Demon Moon

by Meljean Brook

  She drew in a shuddering breath, wiped at her eyes with her forearm. “Okay. I’ll tell Hugh about the demon, too.” If Hugh stayed after he’d been healed and spoke with the detectives; he was likely anxious to go help Lilith. “You’d better hurry if you want her to leave one alive.”

  A part of her hoped that he wouldn’t.

  His lips quirked slightly, but his face darkened. He hesitated, then he stood with a muttered “bloody hell” and disappeared.

  Savi looked up as a pair of red tennis shoes came into her view; Dru stood above her, smiling as she squatted beside them, her long white lab coat flaring around her.

  “Don’t worry, Savitri darling; I’ll have her fixed up in a jiffy. She’ll only feel a little pinch.” She winked as Savi stared at her without expression. “Just a bit of medical humor.”

  God, but Savi hated Hollywood doctors.

  It took little effort to locate Lilith; Colin followed the shrieks of pain, the scent of leaking fuel. Four blocks from Auntie’s, he found the Navigator rolled over on its side in a weed-choked lot, the windshield broken out. At the end of the lot, near the rear of a brick building, a vampire lay facedown on the asphalt.

  Lilith was on top of him, her knee jammed into his back, her fist locked in his hair and her sword against his throat.

  She looked up at Colin’s approach, and her angry snarl widened into a wicked smile. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.” Colin’s gaze narrowed on the vampire’s weapon, lying next to his side. An automatic rifle. Icy rage worked itself from his stomach to his veins. “Were there others?”

  “Two.” She yanked on the vampire’s scalp, and her eyes gleamed when he yowled. “Sir Pup is giving chase.”

  “I want them,” he said softly.

  Lilith stared at him for a long moment, then yelled an instruction into the air for the hellhound to return the vampires alive. “If it isn’t too late,” she added with a lift of her brows. “Hugh?”

  “Healed.”

  Her throat worked. “Good.” She bent toward the vampire’s ear. “For you. You wouldn’t believe the tortures I’d have designed for you. I’ve had the best instructors.”

  The vampire coughed, spit. His nose was bloodied, his forehead raw and spotted with flecks of mud; she’d likely slammed his face into the ground. “Fuck you,” he managed, and Lilith sighed.

  “Allow me,” Colin said. He laid his sword on the ground and crouched in front of them. Studied the clothes, the face. Pale skin, though it retained some natural olive pigmentation. His eyes were closed, but judging by the dark hair, Colin would wager they were brown. The vampire couldn’t have been older than twenty when he’d been transformed, and probably in the past year or two. Not more than a boy. “Look at me.”

  Dull brown eyes, not the rich bittersweet chocolate of Savitri’s. The vampire gasped, and emitted a low, panicked moan. His mouth slackened, revealing his fangs, his tongue.

  “Fuck me,” Lilith breathed. “Your beauty can be terrifying sometimes, Colin.”

  “Yes.”

  He felt her stare a moment longer before she turned her head.

  She didn’t allow the vampire the same mercy.

  Colin reached out, ran the backs of his fingers down the vampire’s cool, rainwet cheek. “Tell me your name.”

  “Denver.” The boy shuddered. “Denver Jennings.”

  “Denver.” Colin rolled it seductively off his tongue. There was no chance the boy was older than his estimate with a name like that. By the way Lilith’s form stiffened, she realized it, as well. “Where is your partner, Denver? One of those who escaped?”

  If fear didn’t convince the boy to talk, the threat of losing his partner might.

  “No,” the boy panted. “She was an elder. The nosferatu killed her last year; I was only with her for a month. These are my friends. He asked me to turn them.” Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, but he hadn’t yet blinked or looked away from Colin’s face. “You aren’t him.”

  Colin smiled, clasped his hands loosely in front of him, his elbows on his knees. “No. I’m not him. Why would you follow a demon?”

  Denver shook his head, the movement abbreviated by Lilith’s tight hold. “A vampire. Like us, only stronger. We’d all heard of him. He’s been here for a long time. And he feeds us; those who don’t have anyone else. And the bloodlust doesn’t make us…make us—”

  “No. A demon.” Colin raised his head, met Lilith’s eyes. Dismay was written across her face. Only too obvious what had happened: the demon had taken advantage of those vampires without a partner. Those who faced expulsion from the community for breaking its rules, and who were likely too young and ignorant of any other options available to them.

  But there were other, more important Rules to follow.

  “You tried to murder humans, Denver. My consort’s grandmother. Her brother.”

  “Tainted humans. He said their blood will kill us, and we made a bargain.” His tears fell faster. “And the others are vampire slayers.”

  “A little old lady?” Lilith growled the words. “You’re fucking joking.”

  Denver broke into harsh sobs. Colin studied his terrified face, pushed away the pity. “Pull him up, Lilith. I want a sip.”

  The clatter of claws announced Sir Pup’s return; two vampires dangled from his enormous jaws. Alive, though unconscious. Colin would deal with them next.

  Denver looked at the hellhound, and a squeal of fear lent a pathetic note to his cries. Colin lifted his hand to the boy’s neck, flicked his fingers against his racing pulse.

  The boy fell silent, torn between terror and desire. Behind him, Lilith grimaced and turned her head.

  “I’m not going to kill you,” Colin said, then smiled coldly. “Unless you struggle and bloody my sweater.”

  Lilith backed away with an expression of wry gratitude. After such a warning and the horrifying specter of the hellhound, the boy wasn’t going to move.

  “I do intend to teach you a lesson. I’ll show you what awaits anything that makes a bargain with a demon. And when I’ve finished, I’ll put you into Agent Milton’s tender care.” His smile faded. “You and your friends will be extremely helpful, and answer any questions we have, won’t you?”

  Lilith’s eyebrows knitted. “Colin—”

  “It’ll be punishment enough, Lilith,” he said, his voice hard. He returned his attention to Denver and repeated, “Won’t you?”

  Denver nodded, took a deep breath as if to prepare himself.

  Preparation was impossible. Colin tilted his head and sank his fangs into the boy’s neck. Blood, thick and young and heady. He forced away the pleasure of it.

  And called up Chaos.

  The gentle murmur of voices alerted Colin to Castleford’s arrival. Sitting on his heels, his elbows braced against his knees, Colin lifted his head and watched blearily as Lilith wrapped her arms around the other man’s neck. Castleford hugged her tight. He’d replaced his bloodied shirt with some hideous tunic a Guardian had likely created for him.

  And Lilith melted softly against him.

  Colin hadn’t vomited in almost two hundred years—not since the drinking binge that had followed news of Anthony Ramsdell’s death on a Spanish battlefield—but he thought he might at that moment.

  He rested the back of his head against the brick wall behind him and let the cold stone support its pounding weight. What a bloody ridiculous mistake channeling memories of Chaos had been, though he couldn’t completely blame his headache on that realm. If he ever again had to punish a trio of idiots, he’d remember to seal their mouths shut first. Denver had screamed shrilly into his ear, as had the third boy.

  But they’d learned their lesson well—and if they remained awake long enough, wouldn’t forget its effects…even if they didn’t remember the actual feeding.

  Nor would they forget Sir Pup carrying them through the city to SI’s holding cells; Lilith had only told the hellhound to avoid being seen, not to be gentle with t
hem. It was no more than they deserved.

  Savitri’s tearstained face rose in his mind, her trembling hands as she’d held her grandmother.

  Chaos had been much less than they’d deserved.

  Colin rose to his feet, ignored the ringing in his ears, the throbbing behind his forehead. “Who’s protecting Savi?”

  Without relinquishing his hold on Lilith, Castleford turned toward him. “Drifter. Michael. Dru. Auntie has regained consciousness; Taylor was speaking with them when I left.”

  Relief eased the tension from his muscles, the lingering ache in his head. Releasing a long breath, Colin closed his eyes and nodded. “Thank you. Did Savi have an opportunity to tell you about the demon? His threat to her?”

  “Yes. Though she elaborated better on his threat to you.”

  Surprise etched a line between Lilith’s brows. “She saw him?”

  Unwilling to stay away from Savi much longer, Colin began walking back toward the restaurant. Lilith and Castleford fell into step beside him, listened as he detailed the meeting in the café.

  Lilith groaned when he finished. “Describe him to me again?”

  Colin indicated his length with a sweep of his hand. “Though much less appealing, I assure you.”

  “I’m this close to gutting you,” she said.

  Castleford grinned, and drew her to his opposite side as if to prevent her from carrying out her threat. “Savi said he seemed a cross between a 1920s gangster and a 1970s mobster. His posture, his clothes. Given the manner in which they hit Auntie’s, it could be Dalkiel. Or Rugziel.”

  Lilith shook her head. “Rugziel is dead—1975, a New York subway.” Castleford glanced at her, his brows lifted. She shrugged and added, “He was one of Belial’s. Lucifer didn’t care if I killed him.” She leaned forward a little to look at Colin again. “If it’s Dalkiel, we would expect tactics similar to this—finding muscle in the disenfranchised part of a population, running up their fear to make them do things they normally wouldn’t. But also trying to manipulate the stronger, established community by promising ‘a new era,’ shit like that.”

  “And if he doesn’t act as you expect?” Colin said quietly, and halted in the middle of the sidewalk. Auntie’s was a block away now, and he could clearly hear the activity surrounding it: the rote questions of the police officers and the answers given from bystanders; Savi’s query to her grandmother, ascertaining her comfort; Taylor’s impatience with Michael. Rain pattered softly against the awning overhead. “You didn’t anticipate a demon coming after Savitri, though you knew the nosferatu had been allied with one.”

  “We also didn’t anticipate having a vampire community leaderless for so long, nor so many willing to act as a demon’s assassins.” Castleford slid his hands into his pockets, regarded him evenly. “What do you suggest we do?”

  Bloody hell. There was no mistaking the censure in Castleford’s tone. Was he trying to lecture Colin into the role? “I suggest you find Dalkiel, and do what you do best: play the executioner.”

  Lilith’s fingers clenched at her sides. “Until another comes to take his place? Brilliant, Colin. Absolutely fucking brilliant.”

  He returned her stare, affected a bored tone. “I’m a second son, Agent Milton. I drink. I fuck. I remain useless. It is not just my birthright, it is my preference.”

  Lilith tilted her head and studied him with shadowed eyes. “You’re a vampire, Colin. What gave you the impression that your free will is of any concern to us when human lives are at stake? Savi’s life.”

  “And your brother is dead. As is his heir, and his heir. As is your sister, and all of her children.” Hugh didn’t flinch as he delivered the statement; the executioner at his most merciless, words his weapons. “It has been many years since I’ve concerned myself with the laws of primogeniture, but I believe that leaves you in a position to acquire a bit of responsibility.”

  Manipulative bastards, the both of them; this wasn’t what they believed, but digging at what he did. And they would corner him into it, but Savi was his only concern—the only responsibility that mattered to him.

  “Yes, but how can I protect her and assume a position of leadership? You ask the impossible.” But if he could make the role assist him in defending her against the demon…

  Bloody fucking hell. Hadn’t he made the decision when he’d taken responsibility for the boys’ punishments? When he’d spoken with Detective Taylor? When he’d slain the woman in the alley?

  “I want Fia, and her partner, Paul. And any other vampires you can spare.”

  Triumph flared in Lilith’s eyes. Good God, little wonder it had annoyed Savi so badly when he’d shown his. “They’ll continue their training, I hope.”

  “Yes.” Colin glanced between them. “But I—and they—won’t answer to you.”

  Castleford shrugged and began walking again. “Then don’t do anything for which you’ll be made answerable.”

  Colin waited until his irritation faded before heading out into the rain after them. Christ. He wasn’t above irritating them in turn. “You do realize, my dear agents, that I’m the least suitable vampire for the role? Indeed, the only reason you’ve coerced me into this is because I’m much like Dalkiel: I have physical power, and don’t follow tradition overmuch.”

  “Like him, yes, but with better ends.” Castleford glanced over his shoulder. “Also because you don’t like to serve, and you understand that’s what leadership of this type would be. When they are ready, and you have a suitable replacement, you can leave them. The demon would never voluntarily relinquish his power. I think you’ll suit.”

  “Most vampire communities require partnerships and bloodsharing for its members, including the head,” Colin pointed out. “San Francisco is no exception.”

  Lilith rolled her eyes. “You’re a freak. Just do your great and terrible beauty thing and convince them to love you.”

  Castleford raised a brow. “What thing?”

  “I don’t know. Except for Belial, I’ve never seen anything like it. Have you?”

  Belial—the rebel demon who’d refused to give up his angelic form. Colin grinned, pleased by the comparison. Lilith had once told him Belial’s beauty hurt to look upon, so brightly did it shine.

  “No,” Castleford said slowly. “Can you do it now?”

  Shaking his head, Colin admitted, “I know it happens—rarely—but I don’t control it. And I confess I’m glad of its infrequence; I’d rather admiration when women look at me than terror.”

  “It was psychic in nature. My shields were already in place, but I had to reinforce them and actively hold the blocks to stop its effect.” Lilith considered him for a moment. “And the other?”

  Chaos. Colin quickly signed the word with his hand. The emotional experience of it.

  She drew in a sharp breath. “You punished them with it?”

  Colin’s mouth pulled into a thin line. “You pity them for something they’ll hardly remember, yet you would have allowed Sir Pup to kill them and not given a second thought. And you send me into the fucking Room, knowing I’ll experience the same thing.”

  “It’s not pity, it’s surprise,” Castleford said. “Have you done it before?”

  He could choose not to answer, but that would be as damning as a lie. “This was the second time,” he admitted, and watched as comprehension frosted the other man’s gaze.

  Lilith frowned. “When was the first?” Could it have been the cause of the tear between the realms last month? she finished by signing.

  “No,” Castleford said flatly. “It was Savi. When they were in Caelum.”

  Her eyes flickered with unease before she grinned. “Is a testosterone-laden fight to the death about to ensue?”

  Colin smoothed his hand over his chest and soft woven silk. “I don’t want to ruin this.” Bad enough the rain had dampened it.

  But better than her tears of grief, had Auntie’s injury been worse.

  “And as Savi told me she plans to spend th
e next month with you, I imagine your punishment has not yet concluded.” Castleford turned away. “I’m satisfied.”

  Lilith sighed. “Then can you two kiss? Please?”

  “Do you truly want me to? Think about the consequences, Lilith. Your two thousand years can’t compare to what I have to give him,” Colin said.

  She sighed again as Castleford’s deep laughter rumbled through the moist night air. “But you’re both so pretty.”

  “Perhaps he is marginally attractive, but I’ve someone more suitable in mind to kiss.”

  “Your ‘consort’? You may as well have declared her your wife.” Lilith arched her brows. “Does Auntie know?”

  He grinned unrepentantly. He’d only used the term to frighten the boy, to intimate a closer relationship between Savi and himself, but he found himself growing attached to the idea.

  And if he openly acknowledged Savi as his consort, it would offer its own protection. Vampires who followed Dalkiel out of a desire for leadership and adherence to tradition might balk at killing a companion; protecting partnerships was as intrinsic a value in a community as bloodsharing within a partnership.

  “Agent Milton, my dear, even Savi doesn’t yet know.”

  “No false hope that way?”

  He sobered quickly. “Yes.”

  But for his.

  For once, Savi didn’t feel the need to question the hows and whys of a Guardian’s power; she gratefully accepted the new sari Dru created for Nani, and carried it into the restaurant’s office.

  The police swarmed outside and in the main dining room; the office was a sorely needed retreat, even if it would only be of short duration.

  Nani was readjusting her skirt to hide the ragged bullet hole in the material above her hip; Dru had removed the blood from her skin and clothes, but the hole was clear evidence she’d been hit. To Savi’s surprise, Detective Taylor had been the one to suggest covering it—remarking that the other officers would notice such a detail, even if they couldn’t explain its existence.