The Entity Within

by Cat Devon

  “What do you know about Eve Delacroix?” he demanded.

  She blinked in surprise at his non sequitur. “Nothing.”

  “This is her family talisman.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s my family talisman. From both my mother’s side and my father’s side. It’s unique,” she said.

  “You come from her blood.” Damon practically spat the words at her.

  “Hey,” she said, “I can’t be responsible for what some tattoo parlor on Bourbon Street gave you during Mardi Gras. Maybe this Eve, whoever she is, saw me wearing my necklace or something. I did go down to Mardi Gras two years ago. Maybe she saw me then.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Why?” she said.

  “Because Eve Delacroix is a witch I killed in 1866.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Damon could see the shock in Zoe’s witchy bicolored eyes. He could hear her heartbeat speed up with fear. He didn’t need to read her mind to know what she was thinking. He’d killed a witch before. He could do it again, and it could be her.

  He didn’t say anything to dissuade her from that line of thought.

  Did scaring the witch make him a better Demon Hunter? Maybe not, but it might make Vamptown a safer place … if he could find that freaking spell book and destroy the invading demons. To do the first part, he needed Zoe’s help. If she feared for her life, she might be more willing to work with him.

  Not that she’d been impossible. In fact, she’d been fairly willing to go along with his instructions, or orders, as she’d say. And she’d said plenty when he’d stayed over last night. Thankfully vampires didn’t require much sleep. That spending-all-day-in-a-coffin thing didn’t work for him.

  Not that Damon spent his days running around killing witches, although judging from her expression that was what Zoe was currently thinking.

  Strangely enough, he was slightly tempted to reassure her. He didn’t know what that was about. He’d already told her numerous times that he didn’t care about her emotions. Feelings were a waste of time as far as he was concerned, which was why the vampire lifestyle suited him so well.

  “You killed a witch in 1866?” Zoe finally said.

  He nodded.

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “You asked.”

  She nervously fingered the gold chain around her neck. “You’re saying she had a talisman similar to mine?”

  “Exactly the same as yours.”

  “Why did you kill her?”

  “She betrayed me.”

  “Was it something to do with the war?” Zoe asked.

  “The war of good versus evil, yes.”

  “And which side are you on?” she asked.

  “I’m on the side that fights and defeats demons.”

  “Some people regard vampires as demons.”

  “Some people regard witches as demons, too,” he said. “But we both know that’s not true. Some people also think there’s no such thing as global warming but we both know that’s not true, either, right?”

  “Right. I mean just look at the temperature today. Records are being broken all over the world. But what does global warming have to do with you killing a witch? You’re not saying she cast a spell to change the climate, are you?” Zoe demanded.

  “No. Eve practiced black magic,” he said. “I didn’t know that when I first got involved with her.”

  “How did she betray you?”

  “She sabotaged my mission by setting up an ambush with a very powerful demon that nearly got me decapitated. So I killed her.” His words were deliberately matter-of-fact although the incident had been anything but.

  “What happened to her talisman?” Zoe asked.

  “It disappeared.”

  Reaching out, he tugged Zoe’s necklace into view and examined it. Which meant he had to stand really close to Zoe. He could smell her spicy citrus scent. He’d noticed it at their first meeting the instant she’d walked into the bar. Vamps had heightened senses.

  Even now he could discern the variation in scents floating down from her workroom on the second floor. Cherry blossoms and vanilla. Bitter orange and tart lemon. Intense pineapple and coconut, a combo that used to make him think of sissy drinks with stupid umbrellas—until now. Not that he’d ever had one of those drinks. They weren’t around during his human years. But that combination went right to his head and made him want to pour one of those drinks over Zoe’s body then lick it from every inch of her skin.

  Taking a deep breath, Damon tried to focus his concentration back on the necklace. He hadn’t allowed Zoe to distract him when he’d smelled her scintillating scent in the bar when they’d first met, and he wasn’t about to now. He took another breath. Wait, was there an underlying layer of apple in there somewhere with the spice? Was that her version of Eve tempting Adam?

  Summoning his willpower, he blocked out all thoughts of Zoe and studied the necklace. “You must have a record of your bloodline.”

  Zoe nodded. “It’s in the family Book of Spells.”

  “Get it.”

  Zoe’s grandmother chose that moment to walk into the room with the book. “I had a feeling you might want to take a look at this for some reason.” She handed it over to Zoe.

  “Thanks, Gram.”

  “How are you two getting along now?” She eyed Damon’s bare chest but made no direct reference to it. “Better?”

  “Just peachy,” Zoe said.

  “Speaking of peachy, I had an idea to blend your peach-scented soap with ginger for a little zing.”

  Personally, Damon thought Zoe already had plenty of zing, although he wasn’t about to say so.

  “We can talk about that later.” Zoe sat on the couch and set the heavy book on her lap. “I’m looking for the section on our bloodline going back through the generations.”

  Gram sat beside her and bent over the book.

  Damon watched the two of them. His grandmother Sara used to put her hand on his knee the same way that Zoe’s grandmother was doing right now. He fought the memories of his own grandmother beside him on the settee before he’d left for the war. His maternal grandmother was a Virginian and on the side of slavery and the Confederacy, which was why his younger brother joined that side. But his paternal grandmother, Sara, was originally from New England and very much for protecting the Union. The damn war had forever split his family in a way that couldn’t be repaired.

  Looking at Zoe’s grandmother, Damon realized she was turning the pages with a wave of her hand. That wasn’t anything his own grandmothers would or could have done.

  “Why are you interested in our family tree?” she asked Zoe.

  “Have you ever heard the name Eve Delacroix?” Damon asked Zoe’s grandmother.

  “I’m not sure,” she replied. “It sort of rings a bell.”

  “Damon thinks she had a talisman just like mine,” Zoe said.

  “I don’t think it, I know it. I have the proof right here.” He pointed to his bare chest.

  “A tattoo?”

  “He got it after the Civil War,” Zoe said.

  Zoe’s grandmother tugged a pair of magnifying reading glasses out of her pocket and moved in on Damon for a closer look.

  “The tattoo is an exact copy of Eve Delacroix’s,” Damon said. “She had to be of your bloodline.”

  “That’s possible, but she couldn’t have had an exact copy.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Zoe’s is unique to her, based on the blending of her mother’s and father’s lines,” her grandmother explained.

  “Maybe Eve came from the same family lines on both sides as well.”

  “Or maybe your tattoo isn’t an exact replica of hers. Maybe it was a sign that you would meet Zoe and be linked with her in some way,” her grandmother said.

  “No way!” Damon and Zoe said in unison.

  “Or maybe it is just extremely similar to Zoe’s but different in some small way,” her grandmother said.

  �
��I like that idea better,” Zoe said before returning her attention to the book on her lap.

  “What’s that strange smell?” her grandmother asked.

  “Dead demon,” Damon said.

  “He killed the cable guy,” Zoe said. “Who was really a demon in disguise.”

  “I hate when that happens,” Zoe’s grandmother said.

  Zoe blinked. “When did that ever happen before?”

  Her grandmother frowned. “I saw it in a dream once. Or maybe it was in a horror movie. I can’t recall exactly now.”

  “I thought you had no experience with demons,” Damon said.

  “Not reality-based experience. But a witch’s dreams can be powerful things,” her grandmother said.

  “So you’re saying you could have conjured up demons just by dreaming about them?” he said.

  “Absolutely not. To quote you two, no way. So what was a demon doing on our doorstep?”

  “He was in the living room, actually,” Damon said.

  “Even worse,” her grandmother said. “I hope he didn’t leave a stain on the rug?”

  “He was on the wooden floor.”

  “What did he want?” her grandmother said.

  Damon shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

  “Did you ask?”

  “Demons aren’t real talkative,” Damon replied.

  “Kind of like vampire Demon Hunters,” Zoe muttered.

  “I’m assuming he came looking for the book,” Damon said.

  “Which would mean they don’t have it in their possession,” Zoe said.

  “Or it could mean that only a witch can open it,” her grandmother pointed out.

  Damon wasn’t happy with that possibility. He didn’t like being dependent on anyone else to get the job done. He was like his sire Simon that way. Simon didn’t like working with other Demon Hunters, but he had taken the time after turning Damon to teach him well not only in the ways of vampires but also in the skills needed to successfully hunt demons.

  Simon had done more than that. He’d saved Damon from eternal damnation. Eve’s betrayal had enabled the demons to haul Damon into the first level of hell. Vampires didn’t die there. They were tortured for all eternity. Damon had risked the odds and escaped with Simon’s help.

  Much of that time was a blur to Damon. His human memories about Gettysburg remained, but thankfully his vamp nightmares of his brief imprisonment were just that: nightmares, not vivid images forever imprinted on his mind.

  Simon had been the first to tell Damon about the legend of the Book of Darkness, as he’d called it. A book that could open the gates of hell and let the demons come pouring out en masse. No one had ever actually seen the book or even knew for sure that it really did exist. Until now.

  And even now he couldn’t be sure. He hadn’t seen the book. Maybe the demons had gotten loose through some other means. Not that that seemed likely at this point. He’d been in Vamptown for over two months and there hadn’t been a whiff of demon stench until yesterday.

  It was no coincidence that Zoe and her grandmother appeared in Vamptown at the same time as this demon outbreak. And things could get worse before they got better if he didn’t get this mess under control.

  “I found it!” Zoe’s exclamation interrupted his thoughts.

  “The missing book?”

  “No, Eve Delacroix’s name. It’s in my mother’s family tree bloodline,” Zoe said.

  “Which might explain how she had a talisman like yours from your mother’s side, but not your father’s.”

  Damon already knew from the research he’d done on Zoe but he asked anyway. “You don’t have any siblings?”

  Zoe shook her head.

  “Maybe someone from your father’s bloodline hooked up with someone from your mother’s a century and a half ago.”

  Zoe made a face. “That sounds kind of incestuous to me.”

  “But possible,” he said.

  “Not really incestuous,” her grandmother said. “Enough time has passed.”

  “It still creeps me out that Damon killed a witch that might have been an ancestor,” Zoe said. “He claims she was evil. A bitchy witch.”

  “As opposed to a bitchin’ good witch?” her grandmother said. “What? You don’t think I keep up on modern terminology? I imagine that must be tough for you, Damon.”

  “Killing Eve was easy.” A lie but he wasn’t about to tell the truth.

  “I was referring to keeping up with terminology over one hundred and fifty years. Why, when I think about how much things have changed in my sixty-five years—”

  “You’re seventy-two,” Damon said.

  Zoe’s grandmother glared at him. “Yes I am, but you don’t have to make a big deal about it.”

  “I’d rather make a big deal about the fact that the two of you—descendants of Eve Delacroix—just happen to land in Vamptown and unleash a bunch of demons. I don’t believe it,” Damon said.

  “I don’t believe it, either,” Zoe’s grandmother said. “I mean, what are the chances, right?”

  “Right. So are you finally going to tell me the truth?” Damon said.

  “I already admitted that I’m seventy-two not sixty-five,” she said.

  “You can’t still think that my grandmother and I are part of some demon conspiracy,” Zoe said.

  “Can’t I?”

  “Only if you’re an idiot,” she shot back. “Look, I want to get rid of these demons as much as you do.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Then prove it,” he said.

  “How?”

  “Find that missing book. Look through your family spell book for something about demons.”

  “It doesn’t come with an index,” Zoe said. “It’s not like I can just Google a spell. Well, okay, maybe someone can Google a spell, but it wouldn’t work.”

  “How do you know?” Damon demanded. “Have you ever tried it?”

  Zoe vehemently shook her head, which made her bangs slide into her eyes. “No witch in her right mind and worth her weight in real magic would do that.”

  Damon fought the urge to brush her hair away from her face. He already knew how silky the dark strands were; his fingertips vibrated with the memory of touching her. All of a vampire’s senses were heightened compared with mere mortals, and that included not only sight, smell, and sound but also touch.

  But Zoe was a witch. She was more than capable of casting a spell to throw him off track. Eve had done it. What was to say her descendant couldn’t accomplish the same thing?

  Damon had told Zoe’s grandmother that he didn’t need a protection spell. He hadn’t told her the reason, which was that he had a few resources of his own as a Demon Hunter to use.

  “Googling a spell could make things worse,” Zoe warned him. “You may not think they could get worse—”

  “Oh, I know they can get worse. And they will if we don’t get that book back.” He paused a moment as a possibility he’d been mulling over in his head took shape. “What if that demon that possessed you had you cast a spell to make the book vanish?”

  “I was with you the entire time. You even recorded me on your iPhone. You’ve got the video of me levitating. How could I cast a spell without you knowing?”

  She was right. Unless … “What if you did it silently?”

  “What about the demon?” Zoe said. “Couldn’t he have done something to make it vanish? Or maybe the book had that ability built in?”

  “I’ve got people checking out possible legends about the book,” Damon said.

  “People?”

  “Vampires.”

  “And they are supposed to be better researchers than a witch with a master’s degree in library science? I seriously doubt that,” Zoe said.

  “You can doubt it all you want,” he said. “I don’t care.”

  “You should care if you want those demons stopped.”

  “I can stop them myself. You saw that.” He pointed to the fro
nt door where he’d destroyed the cable guy.

  “Yes, I did. You seemed to get a kick out of going after him. Maybe you’re behind that demon’s appearance,” Zoe said.

  “You witches are behind it.”

  “All my grandmother did was open a book!”

  “And all hell broke loose. Literally. All the demons in hell will be set loose if we don’t close the portal,” Damon said.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Zoe was still trying to recover from Damon’s dramatic declaration. Okay, she was also still trying to recover from being plastered against his body. She would have been fine if he’d just taken off his shirt and she’d merely looked at him and confidently enjoyed the view.

  Instead he’d pulled her so close that she’d just about lost it. The memory still left her shaken.

  And yes, a better woman would focus all her attention on saving the world instead of harboring secret dark fantasies about a hot vampire. A better witch for sure would have overcome it without blinking an eye.

  Zoe had to confess that she did get a kick out of watching the TV classic I Dream of Jeannie and seeing Jeannie crossing her arms and blinking her eyes to transport her master halfway around the world. Not that the master thing worked for Zoe, although no doubt Damon would have loved it if it had. He had masterful built into his vamp DNA.

  With the demise of the cable demon, there was no TV to distract Zoe. She felt guilty even thinking about that. She should be concentrating on the Book of Darkness. She needed to call on her inner librarian, not her inner slut.

  Not that she’d ever realized she might have an inner slut until Damon came into her life.

  She just couldn’t concentrate with him around. And he showed no signs of going away anytime soon.

  Refusing to allow her gaze to wander over to where Damon sat in a nearby chair, she kept her eyes on her laptop screen and the grisly illustrations of demons. It was not a pretty picture. She got totally wrapped up in the history, which was why she was so stunned when she looked up and saw the front door swing open and two strange men in suits standing there, pointing at her. “There she is!”