Just like that. Don't you just love it?

In the elevator I hummed to myself. My humming wasn't quite like the human version and after a few floors passed in silent speed, an old woman with an armful of even more ancient dog said, "You have such a beautiful voice. I've never heard anything like it."

I tilted my head and gave her a smile that bubbled with good cheer. "It runs in the family."

Crumpled and decaying rose petals masquerading as lips smiled back at me. Wrapped in mink with the finest leather shoes and purse money could buy, she was dressed like a predator—in her victims. Yet she failed to spot a real one when she saw it. Fluffy saw it, though. Fluffy saw me. Tiny teeth, blunt and worn, were bared at me in a rictus of fear and outrage, and a squirt of warm yellow urine poured over the mink. It only proved that the Fluffys of the world were far smarter than the ones who led them around on shiny rhinestone leashes.

I exited on Promise's floor to snarls and snaps from the dog and yelps from its oblivious owner. If possible, it put me in an even better mood.

Until I saw the door begin to open at the end of the hall. Twenty-three stories up. Who takes the stairs twenty-three frigging flights? It wasn't Promise's personal trainer, that was for damn sure, and that left only one other person.

Niko.

Not that taking on my brother wouldn't be fun. Many, many bloody escapades to be had there and I looked forward to it. Just not right now. Things might not have gone as swimmingly as they could have before I sailed though a shattered window to freedom, but I was distracted at the time. Putting on a new body isn't exactly like grabbing a shirt off the rack. It takes time and finesse to get it to fit just right—to use it as it was meant to be used. I could take him all right; after all, he was only a human. But there was no harm in waiting for a more opportune time.

There was a supply closet to my left and I dived into it, shutting the door behind me. The inside was three times as big as the bug-infested room I had spent the night in. The cleaning supplies were in oak-faced cabinets, tucked neatly from sight. The door itself was an ornately latticed affair, straight out of a sultan's palace. I left the lights off and, standing to one side, peered through one of the minute openings. I kept the sunglasses on. They didn't impair my newly improved vision any and I didn't want a gleam of silver to give me away.

Niko came through the stairwell door. Unwinded by the climb, smug bastard, he moved down the hall. My, my… big brother wasn't looking too hot. It was subtle, and if you didn't know him, you might miss it completely. But I did know him. I knew him inside and out, and I saw every sign of strain on his face. Cheekbones were sharper, lips tighter, and the shadows of sleepless nights were under his eyes. But the best evidence was found in the eyes themselves. They were bleaker than a graveyard gone to rot.

Good stuff. Damn good stuff.

Curiously, I watched him raise a fist to knock once on Promise's door. A single soft rap, but it still had the door opening after just a few moments. Good ears on vampires. Then again there were lots of good things on Promise, I leered to myself, and ears didn't make the top ten. She stood in the doorway, obviously puzzled to see Niko. She was wrapped in a dressing gown of violet silk, and her unbound hair was a fall of rippling brown water that nearly reached her waist. A necklace wreathed her neck once, then fell between her breasts. Pearls, she slept in pearls. There was something very erotic about that and I felt an interesting twitch below.

"Niko?" She didn't grasp the edges of her robe to pull them closer together. Either she didn't care or didn't notice, or maybe it was a combination of the two. "What are you doing here?" A pale hand reached out to rest on Niko's chest. "What's wrong?"

Huh. I wasn't the only one who could read Niko today. His head inclined, not much… maybe a few millimeters at the most, but for him it was a bow to unrelenting pressure. "I need your help," he said in a voice I didn't recognize. Not as Cal, not as I was now. "I've lost…" He stopped, then cleared this throat and finished with robotic determination. "I've lost Cal."

"Lost," and not as in misplaced your favorite pair of boxers. He said the word as if he really meant it. Lost as a child who disappears on the way to school never to be seen again. Lost as the wife whose hand slips from yours as she's swallowed by raging floodwaters. Lost as a brother whose silver eyes watch you as he plummets downward through the night air until you can see him no more.

Pretty goddamn lost.

Niko couldn't lose control. It was as much a part of him as his blond hair and lethal blades. He couldn't lose it, but it did sag a bit around the edges. As I watched, he rested his forehead on the top of Promise's head. Other than that, he didn't move, simply remained still to repeat with a tone of weary disbelief, "I lost him."

Promise moved then, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him. It was touching as hell, and I almost felt a tear well up. I checked my watch. Things to do, people to kill, and this lovefest was only slowing me down. It was too bad I'd lost my gun before I'd tripped out to Tumulus. I could've shot Niko in the back as well as done some damage to the cheesy latticework of the door.

After a moment Niko straightened, probably regretting the weakness he'd allowed himself. "I have to get him back."

"Then you will." Promise took his arm and urged him into the apartment. As they passed through her door, I heard her voice drift back. "I'll help you, Niko. In any way I can."

Wonderful. Now I had a human, a puck, and a vampire sticking their noses in my business. Everyone was invariably out to ruin my good time. It never failed. Not only was Promise joining forces with Niko and Goodfellow, but I still didn't have any damn money. Still, the day wasn't over and there were other ways to finance my love of luxury. Boggle was looking more and more like my best option. I left the closet behind and went to hit him up.

I'd known Boggle back when he was an ankle-biting pollywog. Years had passed and times had changed, but there was one thing I could depend on to stay the same: Bog's bottomless pit of an appetite. It defined consistency back when consistency was barely a concept, much less a word. So when I came calling, it was with a present in hand. I released my grip on it, letting it slump to the ground, and raised my other hand for a bite of hot dog. Chili cheese with onions.

"Boggy," I said indistinctly around a mouthful of sheer heaven. "Up and at 'em, tiger. I brought you breakfast. You want yours sunny-side up or over easy?"

The mud stirred, giving a sluggish ripple, and then Boggle raised his head above the surface just enough to show his jack-o'-lantern orange eyes like a bizarrely prehistoric frog. "You again." The words bubbled up through the mud with annoyed resignation. The resignation quickly melted as the eyes focused more sharply on me and widened. "You." This time the tone was different and certainly less complacent.

"It's me." I flashed a grin as I pulled off the sunglasses I'd lifted earlier from a street vendor and revealed my gorgeous silver peepers. "But are you sure which me it is, Bog? Because I'm more than willing to take the time to talk it over, to really hash it out with you. For old times' sake."

Ignoring the invitation, he rose slowly from his mud-hole, eyes fixed on me as his face peeled back to reveal his teeth. "You merged with it. A human. Disgusting. Perverse." If he'd had lips, he would've pursed them and spit to show his distaste.

"Aren't you the delicate lady?" I snorted. "And he was only half human. Now we're a whole lot less." I put my foot on the motionless body in front of me and gave it a shove. It rolled down the incline into the thick mud with a splat. Beefy frame, fairly young—he'd make a good meal for Boggle. He'd followed me with dogged determination into the depths of the park, never quite as surreptitious as he'd hoped. He'd had a knife, handcuffs, a homemade wire garrote, and a burning look of hunger in his eyes. I didn't know if he wanted money or something much less mundane, but it didn't matter to me and I knew it wouldn't to Boggle either. Robbers or rapists, they all taste the same, he'd say.