He sat back on his heels, running a hand through his long blond curls. "You're lucky it didn't get a good grip. That should be healed by morning." He looked around. "Show me the room where it attacked."
Holly led the way upstairs, filling in the details of her encounter with Sweetie. When they got to the third floor her feet froze on the top stair. Suddenly cold and nauseated, she wavered, anxiety rising up like a bad meal. There was no presence there, just memories—but they were bad enough. That thing came into my home. This isn't like any other job. It's personal.
One step behind, Alessandro prodded her to move so he could push past to the hallway. Holly felt the brush of his heavy, soft coat and yearned to clutch it like a child with a security blanket.
"That room is the nursery?" Alessandro asked, almost straining like a hound on point. "It's a traditionalist, then. Demons like the symbolism of devouring the innocent almost as much as the feast itself."
"Great. Lovely." Holly mounted the last step. "Are you sure it was a demon?"
"Good odds it was." He laid his hand on her back, comforting, but still intense. He was in hunting mode. "Let's see what your visitor left behind."
All confidence, he pushed the nursery door open with one hand. Holly sidled up behind him. The room was empty, infuriatingly normal. She had a flash of that honest-the-car-sounded-terrible-before-I-brought-it-in feeling. Really, there was a giant mouse here, sir, tha-a-a-at tall.
With long, smooth strides, Alessandro drifted in a slow circle around the perimeter of the room, stopping before the old fireplace. "It came in here," he announced, tapping the wall above the mantel. "The smell is strongest where I'm standing."
"It came down the chimney?" Holly asked, incredulous. She giggled. Okay, I'm getting punchy.
"As it was a portal, it would be more through than down, but yes, it came via the chimney."
"That's just… absurd!"
Alessandro looked at her, his eyebrows making a perplexed furrow. "I assure you it did."
Holly tried to envision the mouse stuffing itself down the flue. Bad image. Her overstressed imagination added eight tiny reindeer. "Well, yuck. I guess I can't expect Santa to come through there again."
Alessandro gave her a confused look. "What? Santa Claus doesn't exist."
"Does too. He brought me a plush unicorn when I was six."
Alessandro raised a brow. "Do you think if I ask for an Aston Martin Vanquish, he'll bring me one?"
"I doubt you've been quite that good."
He huffed and turned back to the wall, but the absurd exchange had defused some tension. Now Holly came forward to see the site of the offense. With her witch's senses open just a crack, she touched the spot of wall he had identified. It was like plunging her hand into a nest of ants.
"I can feel it. It's all creepy-crawly." She shuddered and pulled back. "The barrier is still weak there. But the seal is healing. In an hour or two it will be sound."
"Amazing." Alessandro looked around the room. "This is a marvelous house, so alive. So full of your family's magic."
"Ben would sell it if he could."
"What?"
"Never mind," she replied in a tone that did not invite discussion. Holly didn't want to talk about Ben at the moment. It was too raw to even think about right then. Or ever. Tears blurred her lashes, and she turned her face away to hide them.
"The Carvers were necromancers, weren't they?" Alessandro asked, something tentative in the question.
"Some were. In her day, my grandma was really good. But you lived here then. You'd know that."
He avoided her look. "Have you ever done a necromancy spell?"
"Know the theory, seen it done, but I've never tried it myself. I just go to the mall if I want to see the brain-dead lurching around. Is there a reason you ask?"
Alessandro didn't reply. Instead he folded his arms and stared into the empty fire grate. It was dim in the room, and his face was only half-lit, but she could make out his features. With his thoughts turned inward, he looked more human.
Holly waited him out, wondering what he wanted.
Finally, when he spoke, the topic was new. "The manifestation here is from the same origin as the disturbance at the Flanders house. That explains why the Flanders place was so strong. It wasn't just a bad house. It had demonic assistance."
Holly's mouth went dry. "How do you know this?"
"It smells the same. The stink clings to the back of the tongue."
"That's the basis of your theory?"
"And logic. The demon—or whoever summoned it—was trying to harness the magic in the Flanders house to open a portal. Vanquishing the house closed it again. Now it tried here. The demon must be getting stronger, or the summoner more proficient, because it worked."
"It was just a big mouse," she said, giving a nervous laugh. "I don't think they got what they ordered."
Alessandro didn't look convinced. "What happened to the mouse, exactly?"
Holly swallowed. "I helped it fall down the stairs. I think it broke its neck."
Alessandro looked bleak. "What did the mouse look like when it died?"
"Kinda still."
His eyebrows contracted in annoyance. "After that?"
"It disintegrated into powder as it disappeared."
Alessandro lifted his chin a fraction, his brows lowering. "Certain kinds of demons will crumble and vanish without necessarily being dead. It's their way of escape. You might have chased it off, but I don't think you killed it. Our demon finally made it through the portal."
"Whoa!" cried Holly, holding up one hand. "Hold it right there! That mouse was an actual demon? Wasn't this just, like, a calling card, a trailer for the main show, but not the demon itself? Wasn't it sort of, um, demon mouse-mail?"
"I don't think so, Holly. Demons often take the form of rodents or serpents because those shapes inspire fear and disgust. It's also easier than assuming their human form. Easier after using all their strength to break through."
Holly turned away, walking to the window. Outside, the streetlights backlit the branches of the oak tree. "Not possible. This house can't be breached."
"Of course it can," he replied quietly, "because it was."
"Why come here? Why attack me?"
"Because you're powerful. Think about it. You beat it last night. To a demon, your soul would look, oh, so good to eat—full of magic it could take for its own."
"Oh, crap." Holly covered her face, dread coming in hot and cold waves, drenching her skin with a prickling sweat. "Sweet Hecate, I need a moment to take this in."
"Let's go downstairs." He touched her shoulder gently and left the nursery.
Holly trailed after him, listening to the echo of her footfalls drift through the empty spaces of the old house. A demon? Here?
In the bright kitchen Kibs sat by his food dish, watching the vampire with a judicial air, tail twitching. Holly shuffled up to the kitchen table and sat, hugging herself. The clock in the sitting room chimed. Time flies when you're battling the forces of darkness..
"I know some demon lore, but books don't cover everything. So explain again why I look so good to a demon?"
Alessandro took a seat opposite her and folded his arms, a classic posture of unease. "The authors of your books would never have access to a full range of information. We have had more direct contact because often we battle for territory. We are enemies for the most primitive of reasons: We hunt the same victims. They feed on human life, the soul, the essence, in much the same way a vampire feeds on blood."
Holly mirrored his arm-folded slouch. "Okay."
"Most major demons," he went on, "live in a society that would make any marketing agency proud. Their power structure is a pyramid. The top demon has minions, or servants. Once a demon servant has enough power, it might start to collect minions of its own, and one day those servants will have servants, and on and on."
"And the demon at the top of the pyramid just gets bigger and badder the more servants a
nd subservants and subsubservants it has? Eventually it gets a Cadillac and a time-share condo in outer Hades?"
"Precisely. And you, being more than usually powerful, would feed your master better than any ordinary servant. Turning you would be quite a coup. It would move our demon right up the corporate ladder."
Holly cleared her throat. "So this is an up-and-coming demon?"
Alessandro shook his head. "More than that. Only a master could cross over. That means it's already powerful and must have some servants helping it." Alessandro's hand drifted toward his bandolier. "Not even a master can come to our world without help."
Holly felt a slither of suspicion. "And you were going to ask those servants out to play tonight, weren't you?"
"Yes, I was going to join some other vampires who are searching Fairview."
"For what?"
"Possible servants. I saw something last night."
"Another dead body you neglected to mention?"
Alessandro looked away, his face creasing with something between guilt and annoyance. "No. A couple of creatures we call changelings. I killed them, but we would like to be sure there are no more. They may well have been the ones murdering young students."
"Okay, wait." Holly held up her hands, palms out. "One, you're telling me a demon popped out of my chimney. Two, it's planning to eat me. Three, it has local servants that you and your vampire pals are going to go hunting tonight. Have I got this straight?"
Alessandro gave a single nod.
She leaned forward, terror grinding deep in her gut. "So how come you know all this and I don't? A heads-up would've been nice!"
His face tightened. "I did not know about the changelings until late last night. There was yet another portal—they might have been connected to it somehow, or not. I'm not sure. Events are moving fast. I was hoping most of this would be just vampire business I could take care of on my own."
Holly's eyes widened with frustration. "Like the extra body at the Flanders house yesterday? Coulda warned me she was there before Detective Macmillan had me trying to rat you out. What the hell was I supposed to say?"
He waved an exasperated hand. "I came back to talk to you, but we got sidetracked, if you recall."
Holly felt herself flush at the memory. "Yeah, right. I'm such a good kisser you forgot you just found a corpse. C'mon, there's a vampire murdering women on campus. I'm starting school on Monday. Any information gratefully accepted."
Dismay pulled at Alessandro's face. He circled the table and crouched next to her chair. "I would never let anything happen to you. I'm your friend, remember? But I'm also… what I am. Don't ever kiss me like that and expect me to pass a sobriety test. I really had to leave, for both our sakes."
Uncertainty wrenched her. "You still could have phoned." Goddess, I sound like a lovelorn teenager.
He looked down. "You're right. I'm sorry. There was a lot going on, but I could have done that much. If it makes you feel any better, I spoke with the police earlier tonight." His expression said how little he had enjoyed the conversation. "They won't bother you again. I told them what they needed to know."
The anger was shrinking to pique. "Yeah, well, you can't be with me twenty-four seven. I need to be able to look out for myself. I'm a witch. If you give me the facts, I can deal."
Alessandro looked at her sharply, his curiosity a physical force. "Can you? Since we're snaring information, there's something I need to know. Battling that house last night put you flat on your back. Why is—how do you put it?—big-M magic so painful for you?"
Holly turned her face away, suddenly hating the fact that he was so near. She rose from the other side of her chair, got a glass out of the cupboard and started filling it from the tap. "My sister and I, we had an accident."
She said it flatly, as if it didn't matter, but the water jigged in the glass. Alessandro got up and took it from her hand, setting it on the counter. "What were you and your sister doing?"
"You have vampire business. That accident is my business."
He touched her cheek. "If that's the way you want it."
It wasn't. It hurt to argue. Breath caught, jagged, in Holly's throat. "It's not something I like talking about, okay? My ability is what puts food on the table. Something like this could be a career killer."
"I can keep your secret."
Holly nodded, feeling the ache of tears. "My sister and I played around with spells when I was quite young. One blew up in our faces. She never did magic after that. I wasn't hurt as badly, but it seems to have fried something inside me."
"Was there ever a diagnosis of the injury?"
"No, nothing anyone could explain, or so I'm told. I don't really remember that whole year. Huge memory loss. It's like something carved out that little bit of my brain."
"Trauma? An injury?"
"I guess. Grandma had every doctor and psychologist available have a look. They thought it was something to do with the fact that my parents died right around the same time. With the accident on top of all that, it was just too many shocks for a kid to take in all at once."
"Repressed memory?"
"Who knows? Witches never follow the textbook models, or so they told us a hundred million times." Holly didn't want to talk about it anymore.
As if he read her mind, he crossed to the liquor cabinet, pulling the doors open wide. "Water is inadequate. What do you drink?"
"Scotch, neat," she said automatically.
He smirked. "A warrior woman."
"What do you want? It's been a bad couple of days," she said in a testy voice.
He poured and handed her a glass with a generous measure of amber liquid. "Drink this, and then go to bed. You could do with an early night."
"What, with Demon Mousie on the loose?" She took a sip of the liquid fire, then set the glass down. "Shouldn't I go someplace else? Or would it find me anyway?"
Alessandro leaned forward and took her hand. His fingers were cool and competent. "The demon will be long gone by now. These creatures typically move away from their point of entry and go in search of a fresh hunting ground. Nothing more will happen in the house tonight." He squeezed her fingers and released them. "Nevertheless, I'll make doubly sure we're alone. I'll check every corner and cupboard and watch over you while you rest."
"Weren't you going to go hunting?"
He gave a slow, wry smile, sweet enough to melt any woman. She'd never seen that smile before, and it nearly stalled her heart. "You're more important," he said.
He bent and kissed her brow, as he had before, but did not stop there. His lips caressed her eyelids and slid down to sip, just once, at her mouth. The simple gesture held all the finesse of a skilled lover. Centuries of skill.
Her flesh tingled at his touch, part magic, part pure desire. A need to drown in it roused a soft moan from her throat. She felt his long, supple fingers slide up the side of her neck, resting in the hollow beneath her ear. Her heart seized at the touch, her knees shivering with the need to feel his lips where his fingertips caressed her jaw. Through her lashes she saw the yellow glint in his eyes.
Predator.
Alarm thrilled through her. Holly slid her own hand up, clasping his and pulling it away. "No. Stop, before I can't say no. Please."
"Don't worry," Alessandro said softly, taking one last kiss. "I know what I can't have. I'm on my guard with you now."
He backed away, the space between them empty oceans. Holly's limbs felt heavy, red hot, so she picked up her drink to avoid his eyes. Perhaps Alessandro knew what he couldn't have, but her body wasn't on board with abstinence.
But Holly couldn't push her luck. After all, she had the most to lose if Alessandro fell off the wagon. Killer houses, vampires, demons. Sweet Hecate, I have so many bad ends in store, I'm going to have to rent a locker.
That reminded her of something she meant to ask. "You said the demon would want to Turn me. What exactly did you mean by that? Is it different from…"
He did not answer immediate
ly, his smile fading like slowly dying light. He understood what she meant. Than when a vampire turns you.
"It is worse. Much worse. They call it the Dark Larceny. Most demons start out human." Alessandro looked away. "They consume your soul and make you one of them. A nothing. A negative."
There was such dread in his voice, she shuddered. "Have you seen it done?"
His face drained of color, suddenly pasty beyond his already pale complexion. "Yes," was all he would say.
Chapter 10
"Hey, Brian." Macmillan sat down at the bar, suddenly ravenous. He hadn't had a decent meal in days.
"Hey, Mac. What's up?" asked the bartender. He was tall and stocky and somewhere in his forties, still fit enough to take care of business if one of the clients got rowdy.
The Bayshore Pub formed one end of the strip mall across from St. Andrew's cemetery. It was Mac's favorite because it was close to the police station and there was always parking. Most days that was all he had the time or energy to consider.
"How are ya?" Brian asked.
"Busy."
"I hear ya."
Macmillan looked glumly at the rows of beer glasses on the bar. Nothing went with the fourth murder in two weeks like draft Guinness. Unfortunately, a sandwich and coffee would have to do. It was back to work after he grabbed something to eat.
"Kitchen closed yet?" he asked.
Brian looked at his watch. "Just under the wire."
Thank you, God. "I'll have the steak sandwich. Medium-rare."
"Fries?"
"Nah." His stomach was a little off. Extra grease was pushing his luck.
Macmillan unbuttoned his raincoat, wondering if that was raindrops or something left over from the latest murder scene along the hem. It was hard to tell. The pub was only slightly better lit than the parking lot.
With weary inevitability, his mind went back to the scene. It had been another college coed. Another blond. Preliminary estimates on the time of death put it at around four thirty.
Which meant that Caravelli was in the clear, for all that he'd vanished from the Flanders scene. Mac had put surveillance on him and checked his whereabouts for the first murders. His alibis were good. One of his colleagues had even finally managed to question Caravelli right after sunset, arriving on the vamp's doorstep with a pair of uniforms. Apparently Caravelli had been civil but as forthcoming as the grave.
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