At times, it was much easier to deal with the former Guardian; his self-control was near legendary, his focus unrelenting. Lilith’s was…not, and the more she cared for the person threatened, the more demonic she became.
Colin had no intention—no time—to manage her fear over his own.
He heard the deep draw of her breath through the speaker, the buzz of her motorcycle. Her tone was slightly more even when she continued. “Training the newbie vamps over in the Mission. He’s on his way now. I’m almost to our place. That plane—I knew it. The bloodsucker probably thinks it’s an abomination for humans to fly. Goddammit, I’ve been stonewalled for a week by the FAA and the British—”
“Lilith!”
Another deep breath. Then softly, “This is going to kill him, Colin.”
No, the only thing that might kill Castleford would be losing Lilith; but Colin realized it was something he could use to convince Savitri to hide. Her relationship with Castleford echoed that of a brother and sister—she might not fear for herself, but she might do as Colin asked for Castleford’s sake.
“Get her in there, Colin. I don’t care what you have to do or say. You’re beautiful; promise her use of your glorious body for the next fifty years.”
“You don’t have to manipulate me, Lilith,” he muttered. Recollection of Savitri’s caramel skin, her scent, and the taste of her blood might tempt him, but he doubted he would have the same effect on her.
Castleford wants you to take Auntie to the washroom and use the protection of the symbols to keep the nosferatu out.
He waited restlessly for her reply, rubbing at a spot of Prussian blue on his palm. Caelum had become yet another obsession, but it slipped away with each stroke of his brush. And as with all that was elusive, he only pursued it the more. Soon his memory of Caelum would be a pale imitation of the images on canvas.
Run, Savitri. Hide.
“Is she going?”
If Michael and Selah arrive before the nosferatu begins killing everyone, there’s no need to hide. And if I use them to put the spell around the restroom and hid inside, Michael and Selah wouldn’t be able to teleport into it to save us if they arrived after the nosferatu killed everyone. So unless Michael can carry an airplane, we’d die anyway. The symbols couldn’t protect us from a crash.
She had to be logical. “Can Michael carry an airplane?” Colin asked aloud. It wouldn’t surprise him if the Doyen could. Michael could heal injuries, transform humans into Guardians, and teleport across realms. All other Guardians possessed only one unique Gift in addition to incredible strength, speed, and the ability to shape-shift and create clothing with a thought—but their leader was an exception to that rule.
“What? No.” Lilith paused, and the sound of the motorcycle died. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t matter, Colin: lie to her. Hell, give me two minutes to get inside and online and I’ll do it myself.”
I have venom. I have an idea—just in case.
He typed his response with inhuman speed. No, Savi. Whatever it is, don’t try it. Lilith’s almost ready to talk to you. Wait for her.
She’ll lie to me. I’m giving Michael until 9:50. I can’t wait longer than that. There are four hundred people on here, Colin.
His gaze fell to the clock in the corner of his screen, and his gut twisted. He tried to think of a lie, tried to think of anything that might convince her.
Tried to think of anything he could say that she would trust.
I have to close my computer. Give my love to Hugh and Lilith.
Suicide. No question where she’d learned it. Just like Castleford.
You’re human, sweet. Wait for the Guardians. And to make her smile, even if he could not: You must wait to see me again, if nothing else.
They’d better hurry, vampire. Even you aren’t pretty enough to stop a nosferatu. But perhaps I’ll flash a picture of you at him first, just to see.
A smiley grinned up at him. He stared at it, unable to believe she’d be such an idiot. He had been attacked by one of the nosferatu two centuries before; the result had not been as lovely as his face suggested. Three people—two of them Savitri’s friends—had been mutilated and killed earlier that year. Did she think because Castleford and Lilith had pulled off the impossible that she had gained some kind of imperviousness by association?
What the bloody fucking hell was wrong with her? Did she have absolutely no sense of self-preservation? Had she learned nothing when she’d been in Caelum? She’d evaded his presence so well since they’d returned he knew she’d not forgot all of it. Why would she be so stupid and careless, taking another risk with her life like this?
The messenger logged her out.
“I’m going to kill you, Colin.” Lilith’s voice was low and dangerous.
He bit his tongue. Blood filled his mouth, and he rang off without a word.
Savi decided that she wouldn’t need protection from the nosferatu—it would either kill her or it wouldn’t—but she would from the other passengers. Did Britain have anything similar to the U.S.’s Federal Air Marshal program? Would there be armed guards undercover on international flights? Savi had been shot before; she didn’t want to repeat the experience. But it would take too much time to find out—better to just look after herself and Nani as best she could after she’d killed the damned thing.
The battery pack slid out easily. Not much room to maneuver, but her hands were slender, her fingers long. Her lovers had often complimented them, as if she’d come by their design through accomplishment instead of genetics.
Her other tools were in her checked luggage; it was impossible to carry on screwdrivers and clippers. They’d have made this easier, but they weren’t necessary.
She smiled to herself. A screwdriver to the nosferatu’s eye—that would have been interesting, though probably no safer or more effective than a plastic fork.
She reached into the empty battery slot, and paused. Not smart to let anyone see her do this. Though most of the passengers reclined in their seats and slept, a few were reading or using their computers. The flight attendant might pass by at any moment, and would be justifiably suspicious if she saw Savi tearing out the guts of her laptop.
No, it’s not a bomb that I’m making, but I do intend to maim—and hopefully kill—a cursed bloodsucking fiend. Do you mind holding this penlight for me?
That wouldn’t go over well. Nor would Savi’s assurance that it would all be unnecessary if Michael and Selah arrived. I know a couple of humans who’ve been given angelic superpowers and Gifted with an ability to teleport; they can pop right into the plane and teleport the fiend away faster than you can blink. You probably won’t even notice.
No.
A blanket over her lap hid evidence of her not-quite-terrorism, if not the movements beneath it. Perhaps the flight attendant would think she was masturbating.
Dammit. That’s what she should have told Colin she’d be doing in her final hour: imagining Michael’s face as she brought herself to multiple orgasms.
The insult to his vanity would’ve probably made his head explode.
“What are you doing, naatin?”
“Trying to find my power inductor, Nani.” Savi ignored her grandmother’s exasperated sigh and waited until she closed her eyes again. Nani had the ability to nap anytime, anywhere—within moments her breathing deepened, and a soft snore came from her throat.
Savi hooked her fingers in the gap between the battery housing and the power supply, clenched her jaw, and pulled with steady pressure. The plastic was the same as the outside casing, resistant against impact.
It finally cracked; she gasped in pain, then worked loose the small, flat piece and removed it. Her nail had torn in half. Fighting tears, she sucked on her fingers until the sting eased.
At least the injury was useful; she’d need the blood later.
The inductor retained the heat from its use, and it was probably better to unwind the wire while it was warm. No time to let it cool, anyway.
It must be done slowly and carefully—a single kink in the thin length would ruin everything.
Another steady pull around the inductor’s copper coil; this one was more difficult. Tiny screws held the inductor in place. They wouldn’t give, but the iron bobbin in its plastic seat would.
Maybe. If her hand didn’t give first; it already cramped from the awkward position and the force she applied. The edge of the broken casing cut into her knuckle, then suddenly sliced deeper as the bobbin snapped free. Oh god, oh god. She could barely move her fingers, so badly did they ache.
Breathing shallowly between her teeth, she used the nail of her left forefinger to find the end of the wire. It had been sealed, but she picked at it until the tip came free of the spool. Twenty-four gauge copper wire, seventy-five wraps around the bobbin. Almost two meters. She’d ordered it to those specifications less than two months before. The wire was thicker than a typical inductor coil, but she’d wanted to see how it performed with international voltage.
Not well; it fluctuated and overheated too easily. But it was as thick as piano wire, if not as sturdy—the tensile strength one-tenth that of steel.
It should work; the only real question was if she was strong enough, quick enough.
Probably not. But she had to try.
She gingerly placed the laptop beneath her seat and began unrolling the wire. Glanced at her slim gold watch. Twenty minutes.
Savi knew very little about magic. She knew nothing of how the symbols worked, only that they did. Silence. Surround. Lock. Hugh had shown them to her for an emergency and explained the rules: the lock was keyed to the blood of whomever cast it. That person could go in and out as they pleased. Anyone else inside when the spell had been cast could leave, but not return. If no one remained inside or the symbols were destroyed, the spell broke.
And no one outside could hear through, enter, or break through the surround. No being could—but fire, flood? The structure was not impervious to damage from natural sources, including gravity and the crushing pressure of the Atlantic.
She wound the copper into a huge coil, slipped it over her neck. It had taken her five more minutes to prepare it than she’d anticipated.
“Nani!”
She didn’t wait for her grandmother to come fully awake before pulling on the older woman’s arm.
“Naatin, what—”
“I cut myself,” Savi said quickly. “Help me in the bathroom?”
The restroom was vacant, thank god. She’d have hated to walk past the nosferatu bleeding like this. She pushed her grandmother in ahead of her, turned, and locked the door. Her earring post barely made a scratch in the plastic, but it was enough. She finished it with a dab of blood over each symbol.
Silence. The hum of the engines disappeared, though she could still feel the vibration beneath her feet.
Her heart pounded. It must have been doing so for a while, but this was the first she’d noticed its rapid pace, or the clammy perspiration on her face. Gooseflesh raised the fine hairs on her arms.
She took a deep breath to steady herself, to rebuild her mental blocks. Hugh had been teaching her to guard her mind since she’d returned from Caelum; she’d put the shields into place as soon as she’d recognized the nosferatu, but the toll of pain and stress might have weakened them.
No psychic emissions could penetrate the spell; before she exited, she’d make sure her shields were solid.
“Naatin?” Her grandmother’s query held an edge of fear.
“Nani, there’s a nosferatu on board—those things that killed Ian and Javier, you remember?” She lifted the hem of her long linen skirt and dabbed at her upper lip, her brow. Her fingers left a stain on the pale green.
It was going to be a bitch to run in.
Nani’s mouth set in a thin line, and she shook her head. “Hugh destroyed them—”
“No, not all of them. There were a few that weren’t part of Lucifer’s bargain, and there’s one here.” Savi turned on the tap, clenched her teeth as the water washed away the blood. The wounds still seeped, and she wrapped tissue around them. Added more around her palms. “You’re going to be safe in here—but you can’t leave, okay? I’ll be back in a minute or two.”
“No, naatin. I forbid it.”
She met Nani’s gaze in the mirror. The same dark eyes—the same features, but for Savi’s wild, spiky hair and slightly lighter skin. “There’s no one else.”
“Yes, there’s no one else. You are the last, Savitri. I can’t lose you, too.”
“You won’t,” Savi said, her voice thick. “I promise you won’t.”
Nani’s braid fell over her shoulder with the force of her headshake. Savi tucked it back. “You’ll make me cry. You are too impetuous, too unsettled.”
“I know.” She bent and kissed her grandmother’s forehead, then turned.
“Savitri! Make a promise you can keep.” Nani gripped her forearm. “Promise you will let me find a husband for you, so that you marry this year. Let me know you are in a good position before I die. Make an old woman happy for once.”
She hesitated only for a moment. “Will you stay here if I promise?”
“Yes, naatin.”
A short laugh escaped her, and she closed her eyes. “Alright, Nani. We’ll find a suitable boy.”
Michael didn’t come.
Despite everything, Savi had waited another two minutes, leaning back against the lavatory door and pasting a smile on her face as if nothing was wrong, as if her grandmother wasn’t locked inside a toilet and surrounded by magic made from symbols Lilith had learned from Lucifer.
Savi had been rescued by a Guardian once before; perhaps that one time was all her karma allowed. Perhaps every bit of good had been used up when she’d been nine years old and Hugh had thrown himself in front of her, attempting to shield her from a pair of bullets.
Even then, velocity had almost triumphed over virtue—one lead slug had passed a millimeter from her spine, the other an inch above her heart. Small distances in a small body, but had Hugh not been there, had his flesh not changed the bullets’ speed and trajectory, she wouldn’t have survived; the gunman had aimed for her head.
Her parents and her brother had not been so fortunate.
The flight attendant gave her a sympathetic smile. Yes, they’ve been in India. Oh! Their poor intestines. The grandmother will be in there for some time. And there goes the younger, stretching her legs as she tries to settle her stomach.
At least that’s what Savi hoped she thought. Surely she wasn’t thinking of breaking strain, force per square inch, friction, James Bond villains, and magical venom. But it was hard to determine; maybe those things did occupy the mind of a woman who spent most of her time thirty-five thousand feet in the air between Britain and America, surrounded by a thin shell of aluminum.
But the flight attendant probably didn’t think about the venom. Savi didn’t think about it much, either—she knew that Lilith had to cut into venom sacs beneath her hellhound’s tongue to collect it, and that Sir Pup was awake when it happened.
It wasn’t an operation that Savi liked to consider, and she was grateful she’d never seen it.
Down the portside aisle, past the sleeping businessmen and-women, to the coach class. Two blue seats near the windows, four in the center. The nosferatu was in the second row; she didn’t look at it as she made her slow circuit, crossing to starboard behind the last line of seats in the cabin. Most of the passengers slept.
Michael? Selah? Now would be really, really good. The nosferatu’s arm hung over its armrest, its fingers flexing. In anticipation? How had it afforded the flight? Where had it obtained identification? Had it simply slipped in with its inhuman speed? Was there a body in the cargo hold—or in the airport—belonging to the person who was supposed to have been in seat 29B?
She shook her head. It took some effort, but she quieted the portion of her brain that screamed for answers. Some things were very simple: Gravity made airplanes fall out of the
sky when pilots and passengers were dead; a long distance divided by a short time made a fledgling’s speed too slow; nosferatu were Evil, with a hatred of humanity, and no Rules preventing them from murder.
Worse than demons. Or vampires.
Or suitable boys.
She uncapped the hellhound venom and poured it into her mouth, held it on her tongue. It tasted oddly sweet and heavy, like nectar from a sun-warmed peach. It was too bad her face had to be the delivery system.
The passenger behind the nosferatu had reclined his seat. Hopefully asleep—and hopefully he wouldn’t mind that Savi was going to sit on his lap for a few seconds.
She lifted the wire coil from around her neck. Made a single loop.
Then she stepped into the row behind the nosferatu, dropped the loop over its head, and fell into hopefully-sleeping-guy’s lap.
She didn’t have to pull much; the nosferatu’s powerful surge to its feet did most of the work. It yanked her forward, and she smashed into the seatback, almost swallowed the venom. The wire slid through her left hand, providing enough friction to tear and rip—her fingers, and judging by the sudden spray, its throat. Like pomegranate juice.
The copper snapped. Oh god, oh god. Please let it have cut the carotid artery. It wouldn’t kill it, but it would give her time. Sleeping-guy yelled and struggled beneath her. She leapt up, her stomach against the headrest. Blood was everywhere. She sealed her lips against the side of the creature’s gaping neck, the pumping blood, felt its hand come up, its nails digging into her right shoulder—and she expelled the venom.
Like blowing up a balloon, Savi. A wet, cold, disgusting balloon.
Screams rang in her ears. The hand fell away from her shoulder as paralysis set into the creature—maybe it would be enough. It would have to be; it was all she could do.
She ran. A passenger managed to grab her skirt—but he couldn’t hold on. That was the thing about momentum and velocity: it often won despite good intentions.
Locking the door was unnecessary, but she did anyway. Nosferatu blood covered her chin, was in her mouth, her throat. She gagged and spat into the sink, splashed at her face. Her right arm and her fingers were numb. Nani sat on the commode and quietly sobbed into her hands.
Demon Moon Page 3