Demon Night

by Meljean Brook

  “Just stay with me of your free will until he comes out, so I can live. You’re an extraordinary woman, Jane, and you can save me just by waiting with me for another minute. I love you so much.”

  The demon was awful good at the kicked-puppy bit, with his eyes big and swimming with tears, his voice pleading; if Ethan was in her shoes, his heart would have been about breaking.

  Ethan called out, “That ain’t Dylan, Jane.”

  She turned to look again, but not at Ethan. Her gaze sought Charlie’s, and when Charlie shook her head, her eyes wide and pleading, Jane’s face set with determination.

  She pulled hard, and the demon didn’t let her go.

  The hairs on Ethan’s nape prickled. The air hummed like something had rubbed out a static charge…something big and powerful that didn’t feel like Sammael, or anything else he’d ever encountered.

  The demon felt it, too. He half-turned, glanced back at the house, the begging posture dropping away.

  So did his human form. Taloned hands and feet, black horns curling away from a still-human face—human but for the scarlet scales.

  Jane screamed, and this time, the demon let her slip away without a fight. Swords appeared in his hands, and he turned round and round. Ethan watched him, his heart pounding, and ran with Charlie to Jane, then backed up slowly as both women sprinted to the car. He palmed his sword in his right hand, his crossbow in his left, and made certain it was loaded with venom-soaked bolts.

  “Dylan?” Jane whispered in disbelief, and the alarm split the air.

  Ethan glanced away from the demon, saw Sammael at the front door, his face twisting with surprise…and fear.

  Sammael hissed a few words in the demon tongue, and his own weapons appeared. His gaze searched out Jane, and his face softened. “Don’t be afraid. You need to close your eyes. And you need to get away from Charlie.”

  Ethan frowned. The women had their arms around each other and were leaning against Jane’s small car. Nothing was going to be separating them, and surely Sammael wasn’t fearing that Charlie was going to bite—

  The being came in from nowhere. Teleported. Ethan swore and backed up a step, and for an instant shock held him motionless.

  Black feathered wings.

  No Guardian but the Doyen could create wings like that; a demon couldn’t either. Only white feathers or the membranous wings that demons and nosferatu wore.

  But this creature wasn’t Michael, the only other being Ethan had ever seen with those wings, and one of the few Guardians who could teleport.

  He’d never heard of a demon teleporting.

  And although it had crimson skin and eyes that were fully obsidian, the rest of it looked human. Metal plates formed a skirt like a Roman centurion’s armor, and they clinked with its movement.

  Quick—quicker than Ethan—it went after the demon who’d been impersonating Sammael, had him hanging upside-down with its hand circling his ankle.

  Its psyche felt like scales on a snake’s belly.

  “God Almighty,” Ethan whispered, and threw himself in front of Charlie and Jane, blocking their view just as the creature’s sword slid through the demon’s neck.

  No torture. Just a simple, clean kill, and the demon’s head dropped to the ground. The body and the head vanished.

  Sammael slowly circled the creature, wariness in every step, as if he was trying not to draw its attention.

  Charlie’s fear was leaking through her shields. “Drifter?” Her voice was below a whisper. “What’s going on?”

  The creature’s uncanny black gaze settled on Ethan. But the interest in its psychic scent was all wrong, not on Ethan at all…but behind him. Its eyes turned red, began shining.

  Ethan’s gut twisted up tight. A demon. Some kind of demon…and it had tortured and bled out a vampire.

  “Charlie,” he said hoarsely. “You and Jane get away from here.” Her bag was in his cache; he dropped it at her feet, then dumped a pile of weapons on the Toyota’s backseat. The demon tilted its head, as if sizing Ethan up. “You take the car and put the symbols on the dash, and drive in any direction you want. Before dawn comes, you find a place, pay for it with a credit card, and put the spell up around the room. Don’t let the sunlight touch you. You’ll be in your daysleep until evening, and I’ll find you when you wake up. Or if I don’t come, you use the number I dialed on your phone last night.”

  “If you don’t…?” Her voice shuddered to nothing. “Drifter—”

  “Miss Charlie. Go.” He wanted to look back, to see her. But hearing her scramble around the car, opening the passenger door for Jane would have to do.

  The black-winged demon moved. Ethan let the bolt from the crossbow fly, then raced across the street to meet its sword an instant later. His blade broke under the force of its swing, pain tearing up his arms. He immediately brought in another, just managed to keep his head on his shoulders.

  The crossbow’s bolt was embedded in its chest.

  The venom hadn’t slowed it a bit.

  Get the shield up around the car. He didn’t have time to shout the warning before dodging yet another attack from the demon’s sword. He was quickly losing the distance he’d gained. Jane wasn’t even inside the vehicle yet, her human speed nothing in comparison to Ethan’s, or even Charlie’s.

  He heard Charlie urging her in, ducked a swipe of a blade, and saw Sammael’s gaze fix on the women.

  The winged demon’s attack was elegant and brutal. A feint, then a strike low. Pain tore across Ethan’s stomach in a burning line. The scent of blood filled the air, and Charlie’s cry; she must have seen it slice his belly open.

  This thing was going to have him dead before she was in the car.

  Like hell. Guns weren’t much good short-range, too easy to knock off the aim, but Ethan called in a pistol, got a shot to its face before its foot caught his arm. That slowed it a little, but the ache in Ethan’s forearm told him a bone had snapped.

  He fell back a yard, two, tried to gain a moment to reassess, to think. He didn’t get one.

  Jane’s voice barely registered through the haze of pain, but Sammael’s psychic wave of indecision did. Then resignation, when she shouted again. “Dylan—for God’s sake, help him!”

  Ethan dropped, flattened himself against the pavement to avoid the winged demon’s whistling blade. No way to get up in time—

  It suddenly fell back, its swords flashing.

  Ethan blinked, and rose up on his knees. Sammael was meeting it strike for strike, forcing it away from Ethan and the women.

  He dared a glance back at the car. Charlie was pulling the driver’s side door closed; her frightened eyes met his through the window. “Come with us.”

  He shook his head. “Go,” he said, then turned to focus on the battle in front of him. Sammael was still fighting, but although the creature had lost ground, surprised by Sammael’s attack, it was bearing in on him as it regrouped.

  Tires screeched as Charlie tore onto the road, barely missing Ethan’s leg. The shield was up a moment later.

  That wouldn’t be enough; they had to get the creature out of public sight, keep it occupied long enough that it couldn’t follow the vehicle.

  “I could use some saving here, Guardian,” Sammael growled. “Unless you don’t want them to get away.”

  Ethan didn’t consider himself an easily surprised man, but that did it. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered, and jumped to his feet.

  And if not damned, probably stabbed through the back within a minute.

  CHAPTER 15

  “What are they doing?” Charlie tried to use the rearview mirror to see, but Jane had turned to look through the window, and her head was blocking the view. In the side mirror, she only saw the glow from the fire in Jane’s backyard. They were going to turn the corner in a second, lose sight of Ethan and that…whatever it had been. “Jane! What are they doing?”

  “I can’t—they’re going too fast…Oh my God, how can they move that fast?”
Jane’s voice rose shrilly, then abruptly lowered. “It looks like they’re pushing that thing back toward the house.”

  “Both of them? Together?” Ethan had been injured, bleeding across his stomach, but he’d seemed strong when he’d told her to go. She hoped she’d done the right thing by listening to him. “Does Ethan look okay?”

  “Yes. Yes, they’re both fighting and—oh, Jesus. There are knives and guns and swords back here. What the fuck is going on?”

  Charlie drew a quick breath through her nose, prepared to answer her…and the scent hit her, rich and dark. Blood.

  Her body tightened; her fangs began to ache. She’d been careful when she’d poked her finger and cast the spell, inhaling only through her mouth. She’d forgotten that Sammael had bled in here as part of his ruse to get her out of the house.

  She focused hard on the road, not breathing, and pushed the need away.

  It didn’t recede as much as it had the last time.

  They rounded the end of the block; from farther down the street came flashing lights. Probably a siren, too, but she couldn’t hear it through the spell.

  “Turn around, Jane,” she rasped. “Don’t let a cop see you up out of the seat like that.”

  No driver’s license, and a pile of weapons in the back. She didn’t want to be pulled over now.

  Jane seemed to realize it at the same instant. She sat, buckled up. “Let me drive, then.”

  Charlie shook her head. “I’ve got some stuff to tell you, and I don’t think you’ll be able to concentrate on the road.”

  Charlie thought she’d be lucky if she could. She controlled her breathing, ignored the hunger.

  A high, rising note slid into her. Fear. Light and elusive, barely a touch; she stole a glance at Jane. Her sister was staring at her mouth.

  “Oh, my God, Charlie,” she said in a small voice, and the fear shifted into disbelief, dread. “Smile at me.”

  Charlie looked through the windshield again, her lips pressed together. The taillights of a car farther down the street wavered in front of her, and she wondered if she’d ever see red lights again without thinking of Sammael’s eyes, the vampire sucking at her neck.

  She’d never been this terrified in her life. Would have given anything for Ethan to appear beside them, so she could stop and lean on him, fly away and put off telling this to Jane for as long as possible.

  But Jane wouldn’t be put off. She reached out as if she meant to push back Charlie’s upper lip.

  Charlie caught her wrist, then met her eyes. They were wide with surprise—and though Charlie felt the shudder that raced through her sister’s body, Jane didn’t yank her hand away.

  Jane swallowed. “Your skin is like ice,” she whispered.

  Charlie let go of her wrist. “And your hair is sticking up in the back.” But she couldn’t hold it in, had to wipe at her cheeks, use her sleeve to clear her vision.

  Jane seemed to attempt a smile, drawing her feet up to the edge of the seat, wrapping her arms around her shins. Her gaze remained on Charlie’s face, her voice thick. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. No.” She lifted her hands and spread them wide before slapping them back to the steering wheel. “I don’t know, but I think I will be.” If Ethan was all right. If Jane handled the news about Dylan as well as she had her sister being a vampire. If the blood in the car didn’t turn her into a ravenous animal by the time they got…wherever they were going. “We’re about to hit I-5. Should we go north or south?”

  “South.” Jane was still studying her. “Were you bitten?”

  Charlie touched the side of her neck, thankful that the bite marks had long since healed. “Yes.”

  “Was it that guy? Ethan?”

  “No. He’s not a vampire.” She immediately regretted saying the word out loud; now there was no way to take it back. She rushed on, “He tried to stop it.”

  “A vampire,” Jane echoed, then put her face between her knees, slid her hands up to link them behind her head. Charlie recognized the pose—it had been the same the night their dad had told them about his leukemia. Jane had curled herself up like that. Charlie had gone for a bottle—but she would have gone for one that night, regardless. Just as she had every night.

  “Yes,” Charlie said.

  “And you didn’t want it.” Jane’s voice was muffled.

  “No.”

  A low, heavy beat rolled into her, its tempo increasing. Anger. Jane lifted her face from her knees, and her eyes were glinting with it. “Who did it?”

  Charlie held her gaze, and it took two attempts to push the answer past the terrible ache in her throat.

  “Dylan.”

  Sammael didn’t stab Ethan in the back. Instead, the bastard just up and left.

  Ethan only had a moment to glance behind him, to register his disbelief that Sammael was waving good-bye to him with the arm the black-winged demon had just severed from Sammael’s shoulder. Then the winged demon was coming at Ethan again, and he couldn’t think of Sammael anymore.

  They’d managed to get it into the house—the empty house, as Sammael had apparently taken those few extra moments to clean it out before coming outside—and once they’d gotten the demon into the backyard and up into the air, they’d covered ground fast. Ground and water—they were far out over Puget Sound. Almost to Port Townsend, Ethan figured. Small islands formed dark spots in the water, a few lights sparkling from houses and boats.

  Awful pretty, but Ethan didn’t want to be killed here, and he’d have to be a fool to think he could beat it alone. He dove, folding his wings against his back. The demon came after him.

  Son of a bitch. Ethan was willing to look a yellow-bellied coward if it saved his life, but this thing wasn’t letting him run. He turned, tried to keep ahead of it, but it was gaining on him. Rolling onto his back, falling headfirst, Ethan pulled in his last loaded pistols from his cache and fired them past his feet.

  Though his aim was true, the bullets didn’t slow it down.

  Fear clawed at his chest, but he forced it into icy purpose. He wasn’t going to die like this, not knowing if Charlie was all right and without warning the other Guardians about this thing. He rolled again, banked toward the city. He couldn’t shake the demon out here in all this open air, but downtown he might have a chance, maybe getting into a building or underground, putting up the spell and waiting it out.

  If he made it back to the city. He was looking ahead, flying as fast as he’d ever flown, but he could feel it closing in.

  How much time had he bought Charlie? Five minutes, ten? Enough to get her onto the highway? He ought to have made certain she’d be cared for and taught to master her new abilities, that there’d be someone she could feed from.

  His eyes narrowed. Far ahead, a small dark form was flying toward them. Sammael, returning? The bastard’s arm would have healed by now. Leastwise, enough that it wouldn’t fall off.

  No, not Sammael. Jake, in an erratic, up-and-down flight path.

  The kid was projecting the spinning, whirling emotions of a novice in deep Enthrallment. Even when he didn’t have a lotus-eating smile on his face, Jake hadn’t experience enough to fight the demon, and he hadn’t had any opportunity to learn his Gift. And if he was flying, he must not have been able to teleport to Ethan.

  Goddammit. Jake obviously intended to help, but it’d be an all-fired miracle if they weren’t both killed in about ten seconds. At least Ethan hadn’t had to care if the black-winged demon had gutted Sammael, except that it meant Ethan wouldn’t have had the pleasure of doing it himself.

  He needed more time. Ethan glanced back and dropped his truck out of his cache above the demon. The heavy vehicle slammed onto its back, flipping it over in the air.

  That only bought a few seconds, but it was enough for Ethan to adjust his course to intercept the novice. He called in his swords again, holding them flat against his body to avoid unnecessary drag. Little choice but to grab Jake, tell him to haul ass, and then try to keep the
demon off the kid for as long as possible.

  He didn’t hear it, but he saw Jake mouth his name as he drew in close.

  Below them, a light twinkled. A ship plowed through the water—long, dark, and solid.

  Well, hell. He wasn’t going to die just yet.

  “Dive!” Ethan shouted and gestured the command at the same time, vanishing his swords.

  Jake looked confused for about a second, then he was heading down. Ethan caught up with him. “Get rid of your wings!”

  Jake was yelling something, probably that they were going to smash pretty hard against the water if they didn’t let up.

  It’s a boat, Ethan signed. We’ll crash in through the side, get the spell up.

  “It’s a tanker,” Jake shouted as his wings disappeared.

  “Well, I figure it’s too late to stop now!” Ethan straightened out his body, increasing the speed of the dive, using minute movements of his wings to align himself over Jake’s back.

  “How the hell did you ever become anyone’s mentor?” Despite the bluster in Jake’s voice, fear was cutting through his Enthrallment.

  As soon as Ethan got hold of the kid’s sides, he pulled him in tight against his chest and vanished his wings. A glance behind them confirmed the demon was still coming. “I reckon this is going to hurt real bad!”

  “You think?” Jake screamed back at him.

  “That tanker looks awful big, Jake, and that steel damn solid,” Ethan said, his voice low and dangerous now, deliberately winding up the kid’s fear. “If you don’t want to be scraped up with a shovel and my teeth embedded in your tattooed ass, you better picture us in a real happy place, and you better picture it hard!”

  Then he was twisting, turning, and slamming into a plastic floor. It cracked beneath his weight, but held. Ethan didn’t open his eyes. His head was spinning, nausea churning in his stomach.

  That was the roughest teleportation he’d ever had, but damn if it didn’t feel fine to be on the verge of heaving up his lungs rather than having his stomach laid open again.

  “You did good, Jake. You all right?”