Demons Undone: The Sons of Gulielmus Series (36 page)

“Um, sure.” She didn’t like the tone of this guy’s voice. It had a hint of smug condescension about it as if the next thing he was going to tell her was that she was one of many “friends” of Charles.

“Who’s the current host of
America’s Most Wanted
?”

“What?” She watched her face scrunch into a mask of confusion via the nearby cheval mirror and cringed, deciding then and there to never make that face ever again.

“Tell me.”

“I think I read that show got canceled.”

Silence again.

She rolled her eyes. “Hello?”

“Yes. What’s your name?”

“What’s yours? I’m the one taking the message.”

Another pregnant pause, but this time she didn’t have to prompt him. “My name is John Tate. Charles is my brother.”

“Oh!” Now she sat back onto her feet and switched the phone to her other ear. “He told me he had a couple of brothers.”

“Really? He told you about us?”

“Why wouldn’t he? Is it a State secret?”

“No …”

A feminine voice in the background Marion could just barely make out asked, “What’s wrong with Charles? Is he in the gutter again? He was doing so well.”

Huh?

He cleared his throat and ignored the question from the nearby woman. “Charles just tends to be very guarded with that information. Tell me, uh … I’m sorry. I don’t know what to address you as.”

“Marion. Nice to meet ya.”

“Ma-
Marion
?”

Something clattered on the other end, and there was no way for her to verify it, but it sounded a lot like John had dropped his phone. Moments later, he apologized into the mouthpiece. “Shit. I’m sorry. Uh … just had a vicious bout of déjà vu. Don’t hear that name very often, but it’s one that gets bandied about a lot around here.”

“Oh. Sweet. I hope she’s as cool as me.” She cringed. “Or
he
. Whichever.”

“She.”

“There ya go. Is there a message I can pass on?”

“Sure, but first, can you answer just one more question for me?”

“I guess so.”

Squeaking Marion recognized as the wrenching of the shower knobs preceded silence from the bathroom. Charles would be out in a moment.

“How old are you, Marion?”

“I’m legal, if that’s what you’re asking. Well, above the age of consent in Idaho.”

“Idaho?”

“Yep. Colder than a witch’s tit here. I’m flying out on the next thing smoking.”

“Not to divert from my previous question, but why is Charles in Idaho?”

“Uh … he’s
your
brother. Shouldn’t you know that?”

“Charles dispenses information selectively. I know he travels a lot, but …
Idaho
?”

“Yeah. I drive trucks long haul. That’s how we met.”

“Fascinating. So, that makes you how old?”

“Old enough to have a driver’s license.”

He blew out a long breath, and that feminine voice in the background pleaded, “Give me the phone.”

Why would he? Was she a jealous type? Did Charles and John like to share?

At that exact moment, Charles stepped out of the steamy en suite bathroom, donning only one plush white towel around his waist. His expression at seeing her there, still nude, was jubilant, but quickly gave way to something unreadable when he noticed her holding his phone against her ear.

“Who are you talking to?” he whispered.

She put her index finger up to her lips and shook her head. Into the phone, she said, “Around twenty-five. Officially, in a couple of days.”

“Just checking.” John disconnected.

Marion slid her thumb across the
End
button and held the phone out to Charles, who stood with his right hand extended.

“That was your brother John.”

The ruddy coloring he’d acquired from the hot shower seemed suddenly to leach all at once as his fingers tightened around the small black device. Maybe she’d stepped a little out of her bounds by answering his phone, but it wasn’t
that
big a deal, was it?

“And what did John have to say?”

She lifted her shoulders and pushed up to her knees, preparing to crawl to the edge of the bed. “It was a little weird, I guess. He asked me about
America’s Most Wanted
and wanted to know how old I was.”

She could hear his loud swallow. Color returned to his face, but only to his cheeks.

Why was he so agitated? Must have been some history there she was missing out on. Probably stepped in something she shouldn’t have.

She slung her leg over the edge and pressed her right foot to the floor, testing her muscles for stability. The past couple of hours had been just that kind of wild, where she wasn’t sure if she was cable of walking straight, much less driving. Seemed safe enough, so she planted the other foot on the floor, too.

Success!

She walked to the bathroom for her second bathing experience of the day.

“Why don’t you put that chicken in the oven?” she said before closing the door.

The knob turned, and the door arced inward a moment later. Charles leaned into the door frame, and to his credit was looking in the general area of her head and not the rear end presented to the door as she fiddled with the shower knobs. “What else did he want?”

She shrugged and drew the shower curtain open. “It was all pretty benign. Seemed curious about the lady answering your phone, is all.”

His eyes narrowed and a muscle in his jaw twitched. Now he wasn’t watching her, but some spot on the tile behind her. She wasn’t sure if she liked this flavor of broodiness, but on the plus side, she’d be gone in a couple of hours. He could be weird and broody and gorgeous all by himself. She’d be on a plane. Alone.

When the hot water met her aching muscles, it was hard not to think about the man who’d made them that way. A man who’d rocked her world so hard and so expertly, she’d never forget him. A man who’d bought her flowers and—

She stood on her tiptoes to peer through the translucent part of the curtain at the man in the doorway, but he wasn’t there.

“Fuck.” Why did her gut clench at him not being there?

Because she didn’t
want
him to leave her alone. Weirdo or not.

Charles didn’t startle when he felt the disruption to his solitude in the bedroom. He didn’t even look up. Instinctively, he knew the new body in the room was John’s. He’d always recognize when close kin was near, even if they hadn’t met. Similarly, John could always come to him, no matter where he was. He couldn’t do it with all of his siblings and half-siblings, but they’d spent so much time together in the past year that they were probably connected more than most.

Charles pushed one leg through his jeans and then the other, standing to pull them over his hips.

John closed the distance between them, and put his hands at either side of Charles’s still-wet head, forcing his gaze up to meet his younger brother’s crazed one.

“Clarissa is going to fucking kill you,” John whispered.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“It’s been nice knowing you, Number Two. Ours has been a short relationship, but a memorable one. Love you. See you in the next life.”

Charles swatted his hands away and bent to pick up his rumpled sweater. “You’re being overly dramatic. I wonder which parent you might have inherited that from. Hmm, let me think.” He tapped his index finger against his jaw in feigned contemplation.

“I’m not.” John threw his hands up and paced. It was a habit he’d likely gleaned from Ariel and Clarissa. They were champion pacers. Probably burned off most of their excess calories that way. “I hope it was worth it. I can smell it, goddamn it. Fuck, Marion might get Claude to resurrect you so she can kill you, too.”

“You know about his necromancy?”

John narrowed his eyes to slits.

Charles pulled the sweater over his head and brushed out a couple of the less resistant wrinkles. “I love her.”

John stopped pacing and jabbed a finger in his brother’s direction. “You’re drinking again, aren’t you?”

Charles closed his eyes and gave his head a slow, emphatic shake. “Stone-cold sober. She’s my match, John.”

John’s eyes went round. “Shit. How long have you been hiding her?”

“I caught up to her last night and brought her here this morning.”

“Fuck. A day, man! A
day
? Match or not, you can’t fall in love in a day.”

Charles sat on the bed’s edge and drew his first sock over his toes. “You did.”

“That was different.”

Charles paused and cast what he hoped was a speculative look at his half-brother. “Yes, it was very different. You were a virgin rube off the cult compound for the first time and fell in love with the first woman naïve enough to stop for a hitchhiker. Me? I’m more than a hundred years old, have screwed more women than I care to remember, and am descended from a love god on my mother’s side. If anyone’s capable of falling in love at the mere
idea
of a woman, it’d be me. Eventually, Cupid becomes his own victim.”

John paced some more. “Oh my God. I knew something was up when she answered my questions sensibly. I figured you’d changed your mind about abstaining and had found a conquest, but she wasn’t drunk off the magic.”

“She’s resistant to me for the moment because of her shielding. You should leave. She’ll be out of the shower soon and I need to put a chicken in the oven.”

“Oh, I’m going to leave,” John said, the crazed look in his eyes having returned as he knelt toward Charles. He slapped his large hands onto Charles’s thighs. “I’m going to leave, all right, because I’m going to need a head start practicing my lies. I can’t lie to Ariel, and Clarissa would smell the hesitation on me from a quarter mile away. I’m not even going to tell her that you found her and held her back.”

“You’re not?”

“Oh no.” Now it was John’s turn to shake his head.

Marion turned the water off in the shower, so John grasped his brother’s hand and transmitted telepathically—another new trick of John’s—
No, I’m not going to tell because you’re bringing Marion home to her grandmother tonight, aren’t ya?

Charles raised his shoulders to his ears and cringed.
I was thinking more like tomorrow night.

John’s eyes squeezed to narrow slits again.
Tonight. Take the red-eye. Just this once, you need to listen to your little brother. Don’t try to cut it close. We don’t know when that shield is going to wear off, and it won’t be smart for you to be near her whether it’s on a plane, train, or in an automobile.

The doorknob spun, and with a final glower of warning, John disappeared.

Charles sighed and hated his little brother a bit for the moment, but he knew he was right.

Marion stepped out of the bathroom, humming a jaunty little tune and giving him a wink as she sauntered toward her discarded clothes.

His girl.

And the safest place for his girl to be once that shield expired would be in the protection of her grandmother’s heavily ensorcelled home. The house was decked from foundation to lightning rod with symbols humans found spiritually significant. Furthermore, Claude had added some of his own magic to the property so no demon could enter the home without great peril. The place was virtually invisible to supernatural types unless they’d visited before or intended to do the little family no harm. And, of course, John was there. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Clarissa and Ariel on his watch. Just like Charles wasn’t going to let any harm come to Marion.

He cleared his throat, and turned his knees to watch her dress. “Hey.”

“Yeah? Dinner ready?”

“No. Listen, John called me back. Something’s up with the family and they want me to fly out to help. Tonight.”

She’d been rubbing beads of water from her short hair, but stopped, expression set with genuine concern. “Anything serious?”

“No, they just need an extra pair of hands from someone they trust.”

“Oh.”

“Since you were going to fly south anyway, why don’t we start our journey together? I’ll escort you as far as Wilmington and you can spend the day in North Carolina while you make further arrangements.”

She eyed him, wrenching the towel between her hands and shifting her weight.

He waited for the brusque dismissal, struggling to keep his expression his usual unreadable mask.

She tossed the towel toward the empty hamper. “Wilmington, huh? Didn’t realize there was an airport there.”

He blew out the breath he’d been holding. “It’s regional.”

“Oh. So, what’s that mean? No direct flights?”

“Not likely.”

“Okay.”

They sat in silence for a while, then she shrugged and said, “Fine with me. So, about that chicken? Looking forward to a meal that’s kinda homemade. Didn’t realize how much I missed them, although the ones I had in foster homes growing up weren’t all that memorable to start with.”

Well, she was going to love Clarissa, then. If Clarissa had ten bucks left to her name, she’d use it to feed someone. What she served may not be filet mignon, but it’d be good, filling, and made with love.

“Right.” He stood and moved to the door, stopping in the doorway and turning back to add, “I’ll put it in the oven. Why don’t you go figure out what clothes or whatever you want to fly with? I wouldn’t worry about toiletries. You can get those on the other end.”

“Aren’t you going to pack?”

“Just what’s in my motorcycle bag. I travel light.”

“Right.” She nodded and followed him out the door. They parted ways at the kitchen, where she pulled open the exterior door and he strode to the stove. While fidgeting with the knobs with his left hand, he plucked his phone from his pocket and dialed out with his right. Once he’d plugged the number in, he nudged the curtains over the sink aside and watched Marion’s pert derriere as she climbed into the truck’s cabin. She’d be a moment.

“Number One?” He let the curtains fall back into place and eased to the refrigerator.

Claude swore in French under his breath, and Charles imagined his big brother shaking a fist at him in his absence. He was as fluent in French as his brother, thanks to those semesters at Princeton, so he knew whom the disparaging jabs were intended for.