Book 69, 2021 (Subtitle: "I wish I knew how to quit you, Caliban Leandros!" Hah! As if)
Madhouse by Rob Thurman
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Not even a week went by, and I cracked and gobbled up book three in the "Cal Leandros" urban fantasy series, by Rob Thurman. This one was appropriately titled Madhouse. As in the previous books, this is told in first-person point of view from our favorite snarky half-Auphe.
When vampire Promise brings a potential case to Cal and Niko's attention, none of them could have foreseen the nightmare they would be stepping into. An exhibit featuring serial killers at the Met is short one killer when the infamous cannibal, Sawney Beane, is resurrected from his ashes and escapes into the city. With all of New York for a hunting ground, pickings are great for a monster of Sawney's caliber. Niko and Cal hadn't meant to get in so deep, but there's no one better qualified in the city than they are to take care of the problem. Sawney, however, is only one of their problems. Cal's newfound ability to create gates is exacting a heavy toll, someone is out to kill Robin Goodfellow, Cal is still angsting over Georgina, and there's that matter of his pesky virginity. The brothers have one another's back, and this time, they have Robin's too. Cal is making friends, and he doesn't like it.
Holy shit, what a punch to the gut this one was. More gory and violent than the first two books (if you can imagine), more fraught with emotion (to Caliban's immense horror), and just...wow. I knocked this back in two evenings. Could have done it in one if I'd wanted to short myself about two hours of sleep. I refrained. We get to see more of Robin and Promise, along with an interesting character from Robin's past. Niko is his usual Zen ninja self, and poor Cal is just so flawed and damaged, but he keeps on keepin' on. The author could have almost split the two main plot points into two separate books (More Cal books? Yes please!), but each helped move the story along. I am proud of myself for figuring out who was behind Robin's misfortunes, long before even brainiac Niko did, although he provided the clue. Sawney was a force of nature, and poor Cal and Niko kept getting their asses handed to them each time they tried to take him on. If ever any mad monster needed to be eliminated, it was Sawney. Guh.
Favorite lines:
♦ Niko Leandros: As brothers went, he was a good one, despite a horrifying obsession with health food, meditation, and things generally not revolving around pizza and beer. But we all have our crosses to bear. Mine was to be smacked when I wasn't with the program and his was to be over-educated, as self-aware as the Dalai Lama, and to keep my ass alive. Poor bastard.
♦ "I keep telling you, if you'd go with the whole trophy boyfriend thing, life would be a lot easier."
Is it wrong that when Cal said that, I thought at first he meant Niko should take on Robin as a boyfriend...only to realize he meant Niko should set himself up as Promise's trophy boyfriend? Damn it, Cal. You're letting me down, here.
♦ Niko was a teacher's assistant at NYU (pity the kid who walked in late to one of his classes - decapitation is a big deterrent for tardiness).
♦ I grinned. "I'm just here to carry the heavy stuff. The union says thinking rolls me into overtime." // Niko pulled his katana from beneath his gray duster, looked at the moonlight glimmer of it, and then looked at me with an eyebrow raised. // "Yeah, right," I dismissed, unfazed. // "You're assuming I wouldn't paddle you with it like the child you are." // Okay, that threat I bought.
♦ I still had my gun in my right hand and I drew my knife with the left from the double holster under my jacket. Ugly and serrated, the blade had been a constant and faithful companion for a while now. Niko did give damn fine Christmas presents.
♦ Did I shake my leg like I was having an epileptic seizure? Yes, I did. Did I scream like a B-movie bimbo? No...but it was a close thing.
♦ "It's amazing how hard I work to keep you from bleeding to death on so many occasions, and for so little reward."
♦ "Happy? I'm happy." I bared my teeth in a fixed grin. "See? Happy." // "Gods save us. I haven't seen an expression like that since Medusa went through menopause."
♦ "Kid, everything about you is catastrophic. Your temper, your fighting skills, your attitude, and let's not even discuss your look. Simply put on the eyeliner and join the rest of the Children of the Night knockoffs at the local Goth bar."
♦ I was going to offer my hand to shake, but decided I needed it for fighting and other...ah...nocturnal activities and hers looked as if it were capable of ripping off my arm to use as a back scratcher.
♦ I had no doubt she could curse me under the table, probably while bench-pressing me with one hand and swilling ale with the other.
♦ "Yes, how frightening. A capering evil wearing a hat. Maybe he wears suspenders and short pants as well. Will the terror never end?"
♦ Niko was flipping the serving knife from wrist to palm and back again. Lunch was no excuse to let a practicing opportunity pass by.
♦ Niko had gone back to playing with the knife. Palm to the back of the wrist, back of the wrist to the palm. The waiters were watching the show from across the restaurant--some giving silent whistles in awe at the sight, some looking a little perturbed.
Meow chicka meow meow, baby. I want me a Niko!
♦ There were drifting couples, hordes of tourists from every country imaginable, and a school group of screaming rug rats from hell. They must have left their indoor voices on the bus; even the empty suits of armor looked pained as they thundered by.
♦ "Please. You insult me." Robin slid a bright green glance back over his shoulder as he slipped a kit of small metal tools from his pocket. "Not that that can't be arousing in certain situations." // Niko had left the restaurant knife behind and wasn't practicing with any of his at the moment but the shimmer of metal was embodied in the minute rise of his eyebrows all the same.
Give it up, Nik. You're killing me, here.
♦ The thing was, it should have been funny, a mummy called Hank wearing a cowboy hat, but we were looking at what was basically a corpse made of jerky. Not beef, mind you, but human jerky. Not funny. You could have dressed him in drag and it still wouldn't have been funny. Like roadkill dressed in a tutu. It was spooky and more than a little repulsive.
♦ "Once again, I steer the subject back to dusty, unused genitals." Goodfellow's heel kicked the crate and the beam of his flashlight danced over my face mockingly. // "Shut the fuck up, Loman," I snapped.
It was at this point that I nearly died. I laughed so hard I literally could not breathe. It would have been a splendid way to go, but I'd have been pissed not to finish the book. Poor Cal. Robin sure got some licks in on him in this one.
♦ "I would think regular vampire nookie would mellow you out, but apparently not."
♦ Inside our place, Niko steered me to the couch, pulled the blinds, and turned off the lights. "I'll dress Robin's wounds in my bedroom. Rest." As a sign of how truly miserable he felt, Goodfellow didn't have a word, rapaciously sexual or otherwise, to say about being in Niko's bedroom.
Robin, I am disappoint.
♦ He handed me a wet washcloth for my face. I'd cleaned it up as best I could in the car using the front of my shirt...just enough to get me into our building without people stopping to donate to the axe-maniac survivor fund.
♦ "On the plus side, I can still hear." Through the open door in the hall came a nasal snore more suited to a constipated moose than a puck. "But on the downside, I can still hear."
♦ Other times you just get screwed. And that morning we ended up so very, very screwed.
♦ He frowned, puzzled. Niko didn't like to be puzzled either. It tended to interfere with things like surviving. Puzzlement could also lead to annoyance when you were as anal-retentive as my brother, but he tucked it out of sight and went on.
♦ Now, there were some nice mutated super-genes for you. What'd I get? Super-smelling. No wonder I didn't have my own comic book.
♦ "Now that you're done not worrying, shall we hug? Isn't that what one does in emotionally fraught situations as this? I'll keep my hands above the belt. I am still mooning after your brother, after all. Blonds, they always break my heart."
♦ "Don't tell me. You're finally casting aside celibacy and embracing the nasty, oily arts. Thank the Minotaur's massive member. It's about thrice-damned time." // Facing down a sirrush was nothing compared to the level of predatory attention now aimed my way.
♦ I was reaching for another blade, knowing it probably wouldn't do any good, but doing it anyway. Because you don't give up and you don't give in. Niko taught me that. If they're going to take you down, you make them pay.
♦ My brother in action; it was something to see. When he lifted his blade, he had the grace and elegance of Lancelot on the field of honor, and when he brought it down, he had the efficiency of the family butcher down the street. The metal bit through the shoulder joint of the arm that controlled the scythe and then Nik kicked it away. Not the weapon--the entire arm. Yeah, safe to say when Niko disarmed someone, he didn't fuck around.
♦ "You get to be the pretty one now." // "News flash, little brother. I always have been."
♦ Ink was ink, but scars were badges of survival. They said, "I'm here. I'm alive. And I buried the son of a bitch who did this."
♦ I couldn't begin to guess what might be behind the door, but if I saw one donkey, I was gone.
♦ With the two naked girls holding my attention, I hadn't even realized Goodfellow was wearing the same party attire as everyone else...absolutely nothing. "Crap," I groaned, blinked, then looked away hurriedly. "Goddamn, Goodfellow. You have a permit for that?" Talk about your weapons of mass destruction. Jesus.
♦ Robin was one helluva fighter, but when it came to running for your life, he had absolutely no equal.
♦ "I'm not sure which disturbs me more--that you could have been killed or that you could have been killed at an orgy. What precisely would you have me put on the tombstone? Here lies Caligula Leandros?"
♦ Goodfellow tapped his watch when I opened the door. "Tick tock. We have places to go and cherries to pop." He looked me up and down. "Could you change into something a little less...homeless-friendly?" // It was five in the afternoon and the last two hours had been spent working out with Niko. That wasn't anything I couldn't do in sweats and a T-shirt. Getting my ass kicked by my brother wasn't a black-tie event. I ducked as a lamp came hurtling from behind to bounce off my shoulder and shatter against the door frame. // "That could have been a dagger," Niko said reprovingly. It wasn't an idle observation, because the next one was. I caught a glimpse of it from the corner of my eye and dived to the ground. Robin caught it point-first and examined the blade. "It's dull. Now what type of teaching tool is that?" // "He's delicate," my brother offered gravely.
♦ When it came to mathmatics, there were three numerical concepts I was interested in: barely worth the time, doable, and strategic fucking retreat.
♦ At least Niko, who thought the New York Marathon was for those without the commitment for genuine exercise, was pulling in the occasional heavy breath of his own.
♦ The next few minutes proved to be a learning experience. First: Bar fights are the same, human or otherwise. The enthusiasm is identical; only the level of violence changes. Second: Peris can fly. Really. Third: Peris, flying or grounded, have hellacious tempers. Four: Pucks don't let anyone tell them what to do. Five: Even blind drunk, said pucks can kick some serious ass.
I loved that Cal hopped up to perch on the bar and drink beer while watching this unfold!
♦ I stripped, fell into bed, and five seconds later was listening to Niko explain his plan. At least it seemed like five seconds--six, if you were generous. Definitely not the hours it had been. Blinking against harsh daylight, I felt the cool rub of the sheet against my face and rocked a little at the firm nudge to my shoulder. "Then we're clear?" Niko said. // "What? Yeah. Clear," I mumbled. "Crystal. Bye." // "You've committed every word to memory?" // "Right next to 'The Road Not Taken'. Swear." I rolled over and pulled the sheet over my head.
♦ I slept with a knife under my pillow, a gun under the mattress, and a sword under the bed. If I could have litter-box-trained an alligator, I would've had one of those under there as well.
♦ I had a black eye, Robin was limping again, and Niko had a hair or two slightly out of place. As Nik settled on the couch, long black-clad legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, Goodfellow asked him acidly, "Could I get you a comb, perhaps? At least until the paramedics arrive?"
♦ To be considered a worthless, utterly detested thief or a mixed-breed abomination that inspired disgust and revulsion. It was less uncomfortable to talk about the results of gawking at wolf boobs.
♦ Tilting her head, she leaned in and smelled Niko. She didn't get close enough to touch but sampled the air around him. "You are as they say. Warrior. Alpha," she identified decisively as she settled back. "You lead your pack. Protect your pack."
♦ I liked Delilah--why, I wasn't sure. Perhaps because she was like Niko...if he were a completely immoral female. Lethal and laconic. The familiar is always comfortable.
♦ "Furry women are tricky, kid." Robin was waiting for us. "I'd suggest a spoonful of butter before and after any snorkeling activities. Hairballs."
♦ "In his world there are no good surprises and all piñatas are filled with evil-tempered tarantulas and poison-spitting snakes."
♦ "I think you need to avoid sharp objects for a while," Niko ordered as he moved away from the wall. "I would hate for you to ram a butcher's knife in Goodfellow's leg in the hopes he wouldn't force you to like him anymore. Although the aborted attempt to brain him with a candelabra might already have tipped him off to your cunning plan."
♦ Niko, playing part bodyguard, part nurse, removed the remote and tossed it with brisk force over his shoulder to me. Fortunately, I both expected and caught it or I would've choked on it. Not one moment of one day could I hope not to be tested at my brother's slightest whim. It was second nature to us both, but it didn't stop me from tossing it back. Niko ducked gracefully and it bopped Robin in the forehead.
♦ "What's up?" I asked. "You looking for 'Ninja needed, soy-eating, anal-retentive required' in the classifieds?"
♦ "Okay, you're going to have to offer me a Snausage or something, because I've lost it." // "Try harder." // "What?" I demanded. "No 'I know you've got it in you'? At least give me some sort of inspirational speech." // "I did." He repeated it: "Try harder."
♦ "I'm too young to pass for a cop. And you're too..." I shrugged. // "Too what?" // "Hell, you're like a James Bond villain. Cool, collected, lethal, and not a donut in sight."
♦ Niko smiled, that rare, anticipatory smile that didn't bode well for whoever was at the end of his sword.
♦ Sunup is not morning. It's hell and not fit for any human being, but Niko, having ascended to a higher plane of existence beyond simple things like time, wasn't human when it came to exercise.
♦ Niko started by grilling me on the guy who'd shot Robin. He grilled me yesterday after the attack, but between my job at the bar, hoping Robin didn't grope him when he took in ice packs, and the killings at the Psychiatric Center, we'd been a little busy for a repeat grilling.
♦ There was no doubt Niko was hell on wheels when it came to tracking and finding predators. That we hadn't found this one yet bugged the hell out of him...he'd gone from Zen to ice-cold and that didn't spell well for Sawney.
♦ Someone was actually going to pay us to risk our lives. Hot damn. It made horrific, near-death experiences a shade less annoying.
♦ I lost the flashlight. I didn't lose my gun. If the fall had killed me, I still wouldn't have lost the gun.
♦ But he couldn't shake me, no matter how he tried, because I was a nightmare. I was this monster's nightmare just as he'd been one to so many others.
♦ Niko had given and would continue to give me hell for breaking my word about the traveling. I had weeks of humiliating ass-kickings in our sparring future. I grinned to myself and spat a last mouthful of old blood. Nothing said family like having the Kung Fu King wipe the floor with your butt. It was better than a card any day.
This was my least favorite of the series I've read thus far. Don't get me wrong; it was magnificent, but rife with angst. My heart broke for Cal. Still awarding this one five stars.
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