Demon Night Page 7

  But she had no confidence in this, no knowledge. No certainty that what she’d seen was real, let alone something she could master. And it settled deep in her, until the night hid a creature with fangs, and even the long slide of Ethan’s shadow on the sidewalk concealed a horror that was waiting to grab her and—

  “You suddenly take up religion?”

  The question seemed to jump out of that darkness, unexpected and low, and Charlie barely stifled her scream. Her heart pounded. She stopped walking and looked up at Ethan, found him watching her with his brows drawn.

  “Religion?” she echoed.

  He raised his hand to his throat, and she automatically mirrored the action. Her palm met cool metal, and she gripped the cross tight, the edges digging into her fingers.

  Her fear drained away. She’d protected herself; she wasn’t completely helpless. “I’m not taking up anything,” she said with a lift of her shoulder and a brief smile. “It’s to scare away the vampires.”

  The scar paled when his mouth thinned, but the taut line quickly melted away with humor. “I don’t reckon a bit of jewelry would frighten them, Charlie.”

  It was ridiculous how easily his voice heated her from the inside, and she was suddenly all too aware of the kiss of crisp air over her belly and breasts. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and surreptitiously checked out his reflection in the darkened window of the antique store behind him.

  Very, very nice.

  “Garlic, then?” This time, she could look at him without worrying her interest would be—pathetically—obvious. People looked at each other when they talked. Of course, she usually didn’t have to tilt her head quite as far to see someone, but the line of his jaw and the crease that formed at the corner of his mouth when he smiled made the effort worth it. “Silver? A wooden stake?”

  “Now, Miss Charlie, you ought to know that the best way to slay a vampire is by removing his head or slicing his heart in two,” he said. “It’s mighty difficult to do either with a stake. Messy, too.”

  “Killed a lot of them, have you?” She stole another glance at the window. Lord, but she’d have liked a bite of that. Though his trousers sat low on his waist and didn’t have any distinctive tailoring, the strength of his body defined his shape better than the finest clothes could have.

  And she obviously hadn’t been with anyone in far too long, if a man’s ass could get her this excited.

  Maybe it was the suspenders. They’d thrown her off-kilter.

  “I’ve slain some,” he said, and slipped out of his jacket with a roll of his shoulders. The collar of his burgundy shirt curled at the edges, soft and worn, and the top button was unfastened. Everything about him spoke of ease and comfort—even the way he’d tucked his hand into his pants pocket and slung his jacket over his wrist made the corduroy drape over his hip like a long lazy cat.

  It wasn’t a pose that screamed vampire slayer, but nevertheless, the sheer confidence he exuded was reassuring.

  “Most of the legends are wrong, Miss Charlie.”

  She met his gaze again, but couldn’t read his expression. “Which legends?”

  “They have reflections, for one,” Ethan said with a long, uneven smile. “As sure as I do.”

  Her embarrassed laugh was slammed by fear, smashed into the shape of words. “Some of them don’t,” she said, and gave in to the sudden urge to glance over her shoulder, to make sure nothing was sneaking up behind her, invisible in the window’s reflection, and Ethan unaware he was supposed to be looking out for creatures like that.

  “You sound awful certain,” he said slowly.

  The street was empty.

  Of course it was. What had she come to, that she was scaring herself, imagining real vampires who weren’t there?

  There or not, paranoid or not—she didn’t want to wait around until one showed up.

  “I’m going to be late,” she said, and walked out from under his sharpening stare.

  He caught up with her an instant later, matched the rhythm of her steps. For a few seconds, there was only the beat of their feet in sync, the thudding of her heart in her ears. He must have been shortening his stride, but she wouldn’t have known it to look at him; it was as long and easy as his drawl.

  Finally, he said, “So I reckon there’s a story behind that certainty? I’d sure like to hear it, Miss Charlie.”

  And that was perhaps the most direct request she’d ever heard Ethan make. She tucked her chin down, pushed her hands into her pockets. It would only sound ridiculous. Stupid.

  Which made it safe to tell.

  She kicked a piece of gravel on the sidewalk, watched it rattle away before she said, “Well, about two months ago, I was working at the bar when a hush falls over the people in the restaurant.” It hadn’t been silent; Cole’s was never silent, but she had heard the quiet even over the music. “So I look up, and there’s a guy walking into the lounge. And he’s so incredible to look at that it’s like I’ve been kicked in the chest. Or just narrowly missed being hit by a car.”

  Ethan made a choking sound. His mouth was tight, but she thought he was holding back laughter. That was good—just Charlie, making up another story.

  The muscles knotted low in her back relaxed, and she fell into her tall-tale mode, the effortless rhythm of it. “It takes me a few seconds to realize that he’s got a chick with him. And even if I hadn’t seen their rings, it would have been obvious that they’re together together—but they don’t get a table.”

  “You looked for his ring?” Ethan paused at the edge of the curb, the traffic light washing the scar on his lip with pale green.

  Charlie would have expected a crooked nose to go along with that scar, but the lines of his face were strong and firm. And, like the rest of him, straight and long—not thin or wide, but just medium. Despite his height, there was nothing lanky about him, no awkward angles. He was in perfect proportion, even if all of the portions were oversized.

  “Well, yeah.” Was all of him oversized? She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t cast a measuring glance that way as she hit the crosswalk button. Then pressed it a few more times, though she knew it wouldn’t make it go any faster. “A guy looks like that, you check for one.”

  “And if he doesn’t have one?”

  “You look hard, then run away as fast as possible.” Even though Charlie was certain Ethan wasn’t attached, she’d double-checked for his. And she hadn’t run, but she’d known for a long time she wasn’t the highest note in the register.

  She stuffed her hands back into her pockets when the crosswalk signal finally changed. “Anyway, most couples come into the lounge, they get a table of their own—but these two belly up to the bar and start talking to me. And he’s got this lovely British accent.” She shook her head, still disbelieving her reaction. “It actually takes me a couple of minutes to say anything that doesn’t sound idiotic, because he’s so…so…”

  “Almighty beautiful that your sense tucks its tail between its legs, but it’s your tongue that runs away,” Ethan drawled, his smile the widest she’d yet seen, and she grinned in response.

  “Yes. He’s too pretty not to look at. But I’m trying not to stare, because I’m sure his wife gets enough of that. Luckily, that kicked-in-the-chest feeling went away after a few minutes, and she doesn’t seem to be offended. If anything, she seems to be laughing at him for it. It’s difficult to be certain, though, because every time she smiles or laughs she does this.” Charlie lifted her hand to cover her mouth.

  “Like a vampire hiding her fangs,” Ethan said.

  There wasn’t much teasing in his voice now, but Charlie tried to drum up a smile—this was supposed to be a joke. “Yeah. At the time I was thinking she might be shy, but she hadn’t seemed the shy type. So I thought maybe she used to have braces or funky teeth and hadn’t broken the habit of covering them.”

  She fingered the cross again. It had taken her a long time to get over the instinctive need to hide her scar when someone’
s gaze rested too long on her neck. Now she was more likely to call attention to it, make them aware of what they were doing.

  Except with Ethan she hadn’t—and she thought now that she’d deliberately covered the scar with the necklace. Hiding it—or just not wanting to know if he was the type to stare?

  She glanced up at him, realized he was waiting for her to continue, and picked up where she’d left off. “And before I know it, I’ve told them about my parents’ divorce, my dad’s leukemia, my mom’s latest marriage to the composer in Paris, and about Jane and Dylan.” Her voice wouldn’t convey her bemusement, so she added, “It usually doesn’t go that way. Typically, it’s all about the customer, but I had no control over that conversation. He did. But they were fun to talk to, so I didn’t even think about how weird that was until afterward. After the other thing.”

  They were at Cole’s now. Iron bars striped the front of the glass doors and the restaurant’s large, street-side windows. Melody led a group of four past the hostess podium, a clutch of menus in her hand, her hips swaying in time with Janis Joplin’s earthy voice.

  Charlie checked her watch. “You want to come in? Protecting me from the bloodthirsty undead deserves at least a drink, and I’ve still got about ten minutes.”

  Ethan studied her for a long moment, his face impassive. Faint lines radiated from the corners of his eyes. It was difficult to determine if they were wrinkles or tan lines. If it was from the sun, it had been kind; he wasn’t at all weathered.

  How old was he? Mid-thirties?

  His nostrils flared slightly and he looked away from her. “I’d best not, Charlie.”

  “All right.” She concealed her disappointment with a smile, shifted awkwardly on her feet. What should she do now? Shake his hand? A thank-you kiss to his cheek? She probably couldn’t get up that high.

  And what the hell did I’d best not mean?

  Dammit. She’d best not make herself go crazy wondering, or make an embarrassment of herself by asking him. “Another time, then. Thanks, Ethan.”

  Her hand was on the long iron bar that served as a door handle when his voice stopped her. “You’ll finish your story when I walk you home?”

  She averted her face to hide her relieved smile. “I can do it now. There’s not much more.” Tucking her coat a little closer around her body, she stepped up onto the bench seat and sat on the top. She wasn’t on level with Ethan, but at least she didn’t have to crane her neck up so much this way, and she didn’t think he’d sit.

  “So I was talking to them, and wiping the area next to them to look like I was busy. The bar is dark wood, sealed with a varnish, and I always keep it clean. Shining. Anything sitting on it reflects—not perfectly, just a gleam. And that’s when I notice that even though his hand is on the bar, there’s no reflection. Her hand and sleeve do, her glass does, his glass does…but not him or his clothes.”

  Ethan didn’t respond, just studied her face with that steady, quiet expression. Charlie dropped her gaze to her hands, then to the side. The ashtray at the end of the bench had a single butt crushed into the sand. Whoever it was had probably sat alone in the cold, sucking down the cigarette as quickly as possible before returning to his party.

  She touched her fingers to her lips and forced herself to meet Ethan’s eyes again.

  “So I’m thinking that it’s strange, but it’s not frightening—until I have to turn around to use the cash register. There’s a mirror on the wall back there, mostly hidden behind the shelves of bottles. And I can see her, I can hear them talking, so I know he hasn’t gone to the restroom or anything…and then his glass lifts into the air.”

  Even now, the thought of that floating glass made her heart skip and race.

  As if Ethan heard it, his gaze fell to her chest. “Were you frightened then?”

  She shook her head. “I was trying to convince myself that I hadn’t seen it. And it’s not like they were drinking blood. He had an orange juice, for God’s sake—she was teasing him about it. It was only after, when I couldn’t stop thinking about that glass, that I realized what he was. What they were. But even then…”

  She pulled off her cap, stuck her hand into her hair to fluff it, and smiled weakly. She had completely lost the pretense that this was just a story. Was Ethan now thinking she was mentally unhinged? He was watching her too closely, his eyes too assessing.

  Why was it that nothing about him was direct but the way he looked at her?

  “Then he gave me a hundred-dollar tip, and they left,” she finished in a rush, then glanced at the time and hopped down from the bench.

  Ethan blinked. His grin was slow as he opened the door for her. Music and the heavy odor of steaks and fries rolled out. “Well, now, Miss Charlie—that may be the strangest part of your tale.”

  A tale. Relieved that he’d taken it in the way she’d intended, she returned his smile. “Why strange?”

  “In my experience, vampires that comely are as tightfisted as they are vain.”

  That was an odd bit of humor, yet strangely accurate. “Oh. Well, he technically gave it to me—but only after she said something to him. Otherwise I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have thought to leave anything at all. Probably wouldn’t have even paid for their drinks.”

  That had him rolling into laughter, and Charlie’s brow creased as she watched him. There was obviously a joke here that she didn’t understand, but she liked the sound of his amusement too much to let it bother her. His laugh was deep, his head hanging low as he bent into it. On impulse, she rose up on her toes, pressed her lips to the firm corner of his mouth.

  Then swept through the entrance with a mumbled thanks, unsure if she should be flattered or mortified that such an insignificant kiss had shocked him silent.

  CHAPTER 5

  If Charlie had turned around, she’d likely have settled whatever internal argument that had set her psychic scent spinning with uncertainty. Ethan held the door wide and watched her walk across the dark-tiled floor, wishing his Guardian sight could burn through the coat concealing her curves.

  The most unexpected blows always came from the front—Ethan had learned that long before he’d become a Guardian. Though a man couldn’t see the hit coming from behind or from the side, he knew it might. Not when, but expecting that eventually it would, and so he was always bracing himself against the surprise.

  But even a light blow could knock a man off his feet when he’d been watching for it, because he figured he was prepared.

  Apparently, Ethan had figured wrong with Charlie.

  Her picture and the few glimpses he’d had told him he liked the look of her. Plenty of conversations over a wall had revealed her easy and entertaining way with a story that could draw him in or set him laughing. He’d gotten real familiar with her voice—the low rasp that often had him wondering about the sounds she’d make if he was in her deep.

  But those things hadn’t warned him about the way she could size a man up with a glance from beneath her lashes, making him hope that whatever she saw pleased her. Hadn’t warned him about the way her hair fell in a soft wave against her jaw when she ducked her chin to smile—or that when she pushed it back, exposing the vulnerable skin at the side of her neck, he’d want to unwind the necklace she’d used as protection, place his mouth on that spot, and tell her that he’d provide it for her.

  And he hadn’t known she could guard her expression as well as the wall had. Had Ethan been human, he’d never have wanted to face her across a poker table—a tell was easier to spot when it was a twitch in a blank mask. But hers wasn’t a studied or artificial expression; the emotions she chose to show were genuine enough—they simply weren’t all of what she felt, forcing him to read her psyche instead of her features.

  When he had, her interest had slipped like warm velvet across his mind. He’d sensed it before, but it had been nebulous—light curiosity about the man who lived next to her—and easy enough to ignore. Now it was strong, and reaching out with his mind as he was,
her interest felt like a touch as real as the kiss that had Ethan’s fingers clenching on iron and his eyes staring after her.

  Charlie didn’t glance back, though he watched until the black-haired hostess returned to her podium and narrowed her eyes at him, as if wondering why a man would remain outside looking starved instead of coming in and eating his fill.

  Ethan let the door fall closed, leaving him frowning at his reflection through the bars. Abruptly he turned away from it, vanished the jacket in his hand, and walked around the back of Cole’s to examine the twisted gate.

  The lock was intact, but even a vampire could have broken it with a hard twist of the knob, or pulled the gate’s metal frame from its seat of brick.

  They’d intended to scare her first, then. It didn’t surprise Ethan that a demon would recruit vampires with a streak of mean. And like a horse or a dog with a rabid temperament and an eagerness to hurt, there was but one option: put them down.

  Ethan had destroyed a few animals when he was human, and he reckoned he felt worse for them; they didn’t know any better. Anything that had once been human did.

  And Charlie had been well and frightened. Her fear had dogged her several times during their walk. Each time, she’d managed to push it away—leaving Ethan torn between his relief that she wasn’t relying on him, the sting to his pride that she thought he couldn’t defend her, and his unexpected need to reassure her that he would.

  But a conflicted man was a distracted one, and he wouldn’t be doing right by her if he allowed his ego to get in the way of protecting her.

  As it was, Ethan hadn’t sensed the vampire nearby until they’d been standing outside Cole’s. Ethan didn’t figure this particular vampire was any danger to Charlie…but chasing him down might be exactly what Ethan needed to cool the heat she’d created in him.

  Ethan walked quickly down the deserted alley, picking up speed. His duster appeared on a thought, and his forward motion created its own wind, the coattails flapping behind him. He’d have to cross two blocks to reach the vampire, and he was moving faster than a human could; he ought to get up top.