Demon Night

by Meljean Brook

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll never convince me you aren’t a hero, Drifter.”

  “Well, hell,” he said, and a hint of color appeared on his cheeks. “Then I sure hope I never do anything to disabuse you of that notion.”

  Satisfied, she placed the two calls. By the time she’d finished the second, they were almost across the lake, headed toward Bellevue.

  Ethan flew lower, said loudly, “Jake, you have any idea whether his father’s at home?”

  Jake projected a carefree, relieved note.

  “All right, then. It may be that Sammael’s lurking about, so watch your back and stick close to Brandt. Charlie and I will fly on ahead, see if we can get Jane out before you arrive.”

  The Brandt property was practically a mini-estate. A tall, decorative fence surrounded extensive landscaping and was lined with trees and shrubs for privacy. The residence had been built in a similar style to the house on the lake, but from the glimpses of the interior that Charlie caught as they circled above, it looked as if the Brandts had taken “lodge” much deeper to heart. The furniture was heavy and masculine, the colors dark. She wouldn’t have been surprised to find animal heads hanging from a wall.

  The house was eerily silent.

  “The shield’s up. Someone’s got to be inside,” Ethan said, and the thrust of his Gift reverberated through her chest. “The symbols are on the front door, but let’s fly around a bit, see if we can figure where Jane is before we go in.”

  A few seconds later, Charlie pointed at a window on the third floor, overlooking the backyard. Yellow light peeked through the curtains. “There.”

  Ethan nodded. “Those iron bars ain’t exactly a match for the rest of the house, are they?”

  Charlie swallowed her anger. “No.”

  They landed on the front porch, and Ethan caught her arm before she could move toward the door. He unbuckled his gun belt and cinched it around her hips, replacing his revolvers with her automatic pistols.

  “They don’t fit in the holsters quite right,” he said quietly, adjusting the length of their straps so the weapons lay against her upper thighs instead of her knees. “But they’ll be there if you need them.” He raised his gaze to hers. “If you need them, don’t you hesitate to use them.”

  She practiced drawing them a few times, then pulled in a deep breath. “Okay.”

  Ethan palmed his own guns, stepped in front of the door, and peered through the panes of glass forming a semicircle at the top. His jaw was tight when he glanced at her. “I sure hate going in blind—”

  His eyes narrowed; he spun around and fell to one knee, aiming out into the yard. “Show yourself, demon.”

  Charlie turned, her hands resting on the holsters. A movement on the lower limbs of a tree caught her attention an instant before Sammael dropped to the lawn.

  Oh, this was bad. Very, very bad. Charlie darted a glance at Ethan. He wasn’t giving anything away, but he must be thinking that as soon as they got Jane, Sammael might try to kill him.

  Ethan would be blind coming out of the house, too—and he’d be watching his back, watching for Jake and Mark, and watching for the senator all at once.

  Slowly, Ethan got to his feet again. “I figured you might be around.”

  “But I did not think you would. At least, not until I told you of her location.” Sammael’s smile had a sharp edge of displeasure. He stepped in front of the tree trunk, and his shirt and pants changed from black to the color of the bark. “How is it that you discovered where she is?”

  “Charlie had dinner with young Brandt,” Ethan said, turning back to the front door.

  Sammael’s gaze lit on her. “Charlotte’s been a busy girl. I tried that, too, but he caught on to me when he touched my skin.”

  Luckily, Jake’s was the same temperature as a human’s. “How long have you known she was here?” Charlie asked.

  A yellow square of paper appeared in Sammael’s hand. Even from across the yard, Charlie could read Jane’s messy handwriting. Mark, 1:00.

  “She didn’t come back from lunch,” Sammael said. His gaze lifted to the third floor, and his expression softened. “I’ve been here almost every moment since then.”

  “Every moment, except those when you’re shooting Jane’s sister out of the sky.” Ethan held out his hand, pulled Charlie in front of him, and folded the sleeve of his jacket back over his wrist. “If the senator arrives before we return with Jane, it’d sure benefit us if you provide him with a distraction. Maybe go on up and give him a hug.”

  His Gift thrummed through her and she bit, sucked in his blood and the sound of the lock. Steady, strong, soft—absolutely lovely, if a bit frayed around the edges. She held on to it for a long moment before projecting it back to Ethan.

  He convulsed and pushed his way through; the door slammed open, the glass shattering.

  Ethan didn’t let them fall, but kicked the door shut behind him. His guns were out, and he made a quick sweep of the room before returning to her side, wiping the blood from his ears and nose.

  He met her eyes, his gaze clear and focused despite the bleeding around his irises, the blotches of crimson. “Let’s go find her, then, before Jake arrives and is an easy target for Sammael.”

  She nodded and followed him toward the stairs. He wasn’t moving as fast as he could—or even she could—and she felt his psychic touch probing the spaces around them.

  They passed a library, and Ethan quickly ducked in. He was out an instant later, shutting and locking the door behind him. A game room was on the other side of the hallway, and she caught a glimpse of an elk head before he closed that door, as well.

  “I knew it,” she said quietly. They’d reached the stairs, and Ethan was gazing upward.

  “What’s that?”

  “The hunting thing. Although I can’t really see Mark liking it—or even liking this house. It doesn’t seem to fit him at all.”

  “That it doesn’t,” Ethan agreed, and she copied his stance as he moved up the stairs, keeping her back against the wall and her guns drawn.

  “Did you feel what I sent you? That was him.” There had been strength, but no hardness. Nothing that would have made her think Mark could kill an animal—or kidnap a woman.

  “Yes. A good man.” Ethan darted a glance at her. “Making some real bad decisions.”

  “Those ragged portions?”

  “I reckon. He’s breaking up; it likely ain’t a stretch to say that learning about demons and vampires has caused a lot of it.”

  “And his dad. God knows what he’s been getting from that end.”

  Ethan nodded, then moved around the second-floor landing and started up the next flight. “It may be he’ll pull himself together—but there’s no telling which way he’ll go before he does.”

  Charlie sighed, and joined him at the top of the stairs. A window overlooked the front of the house. No headlights, and she could see the barest outline of Sammael’s form against the tree.

  “Ethan,” she said. “When we go back out, let me go in front of you.”

  A smile flashed over his mouth, and he turned down the hallway taking them to the rear of the house. “No chance in hell, Charlie.”

  “Just listen,” she said, her heart beating wildly. “You made sure I was protected by striking that bargain. Let me use it to protect you a little. If he has to go around me—”

  “Then I have to worry about hurting you as I defend myself. It’s best that you’re behind me.” He stopped in front of a a heavy wood door. Both the dead bolt and the knob locked from the hallway; they had been supplemented with a chain and a padlock that popped open with a touch of Ethan’s Gift.

  Charlie frowned. “Why can’t I hear her inside?”

  “Spell’s up. So either they’ve got her tied down so as she can’t disturb the symbols, or she’s determining when they visit her.”

  “Probably the second,” Charlie said, holstering her guns. Ethan brought his wrist to her lips again, and yes, there was Ja
ne, hard and bright and sweet, the chime of glass against steel.

  This time, they fell—but Ethan controlled it, rolling immediately to the side, using his body to cover hers.

  A moment later, his heavy weight lifted, and Charlie opened her eyes to Jane’s stunned expression. She was sitting at an equipment-crowded desk, her computer open, with a rack of blood-filled vials beside it.

  Charlie blinked. “You’re using a microscope in your underwear? You are such a nerd.”

  “Jesus. Charlie? How did you—” Jane stood, grabbed the robe hanging from the back of her chair. “How—?” She tore her fingers through her hair. “You’re really here?”

  Charlie accepted Ethan’s hand, got to her feet. “Really. But we’ve got to go right away. Get dressed.”

  Jane quickly began gathering up items from the desk, and Charlie went to her side, stopped her. “We’ve got to go now,” she said, meeting Jane’s eyes. “Ethan can take all of this, if you give him permission.”

  Jane looked over Charlie’s shoulder, nodded. “Yes. Okay. All of the samples in the little refrigerator, too.” She pulled Charlie in for a quick hug, then ran off to the other side of the room.

  Charlie frowned down at the now-empty desk. “What were you working on?”

  Jane came out of the closet with a shirt and jeans. “Same thing I was at Legion, only the senator wanted proof vampire blood wasn’t human.”

  “Did you find any?” Ethan asked quietly.

  “No. Wouldn’t have with this equipment—and I told them it’s a match down to the DNA level, anyway. The only difference is the healing behavior.” Jane zipped her jeans, then shoved her feet into a pair of already-tied tennis shoes. “They were talking about getting more lab equipment—”

  “More lab equipment?” Charlie shook her head with a short laugh of disbelief. “So Mark brought you here as, what? His personal scientist?”

  “Oh, no. Well, partially. Maybe that’s just his dad.” Jane straightened up, and rolled her eyes. “Mark brought me here to save me. Because I’m sleeping with the devil.”

  “I knew Mark was a good guy,” Charlie muttered under her breath, and caught Ethan’s grin before he turned toward the door.

  “We ready, then?” he said as he swiped the blood from the symbols and glanced out into the hallway.

  “Yes.” Jane ran her hands down the sides of her jeans. “Is Dylan still here?”

  “Yes.” Charlie took Jane’s hand, held her gun ready in the other, and started out after Ethan. “What do you mean, ‘still’? How did you know he was outside?”

  “He spent the last two weeks outside my window, keeping me company.” Jane almost tripped on the first stair, and Charlie slowed her pace. “Trying to keep me company, at least, since we couldn’t say anything.”

  Charlie checked her immediate response. Any negative comment about Sammael would probably spark Jane’s temper, so she simply laid out the facts. “Last night, he shot Drifter and almost killed him. So I shot Sammael. He stabbed me, then threatened my life. It was all so that he could get you out of here—although he knew he could have just given us an anonymous tip and we’d come to your rescue. And now that you’re out, he’ll probably try to kill Drifter as soon as he can.”

  They reached the main floor, and Jane’s expression was tense when she disentangled their hands. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Charlie.”

  Charlie averted her face. Her chest felt heavy. Nothing was going to change. She looked up as Ethan strode by on his sweep of the ground-level doors, and his warm fingers brushed her cheek.

  Encouraged by that brief caress, Charlie swallowed and said, “How about you give Sammael an ultimatum—that if he kills Drifter, you won’t see him again? Because it would kill me.”

  Jane’s gaze was steady on hers. “I’ll say something.”

  Charlie closed her eyes and nodded, though the sinking sensation slipping through her told her it wouldn’t matter. Sammael knew her sister too well; even if Jane left him, he could just take on another identity and find her again.

  And Jane would let it happen, rationalizing away every clue that told her the truth, convincing herself that he really was a different man. And if not completely different, then at least a changed man.

  But Charlie only said, “Thank you,” then went to stand beside Ethan as he drew back the curtains from the large picture window and studied the front lawn. Sammael wasn’t by the tree.

  “Be easy, Charlie,” he said, quietly enough that Jane couldn’t have heard. “He likely won’t make the attempt when she’s here to see.”

  “But isn’t that exactly why he would?” she said, equally low. “You wouldn’t expect it. And he could twist the truth to Jane later.”

  “Maybe so.” He nodded slowly, then slanted a narrowed, amused look at her. “But don’t be thinking I’m so easy to kill, either.”

  She had to smile a little. “I don’t. But you said before that all it takes is one distraction. You’ve got quite a few right now.”

  “That’s true enough—and, hell.” He sighed as the gates at the end of the short drive began to open. “Here comes Jake. Let’s get out there, Charlie. I’ll be mostly concentrating on Sammael; you keep young Brandt from taking hold of your sister again. Once Sammael leaves with Jane, I’ll fly you home—then return with backup, wait for the senator.”

  She caught Jane’s hand again, and put her finger against her lips when Ethan wiped the blood from the symbols. He cracked the door open an inch and cocked his head. Charlie strained to listen, as well—but she only heard their heartbeats, the quiet whine of Mark’s electric car, the sounds of the house.

  Ethan nudged the door open wide, then slid around the frame, crouching low. After another second, he said quietly, “All right, Charlie. Take her to the edge of the lawn. If he wants her, he’ll have to come out in the open.”

  Jane did a double-take as they passed Ethan; Charlie’s heart skipped. He’d formed his wings, and they angled from his shoulders and pressed into the side of the house, creating the elegant shape of a harp, with feathers for strings. And as soon as they left the porch, Charlie heard the familiar heavy beat, felt the rush of air. She glanced back, up; Ethan perched on the edge of the roof, his crossbow and sword in his hands.

  Jane blew out a soft, shaky breath. “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” Charlie agreed, squeezing her fingers, and she looked toward the approaching car. Mark was leaning forward in the driver’s seat, his eyes narrowing, then widening, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. An instant later, the car stopped, and his door opened.

  “Watch yourself, Jake.” Though Ethan spoke quietly, Charlie easily heard the command. “Sammael’s about.”

  “That isn’t our only problem,” Jake said as he stepped out of the car, shifting back into his own shape. Mark issued a deep sound of surprise and staggered back onto the lawn. “Apparently, there’s a coffee shop in the neighborhood where they wait when the other has locked the house up. So Papa just got a call, and he’s not far behind us.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Ethan stood and replaced his sword with his cell phone. “Sammael, we ain’t got time to play. You take Jane out of here now—or I’ll be taking her.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Mark’s hoarse yell scraped Charlie’s ears, and she had to shut out his wildly projected confusion. He scrambled toward her and Jane, but seemed to give up halfway, falling to his knees in the grass. The tumble of his emotions quieted.

  Ethan cursed. Startled, Charlie glanced back at him. He was shaking out his hand, and bits of plastic rained to the roof.

  It was another second before she realized what had happened: Sammael had shot the phone. A moment later Jake was swearing and yanking out the arrow that had embedded in his palm—and pierced the guts of his cell.

  Charlie doubted Jane had seen any of it. Her sister’s face was tilted up, her lips parted, and her eyes shining.

  From above them, Sammael said to Ethan, “I w
ill not have you contact your Guardians so that they may destroy me—”

  Ethan wasn’t listening. He dropped off the roof, letting his wings catch air and settling lightly on the ground beside Charlie. His weapons weren’t aimed over her head, at Sammael, but beyond her…and now she heard the footsteps approaching.

  She turned her head. The senator hadn’t bothered to drive in, but was walking with measured strides through the open gate, his hands in the pockets of his dark slacks. His eyes met hers across the expanse of lawn, and gooseflesh prickled over her skin. Her fingers tightened on Jane’s.

  “Go into the house, Miss Charlie,” Ethan said softly. “Slow and easy, and put the spell up.”

  She nodded, and tugged on Jane’s hand. Her sister frowned, glanced away from Sammael. “We’ve got to get back inside,” Charlie said, and raised her voice. “Mark?”

  A thump against the ground warned her that Sammael had landed. His black membranous wings were outspread, blocking their way, and Jane rushed into his arms. Sammael caught her in a tight embrace and spoke over her head. “I may have to protect you, Charlotte, but I will not allow you to return Jane to that pris—”

  “It ain’t a human coming this way, but one of the nephilim,” Ethan said in low tones, and backed up a step. His gaze never left the senator. “And maybe now you’re thinking of running with Jane, demon—but leaving Charlie with only a Guardian and a novice to protect her would hardly be ‘doing everything within your power to prevent any hurt from coming to her,’ would it?”

  Sammael’s jaw flexed, and he set Jane away from him, looked down at her before pressing a kiss to her lips. “Go inside with your sister,” he murmured.

  Charlie took her hand again, began pulling her toward Mark. Ethan and Sammael kept pace with them, positioning themselves between Charlie and the senator. He’d crossed half the distance from the gate.

  Ethan had his swords in both hands now. “Jake, we’ve got two humans and a vampire who need protecting. You go in the house with them.”

  She almost expected Jake to argue and insist on being part of the fight, but the novice nodded and crouched in front of Mark. “Listen, kid. We’ve got two women to save, so you pull yourself up to your feet.” When Mark only responded by looking up blearily, Jake leaned in, his voice hardening and changing. “Pull yourself up to your feet, son.”