Demon Night Read online

  That didn’t add up to as little as he claimed, but though she was curious, Charlie let it go. She didn’t like to talk about the details of her life, either. And when she did, she just twisted them up into barely believable stories.

  Ethan had already heard several of them.

  She waited a beat, then said, “There’s a painting up in one of the bedrooms.”

  His hands stilled in the middle of tucking in his shirt, and then he finished it and slowly drew his suspenders up. “I figured you’d seen the one in the living room. Savi at the poker table with the novices—and me.”

  Charlie slid off the island. “I missed that one.” Of course, by the time she’d come back downstairs she hadn’t been seeing much at all.

  She heard the pad of his feet as he followed after her; in the hallway, it changed to the tread of boots. “I’d have told you, Charlie, but—”

  “I wouldn’t have believed you.”

  She looked over her shoulder in time to see the quirk of his lips. “For that reason, too,” he said. “But mostly we don’t tell anyone unless it’s necessary. And I’d hoped we’d clear all of this up without it ever coming to the point where I had to tell you.”

  “But you’ll show Jane and Dylan what you are tomorrow—in case they need evidence?”

  The painting was huge, but in shadow—her lamp was across the room, and one of the wooden posts that divided the living areas blocked the light. Charlie stopped in front of it, and realized that Ethan hadn’t yet responded.

  She looked around for him, saw him at the wall panel. She had to blink at the sudden illumination; his features were grim as he made his way to her side.

  “You do plan on telling them?” If he didn’t, Charlie would. She just didn’t know if she could convince them.

  “We’ll show Jane,” he finally said. “In the morning I’ll drive us on over, and we’ll talk to her.”

  “Okay.” The tension drained from her. “Drive in what?”

  “I’ve got that truck stored away. Haven’t used it in a decade or so, but it should run.” It took her a second to realize he meant stored in that place he vanished things to, not somewhere in the city—but before she could wrap her head around the concept of it, he began to point out the participants in the painting. “You’ve seen Savi. Jake’s to her left—you’ll meet him tomorrow—and Becca, Mackenzie, Pim, and Randall on the other side.”

  Ethan was depicted at the far left, leaning back in his chair, his long legs in an easy sprawl and his thumbs hooked into his suspenders just above his waist. Though his expression didn’t show it, everything about his posture suggested that he was heartily enjoying himself.

  She made herself study the others. The small, dark woman from Cole’s had been caught in a laughing pose, and her fangs gleamed. No one else had his mouth open, though a couple were smiling. There weren’t any drinks on the table—or any snacks. “Are they all vampires?”

  “Just Savi and Mackenzie. The others are novices—Guardians in their first hundred years of training. Used to be, they were taught in Caelum, but now a human man is overseeing their training so we’ve moved the novices to San Francisco. This is only a handful, though.”

  “You’re training vampires, too?” Charlie glanced at the woman’s fangs again and barely repressed her shudder.

  “Yes. They’re not all as bad as those who came at you, Charlie. Mostly, they live in the cities, forming communities and working like the rest of the folk. They were once human—and just like humans, some are worth knowing, and some you just want to acquaint with the end of your sword.”

  “But they drink blood.”

  “They do, but from one another—and not from humans, unless they intend to transform them. Communities have strict rules against that.”

  “Not the Seattle community, apparently.” She turned away from the canvas.

  Ethan was still looking at the painting, nodding slightly, a frown creasing his brow. It smoothed away when he glanced down at her. “For the most part, they do. But the remainder is why I’m here. The demons are mucking the community up; I intend to set it straight again.”

  And…what? Everything would go back to normal? “I hope you do,” she admitted. “I don’t think I want one sucking on my neck.”

  His grin was sudden. “To be truthful, Charlie, though there are several vampires that I consider friends, I’m not all that eager to have them sucking on me, either.”

  Cold lips, pointed teeth, blood…this time she couldn’t halt her shiver. “I can imagine it doesn’t feel very good.”

  “No, I reckon not.” His humor vanished as quickly as it had arisen. “You ought to take a few hours of sleep. I’ll be waiting for Jake, but we’ll head out to Jane’s first thing after he arrives. It’s best that you’re sharp.”

  The last thing she felt like was sleeping, but time alone to process everything would be welcome. Time alone…in a room filled with paintings of Heaven. “Is it okay if I take the big bedroom?”

  “Don’t matter none to me.” His long legs ate up the distance to the stairs, and she followed slowly. The suspenders formed a large Y on his back. “I’ll put your things in there.”

  “Can you remove the painting of…” What had their names been? “Colin and Savi? I don’t feel comfortable with it.”

  Ethan paused in the doorway to the bedroom, and the portrait vanished from the wall. “A bit naked, aren’t they?” he said quietly before entering the room.

  “Yes.” He didn’t mean unclothed—both had been dressed. “A little too personal. What did you call that place? It’s real?” She nodded to one of the other paintings.

  “Caelum.” The corner of his mouth tilted up, and his voice was gently teasing. “It’s real—and it’s Latin, so it starts with ‘C,’ not ‘K.’”

  She leaned her shoulder against the door frame, dipping her chin to laugh. And although she usually felt uncomfortable when anyone but Jane ribbed her about that quirk, this time the embarrassment didn’t come.

  Her laughter ended on a sigh when she caught sight of another painting, a different angle. “And you’ve been there?”

  “For a hundred years I lived there, and since then I drop by about once a day. Sometimes less, but at least once a week.” He fell into silence, and when she glanced at him, she found him watching her face. He seemed to straighten up, and said abruptly, “Where would you like your things? What do you need for the night?”

  The room didn’t have much furniture—just a bed and a wardrobe. “How about my dresser over in that corner, and then dump the junk from my bathroom on the bed, and I’ll put it up. My iPod, too.” She paused. “My computer doesn’t work if the spell’s up?”

  He shook his head. “It works, but won’t have online access.”

  “So I can’t even send her an e-mail until tomorrow—okay, then, I won’t need it.” She ran her fingers down the buttons of her coat, trying to think of anything else she would use. Her gaze ran to the en suite bathroom.

  Oh, Lord.

  Her cheeks flooded with heat. “Do you have super-hearing, too?”

  “Yes.” Ethan turned from the wall panel; she heard the soft sound of electric air heaters blowing to life. His brows drew together when he saw her expression. “Ah, hell, Charlie—I don’t listen.”

  “But from your apartment you could hear…what?”

  “Most everything in that building. If I listen close enough now, I can hear you digest your food. But I tune it out—it’s just life, and I can’t listen to all of it. Most of it I don’t want to hear, anyway.”

  She stared at him, and despite his assurance, her mortification only deepened. For two months he’d lived next to her. And not just the living—she hadn’t had any men over in a long time, but she took care of herself. Had plenty of fantasies, and a few had included a faceless Ethan making his way over the wall. Had she ever said his name aloud?

  His hands were jammed deep in his pockets. “I swear that whenever you did anything intimate th
at I couldn’t tune out, I left.”

  Oh, thank God. Relief swept through her, but his eyes closed and his jaw firmed.

  “Don’t look at me grateful, Charlie. A man can only take so much before he thinks about unlocking a door that isn’t his to open.”

  She would have probably let him in. Even now, with that big bed behind him, she was thinking that she’d like to lose herself in that: the slide of skin, the intoxication that passion could bring. It would be that hot between them, that good, that numbing—their kiss had been evidence of it. His mouth would be all over her, and he’d be gentle, fucking her sweet and slow, until he lost control and then it would be deep and hard. He was so big, so strong, the craving in him just beneath the surface. But if he let it out, let it take over him, take her, she could just float along with it.

  It wouldn’t make a difference, though: the sun would rise, he still wouldn’t want to want her, and they’d have to go convince Jane that vampires existed and were crawling the night.

  She sighed. No, it wouldn’t all go away—but she would have loved for him to take her there for an hour or two.

  “Charlie—” His voice was strained. His fists drew the denim tight across his groin. Oh…Lord. Her gaze flew to his face, to his eyes—so intense they seemed to be glowing. His throat worked before he said, “I won’t unlock that door.”

  She didn’t flinch beneath that stare or the rejection his words contained. “I don’t remember asking you.”

  “No.” Ethan rubbed at the back of his neck, his expression changing to one of chagrin. “No, that you didn’t.”

  But he obviously wanted it, too. Was considering it. His body had reacted as if he’d been thinking the same thing she had—oh, Jesus.

  Horror clutched at her chest. “Can you read my mind?”

  “No.” His hand dropped to his side. “Your emotions. Some images, if you think them hard enough.”

  That wasn’t much better. “Can you not do it?”

  “Most times. You project a bit, but I won’t look unless it’s necessary.” Ethan moved toward her, and his focus shifted to the right. “You can also use these, Charlie. The spell will close off this room, give you time alone when you need it.”

  She turned. His long fingers were tracing the symbols on the door frame. He was so close she could feel the warmth of him.

  “We’ll key it with my blood, however, so I’ll be able to come in if I need to.” He met her eyes. “But I won’t, unless there’s trouble.”

  This time, his words didn’t feel like a rejection—just reassurance that he wouldn’t invade her privacy. “All right.” She shifted her weight, glanced around the room again. “I guess that’s it, then.”

  “I reckon so.” The drops of his blood glistened crimson against the pale yellow paint. “You need anything, you come and get me.”

  “I will.”

  He nodded once. The crooked smile tilted his lips. “Good night, Miss Charlie.”

  Good night, Ethan. The familiar response poised on her tongue, but the weight of the evening held it there.

  Nothing was the same. Nothing would ever be the same again, and she couldn’t be dependent on what used to be.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, hugged herself tight. “Good night, Drifter.”

  CHAPTER 9

  He’d built a right solid wall between them again. Ethan spent the next couple of hours thumbing through Billy Budd, but he had read it almost to pieces in the eighty years since Castleford had brought the novella to Caelum, and he didn’t look at the words so much as contemplate all of the reasons he shouldn’t tear the wall down.

  That he couldn’t come up with many was likely an indication of how fuzzy he was getting.

  Dawn had come and the sun lifting well into the sky when he broke the spell around the house. He breathed slow and long until the flood of sounds and psyches faded to a hum.

  Charlie still hadn’t come down when the click of heels on the deck outside told him Jake had gotten a ride. Ethan went on out, leaving the French doors open behind him; Selah leaned against the railing overlooking the lake, the breeze blowing her pale blond hair around her shoulders. Jake had his hands linked behind his head, whirling in a circle and looking mighty pleased with himself.

  “This your doing?” Ethan said as Selah turned to face him and set her elbows against the rail.

  “I told him the teleportation would make him dizzy. It didn’t, so I believe he’s celebrating by trying to get there himself.” Her bright green skirt fluttered around her slim legs. A Guardian for two and a half centuries, Selah had assisted Castleford in mentoring Ethan—and lately she’d taken to dressing like a fashion plate. “Or maybe he’s celebrating because Lilith had him convinced that Colin’s house was on an isolated pig farm outside of Puyallup. Are you well, Drifter?”

  “Ain’t got nothing to complain about.” But her blue eyes were too direct, and she’d known him too long. Hoping to distract her, he quickly asked, “And you and yours?”

  She’d recently taken up with a vampire, but as much as Ethan wanted to direct her attention from himself, he hoped she wouldn’t dwell on it. Women in love were apt to go on and on about their partners, and though Ethan liked her vampire well enough, he could get along just fine without hearing about how Marsden was so almighty considerate or his eyelashes or whatever it was that had captured Selah’s fancy.

  “Good. We’re both good.” Selah paused in a delicate way, and Ethan’s stomach wound up tight. “I heard about your brother. Do you need—”

  Ethan reached out, caught Jake by his collar mid-spin. “You take out an ad?”

  Jake’s grin was only slightly apologetic. “I might have said something at the poker game last night when Becca asked where you were.”

  “Novices these days, I swear,” Selah said dryly.

  Ethan let him go, frowning, but couldn’t work up a good talking-to. Jake was sixty years old, but Ethan figured his personality had been fixed at twenty. Or at twelve, on even-numbered days.

  And Selah was delicately quiet again, running her fingers along her beaded necklace. “Drifter, are you certain you don’t need anything?”

  From the house came the sound of a door opening, Charlie’s breath and heartbeat. Maybe they wouldn’t note that Ethan’s sped up a bit.

  “Some kind of breakfast for Charlie wouldn’t be out of order,” he said. “Anywhere you teleport downtown, chances are you’ll land in a coffee shop. And I’d be much obliged if you’d make me up a new jacket.”

  Selah did instantly, tossing the long coat toward him.

  Ethan vanished it, and he added, “I’ve also got pictures I’ll be sending Lilith, but if you run into Michael, tell him to have a look, too. I found something I wasn’t expecting, but I’ll outline the details in an e-mail.” If any demon was near enough to listen, he wouldn’t hear what Ethan had to say about the one who’d killed the female vampire.

  Selah nodded, a line of concern appearing between her brows, and then her gaze shifted behind him. Jake inhaled audibly, then released it with a soft sound of masculine appreciation.

  Guardians just don’t smell that good, Jake gestured with one hand when Ethan pinned a hard stare on him.

  They didn’t—Guardians didn’t have much odor at all. But if Jake was still suffering from Enthrallment, too much scent could twist him up. Don’t you go sniffing and lose your head, Ethan signed back.

  Charlie might have been pleased to know that her psychic shields were tight when she came outside. Ethan wouldn’t have had much trouble getting through, but awareness—and wariness—had lent them some strength. An unconscious reaction, but with time and practice she could deliberately raise and lower them.

  She sure as hell didn’t need any practice concealing her expression, however. Though she must have been feeling something in addition to the friendly curiosity that she showed, Ethan couldn’t find a hint of anything more.

  Except that she was cold. She pulled the sleeves of her thi
n hooded sweatshirt down over her hands after Ethan performed the introductions. He glanced at Selah, and another—smaller—jacket came flying his way.

  “It’ll disappear in a couple of hours,” he said as Charlie slung it around her shoulders and pulled her mass of wheat gold hair from beneath the collar. “Unless you’re a Guardian, they don’t stay long.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head with a small smile. “All right.”

  Disappointment slipped through him. He’d have bet anything that she’d been set to make up a story about vanishing clothes, but she must not be feeling comfortable enough to tell it. “You hungry?”

  At Charlie’s nod, Selah asked, “How do you take your coffee?” and Charlie recited a list of preparation details and flavorings that had Ethan wondering if he’d been deprived as a human, drinking coffee so bitter that even fine white sugar couldn’t sweeten it, instead of something that sounded like dessert.

  Selah teleported an instant after Charlie finished.

  “Ah,” she said, blinking quickly.

  “You all right?”

  “Just…surprised.” Her dark gaze moved to Jake, who’d taken a seat at the deck’s dining table, then to Ethan. “I think I’m going to sit, too. Why didn’t you do that last night?”

  “I can’t teleport. It’s her Gift. Some Guardians are Healers; others teleport or talk to spiders or play with metal. Other abilities, too, mostly depending on what they did when they were human.” Ethan scooted Charlie’s seat out, then tucked it under her before taking the adjacent chair. Fortunately, it wasn’t one of those tiny café sets, and he could sit without rapping his knees beneath the table every time he breathed.

  “What can you do?” she asked when he was settled. In the daylight, Charlie’s brown eyes were a bit more hazel, the sun bringing out the green. Her loose tumble of curls looked as if she’d just lifted her head from her pillow, but he knew she usually spent a good fifteen minutes styling her hair just so.