He put his hand over hers as she reached for the doorknob.
She turned back to face him. “Yes?”
He kissed her, swift and hard. It was quite unexpected and wonderful and lasted only a few seconds.
“We’re quite ridiculous,” she told him.
“Have you put a spell on me?”
“I could ask you the same thing, Mr. Haven.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “You’re not my type. And no jokes about blood types, please.” A few nights ago, she would have felt like a hypocrite, completely guilt-ridden and mortified to be kissing him, talking to him like this. A few nights ago, he was her lawful, chosen prey. He still was, but all the polite, civilized constraints she’d lived by before meeting Haven didn’t matter right now. She needed him.
To kill a demon, she reminded herself. She stopped looking into his deep brown eyes and finally managed to open the door. “We had better concentrate on saving lives.”
“Killing demons and vampires—”
“And sorcerers, oh my.”
“We’ll take my Jeep,” he said and led the way down the back stairs. “For once I want to drive.”
“Have a destination in mind?” she asked when they were in his vehicle.
“You’ll know when we get there,” he answered and pulled into the street. “Tell me about this sacred magical vampire holy day,” he said as he drove. “What happens that makes it so special? The mouth of hell open or something?”
Char stared at him in confusion. “What sacred vampire—oh, you mean Blessing Day.” She laughed.
“What’s so funny? I thought the world was going to end on this Blessing Day.”
“Vampires don’t want to end the world—especially before they get the chance to exchange all the gifts they don’t want. One of the Laws is to always keep your Blessing Day present receipts.”
“But—”
“The new moon before the winter solstice is just—Blessing Day.”
“But what is it?”
She pressed the bridge of her nose between two fingers and made a decision. “What the hell, I’ve already told you too much. Vampires have a religion, and all religions have festival days. Blessing of the Knives is the holiday’s full name.”
“Charming.”
“But no one calls it that anymore. It’s sort of the opposite of the winter solstice celebrations. Mortals have ancient fire festivals in the middle of winter to reassure themselves that the sun will return soon. Vampires have a festival that revels in the long nights of winter, but sadly commemorates the fact that the days are destined to get longer. These days it’s more like what Christmas or Hanukkah have become to most Americans—a chance to party and give presents.” She made a dismissive gesture. “Blessing Day’s no big deal.”
“But last night you said—”
“That the sorcerer would assume it has significance. His research is going to be ninety percent bogus. Has to be.”
“Why?”
“ ’Cause the Enforcers have spent hundreds, maybe thousands, of years keeping information about our people away from mortals.”
“This guy knows enough.”
“To be dangerous. If he’s planning to kill a vampire to steal his immortality—”
“And why should I mind his doing this?”
“Because of all the other people he’s killed and is going to kill.”
“Right.”
She peered at a figure standing under a corner streetlight as Haven slowed to a stop. “Is that Santini?”
“Yes.”
“You said he was in a coma.”
Haven ducked his head and smiled. “I lied.”
Chapter 23
SANTINI WAS COVERED in bruises, wore a bandage on his head, and a manic grin on his saturnine face. He was also carrying a huge crossbow and had something Char suspected was a flamethrower. He said, “Hi,” stowed his gear, and climbed in the backseat of the Jeep.
“I feel underdressed going to this party,” Char commented. “All I’ve got is a knife.” Haven tilted an eyebrow sarcastically at her. “And big teeth and claws,” she added. “But I don’t use them on mortals. Generally.”
“Wanna borrow a gun?”
“Yeah,” she said after a moment. “I’d like that.” Haven reached over and opened the glove compartment. She took her pick of several firearms inside and tucked the .22 into her waistband. “Thanks.”
“You know how to use that, right?”
“Yes.” In theory. She’d had lessons. It seemed the sort of thing an Enforcer should do. Teeth and claws weren’t everything. Though the karate lessons had been a mistake. She never could fake being slower and weaker than her instructor.
Santini reached from the backseat and patted her on the shoulder. “Della says you’re wussy but have a good heart. I promised her I wouldn’t open you up and take a look for myself just yet.”
“I’m happy to hear it,” Char said.
“Glad you didn’t do her today,” Santini said to Haven. “We need her to get Della back.” He touched his forehead. “Della talks a lot.”
She certainly does, Char thought, curious to find out what the former companion had told Santini about the strigoi. People get lonely, then they talk too much to anyone willing to listen. Look at her and Haven, for example.
“Where are we going?” she asked Haven.
“A lake,” Santini answered. “We need to find a lake.”
Haven ignored his partner for the moment. He still had some questions for Charlotte. “The guy who’s got the spell—the sorcerer dude. You said his information was ninety percent bogus. How’d he get these spells he’s using in the first place?”
“Internet, maybe. Maybe the ritual’s been in his family for generations. And the Vatican library was broken into a couple years ago. You’d be amazed at what’s in there. He might have got his hands on some black market grimoires from that theft.” She smiled at his snort of disbelief. She told him, “When people go looking for information about vampires, they’re likely to find trouble.”
“And when they get close to some truth?” he wondered. “What happens then?”
She gave him a sideways look, but her cell phone started buzzing before she answered him. She listened to the caller, then announced, “Got one.” She flashed him a smile. Then, “Dead? I said to . . . oh. Suicide,” she told Haven. “Helene says the slave she caught chose death over dishonor.” She spoke back into the phone. “Keep hunting.”
Santini spoke up behind them. “Too much water in this town.”
The phone rang again. Char listened for a second, then grinned at Haven. “Spotted another one.”
“That was fast.”
“Helene has help. From the people at the homeless shelter,” she added after a pause. “Besides, anyone who’s shared blood with a vampire is easy to spot if you know what to look for. Helene knows what to look for.”
Haven was too paranoid not to be suspicious about how many vampires were out tonight, but he let it go. “Where?”
“Seattle Center.”
“Where?”
“Head toward the Space Needle. Take Denny Way until you get to Fifth. Keep going. I’ll tell you when to turn.”
He drove.
She took another call, then told him, “There seems to be a concentration of cult members in the Seattle Center area and over by Westlake Mall. I think they must have been sent out to take advantage of the rioting.”
“Do some looting for the cause?”
“Even evil sorcerers have overhead,” she agreed.
“We need to go looking for a house on the water,” Santini said. “That’s where Della is.”
•••
Dark water slapped against the flat-bottomed hull. The skyline showed bright beyond the glass door that led from the bedroom to a small deck that stuck out like a back porch from the houseboat. It was never meant to sail anywhere. The door was warped, letting in a cold stream of wet air and the tainted smell of the water.
The Disciple ignored where he was. They’d moved a lot since the Lady in Black came to town. The Disciple disliked this place least of all. He studied the ceremonial implements laid out on the long table, trying to decide. The sacrificial altar wasn’t usually kept in the same room as the Angel’s holy bed, but there wasn’t enough room on the boat to keep the holy spaces separate. He usually kept his hands behind him when he was near the sacred objects, lest his touch defile them, but this time he reached out to touch the ivory hilt of one of the silver daggers. The blade was about ten inches long and very sharp. His hand closed around the hilt.
His back was to the bed and the women tied to the brass headboard. All the slaves were gone for the night. When the Angel woke this evening, he had left the bed by himself for the first time the Disciple could remember. He’d broken the Disciple’s heart when he told him he wanted to be alone, to get away from the women. The Angel was in the bathroom. The Disciple could hear the Prophet and the Demon bickering in the other room.
“What are you doing?” the Disciple heard the mother say, but her question wasn’t for him.
“Thinking,” the Witch answered. “Thinking very loudly.”
“I don’t understand.” The mother’s voice shook.
She’d spent the day crying. She thought the Angel belonged to her. It had made the Disciple jealous. The mother was more dangerous to his love for the Angel than the Witch. The Witch just sneered at the Angel and declared him unworthy. The Prophet had let him hit her for her blasphemy. The Disciple would be glad when the women were silenced forever.
Then he remembered that the women would not be dying tonight, as they should. The women should die by magic to strengthen the dark shields that hid the Angel from harm. But the Prophet had declared he needed them for his own purposes—for the Great Becoming. The Prophet no longer cared that the Angel needed to be protected. The Angel was being hunted, but the Angel was no longer important to the Prophet and the Demon. Perhaps he never had been, not for himself. The Disciple could barely stand the pain of knowing how his beautiful Angel had been used.
He took the dagger and hid it inside his shirt. Just in time, he stepped back as the Vessel came into the bedroom. He hated the Vessel, but the Vessel was just the person he wanted to see right now. He almost smiled at the Vessel. But the Disciple had never been good at smiling.
“The Angel isn’t safe,” he told the Vessel. “We’re going to make him safe.”
The Vessel was only interested in the women. He began to stroke the mother’s breasts. “He hasn’t touched them, has he?”
“He doesn’t want them.”
“Lucky me.” The Vessel unzipped his fly.
The Disciple came closer to the bed. “I know the protection spell. The one that wraps the dark around the Angel. It needs to be stronger. You’re going to help.”
The Vessel ignored him. He pulled off his shirt and pants. He was naked when he got on the bed. The Vessel was full of magic. He glowed with it from within, like a translucent chalice filled to the brim with power. He pushed the woman’s legs apart and stretched out on top of the mother.
The Disciple began to mumble the spell beneath his breath. He concentrated on a precise spot on the Vessel’s back as the Vessel penetrated the woman.
The mother screamed, and the sound masked any noise the Disciple made as he moved closer still to the bed. Only the Witch saw him pull out the long, silver dagger, but she laughed rather than shouting out a warning. All the Disciple had to do now was watch carefully and wait until the moment the Vessel came.
Char turned around to look in the backseat. Santini looked dazed. She wondered if it was from the head injury. But a strange suspicion gnawed at her. Della had only been Krystalle’s companion. But . . . maybe . . . How close had Della been to rebirth when Krystalle was executed? Della survived her lover’s death, so the cord between them must have been close to breaking. Santini certainly had an odd form of psychic gifting. And he’d healed awfully fast. Maybe they had . . .
“Mr. Santini?” Char wasn’t quite sure how to phrase this. “Have you and Della been engaging in—uh—”
“You bit each other, right?” Jebel asked for her.
Santini gave his manic smile. “Beats being bit by a vampire.”
Not by much. Char sighed. “Congratulations, Santini, you’re engaged. Jebel,” she said, turning to Haven. “He and Della have a psychic bond. If she’s broadcasting for help, he’s picking it up.”
“Water,” Santini said. “A house on the water.”
“What’s he mean by that?”
“Houseboat,” Char answered. “But where? Lake Union? Portage Bay? Any clue on specific location, Santini?”
He shook his head wildly. “Don’t think she knows. All I have is—a house on water.”
Char muttered under her breath and punched numbers into her cell phone. “Helene? Look for a houseboat. We’re closer to Lake Union, so we’re heading that way.” Char took a moment away from her call to give Haven driving instructions. He ran the next red light and turned left as she waved and pointed. Honking and crushing metal followed in their wake. She got back to her call. “Fairview North. Meet us. Tell the others to keep hunting.”
Blocks sped by. Haven saw the glitter of water in the distance. “Close,” he said. “Feels—”
Black fire burst in his brain. The pain shot through his blood and nerves, muscle and bone, consumed him in a wave of dark flame. His skin turned to ash. He screamed, and Char screamed, and Santini screamed—but their joined anguish only blended into the horrible cry that filled the night.
All the light in the world went out. The stars died. The temperature dropped to absolute zero.
Hands reached for him—grasping, horrible, bloodstained. He fell into the gaping, screaming mouth and fell and fell through a sea of burning blood. A huge snake reared up out of the burning red gore, its scales made of jagged shards of mirrors. A screaming face looked out from each facet of those mirrors. The snake convulsed and writhed, shaken from within. The mirror monster shattered, scattering a deadly blast of glass blades. All of them penetrated his heart at light speed.
The roar of escaping souls filled Haven. And then they were on him, in him, through him, showing him their deaths and blessing their release—blessing him. Leaving him. He was tortured, shaken, smashed, trampled. Freed.
Crying.
Breathing.
He could breathe.
He didn’t know how he’d stopped the car, but the Jeep was pulled to the side of the street, engine off. Haven blinked and slowly turned his head. The passenger door was open. Char was not in the car.
He found her on her hands and knees on the cold sidewalk. He held her while she barfed her guts out. Then he held her close while she cried, rocking them both back and forth like a mother with a child instead of the meanest badass on the planet and his vampire girlfriend.
But in less than a minute, Santini came up and said, “Let’s go, man!”
It was Char who helped him to his feet. She wiped tears away from her eyes and looked past him toward the lake in the distance. “I think it’s safe to say that we can follow that—energy burst—to its source.”
Somebody had died, and called out as they died—like the woman who’d been murdered and dumped in the forest. Only this time he was happy about the death. “Evil. That bastard was evil.”
“More than evil,” she said.
“Let’s go!” Santini shouted.
They ran back to the car. Haven started the engine and drove. Char got on the phone again. “No, that wasn’t the transformation spell.” Haven assumed she was talking to Helene. “That was one of the most important ingredients for it going to hell. I have no idea. Maybe Daniel woke up and killed him. Meet you there in five.” She flipped the phone closed and said, “We still have to get through the demon and the sorcerer. It isn’t going to be easy.”
Chapter 24
“WHAT’S THE PLAN, Hunter?” “I’ll think of some
thing,” Char answered the bright-eyed vampire matron. Helene needed to get out more often. Char looked back at the Jeep, where the men were hauling out an impressive array of weaponry. While Haven and Santini were occupied, she quietly asked Helene Bourbon, “How goes the hunt?”
Helene laughed softly. “Constance’s nest is getting fat. I’ve got a snack put away for later. Constance would like permission to take the hunt to a second night. They may not be able to get all the cult members tonight.”
“Depends on how the rioting plays out,” Char answered. “I’ll talk to her later, if we have time.” She studied the contours of the small houseboat moored at the end of the dock across the street. It was one of an upscale little community, and looked no different than the other floating houses around it.
The boat showed no outward sign of the chaos that raged inside. The place had exploded not half an hour ago, but not on any physical plane. No one on any of the neighboring boats in this crowded marina had a clue that anything had happened. Maybe a few had headaches or were having nightmares. But only the truly magic-allergic population of Seattle had any inkling of the truth, and most of them were too busy rioting or becoming vampire kibble to investigate the explosion.
She had to squint hard and concentrate all her vampire senses to see through the residue of evil energy that floated around the boat like a black fog.
“If there were any magical defenses on the inside, the energy blast would have destroyed them.”
“Hope you’re right, sweetheart.” Haven said as he and Santini joined the two women.
“The demon’s in there,” she said. “I can feel him.”
“You two are lucky to be mortal,” Helene said. “The hunter and I can smell him, too.”
Haven’s expression told Char that he was uncomfortable with Helene’s easy acceptance of him as one of them. She hid her own smile. “What have you got, Jebel?”
His shotgun was in a holster on his back. “A Husqvarna,” he said, holding up the thing in his hands. “You said I need something to take off the demon’s head. This ought to do it. It’s a chainsaw,” he explained when she continued to stare. He rubbed his thumb over a button on the base of the chainsaw. “Electric starter.”
Laws of the Blood 2: Partners Page 19