Demon Night (38 page)

Before she said something even worse.

“What do you think now?” he asked before she'd taken a step.

Her throat was so tight she could barely get it out. “That it doesn't matter, anyway.” She heard his harsh inhalation, realized that by saying only half of it she'd just managed to make it worse, and forced herself to lift her gaze to his face and finish. “Because when we're in the same room I don't notice anything but you.”

The tightness melted away, the color coming back to his features, warming his eyes. “Well, Miss Charlie, that's because I'm so almighty tall.”

Relief tore through her, weakened her knees. “Actually, I think it's the suspenders,” she rasped.

One long stride carried him close, his hands in her hair, but although she lifted her face to his, he only lowered his mouth to her ear and said softly, “You go make your call, because if I kiss you now there won't be another chance for you to talk to Jane tonight—and I'll lose the pile of money that's just waiting for me on that table. I'm feeling so lucky I could probably cheat the devil himself.”

“I've done that,” a familiar feminine voice broke in. Charlie turned her head at the same time Ethan did, saw the woman who must have been Lilith. Dark hair, dark eyes, and with a smile that Charlie could only call wicked. “And luck didn't have a thing to do with it.”

Ethan glanced down at Charlie, and she saw the flicker of frustration in his eyes before he said, “Don't believe her.”

Charlie blinked. Lilith was already turning around, gesturing for them to follow her. “She didn't cheat the devil?”

“She did,” Ethan said, taking her hand. “But luck rode real tight on her ass that day.”

 

Ethan needed five minutes alone with Charlie, but Lilith and Castleford showing up early told him he wasn't likely to get it just yet.

He'd thought for certain he'd spooked Charlie in the bedroom by giving her an indication of how powerfully he felt, and that she'd grabbed at a quick excuse to run. But he'd jumped to conclusions about her before, and now he was thinking he had again, because her response at the poker table had been the same: needing to speak with Jane. He'd sensed her spinning uncertainty then, the desperation and fear; maybe she hadn't been running to Jane as an escape, but for comfort.

And it hadn't taken much of a push for the rest to come out, to discover her emotions were running deep. So it might be she was just all around spooked, and feeling anything she laid on him was a burden. Might be that she'd been tiptoeing as carefully as he'd been, and he would have to ease her into looking to him when she was uncomfortable or hurting—particularly as she sure in blazes didn't like accepting anything else he had to give her.

Ease her into it…but he figured he'd have to push a bit more, first—and he'd be doing it just as soon as he finished up here.

Jake settled into the chair in front of Lilith's desk, but Charlie remained standing beside Ethan, her hands buried in her pockets. She didn't waver beneath Lilith's penetrating stare.

“So you can get Drifter through the spell?” Lilith said as she sat on the edge of her desk next to Castleford.

Sir Pup lay on the floor at her feet, and Charlie only blinked once when he lifted his three heads to study her before lowering them back to his forepaws.

“Yes,” Charlie said slowly, raising her gaze to Lilith's again.

“Can you do it now?”

Charlie was shaking her head before Ethan could respond. Castleford and Lilith had already seen recordings of them busting through the shield; they didn't need a demonstration, particularly one that might trigger her bloodlust.

“I haven't fed yet,” Charlie said. “And Drifter hemorrhages every time, so I'd prefer not to unless we're practicing, or it's critical.”

Lilith nodded, a smile curving her lips. “That last part sounds like something Drifter might say. I assume he's told you how much this will benefit us.”

“Yes.” Charlie's response had a wry note beneath it. “I'm well aware of what can happen when someone is locked inside the spell with a demon or a vampire, and a Guardian can't get to her.”

Lilith slanted a glance at Castleford, as if to see his reaction. She probably couldn't read Charlie's face much better than Ethan did.

“No, Miss Charlie,” Ethan said. “Agent Milton's wondering what you want out of it.”

“Oh.” Charlie blinked. “Am I supposed to bluff and hold out for a million dollars? No one's going to believe it. The second someone needed the help, I'd be doing it anyway.”

Ethan looked down at his boots, fighting his laugh. No, he reckoned Charlie couldn't offer an ultimatum to save her life. “We ain't talking trading, Charlie, because we ain't much for bargains when they matter. We're talking payment. Putting you on retainer, so to speak.”

When she shook her head, he fully expected her to refuse and to declare that she didn't need anything. But her brows knitted, and a moment later she said, “I'm sure there's something I could use. Let me think about it for a while.”

“You probably won't want to wait too long,” Lilith said. “Savi called us just after sunset, saying that Sammael checked out of the hotel. So she looked, and you didn't yet have an e-mail from Jane. Then Savi tried the phone Drifter gave to Jane, but she hasn't gotten any response but voice mail.”

Charlie paled, turned to look up at Ethan. “I'm going to see if anything's come in since then. Or try her number at Legion. Maybe she just forgot, is still at work.”

Ethan nodded, had to unclench his jaw before he said, “Jake? You give her any help she needs.” He waited until the door closed behind them. “I can't see as anything called for how abruptly you laid that on her.”

Lilith frowned. “And here I thought that you had a brain to go with those pretty eyes, Drifter. Two minutes with her told me that's how she'd prefer it; if I thought she'd wanted coddling, I'd have let Hugh tell her.”

“I'd have been as blunt,” Castleford said.

“All right.” Ethan took a deep breath. “You ain't wrong about her. I'm just feeling awful protective.”

“Half a second told me that,” Lilith said. “Now, do you want to know what the Scrolls told us about your nephilim friend in Seattle? Or do you want to wait?”

Even if Charlie managed to connect with Jane, Ethan figured he wouldn't be long in San Francisco, and he'd rather be as prepared as possible to face it again.

“Let's hear it now,” Ethan said.

“First,” Castleford said, “there's no mention of a prophecy, or the grigori. Neither does it explain how the nephilim were created.”

“Don't matter much to me, anyway. I ain't looking to make more, but to kill one.”

Lilith pulled her heel up onto the edge of the desk. “That'll be the difficult part, because there's no mention of any weaknesses, like sunlight or hellhound venom. They must have been incredibly powerful if it took both Lucifer's and Belial's demons to imprison them.”

“Considering I'm only alive because Jake teleported me out, that don't surprise me a bit. If I do happen to encounter it again, I'll be calling Selah for backup.”

Selah could teleport in—and, given a few extra seconds, bring other Guardians with her.

Castleford nodded. “We'll alert everyone active, let them know what she might be carrying them into.”

“All right,” Ethan said. “Do the Scrolls say what sets it off?”

“Lucifer used the nephilim to enforce the Rules,” Lilith said, frowning slightly when Sir Pup lifted his heads and a growl rumbled from his chest. She leaned forward to scratch at his neck. “How isn't exactly clear. But when a demon obstructed free will or harmed a human, a nephil was called, teleporting out of Hell to slay him.”

That fit what Ethan had seen; once Jane had set her mind on going to Charlie and the demon had held her back, the air had been humming with that odd psychic energy. “But it didn't stink as if it had just come in from Hell.”

Castleford hesitated, then shook his head. “The Scrolls suggest that the nephil possessed a human, and used that body when it was on Earth—just long enough that the nephil could kill the demon. Then it was called back to Hell.”

“Which doesn't make sense,” Lilith said, turning to Castleford. Her tone suggested they'd already discussed this detail at length, and couldn't come up with an explanation that satisfied either of them. “Assuming that a nephil could just take over a human's body like that, possession would deny the human's free will. That's too big a contradiction, even for Lucifer.”

She frowned again as Sir Pup got to his feet, his noses scenting the air.

The odor of sulfur and rot hit Ethan just before he heard Michael's melodic voice. “The humans whose bodies they possessed were dead.”

Ethan only had a second to meet the Doyen's gaze, note the black wings and bronzed skin, his white toga stained gray with soot and dirt. Then Charlie slipped through the door and wordlessly shook her head; she hadn't been able to reach Jane.

Her eyes widened when she saw Michael, and her nose wrinkled.

Lilith didn't hide her revulsion. “I guess that answers where you've been, Michael. You stink. And the smell is disturbing my puppy; he doesn't have fond memories of Hell.”

Michael sighed. “Tell me, Lilith—who does?” He looked at Charlie as she moved to Ethan's side, his obsidian eyes narrowing. The familiar touch of his healing Gift slid gently through the room. “Were you forced into the transformation?”

“No,” she rasped. Her cool hand found Ethan's, and he squeezed it reassuringly. With his opposite hand, he quickly signed the details of her transformation, the feeding, and weight loss to Michael before she added, “I wanted—
want
—to live.”

Michael shook his head, and his toga disappeared, immediately replaced by a linen tunic and long pants. His wings vanished.

“It is not enough to simply want to live. Even those forced want to live,” he said, and Charlie's breath caught, her fingers tightening painfully on Ethan's. “You must want to live
as a vampire
. It is a small difference, but one that your body and your will recognizes when the change tries to take hold.”

“It's getting easier to be one.” Her hands, her voice were trembling.

“Then you will continue getting better,” Michael said. “But because of your initial reluctance, it will be some time before the transformation completely sets.”

“I've always been slow,” Charlie said with a rough laugh, and tears clung to her lashes before spilling to her cheeks.

Well, hell. Ethan stared down at her, trying to figure the source of her tears—her expression didn't show the fear or relief he'd have expected. She stared at Michael, her face open and seeking as if she wanted to reach out to him, her psychic scent projecting shimmering fingers of heat and light.

Awe and wonder.

She added in a whisper, “Do you sing?”

“I have not in a very long time.” A smile softened the line of the Doyen's mouth, and now that her question made Ethan listen for it, he heard the distinct tones running through the complicated harmony of Michael's voice. “And if we are very fortunate, you will never hear me do so.”

Charlie eventually had to block out some of Michael's incredible voice, force herself not to pay attention to the intricate, shifting melody that made up his words, as if each sound contained a song. And once she listened to what he was saying rather than just his voice, she had to rush to catch up.

That the nephilim had been created by Lucifer was clear, but Michael didn't explain how it was done. Charlie thought his evasion of their questions left Castleford and Lilith frustrated, although it was difficult to tell—and Charlie only received the impression because Lilith was stroking her dog's heads a little more than she had been. Some of that frustration eased when Michael confirmed that the nephilim had attempted to take Lucifer's throne, but that the creatures were imprisoned—and that he'd teleported throughout Hell for the last few days, searching for the nephilim's prison.

“For what purpose?” Castleford asked.

“To see how many had been released.” Michael stood with his arms crossed over his chest, a huge painting of Caelum forming a backdrop behind him. Charlie didn't know how he stood so straight and still without appearing uncomfortable, but he managed it. “The nephilim are methodical and powerful—and I began to suspect them responsible for slaughtering the vampires after we visited Washington, D.C. I did not wish it to be true. And yet, given what Ethan has told us, it must be.”

Michael glanced over at Ethan, and Charlie fought not to shudder. Like Sammael's eyes had been, Michael's were all one color, but obsidian—and the only way to judge the direction of his gaze was by the turn of his head. “When I do find their prison,” Michael said, “I will likely need your assistance.”

Because it would be locked, Charlie realized. But although Ethan agreed, he was frowning. “Why is it that you need to return, if we've evidence that they have been released?”

“There were just over a hundred imprisoned,” Michael said. “And apparently he has allowed more than one to return to Earth. We must know what we are facing.”

“A hundred?” Lilith shook her head, as if she couldn't believe it. “A
hundred
of them brought Lucifer and his armies to their knees? How is it that he dares to release even one?”

“The Rules
must
be enforced,” Michael stated. “And I anticipated that Lucifer would release one, so that it could be called to Earth if a demon should break them. It would not need to use a Gate.”

Ethan's hand tightened on Charlie's. “You expected it, but you didn't warn us?”

“To be truthful, it was of little importance and—I thought—no danger to us. The nephilim are called, they destroy the demon, and they are called back to Hell. They cannot teleport at will, and they have a purpose that did not interfere with our own.”

“But that ain't what happened,” Ethan said. “It didn't return to Hell after slaying the demon.”

“No. Lilith is correct—with Lucifer embroiled in his war with Belial, he must have feared the consequences of having the nephilim free in Hell. Which is the second reason I only expected the one.”

Castleford pushed his hand through his short dark hair. “So they are free on Earth instead? A force that powerful?”

“Not as powerful,” Michael said. “Not when they are in human form—and they must bind themselves to a human form. Even if he does not call them back to Hell, Lucifer cannot alter that aspect of their nature.” He turned to Ethan again. “And that is where you will find a weakness in them.”

“Slaying it when it looks human?”

“Yes. It does not have a nephilim's strength or speed—it is hardly more powerful than a vampire would be.”

Ethan's brows lowered, as if he was working that through. “The human's dead—for certain?”

“Yes.”

“It won't be difficult to find out who it is, then,” Lilith said dryly. “We just have to compile a list of everyone on Earth who's died in the past year—all fifty million of them—then go knocking at their doors.”

The corners of Michael's mouth lifted slightly. “Unfortunately, possession takes place almost immediately after death, so there might be no more indication than a mild heart attack, or an injury from which the person seems to have miraculously escaped.”

“Do I have to concern myself that as soon as I kill it, it'll jump into another dead body?” Ethan asked.

“No.” Michael looked at each of them, then drew in a short breath. “Being called is nothing more than Lucifer allowing the nephilim to take possession of a human's essence—the psychic energy—as it crosses the realms, from Earth to Hell. The nephilim sheds its physical form, forces the human essence back through at the point of entry, then returns it to the body.”

“And the nephilim piggybacks its way in,” Ethan guessed, and when Michael nodded, he asked, “Why isn't every demon trying to get out that way? Seems to me I've heard that angels were spirits of light—beings of energy, who took on a solid form only when they wished.”

“I have no definite knowledge regarding the angels' construction—and even if Lucifer allowed demons to possess a human's essence, they cannot shed their forms in the same way as the nephilim,” Michael said. After a brief hesitation, he added, “I can only speculate that, when demons were cursed and transformed, their psychic energy was bound to flesh. As was the nosferatu's, although they were bound much closer—and so they cannot shift their shape except to form their wings, and they feel the urges of the flesh: sleep, hunger, and arousal.”

Bloodlust,
Charlie thought. And vampires weren't much different.

“But you aren't certain?” Lilith asked.

“No. I assume it is so, because when I transform human to Guardian,” Michael explained, “one task I must perform is to bind the psychic energy to flesh with the symbols—but I do not bind it so tightly as it once was. Some of those human physical urges are relieved, some are not—and the will has greater control over form.”

“Well, hell,” Ethan muttered, laughing softly, and Charlie glanced up at him. “Considering that my will can't control my form for nothing, I reckon that means I'm spineless.”

“Stubbornness is as great an impediment to shifting as a weak will,” Michael said with the first real smile Charlie had seen from him. It didn't last long. “In almost every manner, a Guardian's strength and powers are similar to a demon's—but I can find no evidence of symbols within demons or the nosferatu, or any indication of what they've been changed
from
. And that is why I can only speculate; however their transformation was done, it was with an invisible hand.”

The thought of that made Charlie slightly uneasy, and she was grateful when Ethan said, “Will the nephilim be changing its human shape, then?”

“No. It will be enough of a struggle to remain in the body it chooses. A nephilim cannot simply animate the flesh; there must be a bond, and it is specific to an individual. And by mimicking the human's psychic energy—”

“Like the damn spell,” Ethan said, and when Michael frowned, Ethan must have signed an explanation: his fingers were a blur, and Michael's smile appeared again.

“That is well done, both of you,” he murmured, and he looked to Lilith and Castleford. “The symbols' power is not so easily breached. What did Ethan not mention?”

“There's hemorrhaging unlike anything I've seen with a Gift—only in novices who've lost control of their form,” Castleford said.

Lilith must have caught Charlie's confused expression. “Their brains turn to mush,” Lilith explained. “It's likely that Drifter's Gift is literally trying to wrap his mind around the power within the symbols—shifting his brain's makeup so that he can understand it, and get through the lock.”

Oh, dear God.
Charlie thought for a moment that she'd be sick.

Castleford glanced at Charlie and quickly added, “It heals at a normal rate, however. Charlie seems to suffer no ill effects.”

“If she did, I wouldn't be doing it.”

Michael was nodding, but at that he turned to look at Ethan—or at her, but Charlie couldn't be certain. But although his face hardened slightly, he only said, “It is the same principle when the nephilim matches the psychic energy to gain entrance into the body. And just as destructive, for when the nephil asserts his own form, it loosens the bonds on the flesh—essentially, the body begins dying again. And as the body dies, the human's psychic energy attempts to break away from the nephil's possession. The body heals when the nephil reverts to the human form—but that moment is when the nephil is at its very weakest, for it also must strengthen its hold on the human's essence again.”

“I can't imagine it'll take its own form often, then,” Ethan said. “Is there any tell that will let us know a body's housing something else inside it?”

“No,” Michael said. “Temperature, psychic scent—everything will appear human. And as it must use the human's body—including the brain—it will have that person's memory, adopt the same mannerisms, and many of the same thought patterns. There would be differences, but you would have to know the human well to see them.”

“So I pretty much got to wait until it ain't hiding in the body, and figure who it turns back to when it's done.”

“Yes.”

Ethan whistled low between his teeth, shaking his head in frustration. “All right, then. I'll be heading up to Seattle, soon as possible—maybe hope that someone sees it.”

Seattle.
Charlie squeezed Ethan's hand, lifted her gaze to his. “Do you have the blood that Jane gave you? You said Michael can teleport.”

“He sure can,” Ethan said, and a small drinking glass from the motel appeared in his opposite hand. He held it out for Michael. “We're looking for Charlie's sister.”

Michael frowned at the glass, and after a moment, looked at Ethan again. “I cannot anchor to her.”

Which only meant that Jane was probably behind the shield, Charlie told herself. And probably with Sammael. “What about the demon blood she was going to send? Did it arrive today?”

“I've got it,” Jake said, and a small white box appeared in his hand. A wry smile passed over his lips. “I was wondering what it felt like. Drifter was right; it creeps.”

Lilith gave an exaggerated shudder, and Castleford nodded. “Yes.”

Charlie took the box from him, tore off the sealing tape. Cold steam curled from inside—a coolant in the packaging, Charlie realized, and then a startled laugh escaped her. Nestled atop the gray cushioning foam was a tiny porcelain unicorn.

“Definitely from Jane,” she said, and lifted out the first vial. Jane had even labeled it:
Samuels, Dylan. Demon.

“Don't expect too much, Charlie,” Ethan said softly. “Even if he's not behind the shield, Sammael has good psychic blocks.”

He was correct; a moment later, Michael shook his head.

“I will continue trying, however,” he said. “If you will give me one of those vials.”

Charlie nodded, then quickly lifted out another to check the label. A yellow sticky was wrapped around it. The packaging pulled it loose, and Ethan picked it up from the floor.

His lips twitched before he read, “‘Yippee kai yay, motherfucker'?”

“Oh.” Charlie's cheeks flared as she held out the vial to Michael. “It's just a thing from a movie. From when we were kids. For Jane, it's kind of like—I don't know—a victory dance or something.”

The vial vanished from her fingers, and Michael said, “Then you are certain this is Sammael's blood?”

“Probably, but”—she removed the stopper from another vial—“I should recognize the smell. I was stuck in a car with it for hours.”

Oh, God.
The scent struck her, incredible, irresistible. She drew it closer, breathed in deep, and she suddenly couldn't think.

“Charlie?” Ethan said softly.

The thirst roared through her. She heard Ethan swear, and Jake's quick intake of breath. A drop gathered on the bottom of the stopper. She could see her reflection in it, distorted, bulbous. Closer now…too close.

She brought it to her lips, sucked it off—and dropped the vial in shock.

“Son of a bitch.” Ethan caught it before it smashed against the floor, then turned to her. “You all right?”

She stared at him. Swallowed the extra saliva in her mouth—and the lingering flavor of the blood. “I tasted it.”

His brows snapped together. “You what?”

A victory dance
. “I tasted it,” Charlie repeated, more strongly this time. And Jane had known when she'd sent it; she must have gotten it out of Sammael. “It's living, just like licking Jake's blood from the door. No wonder they got those vampires to stay at Legion—they offered them
this
.”

“No,” Lilith said, shaking her head. “We've tested this before, looking for alternative food sources. The vampires said the demon blood had no flavor.”