Demon's Kiss (5 page)

R
oxanne O'Mally was twisted into what a nonpractitioner would have called a human pretzel when the broomstick standing beside the front door tipped over. Well, tipped over wasn't really what it did. It hurled itself to the floor as if bent on suicide.

She frowned, then slowly untwisted, rose from her yoga mat and padded barefoot, not to mention stark naked, to the broomstick, bent and picked it up. “Company coming,” she muttered. But the emphatic nature of the message seemed to suggest there was more to it than just the traditional signal of a toppling broomstick.

Roxy would have told herself she was being overly nervous, except that she'd been having odd feelings for days, and bad dreams three nights in a row. An evil spider weaving a web in the middle of a busy sidewalk. A bear trap set and baited in the heart of a wildlife preserve. A sense of someone waiting around a corner, just out of sight, someone dangerous, about to spring, but not on her.

Roxy reclaimed her unfinished drink—a tall glass still half full of her own special blend of vegetable juices and empowering herbs. “Let's just see about this,” she said as she pulled on a satin robe, slid her feet into matching slippers and scuffed to the table in the middle of her rain forestlike living room. She had filled the place with man-sized waterfall-fountains, tub-sized misters and more plants than furniture. She kept the humidity level at eighty percent in here. God, she loved her home.

Taking a seat, she sipped her drink, then set it down, picked up the tarot cards and began to shuffle as she thought about opening herself to messages from spirits. Then she laid the cards out in a careful pattern.

The Hermit. That card usually indicated an inner journey. But the thought that came to mind when she saw it was of her dearest friend.

The other cards that fell around it, though, didn't make sense. He was surrounding himself with…family? But he didn't
have
family. He was a loner. Someone was conspiring against him. He was in danger in the near future, but also…

“Right now.” Roxy jumped to her feet, raced to her bedroom and pulled on clothes just as fast as she could. A flowing skirt, a clingy Lycra top, a pair of bamboo sandals. She hoped it was a warm night, and pulled on a black felt shawl as she raced outside, deciding the car was a far better option than the van.

She didn't know exactly where he was. But they had a bond, and she was counting on it to guide her to him.

God, just let it be in time.

Vampires, she thought, rolling her eyes. Sometimes they were more trouble than they were worth.

 

“It's going to be daylight soon,” Reaper said. “Can you feel it?”

Seth frowned, and searched his senses. “I feel…
something.
”

“Describe it.”

“It's kind of…dense. Heavy.”

“Yes, that's the lethargy. Be aware of it, always. You must never be caught by the sun's rays. They'll burn you alive, Seth.”

“Okay,” Seth said as the vampire steered the car onto an exit ramp. “So we're gonna find someplace to hole up for the day, then?”

“Yes. Tonight will be soon enough to visit this vampiress.”

“Cool.” Seth supplanted his impatience by conjuring images in his mind of where they would spend the day. Some crumbling ruin, an abandoned warehouse, maybe a crypt in a cemetery. “So tell me something, will you?” he asked.

“I might.”

“How long have you been a vampire? I mean, are you, like, centuries old?”

“Do I seem old to you?”

“Well, you seem pretty wise and pretty powerful, so yeah. I guess that makes you fairly old. That's not an insult, is it? I mean, to a vampire?”

“Age is power. To call a vampire old is to call him powerful. It's not an insult.”

“So?”

Reaper looked at him, narrowed his eyes, then nodded once. “I've been a vampire for a little more than a decade.”

“Who made you?”

Tipping his head to one side, Reaper seemed to study him, then said, “I suppose I had all the same questions when I was newly made. I wanted to know if the way I'd been brought over was unique or fairly common, what others had experienced, how many of us there were and how far back we went.”

“So? You gonna tell me?”

“I don't know how many of us there are. I don't know how far back we go, though I've heard at least as far as there has been recorded history, and beyond that, who can say? I can tell you about my transformation, though.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “I worked for…the government. In a covert capacity.”

“You said you were an assassin,” Seth reminded him. “Military? CIA?”

“I could tell you, but then—”

“You'd have to kill me.” Seth grinned. “You actually made a joke.”

“Just because I don't use it often, doesn't mean I lack the capacity for humor,” Reaper pointed out. “At any rate, I was on assignment in the Middle East, and I was ambushed by a small, disorganized band of extremists. They got lucky. I took a dozen bullets, maybe more. They left me for dead, lying on a dusty street in Syria. The shooting spree had frightened any potential on-lookers into hiding. I was alone and dancing with death right then. And that's when she came.”

“She?”

Reaper smiled a wistful smile when he said the name. “Rhiannon. Most incredible creature you've ever seen. You want old, that one's old. Her father was a freaking pharaoh.”

“No way.”

“I swear. Her real name was Rianikki, the way I hear it. She changes it every few centuries when she gets bored. And she gets bored easily. She's got a hair-trigger temper and paper-thin patience and a black panther for a pet.”

Seth smiled slowly, fascinated, dying to hear more.

“So she leans over me, and she says to me, ‘I was honestly having a wonderful evening—it's open mike night at the Kazbah, you know. But you had to go and get yourself shot, didn't you? You couldn't have waited? Even another hour?'

“Hell, I couldn't talk. I just lay there with my mouth open, wondering if I was hallucinating her, or if she were an angel, or maybe a demon, come to take me to the other side. But she keeps talking. She says, ‘You're gonna be dead in about a minute, my friend, so you need to think fast. You can become a vampire, like me, and live. Or you can die. And I'd take time to explain to you all that being a vampire entails, but there's no time. Some of the mythology is true, some isn't. All in all, I think it's a wonderful existence. Eternal youth, strength and ever-increasing power. No more sunlight, but that's a small price.'

“I really thought I was losing it. But she just leans closer and says, ‘Time's up. Yes or no?' I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. And then she said, ‘Fuck it, then. I guess I get to decide.' And she sank her teeth into me, and—Well, you can figure out the rest. I woke up a vampire.”

“Wow. That's…that's incredible. Is she—is she around here? Will I ever get to meet her?”

“I have no doubt you'll cross paths with Rhiannon one day. But no, she's not in the area at the moment. I took on this mission partly so she wouldn't have to. She has…other things going on that need her attention right now.”

Seth frowned as Reaper stopped the car at a traffic light and put on his left-turn signal, which would take them into the parking lot of a Motel 6. He blinked, and said, “You're kidding, right?”

“About what? Rhiannon being too busy for this right now?”

“This,” Seth said. “You're serious? We're staying here?”

“Why not?”

“Well…I don't know. What about the windows? Won't the sun get in and toast us?”

Reaper reached into the backseat for what looked like a gym bag. “Duct tape and heavy black fabric. I never travel without it.”

“Note to self. Get a gym bag and watch reruns of
MacGyver.
”

Reaper frowned at him, clearly not getting the joke.

Seth just shrugged. “Never mind.”

The signal changed, giving them a green arrow to make their left-hand turn. Dropping the bag, Reaper turned the wheel and pressed on the gas.

Neither of them saw the semi coming until it hit them, and then there was nothing but noise, shattering glass, groaning metal, squealing tires, the stench of hot rubber and a whole lot of hurt.

 

A crowd was gathering by the time Seth opened his eyes, picked up his head and tried to get his bearings. A woman was making her way through the bystanders, coming closer, shouting at them to get the hell out of her way. Seth couldn't see her. There was smoke and it was kind of—

Smoke.

Hell, that couldn't be good.

Seth turned in his seat to mention it to his companion, but Reaper was out cold, and Seth smelled blood, thick on the air. “Oh, shit. Reap, come on, man. Wake up.” He shook the limp shoulders, but nothing worked. Then he saw where the blood was coming from. A jagged piece of metal was sticking out of Reaper's thigh, blood oozing from around it.

The woman who'd been doing all the shouting was closer now, rapping on his window. “Get out of there! It's gonna go up.”

“Give me a sec.” He released his seat belt, then Reaper's, then took his belt out of his belt loops, wrapped it around Reaper's thigh, just above the wound, and pulled it tight. Any tighter and he would have risked busting the femur. Gritting his teeth, he yanked the metal out.

Blood oozed all the same. He had to stop it.

Hands pounded the glass again. “You need to get out
now.
”

He ignored the woman, grabbed the duffel bag, and wrestled with it until he got the duct tape out. Then he tore off a piece with his teeth and used it to tape the gaping skin together. A second piece, and a third for good measure.

The smoke was thicker now. His lungs were burning. The woman was tugging on the passenger door, but it wasn't giving. The driver's door was no good, either, mashed up against a telephone pole.

He leaned back, braced his feet against the door, and yelled at the woman to stand back. She did, and he kicked with both feet. The door popped open, almost easily. Hell, he'd forgotten about how much stronger he was now.

He put his back to Reaper, pulled the man's arms around his shoulders from behind, and, with people reaching in, pulling to help, he managed to get them both out of the car.

They'd moved about thirty feet away, into the darkness lit only by the glowing lights of other vehicles, when Reaper's car blew to hell and gone, the explosion knocking Seth to his knees, with Reaper still on his back.

And then that woman was there. “Come on, boy. Come with me. Daylight's on the way, and so are the police and paramedics.”

Seth stared at her, shocked. How could she know daylight was their enemy? She had long carrot-orange hair—not coppery, like his dream girl—that curled from top to bottom, and it was impossible to guess her age. There was something about her, some familiar
feeling,
almost like a scent.

“You're just a fledgling, aren't you?” she asked Seth. “I'm Roxy. I'm one of the Chosen—that's what you're sensing. Raphael is my friend.”

“His name is—”

“Raphael Rivera, aka Reaper. And only his best friend would know that. Now, come with me, while they're all distracted by the explosion. Hurry.”

She helped him to his feet, Reaper still on his back, and led him toward her waiting car, shouting, “I'm a doctor, clear the way! I'm a doctor!” as she went. She opened the back door, and Seth eased Reaper in, onto the rear seat.

The bleeding hadn't started up again, so Seth got into the front, and then Roxy was behind the wheel, driving so fast that Seth felt himself gripping the dash until his knuckles turned white.

Reaper moaned from the backseat when she took a corner too fast; then he spoke. “Roxy?”

“Yeah, it's me.”

“No one else drives like that.”

She laughed softly.

“Are we being followed, Roxy?”

She glanced up into the rearview mirror. “What do you think I am, an amateur? Why?”

“Because that was no accident. It was a vampire—not quite a normal vampire, but a vampire all the same—driving that rig that hit us. And it was deliberate.”

Roxy frowned and swore, using a streak of profanity Seth had never heard from the mouth of a female in his life. Then she said, “Who are you going after this time?”

“A rogue gang led by a man called Gregor.”

“Those assholes?” She shook her head.

“What do you know about them?” Reaper asked.

Roxy shrugged. “Only what I've heard. They're skilled, they're mean, and they outnumber you.”