Demon Night

by Meljean Brook

  He drew back an inch, his breathing harsh. “Yes. I reckon this was a damn fool idea.”

  A door opened farther down the balcony; Charlie’s eyes widened with surprise and laughter. Ethan held her gaze as the other guests approached them, paused, and retreated in the opposite direction, leaving a psychic trail of discomfort in their wake.

  When they got to the stairs, a slow smile curved Ethan’s mouth. “We’d best get inside, Miss Charlie. You used your blood to put the spell up in there?”

  She nodded, sliding out under his arm. Her knees were still weak. “I set it up last night. I should go in first, anyway, because Jane might be undressed.”

  The door didn’t open. Charlie frowned, tried her keycard again. The handle turned, but she couldn’t push it. She glanced over her shoulder. “Is it not unlocking?”

  Ethan shook his head. “Let me feel it out.”

  A light percussion wave rolled through her; Charlie placed her hand against the door to steady herself. Though the keycard was in her hand, the indicator switched to green. “What was that?”

  “My Gift. I pushed pretty hard, and you’ll feel it more now that you’re sensitive.” It struck again, and he lifted his gaze to hers. “The lock is releasing, Charlie. The spell is what’s keeping the door closed.”

  “But—” That meant that Jane had keyed it with her blood. “Why would she…?”

  Ethan’s face was grim. “Did she leave during the day, and needed to be able to get back in?”

  “I don’t know. I was…Oh, Lord.” Charlie yanked the phone out of her pouch, flipped it open. Looked at the recently dialed numbers. Her stomach cramped. “She called Sammael.”

  And talked to the demon without Ethan or Charlie there to counteract his arguments, to provide a balance. Could Charlie fix whatever damage he’d done? How long had Jane spoken with him?

  Charlie pushed another button, and the pain in her stomach moved up through her chest, her throat. Almost two hours.

  The door swung open. With only a towel wrapped around her, Jane took a quick step back, her hand flying to the tuck of the terrycloth between her breasts. She glanced up at Ethan with a startled expression. She said something, but Charlie couldn’t hear it.

  Jane’s eyes and nose were red. Had she been crying all day, or just recently? She spoke again. Charlie spread her hands, lifted her shoulders—and Jane finally got it, wiped the blood from the symbols.

  “—realized I hadn’t told you that I changed the…” Jane’s gaze fell to Charlie’s phone.

  “You called him?” Disbelief squeezed Charlie’s question into a hoarse whisper.

  Ethan laid his hand against her lower back. “Go on inside,” he said softly. “You want me to come in with you?”

  Yes. But that wouldn’t be fair to Jane. “Do you mind waiting a minute?”

  “I’d wait much longer than that for you, Miss Charlie.” He turned, leaned back against the wall.

  She closed the door, but didn’t activate the spell. Whatever Sammael had told Jane, Ethan would know better than Charlie if it was a lie.

  Jane sank down on the bed. The paleness of her skin made her nose and eyes all the brighter. “I called him. I hadn’t intended to, but I was reading, and it was so quiet, and I realized…” Her mouth set; Charlie felt a chime of fear, faint as a memory. “I couldn’t hear you breathing. And when I checked, not only had your respiration stopped, but your heart rate was at ten beats per minute, Charlie. It wasn’t like that last night.”

  No. Jane had taken her pulse when Charlie had been describing everything that had happened to her, and had said Charlie’s rate was on the low side of average—just as it had been when she’d been human.

  “And then there was your face. You weren’t moving, appeared dead—and you looked petrified, Charlie. Like you were scared, and in pain and skinny as hell…and so I freaked out. I didn’t know if it was supposed to be like that—and I didn’t know if, because you’d gone to bed hungry, you were starving or dying in your sleep.”

  “So you called him.” Though she understood Jane’s fear, Charlie couldn’t seem to get her brain around that fact.

  “Yes. Who else could I have called? Mom? ‘Hey, Charlie’s a vampire, what should I do?’” Jane shook her head. “Anyway, he said it was normal, told me not to worry, that you’d be fine by sunset.”

  Charlie walked to the table. Putting the gun away was a relief; she hadn’t known how to use it, hadn’t really felt any safer with it. “And that’s all?”

  “No.” Jane half-turned on the bed, facing her. “I’m returning to Seattle. Now that I know what I’m working on, Dylan said that—”

  “His name isn’t Dylan,” Charlie said tightly. “It’s Sammael, and he’s a demon.”

  “And what does that mean, Charlie? What does that mean, exactly? That he’s evil? Yet, unlike the guy you’re with, he’s never killed anyone.” Jane’s brows arched. “At least your standards are getting higher—on the bad boy scale, a druggie musician has absolutely nothing on a murderer.”

  Charlie sucked in a breath. “Low fucking blow, Jane. Did Sammael coach you on that?” she asked, and a flicker of Jane’s eyelashes and a note of guilt told Charlie that had gotten through, at least. But, God, she wished she’d put up the spell so that Ethan wouldn’t have heard her sister say that. He deserved a lot better. “Whatever Drifter did, it was over a hundred years ago. Last night, he was trying to save me, and Sammael was laughing while a vampire sucked my blood out. Guess who I’m going to trust?”

  Jane closed her eyes. “All right. I’m sorry. But that still doesn’t mean—”

  Charlie wasn’t done. “And the only goddamn reason Sammael hasn’t killed anyone is because the Rules say he can’t.”

  At that, Jane straightened up and shook her head. “He wouldn’t. He said there are different factions of demons, and some are looking for ways to be forgiven. He’s one of them.”

  Charlie leapt onto the bed and bared her fangs a foot from her sister’s face. “Turning people into vampires against their will seems like a really shitty way to get on Heaven’s good side, doesn’t it?”

  She felt the flare of Jane’s temper, saw it in the blood that rushed under her skin. “Yes. And he admitted that he’s been approaching it in the wrong way. That we could—”

  “And you believed him? I told you what he said to me. That you’d ‘come around.’” Her chest was heaving; the room was too warm. Jane was angry, but calm—in comparison, Charlie felt like a rabid bitch. She tried again. “He’s playing you, Jane,” she said as evenly as possible. “And you’re letting him.”

  “I’m not blind. He fucked up, he admits it—but he’s willing to change. And this is my work, Charlie. This is why he chose me in the first place. I can make a difference.”

  Charlie’s control dropped away. “This was my life,” she hissed. “His ‘fuck-up’ was my life.”

  “And you’ve already said that being a vampire isn’t bad. That you are doing okay.” With agitated movements, Jane stood and pulled on her underwear, her shirt. “This is something I can do…for you, for a lot of people like you.”

  “Like me?” Charlie echoed, sitting back on her heels.

  Jane shot her a dirty look. “Don’t take offense to that. You know I mean vampires. And you can’t tell me you like the idea that you’re dependent on someone supplying you blood. And what goes with it.”

  No, Charlie couldn’t. “It doesn’t have to be that way for me, though. Drifter can—”

  “And what about the others? Are Guardians feeding them, too?” Jane sighed, dragged her fingers through her hair. “Then there are the healing aspects of it. The research needs to go on.”

  “Then do it somewhere else,” Charlie said, desperate. How had she ended up on the defensive? She was too far behind, or not understanding. Why the hell would Jane ever go back to Sammael after what he’d done? What wasn’t Charlie getting? “Why does it have to be with Legion? Why can’t it be with…with—” O
h, fuck fuck, she couldn’t think. It started with “R.” From the hallway, she heard Ethan offer a name in a low voice, and she finished with “Ramsdell Pharmaceuticals? They’re connected with the Guardians. I’m sure you could do the same work, but it wouldn’t have to be with Sammael lying to you and using you.”

  Jane yanked on her jeans. “He’s not going to lie to me anymore. I’ve told him that I want to know everything that’s going on with the research, and that if anyone is there against their will, it has to stop or I’d leave. And I told him if I catch him in a lie, I’ll leave. It’s that simple, Charlie.”

  Charlie stared at her, and the boiling frustration and anxiety within her just seemed to vanish, leaving her cold, empty.

  That was what Jane had told her, too: Stop, or I’ll give up on you. And Charlie had quit, because the thought of not having Jane had hurt more than the pain of stopping had.

  But did Jane really believe Sammael would be the same? “If it were ‘that simple,’” Charlie said quietly, “you wouldn’t be going back to him.”

  “Maybe not.” With another sigh, Jane slid on the bed next to her, wrapped her arms around Charlie’s shoulders. “You know I love you.”

  “Yes. And you love him.” That was why she wasn’t getting through to Jane. Charlie couldn’t fight that if her sister wouldn’t fight it, too.

  “And I love him.” Jane’s arms tightened. “And I’m pissed, and I want to know what’s going on, and I don’t really have any idea what I’m doing. But I can’t figure it out from here. It may be that once I get up there, I’ll just kick him in the nuts and come back.”

  Charlie couldn’t respond, couldn’t make a joke.

  Jane said, “I’m trying not to be stupid about this—”

  “Well, you’re failing. This is the fucking stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Will you just listen to me? Jesus, Charlie.” Jane bounced up off the bed, began pacing. “First, I want to hear from your Drifter or Ethan or whatever his name is what he knows about the blood, and vampires, and what he thinks Legion is doing. So that if Dylan does try to pull something over on me, I’ll have a better idea of it.”

  Charlie banged her forehead repeatedly against the mattress. “You accept that he might try and you’re still going back?”

  Jane made a turn at the table and continued as if Charlie hadn’t spoken. “Then I’ll call you every night, and send an e-mail every day, letting you know what I’m finding. Because I don’t want you to worry.”

  “No, I won’t do that at all.” Her sarcasm didn’t carry well, so she added, “He can copy your voice, Jane. He can fake an e-mail.”

  “I’ll put something in there he won’t know. Something from when we were kids that I’ve never told him.”

  “And what if I don’t hear from you one day? What do I do?”

  Through the door, she heard Ethan softly tell her, “We come and rescue her, Charlie.”

  Charlie whirled in his direction, her fist clenching. “But you said you weren’t a hero.”

  Jane frowned in confusion. Ethan didn’t speak for a long moment, and when he finally answered, it was with laughter in his voice.

  “Well, hell, Charlie—I sure wish I’d been a hero to you last night. And so the notion of being one must be growing on me.”

  Jane pointed at the entrance. “Is he listening?” At Charlie’s nod, she pulled the door open, made a sweeping gesture to wave Ethan in. When he stepped into the room, she examined him with narrowed eyes and her hands on her hips. “So you’re going to make sure my sister gets the blood she needs?”

  Ethan’s brows rose, and he darted a glance at Charlie before looking at Jane again. Amusement lurked at the corners of his eyes. “Yes’m.”

  “For how long?”

  “I reckon as long as she needs me, I’ll be happy to oblige her.”

  Charlie closed her eyes, hung her head, and hoped they thought she was laughing.

  CHAPTER 18

  Ethan couldn’t figure Charlie at all.

  During the two hours he’d spoken with Jane, explaining the Rules and answering the questions she’d thrown at him, Charlie had withdrawn into herself. Not numb, as she had been after the attack in the phone booth, just quiet. Her only strong reaction had come when he’d taken Jane’s blood to have as an anchor, should Selah, Michael, or Jake ever need one. Unless Jane was behind the spell or shielding, they’d be able to teleport to her.

  When the crimson drops had welled on Jane’s finger, Charlie had risen from her seat on the bed. She’d closed the door to the bathroom behind her, her bloodlust licking tongues of fire over his skin.

  She must have been feeling it bad, but she wasn’t showing it—though her body was. She’d lost weight already; a hell of a lot more than he’d have expected in one day of not feeding.

  But she’d returned to the room with a smile on her face—a smile that had remained through the good-byes and embraces that she and Jane exchanged in the parking lot. She waited until her sister had driven out of sight.

  Then she turned, and he’d had barely a moment to brace himself for the quick series of punches she aimed at his chest. Not landing them hard—just working out whatever had been simmering in her. And then she was leaning on him, her cheek pressed over his heart and the heel of her left hand weakly thumping the other side of his chest.

  He laid his lips against the top of her apple-scented hair, held her tight.

  When she stopped beating on him, she asked in a tired voice, “What time is it?”

  He’d given his cell phone to Jane, and had to look around and peer in through the window of the motel’s office to see. “About ten thirty.”

  “Shit. Shit shit shit.” She pulled away and was on her phone a second later, turning her back to him as she coughed and told Cole she might be in tomorrow, that some medication had put her to sleep so she was late calling.

  She didn’t face Ethan again when she finished, but stared down the road with a haunted expression deepening the hollows in her cheeks.

  “Charlie,” he began, but she shook her head.

  She looked up at him before gazing down the road again. “I’ll tell him tomorrow that I’m not coming back. I can’t do it today.” Her breath hitched, but her expression didn’t change. “Hell, maybe tomorrow he’ll just realize I’ve been lying and fire me. You still have my laptop, right?”

  He frowned, but nodded. “Yes.”

  “I guess I can finish my classes, then.” She rubbed her forehead. Her fingers were trembling. Ethan watched them shake, wished she’d lean on him or hit him again, and make him good for something while she was hurting. “I’m sorry about what she called you,” she said quietly.

  The bit about being a murderer? “It’s true enough.”

  She whipped around to face him. “That’s not the point—”

  “Easy, Charlie.” He held his hands up in surrender, grinning. “You already defended me real well. And Sammael must have put that particular concern into her—I ain’t about to fret over a demon’s opinion of my character.”

  She sighed. “He must have said a lot to her.”

  “I reckon. But it may be once she returns home, she’ll start looking instead of just listening.”

  “I hope so.” She paused, and her eyes searched his. “Was there anything different I could have said?”

  He studied her for a long second. Was she feeling she’d done an inadequate job of convincing her sister? Even when she’d been angry, every point Charlie made had been sensible; Jane just hadn’t been in the same place.

  “I figure there was one thing you might have done,” he said slowly. “And that was if you’d gone for her heart, and given her the same choice she gave Sammael: telling her that if she didn’t come around, you’d be writing her off as lost.”

  Her dark brows drew together. “But I couldn’t say that, let alone do it.”

  He’d known that; he thought Jane did, too. “Then there was nothing short of tying her down.”


  Charlie pursed her lips, tilted her head as if considering it, and cast a speculative glance down the road.

  He felt the grin sliding over his mouth and turned to conceal it. She really was something. “You have anything in the room you want to take?” He’d already retrieved all of his weapons.

  “No.”

  “You want to feed before we check out?” She’d spent the day sleeping; her scent would be all over the bed. She could crawl right up onto him and he’d be surrounded by her, the soft mattress beneath and Charlie firm and aroused all over the front of him.

  He stopped walking, pulled his coat forward before looking around for her answer.

  She had her hands tucked into her sweater pocket again. “I don’t want to feed in there. Where are we going?”

  “San Francisco.”

  He felt her hesitation before she said hoarsely, “How long will that take? I don’t know if I can…” She trailed off, and her jaw firmed, her pink lips thinning to white.

  She sure didn’t like needing something so bad. He’d have to make certain it didn’t get to this point again.

  “A little over an hour and a half, if I fly quick.”

  She blinked. “Really? All the way down in an hour and half?”

  “Yes,” he replied, smiling when eagerness projected briefly from her psychic scent, cutting through the now-constant heat of her bloodlust. “And if you need to, you can drink a bit on the way.”

  Her gaze lowered to his neck. The hunger flaring in her brown eyes brought out the green as well as the sun had, and within an instant he was hardening again.

  God Almighty. She’d have him falling out of the air, laid out moaning on the ground like a dying horse. And he suspected he’d just lay there grinning as she worked herself over him.

  Her mouth softened into a tiny smile. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”