Rob Thurman - Deathwish

“No, thanks,” I told her. “I’d feel like the oldest guy at the prom.”

“Junior prom,” Niko corrected. “At best.”

“Yeah, yeah. We hear from the anal-retentive chaperone.” I wandered off, moving between the cars. I took a look into the empty offices, more out of boredom than curiosity. Framed pictures of happy families, happy kids living their happy, happy lives.

Good for them. Life wasn’t looking that rosy for us right now.

I shook my head and put the picture I’d been holding back down. I needed to try harder to see through Auphe eyes. Seeing . . . knowing , it came from a place I couldn’t go to, not here. I needed to be alone. I needed quiet. Swimming with the monsters in my subconscious wasn’t enough. I needed talons clawing their way through my mind, gray light, and a twist of black shadow pulling it all together. And even then I might not know any more than I knew now. Only one way to find out.

Later.

“Cal.”

Niko’s voice was low and serious. Instantly, I moved back into the showroom. “What?” I said, putting a hand inside my jacket and pulling the Desert Eagle from my holster. This time I’d brought the big gun, but not explosive rounds. After the eel, the cadejo, and the Auphe, I was ready for some sheer destructive power—but it was hard to justify blowing a hole through a wall and taking out Mom, Dad, and baby in a stroller on the other side. Hard to justify to Nik anyway. I, myself, was on the fence about it.

“Ten o’clock.” He didn’t look in the direction of the glass wall he was indicating, and I made sure to grab only the quickest of glances from the corner of my eye. White eyes were studying us . . . white with elliptical black pupils.

“Robin, get your ass out here,” I said. Casual. Oblivious. “Now.” Whatever it was, it was big. The eyes were the size of lemons. And whatever it was, it wasn’t buying my act. It came through in an explosion of glass as Cherish and the cadejos had. I heard Robin swear as he came out of his office, “ Skata . Caliban, you bastard. Not again.” But then he saw it wasn’t me in one of his cars. It was a cat, the kind that was way too fucking big for any litter box. The size of a panther, one damn huge panther, it was black except for thin silver stripes at its shoulders. The tail whipped as white eyes fixed on us, the pupils dilating . . . a giant tabby focusing on dinner. Us.

“All right,” Robin said, freezing in place, “I don’t enjoy at all that kind of puss—”

“If you value your life, do not finish that sentence,” Promise warned, rising carefully from the chair. I had the Eagle at my side and I pointed it very slowly at the cat’s chest. Quick moves weren’t good with your regular pissed-off cat. I didn’t think it’d be any different with this one. The tail continued to thrash as it took a step forward, its head lowering and its jaw dropping. My finger tightened on the trigger before Niko ordered, “Cal, no.”

“No? You gotta be shitting me,” I said incredulously. “Fluffy is coming for our asses.”

“No, he’s sampling our scent.” True, it was chuffing air in and out and not snarling, but it didn’t make me feel any better or any less like a zebra about to get its neck snapped.

It took another step and another, this time toward Promise. Niko drew his sword as slowly and carefully as I’d raised my gun. The black lip wrinkled up to show teeth that weren’t pantherlike at all . . . unless a panther was crossed with a school of piranha. No way it came from the local pet store.

My finger tightened again, but as before, the cat only drew in air. Then it snapped its jaw shut and growled. Apparently, it was a signal, because someone who had to be Oshossi appeared.

About six inches taller than me, maybe more, and two or three taller than Nik. Dark skin, black hair. Kind of weird there, though. Slick like a cat’s fur. Gold eyes, bright gold. Leopard’s eyes. He also had the pointed teeth of a cannibal. They showed in a coldly satisfied smile. “I see we’ve tracked down the mother. Now where is the thief?” The cat could pick out a relative of Cherish’s from smell alone? In this city? That was one talented bad-ass kitty. Cherish was lucky Oshossi and his pet had picked Brooklyn to search first, or she’d probably be cat chow right about now.

Glass crunched under black boots as Oshossi stepped forward. He wore a long black coat, black pants and shirt, and a choker-style necklace of small off-white beads. No. Teeth. They were teeth. And you could bet your ass they were human teeth, because, hell, that’s just the way things worked in our life.

“Give me the thief.” His voice was smooth as glass. It was the voice of a boa constrictor. “Come, walk right into my open mouth. Don’t mind the fangs. Just decoration, that’s all.” Then one swallow and you were gone—your dumb ass gobbled up while you thought, Gee, what a nice guy.

This nice guy was carrying two machetes. Big, shiny, and as capable of chopping through our limbs as if they were trees. I had to make a decision: Keep the gun on the cat or on Mr. Slice-and-Dice. I kept it on the cat. No matter how fast Oshossi was, I was betting the cat was faster.

“The thief.” The gold eyes flared and the pupils dilated just like the cat’s.

“You cannot have her,” Promise said.

“No?” The pointed teeth were shown in another smile, this one feral and savage. “I think I can. I think I can skin her alive if I choose. Rip her organs free and feed them to my pets before she dies. Tear away her eyelids so she has no choice but to watch. I think I can do all those things and you can’t stop me.” The smile widened, upper and lower teeth separating widely—I’d never seen a mouth open so wide on a human-looking face. I heard the jaws pop like firecrackers. Through that mouth they came. His voice was as hypnotic as a snake’s, and that’s what boiled free. A small river of serpents.

Six feet long and as big around as a rattlesnake. They were as black as the cat, and the venom-dripping fangs were the same color. They hit the floor and slithered in our direction. “All right,” Robin said as he backed up, “that is more than a little disturbing.”

“No shit. You think?” I pulled the trigger on the cat. We had more than enough to worry about. We didn’t need Fluffy too. The first three shots hit it in the chest, blowing ragged holes the size of silver dollars in it. It didn’t faze it one damn bit. My next shot missed as it leapt literally over our heads and ended up behind us. The snakes were in front of us, the cat behind, and Oshossi . . . Oshossi turned and walked off into the night. As if we weren’t worth his time. He’d left us a few presents, and so long, suckers. The son of a bitch. It wasn’t enough to leave his pets to kill us, but he insulted us too? Saying that’s all we were worth? Like siccing a Chihuahua on the mailman. A definite lack of respect.

Then again, giant cat, a carpet of snakes . . . that did beat a Chihuahua—in deadliness, if not crankiness.

I turned, knowing Nik would protect my back, and fired at the cat again. I only clipped it as it leapt again at the same time I fired. It landed close enough to take a swipe at me, the kind of swipe that would open you like a giant can opener and spill your yummy gravy ’n’ nuggets on the floor. I dove, hit the carpet, and rolled. Not under it. I’d seen what cats do to prey that end up under them. Those hind feet would rip me from breastbone to lower abdomen. Once again . . . guts on the floor.

There are lots of ways to go. That wasn’t one I’d pick. I fired again into its side as triple rows of teeth were bared in a snarl that sounded like a hundred lions. I was suddenly sorry Niko had made me watch the Discovery Channel, because I could all too easily picture those teeth buried in my stomach. Hot breath on torn flesh, what should be inside of you would be outside instead . . . in efficient jaws. The gazelle bites the dust. I didn’t want to be the gazelle.