Demon Moon

by Meljean Brook

  “So what are you doing instead?” She stood on her toes in an attempt to see.

  He tilted the pad toward his chest. “Piquing your curiosity. You’ve never seen Lilith as a demon, have you?”

  Her eyes widened. “No. I saw a fuzzy picture from a traffic camera, but she was mostly in human form. Just the wings.”

  “Have you yet seen any demon?” He looked briefly over the top of the page.

  “Rael…Congressman Stafford came to SI once when I was there. But he wasn’t in a demon form.”

  Colin paused. “Castleford allowed you contact with him?”

  Was that anger in his voice? “No. I was asking Jeeves a few questions about the temperature sensors in the corridor when he came in. I just saw him; I didn’t talk to him. And I’ve seen him on TV, of course.” She sighed and placed a few dishes in the sink, ran the water to wash them. “I voted for him in the last election.”

  “He may have been the lesser of two evils, particularly as he was instrumental in funding Special Investigations,” Colin said. “Though, as it is to his advantage to support SI in Washington, it is unfortunately not to the Guardians’ advantage to slay him.”

  “And I have yet another demon to thank for a job.”

  “Has Lilith located the agent who recruited you?” He flipped the page over, and started on a new drawing.

  “We know that he left his position in Homeland Security eight months ago. And he disappeared from any records after that—no financial transactions, no address, nothing. So it’s likely he was a demon, and went Below before the Gates closed. Or rogue. Either way, he isn’t around to carry out his threat to Nani.”

  “Will you leave SI then?”

  “Probably as soon as I get married. Right now it’s just too interesting.” She bit her lip, shook the suds from her hands. He remained concentrated on his sketch. “You’re killing me.”

  Colin laughed, a note of triumph in the deep tones. He slid the notepad across the countertop. “There you are, Savi. Lilith.”

  “Oh, my—this is incredible.” He’d captured Lilith’s face and posture perfectly, standing with her sword ready, her smile wicked. The ink drawing had simple lines, but contained extraordinary detail: the smooth curving horns near her temples; fangs that rivaled a nosferatu’s in length; taloned, prehensile feet and large, batlike wings; the scrolling symbol etched between her breasts.

  “I thought she wore boots—like she does when she’s at work.” He’d only included her corset and knee-length breeches.

  “She did at times.”

  “And with red skin?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s beautiful, but also…”

  “Frightening?”

  Savi met Colin’s gaze. “Yes. Do all of the others look like this?”

  “I don’t know; Beelzebub took a human form when he came to my house. Lilith has told me Belial retained his angelic form, but she didn’t elaborate on his appearance.”

  She nodded absently and turned the page to the second drawing. Her mouth fell open. “Ohmygod.”

  It was unmistakably Savi, though he’d drawn her in a Japanese manga style: impossibly long legs and oversized chibi eyes, her spiked hair defying the laws of gravity. He’d pictured her wearing a tiny skirt, leaning against the kitchen counter in a naïvely seductive pose.

  Her laugh was astonished…horrified. “Is this how you see me? Like a schoolgirl?”

  “No,” he grinned unapologetically. “It’s how I’d like to see you.”

  How could that be better? But it was. “How would you draw yourself?”

  “In the same manner?” At her nod, he took back the pad. “You’ve quite a large collection in your flat; I glanced through several volumes last month.”

  “After you put Nani to sleep?”

  “Before. She apologized for your choice of entertainment.”

  “She would.”

  He frowned, studying the page. “I’m most familiar with the animated style, and I don’t practice—so it may not be correctly rendered.”

  “No, it’s not,” she said, though her mouth dried when he showed her the slender swordsman wearing a long duster, his chin tilted down and his forehead against the flat blade of his weapon, as if he were praying. “The clothes are right, but all of the beautiful heroes have long, flowing hair. And secretive, meaningful expressions. You’ve got a big smile.” Like a villain.

  “To expose my fangs. And brooding is so very tedious, don’t you agree?”

  “It’s supposed to be sexy.” God, smiling was sexy, too. She was sick, lusting after a drawing. Lusting after the model. “Or soulful.” Colin wasn’t that, at least. She glanced up at him. “Do you really like being a vampire?”

  “Of course. I love nothing more.”

  Her chest tightened as she looked back down at the drawing. She’d have loved it, as well. She’d wished for it—but she should’ve known better than to wish. It never accomplished anything, except to bring disappointment when it didn’t come true. Better to just live as hard as possible, and be grateful for what she had. But Colin…

  “Wouldn’t you rather be a Guardian?”

  “Trade freedom and blood for endless service?” Colin stared at her in disbelief.

  She shook her head. “No, I can see why you like the freedom. I would, too. What I mean is: Why doesn’t it bother you that vampires are the third-class citizens of the—” Netherworld? Underworld? Caelum couldn’t be considered either nether or under. “—Otherworld?”

  “They’re not. You’re mistaken, Savi,” he said. His mouth set in a firm line, and his eyes hardened.

  “No, I don’t think so. Have you ever heard the description of a vampire in the Scrolls? Hugh told me once. The descendents of nosferatu, vampires are no threat except to humankind. If their bloodlust does not endanger human life, Guardians may allow them to live. And that’s pretty much it, aside from an instruction of how to transform a human who has been drained by a vampire or nosferatu.”

  “Was that your brilliant translation from the Latin?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “Yes. But I’m just saying that even though vampires were human once, neither Guardians nor demons have to honor a vampire’s free will or their right to live. It doesn’t matter if they’re slain or not—even if the vampires aren’t endangering humans, there’s no consequence for killing one. And they’re kept ignorant, even though the first vampires were made by Guardians. Like you were made by Guardians.”

  “I can hardly be lumped among the ignorant. You, however, apparently can. You know all of fifteen vampires—are any considered unequal to Guardians except in strength?”

  “No, because Hugh and Lilith brought them into SI with the purpose of teaching them. Training them. But as far as I can tell, they were the first not to see vampires as a nuisance, and to see that vampires could be useful now that there are so few Guardians.” Was he really so blind? “Maybe you don’t notice it because you’re some kind of supervampire, and your brother-in-law and friends were Guardians and a halfling demon. It provides a nice ivory tower for you to languish in.”

  His face darkened. “I live in an ivory tower? You’ve no bloody fucking idea of what I—” He broke off and half-rose in his chair, and Savi stumbled back from the counter.

  Colin stilled. A muscle in his jaw worked. “Did I frighten you?”

  “No. But it’s an appropriate reaction when an angry vampire lunges my way.”

  A thin smile curved his mouth. “So it is.” He stalked out of the room.

  Savi stood dumbstruck in the center of the kitchen, her heart pounding, wondering if she should follow him. She didn’t have to go far; she found him in the living room, staring up at the painting of Caelum. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his eyes shadowed beneath his brows.

  “Will you invite me in tonight?” His voice was once again subdued, quiet.

  He asked now? When she was upset and—oh, god, it shouldn’t be this hard to refuse. She had a
billion reasons; she could only remember one, and only because it was right in front of him.

  “I did that once.”

  He nodded. The light washing over Caelum glinted off the gold of his hair. “Please offer my apologies to Castleford and Lilith when they emerge.”

  “You’re leaving?” Dismay tightened her voice.

  “You will apparently feed everyone tonight except me, so I must find someone more willing elsewhere.” His lips brushed her forehead as he passed her. “Good night, Savitri.”

  Perhaps it was best that her throat ached unbearably; she couldn’t call him back. But there was no reason for her chest to hurt so much when the door closed behind him.

  Heavy, early-evening traffic prevented Colin from speeding through the streets. He veered into the left lane on Clarendon, then slammed the brakes and ground his teeth together when the bastard in front of him halted at a stoplight.

  Sod this. The Bentley purred eagerly when he revved the engine. He waited for a lull in the cross-traffic, then tore past the bastard and screeched through the intersection, making a right turn onto Seventeenth. There would be plenty of humans in The Castro to choose from, whether tourists or residents, and the hunt would take his mind from the scene in Castleford’s kitchen—though he doubted any could ease the hunger and frustration building inside him.

  An ivory tower. Fucking ridiculous. She was the one holding herself on a pedestal, forcing him to beg for scraps, never letting him in. What did she want from him? Would she be satisfied if he went down on his knees and groveled for forgiveness?

  Christ. If his need became much worse and if she withheld her flavor much longer, he probably would.

  He drove through the center of the district and parked in the first available space. Brightly colored flags fluttered from streetlamp posts and store fronts. The night air was crisp and dry, and he stalked down the pavement, searching each face, touching each mind. So many choices, and all so appreciative of his beauty: the neatly dressed, bald male sitting alone in a deli who rose up from his seat by the window to keep Colin in sight as long as possible; the blond woman who turned and walked backward, gesturing wildly to her friends that they should look. Easy prey.

  But Colin was searching for one that struck a familiar psychic note or possessed a fleeting resemblance to Savi—anything to ease the ache of his need for the wide-eyed, curious, stubborn woman. And it was the one who came out of a film rental shop that caught Colin’s attention: small and dark, with skin like cinnamon. His hunger sharpened, and his nostrils flared as he tried to detect a scent. He hoped it would be sweet and clean.

  Before Caelum, he had never needed a substitute—had never fixated on a living being. Savi might very well have called his behavior creepy; Colin would have agreed, if he’d ever managed to forget whoever he was with wasn’t the one he wanted.

  And if the community’s vampires were still following him and analyzing his feeding patterns, they’d soon have more evidence of his latest obsession. He smiled grimly as he crossed the street toward the rental shop and performed a cursory scan of the surrounding area.

  A vampire was near. His psychic scent burned with resentment, but was focused away from Colin—and the vampire gave no indication that he knew Colin was there. Not following him, then. A quick glance at the vampire confirmed it; two blocks away, the male sat at a café’s sidewalk table, facing the opposite direction. Brown hair touched the vampire’s shoulders, but Colin could easily see the hair above his ears had been cut short. Good God. The sod could see his reflection, and yet he’d retained a horrid, outdated—

  A faint cry of pain and fear cut through the noise of the passing cars, the human conversations.

  Colin frowned, turning toward the sound. None of the humans reacted; none had likely heard it. Only Colin—and the vampire, whose fists clenched at his sides. The cry had originated beyond the vampire, at least a couple of blocks farther down the street—and the vampire’s psyche had not projected concern or surprise, but had flared hot with jealousy.

  The mental probe Colin sent toward the sound was stronger than his initial scan, and he immediately sensed another presence—a female. Older than the first vampire, and better able to shield her mind.

  Outside the rental shop, Colin’s cinnamon-skinned prey paused, then stared at him. Bloody hell. Colin flashed a charming smile, but, to human eyes, he must have appeared to vanish an instant later. Colin didn’t detect any indication that the male vampire had seen him move, either; perhaps the male had had a moment’s glance in the wrong direction and missed Colin’s dash down the street.

  Just as well. Colin halted at the mouth of an alley—more of a small enclave between two buildings, backed by a brick wall—and in the darkness easily discerned the vampire, her long auburn hair and black dress. She stood over a raggedly-dressed figure lying twisted in the rear corner of the enclave.

  The odor of human blood hung thick in the air—a large quantity of blood. The stench of new death slowly rose beneath it, and the fetid scent of a long-unwashed body.

  Colin silently stepped from the pavement into the shadowed alley.

  The vampire startled, her hand flying to her chest as she whirled around. Then her face relaxed into a smile that, two hundred years earlier and without an introduction, Colin would have thought presumptuous. She might have recognized him, but he did not know her. Did not wish to know her.

  “You were right,” she said, and Colin’s gaze fell to her chest. Blood stained the bodice of her dress.

  “I often am,” Colin murmured as he moved past her and crouched next to the corpse. “Pray tell me, however, what I have said that inspired this?”

  She laughed, a studied trill from her starlet’s lips. “That we ought not to be limited to our bloodsharing partners. That the humans ought to be ours for taking and feeding.”

  Her bloodlust was still strong within her; whatever she thought humans ought to be, she had not finished feeding from this one. Excitement coiled from her psychic scent, along with a swelling of pride, of power. And she deliberately projected reverence toward Colin, coupled with admiration. Was she attempting to flatter him?

  With a tug on the threadbare military jacket, Colin rolled the body over. The man’s throat had been torn open. The front of his trousers had been shredded, and his penis had not yet lost its tumescence. “I daresay he must have taken to you whilst you fed.” He glanced up at her breasts, her face, and he stood. “Though I cannot comprehend why.”

  Her laughter trilled again, as if she’d assumed his statement was a jest, but her mouth quickly tightened into a grimace. “I thought his fear would prevent his lust,” she said.

  No. For some, a scare only increased their ardor. In the past two centuries, Colin had purposely frightened a few humans—but he never fed from them. He almost always chose a person that he found attractive in some manner, someone he wouldn’t resent fucking; he’d never considered killing them to prevent the sex…though obviously this female had. And her psychic scent revealed that she’d enjoyed it.

  “What of your partner?” Colin asked softly. “Will he have his turn next?”

  “He does not want one. He only watches, so that no one happens upon me as I feed. But I will not have to concern myself with exposure in the future; I had not realized how easily humans are disposed of. No one will miss a beggar.” She placed her hand on his arm, and her long nails slid down his corduroy sleeve. “My consort does not like that I sought blood elsewhere, but his attachment to me is much more powerful than mine to him.” Her fingers circled his wrist, and her bloodlust burned hotter. “You are warm.”

  Her touch was cool; Colin did not think it unpleasant, except that it was hers. “I am,” he said.

  “The others who have fed from you have said that your blood is dark and powerful.”

  “Have they?” Brittle amusement curled his lips. He could not imagine with whom she had spoken; everyone who’d fed from him was dead. And if she’d had any sense, she might have
seen the sharpness of his smile for what it was and been frightened.

  But she was staring at his neck. “I am the eldest of them. The strongest. You and I could so easily rule the community together.” Her eyes met his, her gaze hungry. “Tell me that you do not think so as well.”

  “I think,” he said as he pulled his wrist from her grasp, “that I ought to retrieve a few items from my car.” His weapons.

  “No!” She caught his arm again. He stilled and looked down at her. And now terror threaded through her scent, but she did not recognize his anger; her gaze searched his face, and she blinked rapidly as if to clear her vision. “Don’t go yet. We can get rid of the body later. Let me feed from you. Please.” Her chest heaved. “Your face. I haven’t seen you like this. You’re so…” Her fear climbed and choked her words.

  Yes, he was. “You do not want to feed from me.” His swords were kinder than his blood was.

  Kinder than Colin was.

  “Yes.” It come out like a hiss from a demon’s tongue.

  Revolting. “Very well,” he said, and her expression reflected her surprise when he offered his bare wrist, already bleeding from the slice he’d made with his silver pen knife. She hadn’t seen him roll up his sleeve, or cut himself, but she did not hesitate. Her mouth covered the wound.

  Her pleasure flashed into his veins. Christ. Vampires’ psychic strength increased when feeding, but her mind was no match for his. He reinforced his blocks, heard the noise of protest she made before the bloodlust gripped her. She held his wrist to her mouth and reached for his trousers with her free hand. He trapped it in his, kept her away from him.

  She tried to writhe closer, drinking deep. Her bloodlust battered at his shields; he set his jaw and fought his hunger and arousal. Would that he could ignore his as easily as Savitri ignored hers—

  No. Do not think of her now. If he did, he’d probably give in to the lust, fuck this vampire against the wall. Nor did he want to associate Savi with what would surely happen next. The burning—the reek.

  The female’s bloodlust broke and she lifted her head, gasping. “I have heard that…you have no desire, but—” She bent and licked the now-healed line on his wrist.