Demon Night (17 page)

“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 that 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.”

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 thin 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.

Ethan figured it might take him about thirty seconds of hard loving to get it to the same state.

He cleared the roughness from his throat. “I fiddle with locks.”

Jake snorted. “He's being modest. He does a lot more than fiddle. Which reminds me…” A large roll of blueprint paper appeared on the table. Jake leaned back and grinned. “I got the schematics for Legion's security system. A custom design—but you're already familiar with most of the components.”

Hell and damnation. He'd planned to lead up to this. Ethan glanced at Charlie; she lifted her gaze from the schematics to his face, and kept her eyes steady on his, but he could hear her fingers rubbing the fabric of her jacket, each stroke rough and irregular.

“What's your Gift, Jake?” she asked softly.

The novice was eyeing her uneasily. The maturity of a twenty-year-old, but still sharp and observant. “I dunno,” he said slowly. “I haven't gotten it yet.”

“That's too bad. Do you have my phone, Drifter?”

His jaw clenched. He'd given her that name, knowing it would act as mortar in the wall—he hadn't expected that when she used it, it would go on so thick. “That I do. I had to make a call last night. If you're charged for it, you'll be reimbursed.”

“Thanks.” Though her expression didn't change, an agitated flush spread over her skin. Unlike her tone and her features, she couldn't control that—and Ethan was glad of it, glad of any indication of her emotional state. She picked up the phone from the table. “Is there anything I shouldn't say? Something that I don't know yet about
my sister
, or that might put
my sister
in danger?”

Pissed off, for certain. “Just see if she's home. And if not, when she will be.”

“And if she's at Legion?”

Jake groaned quietly, as if he'd just realized what Ethan had yet to tell her.

Don't ever try to pass on your woman-handling skills,
Jake signed.

That decided it for him. Ethan didn't figure that Charlie wanted—or needed—to be handled. After the initial shock of the vampire attack had worn off, she'd taken every blow he'd landed on her—even given him back some.

He'd rather have laid this one on a little easier, though.

“I reckon you shouldn't tell her she's working for a passel of demons,” he finally said.

The flush fled her skin, left her pale. “But they can't hurt her, right? You said demons can't hurt people.”

“No, but if they lock a door, it's going to be mighty difficult for her to get out. Pins and tumblers don't have to respect free will. And I can open it up, but fighting my way through is something entirely different. Nor can I force her to leave, because I'm bound by the same Rules the demons are. And they can lie real well, make her think staying there is for her protection, so she'd have no reason to go with me.” He leaned forward, softened the next words. “Particularly if one demon is someone she already trusts. Loves him, even.”

Ethan saw it coming. Saw it in the way she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, as if in denial, waiting for him to continue and change the meaning. How she let it go when her brows drew tight with acceptance and worry. Heard it when the rubbing of her fingers stopped.

And when her fist came at him, he could have avoided it, but he just eased back so the impact wouldn't hurt her hand so bad—or his chin. Even seated, Charlie managed to put a mule kick of force behind it.

The long coat swirled around her when she stalked into the house. A few seconds later, he heard the faint tones of Jane's voice…a recording for voice mail.

So Jane was Charlie's boiling point. A threat to her sister, or someone denying Charlie information needed to protect her, and she went off violently—though she never had when the threat was personal.

Interesting that Sammael's reaction had been the same. What did that say about the demon's feelings for Jane?

“That was one hell of a jab,” Jake mused. He'd gotten his toothpick out, and was grinning around it.

Ethan nodded, sucking in his bottom lip and tasting blood. She'd busted it pretty well. And he imagined that if she could, she'd be tearing Sammael apart right about now.

“One hell of a woman, too,” he said quietly, and had to admit it wasn't just the fuzzy talking.

 

Jane wasn't home.

Charlie had been praying that it was just the shield around the house that kept her calls from getting through the cell and land lines, and when she saw Jane's hybrid car at the curb, her hopes had risen. But Dylan's Lexus SUV was missing from the driveway, and Ethan confirmed a moment later that no one was inside.

“So what do we do? Wait?”

Ethan parallel parked on the other side of the street, somehow maneuvering the big truck into a car-sized spot. About two feet of bench seat separated them, but when he cut the engine and turned toward her, it seemed half that distance. “I don't see as we have much other choice. Looking for them at Legion would be like traipsing into a snake pit, and if they've taken off somewhere else for the day, there ain't no way to get ahold of her but the phone.”

Charlie sighed and looked out the window again. A missing phone wouldn't make Jane suspicious; it would be just another item that she'd misplaced. “Would Dylan have taken it?”

“Yes. He must know we'd be attempting to contact her. He'll likely be screening everything possible—her e-mail, all phone calls, any letters.” Ethan repositioned his legs, resting his right boot near the stick shift, stretching out his left to the accelerator. “If they return and you go up to her, ask to talk with her alone, will she go? Even if he tells her not to?”

“Yes.”

“Then we'll wait.”

Dammit. Charlie propped her elbow on the armrest and began chewing at her thumbnail, staring at Jane's driveway and mentally urging her sister home.

“Charlie.”

She turned; Ethan was holding out a white coffee cup.

“This might be a bit more flavorful than that.” He nodded toward her thumb. “Be careful with it—nothing changes in my cache, so it's as hot as when Selah brought it back an hour ago.”