Demon Moon

by Meljean Brook

  “You think about this far too much,” Colin said, pressing a kiss against her temple.

  She smiled, arching her brow as she turned to look at him. Though his voice had been teasing, his gaze was dark, speculative. “Someone has to. It’s going to happen. And though it will help that vampires were once human, and some might have family living who’ll stand up for them, the only real defense is to set up the vampire communities like they are model minorities: self-sustaining, yet still economically valuable in the greater human society. And, to all appearances, safe.”

  “That’s fucked up,” Gina said.

  Colin grimaced, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It will chafe, won’t it?”

  Savi patted his leg. “Don’t worry. With luck, it’ll only be that way for a century or so.”

  He looked down at her and grinned, but it faded when Arwen asked, “And will you be feeding from humans in a century or so? Are you going to turn her?”

  “No,” he said softly, holding her gaze. “I can’t transform her; my blood would kill her.”

  She sighed and leaned back against him. Every vampire in the club likely felt the hollow despair in her psychic scent, but there was no point in concealing it. “And I can’t be transformed; I’d probably die.”

  Gina looked between them, a furrow of confusion on her brow. A touch of pity around her lush mouth. “That’s fucked up, too.”

  “Yes,” Colin agreed.

  CHAPTER 22

  Humans are anchored to Earth, but may be teleported to Caelum or Hell. It takes a ritual or sacrifice for a human to resonate with a Gate, allowing them to move between realms without being teleported. The same may be true of nonhumans, but I haven’t been able to convince anyone to tell me exactly how—or to show me the symbols that complete the ritual.

  —Savi to Taylor, 2007

  Colin waited with barely restrained impatience as Levitt checked the exterior security cameras in anticipation of their exit. All in all, their first foray had gone well. Eventually, he’d have to thrash someone rather than simply threaten it, but it wouldn’t be that evening. When Savi and he had left Darkwolf’s party, they’d still been tense and slightly confused; Colin imagined they’d discuss the situation the whole of the night, agreeing on what an ass he’d been, but eventually coming to the same conclusion: he’d be more valuable helping the community than fighting them.

  It was unfortunate he’d resorted to the threat of violence; unbelievable, how quickly his control had deteriorated.

  Apparently, Savi had come to a similar conclusion. Beneath the bulletproof headgear, her eyes were amused—and dark with anticipation. “Charm and bloodlust don’t mesh well,” she observed.

  The corners of his lips lifted in a wry smile. “No, indeed.” Luckily, it was a tactic he only needed to use once. They’d no doubt he was a vampire. “In the future, I’ll feed prior to leaving the house.”

  Levitt gave his all-clear signal, and the locks clicked open.

  “We could do it in the car.”

  Christ. He was so desperate for her, he probably wouldn’t last the distance to his house. But he refused to succumb to his bloodlust in the parking lot, where Levitt would see Savitri tupped by an invisible man on-camera.

  He shouldn’t have given Paul and Fia the suite as their living quarters. He shouldn’t have—

  The odor of fresh blood struck him a second after he opened the door and stepped outside, Savi’s hand in his. He paused, his body blocking hers from attack. At her heels, Sir Pup barked a warning and shifted instantaneously into his three-headed form.

  But death had already come; there was nothing to fight. A woman’s severed head had been impaled on the Jaguar’s hood ornament, her mouth open and her fangs exposed by a twisted grimace. Her eyes had been ripped away.

  Tension dug its claws into his spine; Colin tore his gaze from the macabre display, opened his senses, and scanned the lot.

  Nothing.

  Savi’s hand flexed against his, and he felt the slide of fabric against his back as she rose onto her toes, as if to look over his shoulder. Bloody hell. He pushed her back in and slammed the door closed, but not quickly enough.

  “Ohmygod,” she whispered, then began gagging.

  The thick, heavy scent of the vampire’s lifeblood saturated the air within the small room; despite his hunger, his fury overwhelmed his bloodlust.

  She wouldn’t forget.

  “My sword, pup.” The blade appeared in Colin’s palm; he turned toward Levitt.

  The vampire glanced up from the monitors, horror etching his features into a stark mask. It rapidly changed to terror.

  “It wasn’t there a second ago! I fucking swear, man!”

  Johnson whimpered softly, backed up against the wall, and closed his eyes, his arms rising protectively in front of his face.

  “Colin.” Savi’s hand tightened around his, her slim fingers surprising in their strength. Not strong enough to hold him back, except that she wanted him to wait. “Colin, don’t.”

  Footsteps pounded along the corridor, and Fia burst into the room. Confusion slid over her expression as she took in Levitt’s and Johnson’s frozen panic, and she glanced askance at Colin. Her eyes widened; her sword fell from her hand.

  Savi made a small sound of distress. “Put up your shields, Fia—all the way. Hold them. Has Paul come back?”

  Savi’s arm came around Colin’s waist as she spoke. His grip on his sword tightened before he forced the fury away, redirected it. She hadn’t mentioned Paul to help Fia center herself.

  The female vampire was the same Paul and Varney had followed.

  Fia shook her head, bent to pick up her sword. “Not yet. Whose blood do I smell?”

  “Give him a ring, Fia,” Colin said softly.

  For just a moment, her psychic scent trembled with fear. Then she pulled out her cell phone.

  Savi looked up at Colin and, apparently satisfied he wouldn’t slaughter the security team, strode over to Levitt’s desk and frowned at the monitor. “Can you ask the guys in Security to get the video of the parking lot ready for us to look at? If we slow it down, we should be able to see who put the head there.”

  “Straight to voice mail,” Fia said, snapping her phone closed. “He’s turned it off. He’d only have done that if he was worried a ring or vibration might be overheard. What happened? What head?”

  “They killed Fishnet Shirt’s partner,” Savi said. She pointed to the screen.

  Fia walked across the room to look and blanched. “Oh, God.” She met Colin’s gaze. Either the effect of his anger had passed or she was too frightened for Paul to let it affect her. “I’m going.”

  “No. I need you here.”

  “But—”

  Colin firmed his lips, shook his head. “I’ll find him. We need a name, Fia. This woman, and the partner. Someone in Polidori’s will recognize them; bring them in and Savi can give me the rest. I’ll find him,” he repeated when she began to argue.

  She swallowed, and her jaw clenched briefly before she said, “It’ll be Darkwolf, most likely.”

  “Fine.” It didn’t matter, so long as they knew who the woman was.

  The jingling tones of Savi’s computer drew his attention as it booted up; a small pile of electronics sat on the desk in front of her, and it grew with each softly voiced request she gave to the hellhound.

  She picked up a headset, plugged the wire into a slim radio. Colin stood motionless as she hooked it onto his belt, then slid the earphones over his head, adjusted the microphone at his chin. She discarded her helmet, then donned a matching contraption and tested the connection.

  “Q,” he teased quietly. “As well as Curry Delicious.”

  Her smile was brief. “Take Sir Pup,” she said.

  “He’s to stay with you. You cannot use the symbols and communicate with these.” He gestured to the radio. “I’ll not leave you unprotected.”

  Her dark eyes searched his, and he saw the moment s
he relented in the frustrated twist of her lips, the crease between her brows.

  “Take a shitload of weapons then?”

  He grinned. “You’ve such a wonderfully filthy mouth,” he said, and kissed it. He called in another sword and a pair of pistols, and headed out into the night with her flavor on his lips.

  A trail of fluorescent paint would have been less obvious than the scent of the female vampire’s blood. Colin easily followed its odor south across Market. Foolish of the bastard. Unlikely that it had been Dalkiel—the demon would have been better served escaping by air, and the blood held the physical tinge of a male vampire beneath it.

  Another of the demon’s lackeys? How many had he persuaded—or forced—into his service?

  The scent disappeared in the middle of Folsom Street.

  Clenching his teeth in frustration, he cast around for another thread, but only smelled rain and oil and metal. The fading odors of humans who’d passed through. Litter and sewage. The pavement glistened wetly beneath the streetlights; aside from the sparse traffic and the background noise from within the surrounding flats, all was quiet.

  A car drove slowly by, then stopped. Colin tensed, but allowed himself to relax when it began backing into the single free space along the curb. The woman who emerged looked at him; her gaze didn’t rise above the pistol rig and his swords. She fled into the nearest building without glancing at his face.

  Amused, he thumbed a button on the radio. “Savi, I need a direction. He must have had a vehicle waiting here; I’ve lost the scent.”

  “Where are you?” She repeated the address he gave her, then added, “Okay, the woman was Guinevere, a.k.a. Jennifer Branning. Arwen says she and Fishnet Shirt live together. I’ve got an apartment listed under her name in Daly City.”

  Eight miles south. An easy distance for Colin in the time they’d been gone, but not for a normal vampire. “Paul and Varney are on foot.”

  “Yeah. Hold on; the guys have the video from the parking lot up. I’m going to check it out.”

  Colin bit back his immediate protest. She’d been sickened by the violence, but had recovered quickly. Had it only been the shock of it that had affected her so?

  No matter. If she thought herself capable of seeing it again, he wouldn’t coddle her.

  “It was Mullet Boy,” Savi said. “I’ve got a name: Peter Osterberg. According to Gina, he moved into the community three months ago. He had a partner—a woman. A redhead, but they don’t know her name.”

  And Colin hadn’t bothered to ask it before he’d slain her. Bloody, bloody hell. “Moved to where?”

  “Just a sec, I’m pulling it up.”

  A police cruiser turned in at the end of the street; a searchlight penetrated the darkness as the car rolled slowly toward Colin. He slid into the shadows between the buildings, leapt soundlessly onto a fire escape platform.

  A fat white cat hissed though the windowpane near his elbow, its claws digging into the sill, fur bristling. Even with its back arched, its belly skimmed the wood at its feet. Plenty of blood in that pampered thing. Colin contemplated taking a sip to tide him over, then decided it was too much effort when a push at the sash proved it locked.

  The searchlight illuminated the alley beneath him; the cruiser continued on.

  Another minute passed before Savi said, “He just leased a condo on Nob Hill. Swanky little place. And probably with your money—he had a huge influx of cash three weeks ago.”

  Colin smiled grimly. “Then he’ll not mind if I call on him.”

  “Are you at the same location? Darkwolf and Gina are offering to provide backup.”

  The suddenly cheerful note in her voice alerted him to her unease; he knew its cause, but could see no way to deny them without damaging the nascent trust he’d built with the vampires. “Have them meet with me at Osterberg’s building; I’ve attracted a bit of attention here.”

  “The swords?”

  “Yes.” He jumped from the fire escape, landed quietly on the pavement thanks to the finest leather Italian bootmakers could produce. Unfortunately, a journey across downtown would do little for their shine.

  “People should really be more accepting of vampires running through the streets armed like ninjas. I’ve given Darkwolf and Gina a few guns with venom-laced bullets. They’re going now.”

  Guns, not swords. Clever Savitri. Colin would much rather be shot in the back than stabbed or decapitated from behind. He could recover from a bullet wound, even one to the brain; he didn’t want to test his capacity for healing without a head.

  “How long will it take you to get there? Can I talk dirty to you on the way?”

  His brow creased as he began jogging north. She was too aware of her effect on him—and the effect of his arousal on his control—to risk distracting him with such sexual play. “Please do.”

  In Hindi, she said, “I had sex with a monkey and it gave me herpes.”

  He let out a shout of laughter, then replied in the same language, “That is quite all right, sweet. I’m immune to such diseases. I daresay I’m fortunate in that, given my history.”

  “Very fortunate. Okay. I just wanted to make certain no one here could understand me, but they didn’t even blink.” Her voice was breathy, her tone sensuous. “I’m going to send either Fia or the hound to watch your back. Your only choice is which one I send.”

  He gritted his teeth, glanced heavenward. Above the skyscrapers, the moon peeked through the thinning clouds. “Savi, if I don’t know you are safe—”

  “I’ll stay in Security with Arwen and the guys from SI. Sir Pup is in his demon form; no one’s going to challenge him here. If nothing else, I’ll drop my shields and bring a pack of wyrmwolves down on them.” She sighed, and he could easily imagine her liquid brown eyes, their expression caught between amusement and gravity. “I don’t like Arwen, but I don’t think she’s going to try anything; she was pretty shaken up when she saw the present Dalkiel and friends left on your car.”

  “But you’re worried that Darkwolf or Gina might try something.”

  “Not terribly worried, because if they do anything to you I’ll tell Sir Pup to eat their friend here,” she said. “I’m simply less trusting than I used to be. Or less stupid. And I want to know you are safe, too.”

  How could he resist that? “Fia, then.”

  “Okay,” she said in English a moment later. “She’s going. When you get there, you’ll find Dalkiel on the roof terrace. I think it must be him; he’s in his demon form. Osterberg’s there, too. It looks like they’re just waiting, but it’s hard to tell; the video is kind of fuzzy.”

  Good God. “Have you hacked into a spy satellite?”

  Her voice trembled with laughter. “No. That’d take a lot more skill than I have, and a much better system. This is from a KRON WeatherCam.”

  “A decade suddenly seems a bit generous, Savitri.”

  “Well, I’ve isolated the feed and taken the camera offline—but, yeah, there’s too many ways people might see something they shouldn’t.”

  He shook his head in disbelief, but only said, “I’ve arrived. Are Dalkiel and Osterberg on the roof still?” No reason to be quiet; the demon must know they’d come.

  “Yeah. You’ll wait for the others? It’s the only way I can see where you are, if you’re with them.”

  “I’ll wait.” His position near the entrance was relatively safe; he focused his senses upward to guard against attack from the roof, and caught the faint threads of two familiar psychic scents. “Paul and Varney are here. Alive.” For now, at least. There was no mistaking the bitter trace of fear—and pain—they hadn’t managed to block.

  “I’ll let Fia know.”

  Three figures dipped between the shadows across the street. “No need, sweet. She’s here, too.”

  “How will they get in?”

  Savi’s fingers didn’t stop moving over the keyboard as she glanced over at Arwen. The vampire had apparently conquered her fear of Sir Pup; despite the s
harp-toothed grin he trained on her from his left head, she’d sidled close enough to the hellhound to angle her neck for a view of Savi’s monitor.

  Sir Pup watched, too, from his middle head; his third, he’d turned to keep an eye on the security team behind them.

  “He’ll probably just smile at the guy,” Savi said, and pushed away from the desk with a kick of her foot. Her chair rolled back, and she grabbed a phone from the adjacent table. A twist and another kick, and she was at her computer again, trailing the phone cords behind her.

  She plonked the phone onto the desk, took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  Engaging the speakerphone, she dialed Hugh’s home number.

  On her monitor, three small blobs crossed the street and congregated near the front of the building. The silence from Colin’s radio and the absence of background noise told her he’d turned off his microphone while talking with the others. Savi silenced hers, as well, but kept the earpiece on.

  “What?”

  Oh, crap. “Hey, Lilith,” she said cheerfully. “Can I talk to Hugh?”

  Arwen’s purple eyes grew large in her thin face; she must recognize both names from Hugh’s book. Hadn’t the vampires known who was in charge of SI? Or perhaps just hadn’t expected to have direct contact with them.

  There was a pause, in which Savi had the small hope the phone was being transferred.

  “No,” Lilith said. “You sound like you’re smiling. What’s wrong?”

  She was smiling. She’d overcompensated. Dropping the pretense, Savi said, “Not wrong, yet. Dalkiel had a vampire killed, and put her head on Colin’s car. We’re pretty certain he’s holding Paul and Varney. Colin, Fia, and two others from the community have gone after him.”

  “Do they have a location?”

  “Yes. They’re set to go in now.”

  “Tell him to stand down. I’ve got ten Guardians at SI; Hugh’s on the other line with them. What’s the location?”