Demon Night (46 page)

“More lab equipment?” Charlie shook her head with a short laugh of disbelief. “So Mark brought you here as, what? His personal scientist?”

“Oh, no. Well, partially. Maybe that's just his dad.” Jane straightened up, and rolled her eyes. “Mark brought me here to
save
me. Because I'm sleeping with the devil.”

“I knew Mark was a good guy,” Charlie muttered under her breath, and caught Ethan's grin before he turned toward the door.

“We ready, then?” he said as he swiped the blood from the symbols and glanced out into the hallway.

“Yes.” Jane ran her hands down the sides of her jeans. “Is Dylan still here?”

“Yes.” Charlie took Jane's hand, held her gun ready in the other, and started out after Ethan. “What do you mean, ‘still'? How did you know he was outside?”

“He spent the last two weeks outside my window, keeping me company.” Jane almost tripped on the first stair, and Charlie slowed her pace. “
Trying
to keep me company, at least, since we couldn't say anything.”

Charlie checked her immediate response. Any negative comment about Sammael would probably spark Jane's temper, so she simply laid out the facts. “Last night, he shot Drifter and almost killed him. So I shot Sammael. He stabbed me, then threatened my life. It was all so that he could get you out of here—although he knew he could have just given us an anonymous tip and we'd come to your rescue. And now that you're out, he'll probably try to kill Drifter as soon as he can.”

They reached the main floor, and Jane's expression was tense when she disentangled their hands. “I don't know what you want me to say, Charlie.”

Charlie averted her face. Her chest felt heavy. Nothing was going to change. She looked up as Ethan strode by on his sweep of the ground-level doors, and his warm fingers brushed her cheek.

Encouraged by that brief caress, Charlie swallowed and said, “How about you give Sammael an ultimatum—that if he kills Drifter, you won't see him again? Because it would kill
me
.”

Jane's gaze was steady on hers. “I'll say something.”

Charlie closed her eyes and nodded, though the sinking sensation slipping through her told her it wouldn't matter. Sammael knew her sister too well; even if Jane left him, he could just take on another identity and find her again.

And Jane would let it happen, rationalizing away every clue that told her the truth, convincing herself that he really was a different man. And if not completely different, then at least a
changed
man.

But Charlie only said, “Thank you,” then went to stand beside Ethan as he drew back the curtains from the large picture window and studied the front lawn. Sammael wasn't by the tree.

“Be easy, Charlie,” he said, quietly enough that Jane couldn't have heard. “He likely won't make the attempt when she's here to see.”

“But isn't that exactly why he would?” she said, equally low. “You wouldn't expect it. And he could twist the truth to Jane later.”

“Maybe so.” He nodded slowly, then slanted a narrowed, amused look at her. “But don't be thinking I'm so easy to kill, either.”

She had to smile a little. “I don't. But you said before that all it takes is one distraction. You've got quite a few right now.”

“That's true enough—and, hell.” He sighed as the gates at the end of the short drive began to open. “Here comes Jake. Let's get out there, Charlie. I'll be mostly concentrating on Sammael; you keep young Brandt from taking hold of your sister again. Once Sammael leaves with Jane, I'll fly you home—then return with backup, wait for the senator.”

She caught Jane's hand again, and put her finger against her lips when Ethan wiped the blood from the symbols. He cracked the door open an inch and cocked his head. Charlie strained to listen, as well—but she only heard their heartbeats, the quiet whine of Mark's electric car, the sounds of the house.

Ethan nudged the door open wide, then slid around the frame, crouching low. After another second, he said quietly, “All right, Charlie. Take her to the edge of the lawn. If he wants her, he'll have to come out in the open.”

Jane did a double-take as they passed Ethan; Charlie's heart skipped. He'd formed his wings, and they angled from his shoulders and pressed into the side of the house, creating the elegant shape of a harp, with feathers for strings. And as soon as they left the porch, Charlie heard the familiar heavy beat, felt the rush of air. She glanced back, up; Ethan perched on the edge of the roof, his crossbow and sword in his hands.

Jane blew out a soft, shaky breath. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed, squeezing her fingers, and she looked toward the approaching car. Mark was leaning forward in the driver's seat, his eyes narrowing, then widening, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. An instant later, the car stopped, and his door opened.

“Watch yourself, Jake.” Though Ethan spoke quietly, Charlie easily heard the command. “Sammael's about.”

“That isn't our only problem,” Jake said as he stepped out of the car, shifting back into his own shape. Mark issued a deep sound of surprise and staggered back onto the lawn. “Apparently, there's a coffee shop in the neighborhood where they wait when the other has locked the house up. So Papa just got a call, and he's not far behind us.”

“Son of a bitch.” Ethan stood and replaced his sword with his cell phone. “Sammael, we ain't got time to play. You take Jane out of here now—or I'll be taking her.”

“What the hell is going on?” Mark's hoarse yell scraped Charlie's ears, and she had to shut out his wildly projected confusion. He scrambled toward her and Jane, but seemed to give up halfway, falling to his knees in the grass. The tumble of his emotions quieted.

Ethan cursed. Startled, Charlie glanced back at him. He was shaking out his hand, and bits of plastic rained to the roof.

It was another second before she realized what had happened: Sammael had shot the phone. A moment later Jake was swearing and yanking out the arrow that had embedded in his palm—and pierced the guts of his cell.

Charlie doubted Jane had seen any of it. Her sister's face was tilted up, her lips parted, and her eyes shining.

From above them, Sammael said to Ethan, “I will not have you contact your Guardians so that they may destroy me—”

Ethan wasn't listening. He dropped off the roof, letting his wings catch air and settling lightly on the ground beside Charlie. His weapons weren't aimed over her head, at Sammael, but beyond her…and now she heard the footsteps approaching.

She turned her head. The senator hadn't bothered to drive in, but was walking with measured strides through the open gate, his hands in the pockets of his dark slacks. His eyes met hers across the expanse of lawn, and gooseflesh prickled over her skin. Her fingers tightened on Jane's.

“Go into the house, Miss Charlie,” Ethan said softly. “Slow and easy, and put the spell up.”

She nodded, and tugged on Jane's hand. Her sister frowned, glanced away from Sammael. “We've got to get back inside,” Charlie said, and raised her voice. “Mark?”

A thump against the ground warned her that Sammael had landed. His black membranous wings were outspread, blocking their way, and Jane rushed into his arms. Sammael caught her in a tight embrace and spoke over her head. “I may have to protect you, Charlotte, but I will not allow you to return Jane to that pris—”

“It ain't a human coming this way, but one of the nephilim,” Ethan said in low tones, and backed up a step. His gaze never left the senator. “And maybe now you're thinking of running with Jane, demon—but leaving Charlie with only a Guardian and a novice to protect her would hardly be ‘doing everything within your power to prevent any hurt from coming to her,' would it?”

Sammael's jaw flexed, and he set Jane away from him, looked down at her before pressing a kiss to her lips. “Go inside with your sister,” he murmured.

Charlie took her hand again, began pulling her toward Mark. Ethan and Sammael kept pace with them, positioning themselves between Charlie and the senator. He'd crossed half the distance from the gate.

Ethan had his swords in both hands now. “Jake, we've got two humans and a vampire who need protecting. You go in the house with them.”

She almost expected Jake to argue and insist on being part of the fight, but the novice nodded and crouched in front of Mark. “Listen, kid. We've got two women to save, so you pull yourself up to your feet.” When Mark only responded by looking up blearily, Jake leaned in, his voice hardening and changing. “Pull yourself up to your feet, son.”

Charlie blinked; Jake had mimicked the senator's voice, and Mark shook himself out of his stupor. “What the—”

Jane let go of Charlie and reached down, tugged on his arm. “I don't know either, Mark, but I think it's bad. Come on.”

Relief swept through Charlie when Mark got to his feet and walked with Jane toward the house. Following Jake's cue, Charlie moved backward, her guns drawn, watching the senator's approach. Jake let her go up the porch steps first, but she had to stop when Mark paused in the doorway, looking out over the lawn.

“Hold on, hold on.” Mark's eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “That's my dad. You don't have to—”

“That's
not
your dad,” Charlie said, impatience and fear tightening her throat.

Ethan and Sammael had been backing up with them, but they halted on the pavement as if drawing an invisible line for the senator to cross. Ethan had vanished his wings; he'd told her once that they slowed him down.

So would a distraction, and his worry that she wasn't yet protected.

Charlie turned to Mark and bared her teeth. “Get inside, or I'll throw you in.”

Mark paled and opened his mouth, but whatever argument he'd been about to make died. His mouth just remained open. Charlie glanced back at the lawn. The senator held two swords now, and his eyes were glowing red.

“Go in, Charlie,” Jake said quietly, and she realized that Mark had finally stumbled past the threshold.

Charlie followed him, then ran to the large window and tore the drapes down. The curtain rod clattered to the floor, then everything went quiet, and she hated it, hated that she couldn't hear Ethan's heart beating—that she had to rely on what she could see.

Jake joined her, and she looked up at him. “Can we help him from in here?”

Jake nodded. “If you've got a good shot, you can take it. Just make certain it won't hit either of them.”

“Okay.” She drew in a long breath. “Mark, do you have any guns? Rifles or anything?” Anything that would do more damage than her pistols.

“Yes.” His strained response came from directly behind her. She glanced back; he was staring out at the lawn, his expression bleak. “What is that thing, and where's my father?”

The “thing” was growing, his clothes vanishing. Crimson skin stretched over his muscles, and his wings were so incredibly beautiful…but
not
.

Charlie swallowed hard. Ethan and Sammael were circling it now, each taking a different side and splitting its attention.

“It's kind of a demon,” she said quietly. She'd have taken Mark's hand before she said the next part, but she thought her skin might frighten and repulse more than it would comfort him. “It took possession of your father's body after he died.”

So fast.
She blinked, and suddenly Ethan's and the nephil's swords flashed. Then Sammael's, coming in from behind.

“Goddammit,” Jake muttered, dropping to his knee and aiming through the window. Their positions changed too quickly for a gun to be useful. Jake was trying to follow them, but he hadn't yet fired a shot—and Charlie was even slower. She stared, feeling helpless.

“What do you mean, died? It murdered him?”

It took her a second to remember what Mark was asking, but she couldn't take her eyes from Ethan. A stain had begun spreading down his pant leg.

“No,” she finally said. “Vladimir and Katya did after they withdrew from their agreement with him.”

“The vampires?” A harsh note slammed into her—hate, anger, grief. “Animals. They shouldn't be exposed, but slaughtered.”

“They were. The thing out there went back and killed them.”

“Good,” Mark said. A moment later, she heard his footsteps retreating from the room.

Jane made a soft sound as Sammael took a slice across the tip of his wing from the nephil's blade. Charlie squeezed her eyes shut. She hadn't handled any of that very well, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Ethan's blood was dripping over the lawn, the drive, and he was weakening; so was Sammael. And they couldn't contact anyone for help—

Her eyes flew open. “Jane, do you still have Drifter's old phone?”

“It's upstairs,” her sister whispered. Her hands were clenched tightly in front of her. “But the battery's dead.”