Demon Moon (10 page)

“Lilith,” he said finally, wiping his eyes. “That's a lie.”

A smile pulled at her mouth, but she didn't glance away from Savi. “We'll get you out, if you want out.”

Savi sighed. “It's not about me, but Nani. If she's deported, or even detained while I sort things out, it will be unbearably humiliating for her. She'll lose all
izzat
. And not just her honor, but the restaurant, everything she's accomplished here. Forty years ago she came with nothing but my mother, and worked like crazy to put her through medical school. Then she raised me when my other grandparents wouldn't have anything to do with a little brown girl. She took in Hugh.” Pulling her hand through her short hair, she added, “There's embarrassment, and then there's humiliation. I won't subject her to the second. Won't even risk it.”

Hugh crouched in front of her. “You know I would not, either. And last year, I would not have been in a position to help you, even if you had come to me. But I am now. Transfer to SI, and let us offer you our protection. Perhaps immediate escape isn't possible, but we can remove you from this, at least.” He smiled. “And you'll be able to ask plenty of questions.”

“I don't want to let you down,” she said quietly. “It's true that I can't hold a job for a long time.”

Lilith snorted with laughter. “Oh, you won't get bored. Identification for people who've been dead for decades, electronics to play with—garrotes to make. I'll use the hell out of someone like you.” She shrugged. “And it'll give us time to make certain that if you want out, you can get out. I'll make inquiries, find out who we need to threaten—and if it
was
a demon. We won't trap you there if you eventually want to go.”

The matrimonials seemed to stare up at her. “It might be soon.”

“That's fine.” Lilith slid down from her perch. “Are you making dinner tonight? It's been months since we've had your
pulao
. Hugh tries, but his doesn't compare.”

Surprised by the change of subject, Savi blinked, then reluctantly smiled. She'd never had a chance against the two of them. “Yes.”

Hugh walked past her to the door. Sir Pup followed him.

“Good. Colin will be coming after; he just got back from England.” Lilith was watching her carefully. “You can finally thank him for helping to provide your alibi.”

Her smile froze in place. “Great.” She hadn't seen the vampire since the night at the club, a month ago. He'd flown out the next day, when she'd still been in the hospital, out of her mind with fever. Two weeks, it had burned through her, had her hanging on a thread between life and death.

And he'd left.

Sense told her he'd been under no obligation to stay. Experience reminded her he'd done the same before. Reason stated his response had been a result of the venom and nosferatu blood.

And the only conclusion to be drawn from the anticipation, dread, and hurt filling her in equal parts was that she must be a stupid, shallow lunatic.

“Savi,” Hugh said from behind her. “There's something else.”

She turned, then barely ducked the short-bladed knife streaking toward her. It sailed over her shoulder, and Lilith snatched it out of the air. Hugh lowered his hand.

“Jesus!” Her heart pounding, she looked between them. Her legs trembled. “What the fuck was that for? What if you'd hit me?”

“Hugh'd be tending to your shoulder right now,” Lilith said. “But he isn't. Accelerated reflexes, enhanced speed. Not near that of a vampire, though. How strong are you?”

“I don't know,” Savi replied stiffly. “I've been hoping it will go away, like the fever did.”

“Until it does, you'll be training with me,” Hugh said. His throat worked, then he cursed and slammed the door on his way through.

It was unlike Hugh to swear. He probably thought he'd failed her.

He hadn't.

“I can't,” Savi said.

Lilith's gaze was not devoid of sympathy, but she shook her head. “You don't have a choice now.”

Savi's teeth clenched. “How did you know? Did Michael tell you?”

“Michael? No, Hugh could see it within a minute of your coming home from the hospital. I don't know why you tried to hide it from us.”

“I have to pretend I'm normal.”

Lilith tapped her finger on the matrimonial classifieds. “We'll teach you how to
pretend
, but you won't be. Can you live with that? Can he?”

“Yes. And he doesn't have to know.”

The dark sound of Lilith's laughter filled the small room. “I'm the last person to tell you not to lie. But can
you
be happy lying?”

Savi frowned. “It's marriage. It isn't only about happiness; security is important, too. Happiness is for later. Were your marriages any different?”

Still laughing, Lilith shook her head. “No. That's why I'm living in sin now,” she said as she left.

Savi rubbed her forehead again and closed the door. She could be happy; she found it quite easily. Would the man she married be?

Probably not.

Colin straightened his cuffs for the third time. A piece of lint disturbed the perfect line of his trouser leg, and he brushed it off.

Castleford's house rose up in front of him, a boxy, contemporary bit of architecture. Colin appreciated the clean lines of it, but preferred his Victorian. He'd parked in the driveway; his gaze rose to the lighted windows above the garage. Nothing to see from this angle, but he could hear Savi moving around inside.

He pulled at his collar and sighed. If he stayed in his car much longer, Hugh and Lilith might think he was nervous.

A door slammed, and Savi ran down the private stair from her flat. Was she so eager to meet him again? His body hummed with the pleasure of it.

But he didn't open the door; he needed to wait…and see.

She wore jeans, sneakers, and a thick cream sweater. She'd wound an azure scarf around her slim, beautiful neck.

Sir Pup squeezed through the pet door at the front of the house and shifted to a larger size. He bounded toward her, then tagged along beside her legs as she rounded the front of the Bentley and tapped on Colin's window.

He lowered the glass and inhaled.

Nothing. Her unique scent—wonderful, intoxicating in its way, but not the delicious, dangerous perfume.

The devastating sense of loss nearly undid him. His relief kept him upright.

She leaned down. The window framed her brightly smiling face like a portrait, and his breath caught. “I just wanted to say thanks for that night.”

He cleaved his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Of course, Savi. It was my pleasure.”

Her smile never wavered. “Yeah. About that…”

“Think nothing of it,” he said carelessly, and flashed his fangs in a rakish grin. “A temporary madness, but I am well recovered. As, apparently, are you.”

“Apparently.” She blinked; her eyes were a warm, rich chocolate. Her skin, cinnamon cream. “Did you have a nice holiday with your family?”

“Yes. Quite lovely.”

“That's good. Anyway, thank you. I'm off for a stroll in the park; I ate too much. I'll see you later.”

“Of course.” He spoke to an empty window; she'd already moved on. And absent a mirror, he couldn't watch her leave without giving himself away.

He found Castleford and Lilith in a kitchen filled with Savitri's scent. And cinnamon and garlic, saffron and ginger…he had to stop this bloody foolishness.

Breathing through his mouth, he said, “It's gone.”

Perched on a barstool, Lilith looked across the counter to Castleford for confirmation of truth; Colin didn't take insult. The tension eased from Hugh's form, then from Lilith's.

Lilith laughed, her relief evident. “Good. I'd hate to have to kill you. Particularly as you're so handsome.”

“I'd hate to be killed,” he replied easily and slid onto the stool beside her. “Particularly as exile to Beaumont Court proved as effective a deterrent as death. You sent the dog outside to protect her from me?”

Castleford's lips twitched as he transferred dishes from the granite counter to the sink. “Another deterrent, if needed. Perhaps you would have kissed Sir Pup.”

“Forgive me if I fail to see the humor in that.” Those few moments with Savi atop him, her mouth pressed to his, had been some of the sweetest of his life. Colin would not have them sullied.

Ice settled in Castleford's eyes, and he said, “It has taken me a month to see the humor in having to pry Savi away from you when you were at the edge of your control. Had we arrived but minutes later, what would have occurred?”

He'd have been inside her. Drinking from her. Tasting her. And he'd been so maddened by her scent and the stink of wyrmwolf blood—his own blood—he probably wouldn't have noticed if she was awake.

She mightn't have survived.

Lilith quickly said, “Don't answer that, Colin. I don't want to have to pick up pieces of you.” Her gaze moved to Hugh. “Either of you. If the pheromone subsided with the fever, then it hardly matters.”

“It matters,” Colin growled.

Castleford stared at him for a moment, then turned to Lilith. “It always matters when you've hurt someone you mean to protect.” He shoved his fists into his pockets. “She didn't know the consequences of drinking the venom, of mixing it with the blood. That was my failure.”

As Colin agreed, he didn't respond.

Lilith obviously didn't ascribe Castleford the same blame. “You didn't know, either. Martyr.” She muttered the word with exasperated affection, then glanced at Colin. “How long did your fever last when you were tainted by Michael's sword?”

He looked down at his hand. A silvery scar crossed his palm, a remnant of a blood-brother ritual he and Anthony Ramsdell had completed when they were boys. They couldn't have known the sword they'd used had once belonged to Michael, who had killed a Chaos dragon with it.

Nor could they have known that the dragon's blood had instilled its power in the metal of the sword, or anticipated that power transferring to their blood. Tainting it.

But nineteen years later, as a young vampire aware of his origins, Colin should have known better when he tried to perform a different—and apparently as harmless—ritual.

In such things, appearances were almost always deceiving.

“A week,” he said.

“Did you have any extraordinary abilities before you were attacked by the nosferatu?” Lilith arched a brow. “Excepting your beauty, of course. Speed, strength?”

A smile pulled at his mouth. “No. None that I could discern.”

“Did Ramsdell? Or your sister?”

“No.” His throat tightened. “Aside from…the way they went.”

Lilith's brow creased, and Colin looked away before she could ask.

A fruit bowl rested at the end of the bar, white porcelain against a backdrop of deep red. The crimson paint on the kitchen walls was the same hue as Lilith's demon-skin; had it been on purpose? Castleford had Fallen after he'd slain Lilith, then attempted to live as a normal man for sixteen years. Had he been drawn to the color from memory, even if the memory's influence had been a subconscious one? Had he wanted to surround himself with her in the room most necessary for life? The routine of eating, ingesting…it was as important to humans—even extraordinary ones—as to vampires.

Or had it only been aesthetics?

His fingers slid over the oranges, the apples, rearranging the composition. He draped the point of the grape pyramid over the lip of the bowl. The purple skins stretched tight beneath his fingertips, full and ripe.

Vanitas
. Perfect now, but it would not be long before it succumbed to rot. Or digestion.

Colin drew his hand back, brought it to his face and inhaled. Citrus, sweet, clean. Like Savitri's skin, but scent was fleeting. She was best captured with raw sienna, tempered by titanium white and heated with a touch of burnt umber. Egyptian violet for the shadows.

Foolishness. “What of the wyrmwolf? How did it travel between realms?”

Castleford's mouth flattened. “We don't know.” He glanced at Lilith, who nodded. “We may need you to go into the Room to look. We need to know what's going on in Chaos, and you're the only one who can tell us.”

Sickness fell heavy in his gut, but Colin forced a lazy smile. “Must you capitalize everything when you speak? It is all so dramatic. Above, Below. Falls and Ascensions. Gifts. Rooms.”

“I like dramatic,” Lilith said. She smiled as well, but her gaze didn't move from his face. “He does it for me.”

Colin lifted a brow. “I shall certainly give you a show in the Room.” But he couldn't hold on to the mockery; his jaw clenched, and he pushed away from the counter and left the kitchen.