to spin. "With her genetic make up she is incredibility strong I don't doubt, but the opposing forces between the Auphe mammalian and the peri avian births would make it difficult for her to have a child. Considering it looks as though she will have a live birth, this will help strengthen that mammalian aspect. Think of it as like the prenatal vitamins humans consume during pregnancy."
I didn't like how much he knew, whether he studied this shit or not. I also didn't like that he was right and Cassie's spill a few nights ago made me wonder if he was more aware of the problem than even Cas was. Niko seemed to think so, since he quickly pocketed the blue tin and motioned for him to explain what the black tin was for. "That is a healing salve. Can be used for pretty much any wound, no matter the depth or severity. It can be used on scars as well, though older scars can be more stubborn."
Niko tossed that one to me, thinking the same as I was. That sounded an awful lot like Suloyak's magic fun dip that nearly healed one of my head wounds around the staples Niko had snapped in my skull. I unscrewed the container and took a deep sniff. It certainly smelled similar and likewise didn't have that bat-shit-crazy stench Suloyak had when we faced the real thing. I touched the tip of my finger to the goop and smeared it over a small scratch left from the strixie fight on my arm. Just like the Rom salve Kalakaos gave us, the salve warmed my skin and instantly knitted the tissue back together. The scab left behind flaked off with a brush of my hand.
I lifted my arm to show Nik. For all this guy's yammering he had the goods and we could use them. My brother took a contemplative sip from his over-priced water as I pocketed the black tin. I could tell Niko held on to his hesitance for probably the same reason I took the salve like a free sample. Very little good came from Suloyak, unless it was in his pre-psycho days, so trusting that this cure-all came without consequences was naïve.
"In your travels, have you come across a Romani healer named Suloyak?"
Nero's polite smile twitched, then dropped at Niko's abrupt comment. "I assume you have had the misfortune as well." He glanced between us. "I'd heard he'd found the means to release himself from his inadequate cage, but I was hoping for exaggeration. Were you the ones to dispatch him?"
"Into many pieces," I offered, leaving out all the trouble we had doing so.
Nero nodded. "He was a cousin. I'd met him only once when our tree was bountiful. Now…it is hard to find a distant relative even with out lifetimes extended by the Gwragedd Annwn bloodlines."
That explained how there was only three generations through just as many millennia. I knew vampires lived long lives, but I doubted even they couldn't go much passed a thousand.
"Fascinating," I drawled. "But what does all this have to do with the painting?"
"Ah," Nero went back to the wet bar to pour himself another round. He didn't offer me any this time. "If you've spoken with Goodfellow and know of the Gwragedd Annwn, I'm sure you're aware of that portraits meaning. It is a curse to our line, but one of the only psychological penance, not physical consequence. It is a reflection of the eldest's soul. Their misdeeds and sin on display where they would otherwise be hidden." He downed half his glass and began to look pensive. I rolled my eyes and hunkered down for a nap. Being friends with Goodfellow long enough gave me that sixth sense for detecting when an epic soliloquy was about to start up. Nero wasn't a threat. Nero seemed more like one of those traveling peddlers from back in the day. Swindling town folk out of money for the waters from the fountain of youth. Only his spiel was the real deal.
I left Niko take the reins as Nero went into his sob story. His father was remembered in glorified prose for that painting and Nero wished for us to let that remain. He was asking us to remain silent about the truth (that being the portrait reflecting six other 'eldests' since Dorian Gray and now it was connected to Nero). In return we had full access to limited quantities of his wares.
"Larger request at a discount, of course," he added. He also added that he had killed the last elder son with good reason and assured me that his brother didn't fit in my 'innocent' body count. For a moment I revealed in the fact that Niko didn't claim the same long ago. Judging by the ghastly after image on the painting, Nero's big brother gave me a run for my money with the sinning.
"You planning on keeping the portrait looking pretty?" I asked. I dropped my feet from the table when Niko hit the sole of my boot with the back of his hand. I'd established my attitude and now it was time to be respectful apparently.
"Yes," Nero answered without hesitation, but with a lot of wistful hope. Like he knew how hard that would be. With his lifetime extended and his skills I could see a lot of sins hunting him down, but even I thought he'd be the type to dabble, but never succumb.
It seemed all too simple, but sometimes life was nice enough to be simple. Nero asked for nothing more and even gave us a second tin of the healing salve for the road. So we got ourselves a medicine man on call and all we had to do was maintain that the Portrait of Dorian Gray was just another myth linked to a story linked to a myth. Fine by me. Now I just had to figure out how to test out the blue tin salve, because I wasn't slathering that over my unborn child without making sure it wouldn't give him two heads.
