Sex and the Single Vampire (35 page)

I nodded. “Right. So it makes sense to take him out first. I understand that, but the triumvirate—”

“Is made up of humans.”

That stopped me cold. I looked at it, prodded it, and decided it was good. Then I realized what her meaning really was, and the little bit of common sense that had remained with me tossed up its hands in despair, packed an overnight case, and headed off on a long, long vacation. “You mean I call up a demon to take care of the triumvirate?”

She nodded.

“Oh, my!” Esme’s eyes were round with worry. She scooped up Mr. Woogums and hugged him and Honoria against her ample breast. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Pish.” Antonio snorted, patting his chest. We all turned to look at him. I had never actually heard anyone say the word
pish
before. It was a bit frightening. “I will protect
mi corazón
from any demon. I am ‘er courtier most brave.”

“It’s perfectly safe as long as you keep the demon under your control,” Noelle said slowly, considering me with a critical eye that didn’t seem to like what it saw. “I think, upon reflection, that it would be a good idea if I were to accompany you on this venture. I should hate to think what would happen if a demon you raised were to run amok through London.”

“Earthquakes, mass ‘ysteria,” Antonio said.

I glared at him.

“Rain of locusts, the sky set afire, the oceans turned to blood,” Esme added.

“Yes, thank you, I think we get the picture,” I said. “What exactly would the demon—”

“Ehn wahnah ahgha mwaaaah,” Jem said with a sorrowful shake of his head.

“Oh, yes, definitely a plague or two,” Esme nodded. “And you’re absolutely right about the rats.”

I glared at them all, then turned my gaze back to Noelle. “What exactly would the demon do?”

She told me.

They had to carry me to bed after that. The exhaustion and Noelle’s suggestions were just too much for my poor little brain. Fortunately, between the two of them, she and Antonio were able to get me into Christian’s bedroom and onto the bed beside Sebastian without either of the Turners noticing, or Sebastian waking up.

I dreamed of Christian encased in a block of ice, standing in the corner of the bedroom, just watching me as I lay sleeping. The ice turned to glass, and I knew that if I reached out for him, if I tried to touch him, the glass would shatter and pierce his heart. I rose from the bed and stood before him, my arms empty, my heart torn apart by the need I had for him and the knowledge that in order to free him from the glass I’d have to give up everything I had fought for.

I wept tears of blood and watched him until his image faded away into the dull gray of the day.

Joy and Roxy woke me up three hours later. I was disoriented at finding them in Christian’s room, even more so when I realized the person lying in bed, tucked in under the covers, was Sebastian, not Christian.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Allie, but Noelle said not to let you sleep any later than noon.”

“You met Noelle?” I pushed myself into a sitting position
and looked down at Sebastian. His face didn’t look nearly as wan and gaunt as it had earlier.

Roxy waved toward a metal apparatus standing next to him. “Noelle arranged this. It’s an IV; isn’t that clever of her? She even got the blood from one of the blood banks.”

“We met her when we stopped by to see how you were after last night. She’s taking a shower.”

“Oh.” I rubbed my eyes, the feel of the dream’s blood tears still heavy upon my cheeks.

“You look a bit muzzy yet. Come on; we’ll get you into the shower, then let you have some of the soup Mrs. Turner made. What a very odd woman she is,” Joy prattled as she bustled me out of bed, out of my clothes, and into the shower even before I gathered together the thought to protest.

A half hour later I was washed, dressed, and fed. Fifteen minutes later Roxy and Joy stood at the door of Christian’s house and waved us off as Noelle and I climbed into a cab. Ten seconds after that I realized I was squishing one of the bobbles and spent the rest of the cab ride frantically resuscitating a flattened yarn bobble.

An hour and seven minutes after waking up, I stood with Noelle outside the Trust’s house and prepared to raise my first—and hopefully only—demon.

Three minutes after that I looked at my demon and burst into laughter.

“What?” the demon asked, turning its head 360 degrees to examine itself. “What’s so funny? Why is the Summoner laughing and crying at the same time? I don’t see what’s so funny. I’m a demon; where’s my respect? Where’s the fear and cowering before me?”

“Erm …” Noelle examined it from the tips of its shiny patent leather shoes to the top of its big pink bow. “Demon, what is your name?”

“Oh, right, like I look like I fell off the stupid truck?” it asked, its pudgy little hands on its flat hips. “You can’t ask me that, Guardian. Go read the rule book. Sheesh. Amateurs.”

I wiped my eyes and hiccupped a couple of times, blowing my nose on the tissue I stuffed away in my bobble-free pocket. “Okay, I think I’m better.” I looked at the demon and felt my lips twitch. I couldn’t help it; the sight of it was too much for my fragile nerves. “What is your name?”

“Tirana.”

“Who do you serve?”

“Oriens. Now would one of you mind telling me why neither of you is averting your eyes from my dreadful presence, so monstrous that my very being is unbearable to humankind?”

Noelle snickered, quickly converting it into a cough.

“Well, possibly,” I said, feeling my lips twitch again. “But maybe first you would tell us why you chose to manifest yourself in the form of Shirley Temple as last seen on the ‘Good Ship Lollipop’?”

The demon twirled around, its big pink sash fluttering as it smoothed down its dress and frilly little petticoat. “My grotesque form isn’t making you sick with fright?”

We both shook our heads, Noelle with a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “Shirley Temple at her pinnacle was frightening,” I finally told it, “but not in the sense I think you mean.”

The demon’s little golden curls bobbed as it stamped its foot. “It’s that Morilen! He told me that this form would strike terror in the hearts of humans! Well, he’d just better hide behind the legion of Paymon, because when I get back to hell—”

It’s never pretty when a demon swears, but it’s positively ludicrous when the demon in question is an exact duplicate of America’s little sweetheart.

“Have you heard of Tirana?” I asked Noelle while the little demon was stamping around cursing its companion.

“No, but Oriens is the weakest of all the demon lords. I would say,”—she paused a moment to watch the demon jump up and down on a late-blooming flower—”that you have raised one of the lesser demons. In fact, I’m fairly certain it’s the bottom of the barrel, demonically speaking.”

My shoulders sagged for a minute. I couldn’t even raise a proper demon; I had to get the runt of the litter. How could I possibly save Christian with a demon that wore lacy ankle socks and a big pink sash? It just wasn’t possible.

“I think it says a lot about the purity of your spirit that the worst type of demon you can raise is … well … Tirana.”

I took a little comfort in that fact until the cold, watchful gaze from the house had me straightening my shoulders, the knowledge that somewhere within the house the man I loved was being held strengthening my resolve.

“Right. I can do this. Tirana, stop trying to squash the flower; you’ll get your nice shoes dirty. We have work to do. I command thee to my will.”

“Command, schommand,” it groused, obediently following me.

Noelle touched my arm gently as I started up the walk to the front door. She pulled an amulet off over her head and slipped the chain over mine, then traced a symbol on my forehead.

“For luck,” she said with a half smile.

I fingered the amulet. It was warm and gave me a sense of serenity that was greatly lacking in my present state. “Thanks.”

“You remember what I told you?”

I hoped so. I was busy almost the whole of the cab ride trying to desquish one of the ghosts’ bobbles, but I felt pretty confident that I had remembered her instructions.

“I wish I could go in with you.”

I gave her a little smile that I hoped looked more sincere than it felt. “I know, and I appreciate all the help you’ve given me. You’ll wait here?”

She nodded.

I turned and faced the house again. I could feel Asmodeus inside, gathering his power. My hand closed around the bobbles as I cleared my mind and gathered my own power. The amulet seemed to hold the power, magnifying it slightly. I raised my chin, held up my hand, and commanded the door to open, then marched into the dark, gaping maw of the house armed with a borrowed amulet, a demon that looked like it should be dancing with Bill “Bojangles” Robinson, five helpful ghosts and one petulant one, and a heck of a lot of determination.

The doors to the library had been thrown open. Guarda, Phillippa, and Eduardo stood in the middle of the room in a triangle, not yet a triumvirate, but capable of forming one with just a touch of Eduardo’s fingers to the women’s necks. Asmodeus stood to the left of them, Christian to their right.

I smiled at them all. “I hope it’s no bother, but I’ve changed my mind. I’d like Christian back, please.”

The front door slammed shut behind me.

“How very curious,” Asmodeus drawled as he stepped forward. “I had not thought you would return, but when we saw you arrive I realized just how clever you had been.”

“She lied; I told you she lied,” Eduardo said with a snarl.

“She did not lie; she told the truth … the truth as it was at that moment. Yes, it was very clever indeed. I almost regret that such a keen mind and undaunted spirit should be lost to give me new life, but alas, that is the way of things.”

I had been watching Christian while Asmodeus circled around me, but suddenly the amulet glowed red-hot, making me jump. One of my feet stepped outside of the circle Asmodeus had been about to close around me.

“Tricky,” I told him, trying to calm my racing heart. If he had been a second faster, I might even now be trapped within the power of his circle. “But not tricky enough.”

He smiled and I lost a few years of my life keeping my eyes on his. “It was worth a try.”

I looked from him to Christian. He stood silent and still, his face pale, his eyes dulled with pain and suffering. I thought of the dream warning and knew I couldn’t look to him for help until I freed him from his bonds.

“Tirana, come forward. See thou that human?” I pointed to Eduardo. As the strongest of the triumvirate, he was my target. “Know thou what my will is?”

Tirana sighed and crossed its chubby little arms over
the ruffled bib front of its dress. “Can we skip the hokey medieval-speak and just get to what you want me to do?”

“Destroy him,” I said simply.

Eduardo shrieked and reached for Phillippa and Guarda. Tirana leaped for Eduardo and was immediately thrown backward. The protective ward in front of me burned green, then white, then a shimmering silver as the triumvirate blasted me with power. I braced my legs apart, lowered my head, muttered a protective spell, and gathered my power. The amulet glowed silver with the wards as I gave my power form, then quickly turned it and slammed it into Eduardo.

The sudden wave of my power rocked the triumvirate. I threw my head back and laughed with the joy of it, unleashing the full power of my love for Christian, power that flowed in a silver stream from my hands to pour over the triumvirate.

“Never underestimate the power of a ticked off Beloved,” I told them, giving them a dose of my determination and willpower, and a healthy dollop of respect for the living and the dead. Phillippa screamed and crumpled.

My joy was short-lived. Eduardo snarled an oath and hauled a limp Phillippa back into place, pounding me with wave after wave of excruciatingly painful raw power. It was tainted as he was tainted, foul, draining me by the very nature of its dark source. I fought it with everything I had, but the combined power of the triumvirate would overcome me in the end. I withstood it for a moment, my eyes on Christian. He watched me silently, impassively, apparently not aware or not caring that I was being torn apart by the people he had given himself up to. It was useless, a hopeless attempt at rescue that was doomed from the very start. I couldn’t beat the triumvirate and Asmodeus together. For a moment I considered the possibility of just giving in.

Thoughts of Christian filled my mind. Memories of him, of his love for me, of us together merged with those of the ghosts, and how they had so bravely prepared to fight Sarra for us. They were more than just ghosts; they were my friends.

“I am not a quitter,” I said through my teeth, then shouted the next few words. “I will not let the monsters win.”

I dredged up every ounce, every minuscule morsel and shred and iota of power I had, everything from the beating of my heart to the breath that filled my lungs, gathered it, formed it, and prepared to channel it to the target. I cleared my mind, holding it on the image of Eduardo even when it screamed in protest. I knew that what I was doing was professional suicide. To focus my power through my own mind would fry out every psychic circuit I had. I would never Summon another ghost, never cast a spell, never see a ward, never again understand the beautiful balance between nature and magic. I was killing a part of myself that I had crafted so painfully from the shards of my broken past; I would be giving it all up, but one glance at Christian gave my resolve new meaning.

I understood now what it meant to love someone more than my own life.

Christian’s name was on my lips as I released my power, the force of it blinding me, throwing me backward, pain unlike anything I’ve ever known rippling through me, gathering strength until it burst out in the form of psychic power, ripping into Eduardo and leaving him shrieking and begging Asmodeus for help.

My power was spent quickly, trickling to a thin stream, then stopping. I staggered, so weak I could hardly stand, my mind and body and even my soul numb with what I had wrought.