Demon Moon

by Meljean Brook

  “Dru sent this for you.”

  “This conceals it.” Nani’s bangles jingled as she tucked in the edge at her waist. She glanced up at Savi’s face, clicked her tongue. “I’ve no intention of stripping naked with half of the city in the next room, and Guardians who might teleport in at any moment.”

  All in Hindi, but for “Guardians” and “teleport.” The incongruity of it pulled a smile from her, and Savi dipped her head and nodded. She’d never heard her grandmother directly acknowledge them before, in any language. Caelum had always been “that place”; Guardians, demons, and nosferatu, “such as them.”

  Did she even know vampires existed? Know what manner of being had shot her? And why?

  Sudden guilt rose, and her vision blurred. “Oh, Nani,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry.” She hardly recognized her own voice, it was so thick with tears. But her grandmother would not want her to give in to them.

  And she’d cried enough in the past twenty-four hours. Surely it was time to stop. Swallowing hard, Savi turned and set the sari on the desk, fought down the shame. The demon had put this in motion, not she.

  But it had been set into motion—with her grandmother placed in the middle. Savi would get her out, one way or another.

  Nani sighed. “Naatin, you look just as your mother did when she told me she was going to marry an American.”

  “This may be worse.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Savi clasped her upper arms and rubbed slowly. Warming herself, gathering her thoughts. “I met with Manu Suraj.”

  “That is worse?”

  “He rejected me. I told him I believed in the DemonSlayer stuff.”

  Nani pursed her lips and shrugged. “This is what comes of searching for a groom through advertisements. The next one will be more reasonable.”

  Savi’s heartbeat raced beneath her crossed arms. “I don’t think I can keep my promise to you, Nani.”

  Dark eyes met hers, filled with sudden worry; Nani sank into the desk chair. “Savitri, you are not always consistent, but I have never known you not to keep your word. What has happened?”

  What hadn’t happened? But it was best to start when she’d made her promise; everything before then didn’t apply in the same way. “On the plane, when I attacked that nosferatu—you remember how I had blood on me when I came back?” At her grandmother’s nod, she continued. The fever, the changes in her strength. The wyrmwolves. The demon and his plan for revenge. “That’s why the vampires shot at the restaurant tonight. I don’t think it would be fair to marry someone when I bring so many problems into it, endanger them just by living.”

  Nani had listened quietly, her face paling and her mouth slightly parted as if in shock. But now she leaned forward, her gaze fierce as she gripped Savi’s hands in her own.

  “What protection have you?”

  “Hugh is teaching me to protect myself.”

  Nani’s eyes closed, as if in gratitude. “He’s a good boy. A strong one. It is good that you live near him; he can care for you.”

  “Yes,” Savi agreed thickly. “But I’m going to be staying with Mr. Ames-Beaumont for a while.”

  Nani withdrew her hands and sat back, studying her silently.

  A flush heated Savi’s cheeks. “He’s the only one who can sense the wyrmwolves’ approach. He’s almost as strong as a Guardian. He can protect me better than any other.”

  Her eyebrows lifting in disbelief, Nani said, “Savitri. Now you look exactly as your mother did when she tried to convince me that she was marrying your father because he had a good family.”

  Savi snorted with laughter before she caught herself; her dad’s family had only been good in the most superficial of ways. When her amusement faded, she said earnestly, “He’ll take care of me. I’m most concerned about you. I want you to go back to Mumbai for a little while.”

  “No—”

  “Yes,” Savi said firmly. “Look at what happened tonight; the demon is trying to hurt me by hurting you. I need to know you’re safe, and away from here until this is resolved. Not more than a couple of weeks. And I’ll take care of the restaurant’s repairs while you’re gone. Maybe do some updates in the kitchen.”

  Her grandmother’s mouth tightened, and Savi could see she was getting ready to protest again, when a knock sounded at the door.

  She turned as Colin opened it, stepped through. His golden hair had been flattened by the rain and his clothes wrinkled, yet he managed to exude a careless elegance. It had to be some obscure vampire ability—but she knew the sudden happiness and relief that swept through her upon seeing him had little to do with superpowers. It was just him.

  Colin looked between them with a boyish grin that he didn’t attempt to conceal. He casually brought his thumb to his mouth and pressed it to one of his fangs, then used the blood to activate the symbols scratched into the door frame.

  Savi hid her shock; it was as clear a declaration of his nature to Nani as her long-winded description had been of the changes in hers.

  His gaze settled on her grandmother, and he asked in Hindi, “You are well?”

  “Yes, beta.” Her grandmother did not seem similarly surprised; instead, she scrutinized him as carefully as she would the front counter at closing time, the food preparation surfaces in the kitchens.

  “You must forgive me for eavesdropping—” His grin widened as he darted a glance at Savi. “—but I would offer an alternative. Particularly as, if they know the language, any demon or vampire listening would have heard your granddaughter’s suggestion that you flee to India.”

  With an embarrassed laugh, Savi said, “You see, he’s already protecting me from my impulsive nature. I either think too much or not at all, and often do both at the same time.”

  Nani gave an amused headshake of agreement, but her gaze remained on Colin. “What do you suggest?”

  “Beaumont Court. Selah or Michael could teleport you, and there would be no record of travel; we could make it appear you took a flight to Bombay, as Savi suggested. I will send someone along to act as guard—a Guardian, if one can be spared, or a partnership of vampires from those Castleford has been training.”

  “It is your family home? Would I inconvenience them?”

  Colin smiled. “Of course not.”

  Savi’s stomach knotted. It was the perfect solution, but it meant Nani would be staying with the Earl of Norbridge. An aristocratic family. “They would welcome her?”

  For an instant, his eyes darkened to stormy gray, his jaw clenched as if in anger. “Yes, Savitri.” His words were almost as clipped as when he’d spoken to the demon. “We no longer require untitled foreign guests to sleep in the stables.”

  Her throat tightened in dismay. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “There are few other meanings to be taken.” His voice softened when he looked at Nani. “I promise you would be treated the same as they would me. Probably better; they’ll feed you.”

  Nani’s lips pursed for just a moment. “Savitri? Will this alternative suit?”

  Her grandmother had solicited her opinion. Savi knew she should have been feeling triumphant, but when she met Colin’s flat stare, she only wished it would warm. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Very well, beta.”

  He gave a short nod. “I’ll make the arrangements. You can go tonight; already it is early morning there. Continue to speak of it as if you are leaving for Bombay. I’ll return in a few minutes to drive you home so you may collect your things.” With a swipe of his hand, he erased the blood from the symbols and left.

  Savi released a shaky breath, sat on the edge of the desk. “Goddammit.”

  “Savitri, do not use such language,” her grandmother admonished. “Why would you insult him so, question his hospitality? You can’t think he is the same as Jonathan Murray.”

  “No. God, no.” Her grandfather; she could not think of two men more dissimilar. She glanced at the older woman, remembered her lack of surprise when Colin had bloodied his thumb. “Y
ou knew he was a vampire.”

  “I am old, naatin, not blind. Are you in love with him?”

  Her chest hurt too much to answer. Savi simply nodded. “There is no future in it,” she managed after a moment.

  “Oh, Savitri.” Nani leaned forward, patted her hand. “That is what I told your mother when she said she wanted to marry your father. And you know the conclusion to that.”

  Nani’s smile was somewhat watery, but Savi’s was, too. “Yes. I know.” They’d had fifteen blissfully happy years.

  And Savi was going to do everything she could to squeeze the same into a month.

  CHAPTER 18

  A vampire’s psychic powers aren’t as evolved as a Guardian’s, demon’s, or nosferatu’s. Nosferatu-born vampires are somewhere in between—and all of the bloodsuckers are more psychically powerful when they are actually drinking the blood.

  —Savi to Taylor, 2007

  Colin’s quiet tension didn’t ease; not on the journey to Nani’s and during the flurried activity of packing, not after Savi’s teary-eyed good-byes before Selah whisked Nani away. They’d returned to his car in silence, and in the first few minutes it stretched awkwardly between them until Savi was certain she’d scream from it.

  Instead she fell asleep.

  A change in the car’s speed woke her as he turned into his neighborhood. Tall, elegant Victorian houses lined the avenue bordering the western side of Buena Vista Park, decorated ladies standing shoulder to shoulder. A wrought-iron gate guarded the drive; it slowly squeaked open when he pushed a code into a remote.

  She bent forward to look up through the windshield, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh my god, it’s the fairy-tale house. I’ve seen it in photos, like on ‘the best of San Francisco’ sites and whatever. I had no idea it was yours.” She’d known his address, but she’d never made the connection between the two—and she was certain the name of the owner had never been listed with the pictures. “How did the fire not make the news?”

  “The exterior was not badly damaged. There was little to film, and I immediately began to rebuild. Lilith did the rest.”

  Lilith must have concealed any connection to the fire and to Colin during the investigation into the ritual murders the previous year. Savi grinned, too enchanted by the house to feel slighted by his brusque tone—and the realization that he’d probably been the reason for her unexpected nap.

  A high fence and leafy trees hid most of the house from view of the street: an enormous Queen Anne, with rounded towers at each corner, gables, a steeply pitched roof, bay windows, and a second-floor balcony. The moonless, rainy night prevented her from determining the color, but she knew from the pictures it was a deep claret, with contrasting trim in the myriad ornamental details. Her eyes widened as she took in the narrow lawns at the sides of the house, the long sweep of landscaping in the front. “How did you get a lot this size?”

  “I purchased it not long after the earthquake.”

  Of 1906. “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide to acquire property: the best time to buy is after a major natural disaster.”

  He seemed to soften a little. “Yes.”

  She bit her lip, studying the line of his profile. A little wasn’t enough. How much damage had she done with her thoughtless question at the restaurant? Her heart climbed into her throat as he braked in front of the main entrance and killed the engine. “Will you invite me in?”

  Oh, god. She’d meant to sound sexy, sultry—to get through this moment on pure bravado. Instead a breathless vulnerability had crept into her voice, made it no more than a whisper.

  His eyes closed. “I had good intentions, Savitri.”

  Her hands clenched on her lap. Her legs trembled, her lungs seized up. That sounded like the beginning of every I’m-ready-to-let-you-go speech she’d ever received. I really like you, Savi. We get along so well, Savi. I thought it would turn out differently, Savi.

  It had never hurt before; but then, it had never really mattered before. “It’s okay,” she managed.

  She’d known better than to wish for anything, even something as short as a month.

  “I’m not bloody apologizing.”

  She glanced up in surprise at the anger in his voice, but he was already out of the car, around to her side. He hauled her out, dragged her up the front steps.

  “I intended to let you sleep. You’re fucking exhausted,” he said as he unlocked the heavy wooden door and slammed it shut behind them. He dotted his hand three times on the symbols. Would they work on the entirety of the house? They must. “How many hours did you rest last night?”

  She’d barely a moment to take in the marble floor, the vases and paintings decorating the dimly lit foyer before he was pulling her toward a large, curving stair.

  “One or two,” she said, running up each riser. Portraits flashed by on her right. “Oh, god, they’re all you.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said carelessly, then swept her up when she tried to stop and examine one, cradling her against his chest. “And I intended to make you swoon first—to give you the tour after you’d had several hours of sleep, sing to you in the music room, read poetry in the library. You’ve had a hell of a day, even by vampiric standards. A bit of relaxation seemed in order.”

  He was pissed with himself for his eagerness to get into her bed? “I’m swooning,” she said against his shoulder, linking her arms around his neck.

  “And then, then after that, only after that, did I intend to carry you into your room and…” He paused on the landing.

  “Drink from me?”

  “I drank,” he said quietly. He lowered her feet to the floor, brought his hands up to cup her face. She didn’t relinquish her hold on him; his chest was warm and solid against hers, his heart beating as fast. “From the vampires we caught. I don’t need more blood tonight.”

  “Oh.”

  His thumbs smoothed over her quivering lips. “But I need more, Savitri.”

  Her fingers threaded into the hair at his nape. Even in the darkness, she could see the need burning in his eyes, but she didn’t know…“More than I can give you?”

  “Everything you can give me. I’m a selfish creature. Yet I intended to be a gentleman tonight.” His left hand slid down her side, curved around her back, and found the zipper at her waist. Her skirt slithered down to pool at her feet.

  “What will you be instead?”

  He wouldn’t let her pull his lips down to hers, so she rose up on tiptoe, pressing openmouthed kisses to his chin, his jaw.

  “A beggar.”

  He tugged her sweater over her head, forcing her to release her hold on him as he stripped the sleeves over her hands. Already taut with arousal, her nipples puckered further in the cold air. She wrapped her bare arms around her naked chest, stared up at him. Shadows hid his features, but she knew she must be exposed to his preternatural sight—exposed in her freezing gooseflesh and white lacy boyshorts and the boots he’d admired.

  She was standing almost nude in his house, and she didn’t care that she was still wearing her shoes. “You don’t have to beg.”

  “Apparently I do. You won’t tell me what I most need to hear.”

  Disappointment speared through her. “You may as well tell me it’s gravity that keeps my feet to the floor. Why do you need to hear from me what you know?” What every other woman told him.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t hear your answer.” His throat worked. His gaze searched hers, almost desperately. “Only that there was no future. Has your phase ended so quickly?”

  Her knees weakened, but somehow she remained upright. “Aren’t we speaking of your beauty?”

  He stilled. “No.”

  “Oh.” She moistened her lips. “You’ve never asked me.”

  The predatory smile that spread across his mouth was softened by an edge of humor. “I did. Have you already forgot?”

  “No.”

  He took a step forward, lowered his head to skim his lips over hers. “‘Has
your phase ended so quickly?’”

  She laughed despite herself. “No. I’m still falling.”

  “Thank God.” He rested his forehead against her brow. “Oh, sweet Savitri, how I need that. I can’t remember the last time someone made love to me.”

  Neither can I.

  But she clenched her teeth to prevent the question she wanted to ask, too afraid of the answer. And he must not have expected her to respond; his mouth covered hers, took a gentle sip from her lips before he lifted her into his arms again and began striding across a wide, dark room. It opened up to another through a wide archway, and she caught the gleam of a piano, the outline of artwork against the walls.

  “The music room?” How strange to be carried through it—and how grateful she was, that she didn’t have to run after him, avoiding unfamiliar furniture, and that the heat of his arms warmed her thighs and back.

  She thought she’d resent it, feel like a little girl caged in by him, but somewhere between the stairs and the piano she was let out instead.

  Falling, but she didn’t have to hit bottom. Surely she couldn’t with him holding her like this.

  “The music room,” he confirmed with a press of his lips against her temple. “Your rooms are just past it; my studio lies at the opposite end of this floor.”

  “My rooms?” She lowered her shields, felt the rumble of his approving groan against her cheek.

  He stopped in front of a pair of floor-to-ceiling doors, adjusting his grip on her legs to reach down and depress the handle. His breath came more quickly now, and she smiled and tipped her head back to see him better.

  “Yours. There is a practical reason for it.”

  “Because you rarely sleep?”

  “No, I have a suite upstairs. This used to be mine, before I tore out the third floor and attic to make the new one.” Shouldering through the entry, he glanced down at her. “But the open design makes it difficult to use the shields in that room, and the bed is directly above my studio. I fear I am very loud when I paint. There are likely vibrations.”

  She bit her lower lip before she ventured, “Opera?”