Demon Moon (34 page)

“If I were interested in protecting myself, I wouldn't stay with you for a month.” She returned his kiss before he could reply, using her body to shield her hand's movement from the other patrons. She didn't want the weapon, would rather it be available to Colin; the demon could move more quickly than she could hope to aim. But if it reassured Colin to know that she had some protection, she'd take it.

No silencer. Dammit. She slid it beneath her thigh, thumbed off the safety, and kept her forefinger against the trigger guard.

Sir Pup flopped to the floor next to her feet, laid his head on her boots.

“Hugh told you? About the fugues?”

“Yes. No worries, Savitri. You're safe here for now.” He rested his hand on her knee, squeezed it comfortingly. “Good God, but I'm a handsome devil.”

Savi burst into laughter, and it eased the nervous tension that had overtaken her. Whether Colin had done it for that purpose, or just to annoy the demon who sat down in the chair opposite the love seat, she didn't know. How wonderfully insulting, for a human to laugh at a demon's approach instead of fearing it, yet couching the statement in flattery.

And the demon was a perfect replica, though his smile had a hard cast to it, his gray eyes without the lively humor she'd come to adore in Colin's. He'd altered his hair since the DMV photo had been taken, smoothing the rumpled golden strands into a neat cut.

The change wasn't unexpected; demons' egos disallowed them from disappearing completely into another persona. The physical features remained the same, but minute adjustments in mannerism and style reflected the demon inside.

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she studied him. Something else was different, though she couldn't determine exactly what it was.

The demon met her gaze, then glanced down at Sir Pup. For an instant, uneasiness flickered across his face. But the public venue gave them no more advantage than it did him, and his expression changed to mockery.

“Given the legend that you have created for yourself amongst the vampire communities here and in London, I had wondered what sort of vampire I would find. But it is a pathetic, neutered one, using a hellhound for protection and bargaining with a human for blood. I wonder that I should even bother to kill you; you would do well to end it yourself.”

The demon must've heard Colin speaking, yet he didn't try to emulate the vampire perfectly. He used a clipped, almost ridiculously posh accent; for the first time, given the comparison, Savi could hear his century in the U.S. in Colin's voice.

But if the demon intended to make Colin feel inferior, he must not have studied the vampire very well.

Colin erased every bit of American inflection as he said, “Already one is bored. Is originality impossible amongst demonkind? With such a face, you ought to be fascinating, brilliantly innovative; instead, you rely on ye olde demon routine and exhibit the inimitability of a BBC news anchor. One finds oneself utterly disappointed.”

Savi couldn't discern much difference between demon and vampire, but from the subtle tightening of the demon's face, Colin had outclassed him.

Savi took it as her cue. Many demons didn't handle insult well, and they were more likely to talk when angry or defensive. “Lilith would've had you jumping from a bridge at this point, and she was only a halfling.”

“Not a bridge. That passed out of fashion years ago.” Colin shuddered facetiously, then raked his gaze over the demon's form, the pinstriped three-piece suit and red tie, the fat diamond pinkie ring. Apparently satisfied he'd made his point, he eased back into his hybrid accent. “With that in mind, I should lend you access to my closet. I can hardly allow you to go about impersonating me dressed as an oversexed gangster. Neutered, indeed. People will begin to think me all mouth and trousers.”

Though his eyes briefly flared red, the demon's lips tilted in amusement. “You do well to enjoy yourself now. You have not much longer to live.”

“That is unfortunate. Though time is relative when one is immortal; ‘not much longer' can mean so many things: a day, a year, a century,” Colin said easily. “Pray do not keep me in suspense, and tell me which it will be.”

“I believe your suspense will not come from anticipation of your demise, but of hers.”

Savi's eyes widened, and Colin's fingers tightened on her knee.

“Then I shall have sixty years, at the very least.” His lazy tone didn't change, but steel lay beneath it now.

“I rather doubt it.” The demon's gaze shifted to her. “Your continued existence is a thorn in my side, Savitri Murray. I intend to pluck you out.”

“A human?” Colin mocked him openly. “You concern yourself with a human?”

“Who has inconvenienced me to an intolerable degree. I am not above revenge.” He smiled to himself. “I'm far below it.”

But what could have—“The nosferatu on the plane,” Savi realized.

“Yes. It promised to be such a rewarding alliance. You cannot imagine how limiting it is to be bound by the Rules. We cannot kill humans, we cannot go against their free will. One would have thought closing Hell's Gates would have given us a reprieve, but alas, no.”

“But the nosferatu had been a convenient way around that,” she said.

“And now vampires are,” Colin said. “Also less bother, as we do not pose a threat to you as the nosferatu might have done.”

Most vampires wouldn't, but Colin probably could; was he downplaying his strength? His difference?

The demon leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees. His voice lowered conspiratorially. “Oh, but you cannot imagine my pleasure in coming into this community, searching for the woman who caused me such distress, and finding that she was connected to a vampire such as yourself. The vampire who had caused such a stir in the London community when he came searching for
me
. The vampire whom those in San Francisco looked to for leadership, but who denied them—and left them in disarray. The vampire who could keep me in the lifestyle I prefer, with little effort on my part. It's a very convenient setup; all it wanted was my initiative. I attain the wealth I need and the sycophants I desire.” He steepled his fingers, pointed at Savi. “And they are all too willing to carry out a minimal task to prove their fealty—the one task I cannot perform.”

Asking the vampires to kill her. Savi glanced quickly at Colin's face. Anger whitened his lips, drew his skin tight over his cheeks and brow.

“Why are they waiting?” she wondered aloud. There had been plenty of opportunities to take her out—and for the demon to attempt an attack on Colin, as well. She narrowed her eyes. “And why are you warning us?”

“He cannot help himself, sweet,” Colin said, his mouth curling into a thin smile. “He's a living cliché; there is no one to congratulate him but himself, and his villainous monologue allows him the pathetic comfort of self-aggrandizement.”

Savi nodded. “Next he'll be killing his henchmen.”

“Laugh between yourselves, if you must; it only increases
my
pleasure. This disgusting relationship you have developed is ripe with entertainment value.” The demon gestured between the two of them. “How gratifying his fear will be, anticipating the moment he fails to protect you. His anguish when he sees your lifeless body. I'll likely kill him while I dance over it. And your terror, knowing the painful end that is near. For me, the wait is almost as satisfying as the act.”

Sir Pup sat up when the demon rose to his feet; Savi placed her hand on the scruff of his neck.

“So begin your month; you will not see the end of it. The next full moon will rise over your graves.” Staring down at the hellhound, the demon flared his eyes again, then turned back to Savi with a wide grin. “And you need not worry about explaining your whorish behavior to your sweet grandmother. My new allies are delivering a message to her…right about now.”

Colin's arm around her waist stopped her from launching herself at him. She struggled silently, and the demon laughed, a low and contemptuous rumble.

“Vampires,” he said, shaking his head. “Much more effective than the INS. And you've only yourself to blame, Savitri Murray. You hid your connection well—I wouldn't have known of her if you hadn't had such an irresponsible youth. Perhaps a bridge
is
in order, no matter how passé. Or the gun you have would do the trick.” He pointed to his temple, cocked his thumb. “Bang.”

He disappeared; perhaps Colin had seen him leave, but it had been too quick for Savi.

“Let's go, let's go—” Her voice broke. Colin swept her up and carried her through the café. They were at his car within a moment's time.

“Call Castleford. Warn them.” The tires squealed as he pulled into the street, then he was using his phone as well, asking for Detective Taylor.

She got Hugh's voice mail. Tried Lilith's. No answer.

Red and blue lights flashed behind them.

“They had better fucking keep up,” Colin growled, and shifted. The engine wound from a purr to a roar. He looked over at her, and his mouth tightened. “I'll get you there, Savi.”

She nodded numbly, though she knew there was only so much he could do. The distance wasn't far, but it wasn't about speed; it was about momentum, and something she'd started long ago. And about being too late to stop it.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod.” Savi didn't recognize the low, panicked chant as hers when the restaurant came into view. The front windows were shattered, and one missing completely. No lights shone from inside; it was impossible to see if anyone was moving around. Small, dark holes peppered the front door and stucco façade.

Bullet
holes?

She pulled on the handle before Colin screeched to a halt. The scent of burnt rubber assaulted her nose; her ears rang with the approaching sirens and the bystanders' questioning cries. Colin was instantly at her door, took her hand, tucked her into his right side. The length of his sword flashed on his left.

“She's alive, Savi,” he said, but his tone warned her that all wasn't well.

They didn't bother with the front door; her boots crunched the glass as she jumped through the window, as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

A large, masculine form was bending over a prone figure. “Hugh?” She ran to his side, fell to her knees. He was holding Nani. Blood streaked the side of her neck, her stomach. “Oh, god.”

“I need you to hold it, Savi. I've got to see to the others.” Hugh gestured to the wadded sash he'd pressed to Nani's side. The shoulder of his white T-shirt was crimson. “The blood on her neck is mine; I didn't get her down quickly enough. But Dru is on her way.”

A Guardian—a Healer. Nani only had to make it until she arrived. Nodding frantically, Savi took over, applying pressure. Too hard. Nani moaned a little, stirred. Her eyelashes fluttered.

“No, Nani…don't wake up. I know it hurts,” she said quietly, pushed back a loose strand of hair from Nani's perspiring forehead. Colin crouched beside her. “Can you make her sleep?”

Outside, the scream of the sirens grew louder, then cut off with the squeal of brakes.

Colin leaned down, spoke into Nani's ear. Her body relaxed, though her breath was still shallow, her pulse thready.

“Colin,” Hugh said, looking up from a flesh wound on Geetha's arm. “Lilith went after them.”

Savi glanced between them. He meant he wanted Colin to go offer Lilith backup, if she needed it.

Anticipation, merciless and hard, flashed over Colin's features. “Do you want any alive?”

Hugh had turned back to Geetha, but the coldness in his voice could've answered for him. “One. For questioning.”

Colin nodded and gently caressed Savi's cheek with the tips of his fingers. He no longer had his sword; he must have hidden it when the police arrived.

“I've notified Taylor and Preston, love,” he said, his pale gaze holding hers. “They'll be here shortly. They'll have an idea of what truly happened, but Lilith will spin it to anyone else as a gang hit. It'll go over.”

She drew in a shuddering breath, wiped at her eyes with her forearm. “Okay. I'll tell Hugh about the demon, too.” If Hugh stayed after he'd been healed and spoke with the detectives; he was likely anxious to go help Lilith. “You'd better hurry if you want her to leave
one
alive.”

A part of her hoped that he wouldn't.

His lips quirked slightly, but his face darkened. He hesitated, then he stood with a muttered “bloody hell” and disappeared.

Savi looked up as a pair of red tennis shoes came into her view; Dru stood above her, smiling as she squatted beside them, her long white lab coat flaring around her.

“Don't worry, Savitri darling; I'll have her fixed up in a jiffy. She'll only feel a little pinch.” She winked as Savi stared at her without expression. “Just a bit of medical humor.”

God, but Savi hated Hollywood doctors.

It took little effort to locate Lilith; Colin followed the shrieks of pain, the scent of leaking fuel. Four blocks from Auntie's, he found the Navigator rolled over on its side in a weed-choked lot, the windshield broken out. At the end of the lot, near the rear of a brick building, a vampire lay facedown on the asphalt.

Lilith was on top of him, her knee jammed into his back, her fist locked in his hair and her sword against his throat.

She looked up at Colin's approach, and her angry snarl widened into a wicked smile. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” Colin's gaze narrowed on the vampire's weapon, lying next to his side. An automatic rifle. Icy rage worked itself from his stomach to his veins. “Were there others?”

“Two.” She yanked on the vampire's scalp, and her eyes gleamed when he yowled. “Sir Pup is giving chase.”

“I want them,” he said softly.

Lilith stared at him for a long moment, then yelled an instruction into the air for the hellhound to return the vampires alive. “If it isn't too late,” she added with a lift of her brows. “Hugh?”

“Healed.”

Her throat worked. “Good.” She bent toward the vampire's ear. “For you. You wouldn't believe the tortures I'd have designed for you. I've had the best instructors.”

The vampire coughed, spit. His nose was bloodied, his forehead raw and spotted with flecks of mud; she'd likely slammed his face into the ground. “Fuck you,” he managed, and Lilith sighed.

“Allow me,” Colin said. He laid his sword on the ground and crouched in front of them. Studied the clothes, the face. Pale skin, though it retained some natural olive pigmentation. His eyes were closed, but judging by the dark hair, Colin would wager they were brown. The vampire couldn't have been older than twenty when he'd been transformed, and probably in the past year or two. Not more than a boy. “Look at me.”

Dull brown eyes, not the rich bittersweet chocolate of Savitri's. The vampire gasped, and emitted a low, panicked moan. His mouth slackened, revealing his fangs, his tongue.

“Fuck me,” Lilith breathed. “Your beauty can be terrifying sometimes, Colin.”

“Yes.”

He felt her stare a moment longer before she turned her head.

She didn't allow the vampire the same mercy.

Colin reached out, ran the backs of his fingers down the vampire's cool, rainwet cheek. “Tell me your name.”

“Denver.” The boy shuddered. “Denver Jennings.”

“Denver.” Colin rolled it seductively off his tongue. There was no chance the boy was older than his estimate with a name like that. By the way Lilith's form stiffened, she realized it, as well. “Where is your partner, Denver? One of those who escaped?”

If fear didn't convince the boy to talk, the threat of losing his partner might.

“No,” the boy panted. “She was an elder. The nosferatu killed her last year; I was only with her for a month. These are my friends. He asked me to turn them.” Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, but he hadn't yet blinked or looked away from Colin's face. “
You
aren't him.”

Colin smiled, clasped his hands loosely in front of him, his elbows on his knees. “No. I'm not him. Why would you follow a demon?”

Denver shook his head, the movement abbreviated by Lilith's tight hold. “A vampire. Like us, only stronger. We'd all heard of him. He's been here for a long time. And he feeds us; those who don't have anyone else. And the bloodlust doesn't make us…make us—”

“No. A demon.” Colin raised his head, met Lilith's eyes. Dismay was written across her face. Only too obvious what had happened: the demon had taken advantage of those vampires without a partner. Those who faced expulsion from the community for breaking its rules, and who were likely too young and ignorant of any other options available to them.

But there were other, more important Rules to follow.

“You tried to murder humans, Denver. My consort's grandmother. Her brother.”

“Tainted humans. He said their blood will kill us, and we made a bargain.” His tears fell faster. “And the others are vampire slayers.”

“A little old lady?” Lilith growled the words. “You're fucking joking.”

Denver broke into harsh sobs. Colin studied his terrified face, pushed away the pity. “Pull him up, Lilith. I want a sip.”

The clatter of claws announced Sir Pup's return; two vampires dangled from his enormous jaws. Alive, though unconscious. Colin would deal with them next.

Denver looked at the hellhound, and a squeal of fear lent a pathetic note to his cries. Colin lifted his hand to the boy's neck, flicked his fingers against his racing pulse.

The boy fell silent, torn between terror and desire. Behind him, Lilith grimaced and turned her head.

“I'm not going to kill you,” Colin said, then smiled coldly. “Unless you struggle and bloody my sweater.”

Lilith backed away with an expression of wry gratitude. After such a warning and the horrifying specter of the hellhound, the boy wasn't going to move.

“I do intend to teach you a lesson. I'll show you what awaits anything that makes a bargain with a demon. And when I've finished, I'll put you into Agent Milton's tender care.” His smile faded. “You and your friends will be extremely helpful, and answer any questions we have, won't you?”

Lilith's eyebrows knitted. “Colin—”

“It'll be punishment enough, Lilith,” he said, his voice hard. He returned his attention to Denver and repeated, “Won't you?”

Denver nodded, took a deep breath as if to prepare himself.

Preparation was impossible. Colin tilted his head and sank his fangs into the boy's neck. Blood, thick and young and heady. He forced away the pleasure of it.

And called up Chaos.

The gentle murmur of voices alerted Colin to Castleford's arrival. Sitting on his heels, his elbows braced against his knees, Colin lifted his head and watched blearily as Lilith wrapped her arms around the other man's neck. Castleford hugged her tight. He'd replaced his bloodied shirt with some hideous tunic a Guardian had likely created for him.

And Lilith melted softly against him.

Colin hadn't vomited in almost two hundred years—not since the drinking binge that had followed news of Anthony Ramsdell's death on a Spanish battlefield—but he thought he might at that moment.

He rested the back of his head against the brick wall behind him and let the cold stone support its pounding weight. What a bloody ridiculous mistake channeling memories of Chaos had been, though he couldn't completely blame his headache on that realm. If he ever again had to punish a trio of idiots, he'd remember to seal their mouths shut first. Denver had screamed shrilly into his ear, as had the third boy.

But they'd learned their lesson well—and if they remained awake long enough, wouldn't forget its effects…even if they didn't remember the actual feeding.

Nor would they forget Sir Pup carrying them through the city to SI's holding cells; Lilith had only told the hellhound to avoid being seen, not to be gentle with them. It was no more than they deserved.

Savitri's tearstained face rose in his mind, her trembling hands as she'd held her grandmother.

Chaos had been much less than they'd deserved.

Colin rose to his feet, ignored the ringing in his ears, the throbbing behind his forehead. “Who's protecting Savi?”

Without relinquishing his hold on Lilith, Castleford turned toward him. “Drifter. Michael. Dru. Auntie has regained consciousness; Taylor was speaking with them when I left.”

Relief eased the tension from his muscles, the lingering ache in his head. Releasing a long breath, Colin closed his eyes and nodded. “Thank you. Did Savi have an opportunity to tell you about the demon? His threat to her?”

“Yes. Though she elaborated better on his threat to you.”

Surprise etched a line between Lilith's brows. “She saw him?”

Unwilling to stay away from Savi much longer, Colin began walking back toward the restaurant. Lilith and Castleford fell into step beside him, listened as he detailed the meeting in the café.

Lilith groaned when he finished. “Describe him to me again?”

Colin indicated his length with a sweep of his hand. “Though much less appealing, I assure you.”

“I'm this close to gutting you,” she said.

Castleford grinned, and drew her to his opposite side as if to prevent her from carrying out her threat. “Savi said he seemed a cross between a 1920s gangster and a 1970s mobster. His posture, his clothes. Given the manner in which they hit Auntie's, it could be Dalkiel. Or Rugziel.”

Lilith shook her head. “Rugziel is dead—1975, a New York subway.” Castleford glanced at her, his brows lifted. She shrugged and added, “He was one of Belial's. Lucifer didn't care if I killed him.” She leaned forward a little to look at Colin again. “If it's Dalkiel, we would expect tactics similar to this—finding muscle in the disenfranchised part of a population, running up their fear to make them do things they normally wouldn't. But also trying to manipulate the stronger, established community by promising ‘a new era,' shit like that.”

“And if he doesn't act as you expect?” Colin said quietly, and halted in the middle of the sidewalk. Auntie's was a block away now, and he could clearly hear the activity surrounding it: the rote questions of the police officers and the answers given from bystanders; Savi's query to her grandmother, ascertaining her comfort; Taylor's impatience with Michael. Rain pattered softly against the awning overhead. “You didn't anticipate a demon coming after Savitri, though you knew the nosferatu had been allied with one.”