First Drop of Crimson (12 page)

Emma had beaten her to the door. The salt-and-pepper-haired vampire smiled at Denise before looking again down the long driveway.

“It’s Spade,” Emma said.

Denise shaded her eyes against the last rays of the setting sun, which shone directly behind the car rounding the final curve. She couldn’t see who was in it, with the growing dark and the tinted windows, but she’d take Emma at her word. If Denise didn’t think it would look too clingy, she’d be waiting on the driveway instead of in the doorway—but dammit, it had been five days! Five days with no call, no word, and no looking for Nathanial while she was locked up in the equivalent of a gilded Alcatraz. She had every intention of giving Spade a piece of her mind for this.

The car stopped and Spade got out, looking as suave and heart-stoppingly handsome as usual. He smiled at her as he approached, his dark brow cocked.

“Aren’t you going to invite me into my own home, Denise?”

She opened her mouth—and was knocked to the side. Stunned, Denise looked up to see Emma—sweet, petite, soft-spoken Emma—baring her fangs.

“Get away from here,” Emma hissed.

That was when Denise noticed the smell, acrid and wafting faintly from the doorway. Spade’s teeth bared in his own snarl while the skin on his face seemed to melt until it reformed into Raum’s features.

“Let me in,” Raum said, each word a furious growl.

Emma slammed the door, cutting off Denise’s vision of Raum’s rage-filled face. Alten pulled her to her feet without once deviating his gaze from Emma’s.

“Send up the flares,” Alten said.

Emma ran off in the direction of the main hall. Denise looked around, waiting for Raum to appear any moment. Oddly enough, he didn’t. Outside, an unearthly howl seemed to rattle the windows. It was enough to make Denise’s heart kick into a higher gear while the brands on her wrists felt like they were igniting.

Alten took her arm. The vampire’s skin was cool through the sleeve of her blouse, his grip light but unwavering.

“Don’t worry. That’s a corporeal demon out there, so he can’t come in unless someone invites him.”

“I thought that was just a vampire myth,” Denise replied shakily, absorbing this information. That must be why Raum disguised himself as a little girl when he first went to her house, and she’d invited him inside. Carried him, even. “Now what? We can’t just wait and hope he goes away.”

Alten didn’t have a chance to reply. Several
booms
went off, sounding like they were all around the house. Outside, Raum screamed, so high and loud that Denise covered her ears.

“Salt bombs,” Alten said in satisfaction. “I always heard salt burned demons. Guess that’s true.”

“I know you can hear me, Denise,” Raum roared from outside a minute later. “Let me in
right now
or I’ll kill every last person related to you! I know where your family is. You can’t hide them from me!”

Denise started forward, but Alten’s grip turned to steel. “He’s lying,” he said flatly. “Demons always lie.”

She chewed her lip, torn. What if Raum wasn’t lying? What if standing here was the same cowardly complacency she’d shown with Randy that night, and it would result in the same lethal consequences? And what was Spade thinking, booby-trapping his house with bombs custom-tailored for a demon? They obviously hadn’t succeeded in killing Raum. They’d just pissed him off into a frenzy that might result in her parents’ death.

Outside, Raum continued with his screaming threats. Denise was getting more desperate. Before, she’d had an agreement with the demon. Now it looked like all bets were off.

“I have to go out to him,” Denise said, tugging on her arm. “I have to tell him I’m still going to give him what he wants.”

Alten didn’t budge. “You’re not going out there.”

“You don’t know what our deal was!” Denise shouted, yanking harder on her arm. “I won’t let you get my family killed!”

Alten didn’t argue with her. He just clapped one hand over her mouth and picked her up with the other, carrying her, kicking, up the stairs. She could still hear Raum shouting about all the horrible, torturous ways he’d kill her parents unless Denise let him in. She couldn’t, though. She couldn’t even speak.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t risk you doing anything unwise,” Alten said, ignoring Denise’s muffled, furious grunts against his hand.

Almost thirty minutes later, Raum abruptly went silent. Denise heard the screech of car brakes, then the sound of the front door flinging open.

Spade filled the door frame in her next few moments. His black hair was tousled, as if he’d been running, and his eyes were bright green. He nodded to Alten, who finally took his hand off Denise’s mouth and his arm from around her waist.

She shoved Alten aside and then went up to Spade, slapping him across the face as hard as she could.

“
What
have you done?”

It wasn’t the slap that angered Spade. As soon as he saw Denise gagged and restrained by Alten, he rather felt he had it coming. He wasn’t even concerned about her striking him in front of Alten. Alten presumed Denise to be his girlfriend, so a lovers’ spat wasn’t cause for leadership concerns within his line. But what made rage shoot through Spade was the strength behind her blow—strength no human should have. And the sting across his face was combined with the scent of his own blood.

A glance confirmed it; her hands had transformed, curved claws replacing her nails and her fingers twisted into something like talons.

Bloody demon would pay for what he’d done to her.

Quickly, before Alten noticed, Spade pushed Denise onto the bed and clasped her hands above her, hiding them between the pillows as his body pinned hers.

“Leave,” he told him. “Keep watch on our guests.”

Alten left, wisely shutting the door behind him.

Denise had gasped when he’d flattened her on the bed, then the scent of her anger rose and her flesh felt like it was scalding him. He hadn’t been imagining it before, Spade noted grimly. Her temperature
did
rise when she was upset, and right now, she was furious.

“Get
off
me, Spade. I mean it—”

He released her hands and rolled off her, putting a finger to his lips in the universal gesture for silence. Then he nodded at her hands.

Her face whitened when she saw them.

“I couldn’t let him see,” Spade said, so low she might not hear him.

She did, because she nodded once. Her gaze brightened and then she looked away from her hands, as if she couldn’t bear the sight of them.

“Denise.” Spade gently took her deformed hands into his grip, ignoring her attempts to pull free. “It might not be permanent. It wasn’t last time.”

She blinked rapidly and then her face hardened. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is what you’ve done to Raum. He’ll never leave my family alone now. You’ve pissed him off too much.”

Spade got up and went over to the telly, switching it on and turning the volume up very loud. The demon had left at the first sight of him, which was noteworthy. The salt bombs must have wounded Raum enough for him to run from a fight with a Master vampire, which Spade would have relished. Still, Spade didn’t want to risk Raum overhearing what he had to say to Denise, if the demon still lurked nearby.

He sat back on the bed, leaning close to Denise so she could hear him above the blaring telly and trying very hard to ignore the headiness of her scent that said she had her monthlies.

“We know now that Raum wasn’t lying about tracking you through the brands,” Spade said. “Which means he would have followed you if you’d gone with me. Since that was a possibility, I left you here, both to see if the demon found you, and to keep Raum from finding out what I was doing.”

“Your plan better be amazing, or after those salt bombs, my family’s as good as dead if Raum finds them,” Denise said, fear and anger still sharpening her tone.

He met her gaze, wanting her to see the intentness in his. “We now know Raum is a corporeal demon, not merely a possessed human. A corporeal demon can’t enter a private residence unless invited, can’t move around in the daytime, and can be injured by salt. A possessed human being piloted by a demon can go wherever he pleases, whenever he pleases, and has no aversion to salt.”

“Is that a good thing about Raum, or a bad thing?” she asked.

In point of fact, it was a bad thing, because a possessed human would be much easier to dispose of, but Spade wasn’t about to inform her of that.

“Before you can kill your enemy, you have to know what your enemy
is
,” Spade replied, choosing his words. “Now we know what Raum is, which means we’re one step closer to killing him. As for your parents, they’re in the middle of the ocean. Raum wouldn’t want to be anywhere near all that salt water, even if he did know where they were, which he doesn’t, or he’d have taunted you with their exact location.”

Denise chewed on her lip, reaching out to brush her hair back and then pausing in disgust when she caught a glimpse of her hands. She wound them in the bedspread without a word, though, and met his gaze without that former shine in her eyes.

“They can’t cruise forever, Spade, and Raum can still track me whenever he wants. I get that you needed to know what sort of demon he was, but unless I never see my parents again, they’ll be in horrible danger whenever I’m around them. You should have discussed this with me instead of deciding we weren’t looking for Nathanial and we were going after Raum instead.”

His brow arched. “We’re still going to find Nathanial, but once we do, we’ll be in a position of strength to deal with Raum. Not dependent on his goodwill that he won’t kill you despite you fulfilling your promise.”

He couldn’t risk that. His time away from her had served several purposes; discovering the truth about her brands, determining the type of demon Raum was, and confirming how Spade felt about her without her presence clouding his judgment. All three of those questions had now been indisputably answered. Denise was more than a situational fancy. She was special. When he was with her, she stirred things in him that he hadn’t felt in a century and a half, and it had started from the first moment he laid eyes on her. As for Denise being human, well…she wouldn’t remain that way, if he had anything to say about it.

So after Raum took the brands off, Spade intended to kill him.

The fact that no one he knew had any inkling of how to
kill
a corporeal demon was something he wasn’t about to share with Denise. If Spade couldn’t discover any concrete information on demon dispatchment, he’d start with decapitation and work his way down from there.

“When we find Nathanial, I want you to leave,” Denise said softly. “Raum will know you set the salt bombs. He’ll want revenge, and if he can track me, he’ll know the second we find Nathanial. Then he’ll probably try to kill you. He won’t need you anymore.”

Raum wouldn’t need Denise anymore, either, and she knew that as well as he did. Even if the demon didn’t have a grudge against her—and Spade doubted that, after today—Raum could kill her just for amusement.

“I have a plan for that as well,” he said.

Her hazel eyes narrowed. “What?”

If Alten or Emma thought it was strange that she came downstairs with towels wrapped around her hands, neither one of them gave any indication. Denise hoped that just as before, her hands would transform back to normal. Otherwise, she’d have to find a more practical solution for keeping them covered aside from Spade’s monogrammed towels.

She prayed it wasn’t permanent, and for more reasons than just anyone seeing how monstrous they looked. If it was permanent, even if they did defeat Raum, there went her hope of one day being a mother. How could she cradle a child without fear that claws would slice into her baby’s skin? How could she even risk getting pregnant, if she had demon essence inside her?

The sight of the two strange people in the front hall jerked Denise from her depressed musings. One was a blond woman who stood near the fireplace, seeming to admire its huge size. Even though she was tall, if she’d decided to walk into it, she would have easily fit. The other was a young man with a closely shaved head and tattoos covering his arms like sleeves.

Spade nodded at them. “Denise, this is Francine and Chad.”

“Nice to meet you,” Denise said, walking toward them. Out of habit, she started to extend her hand, then flushed and dropped it to her side.

They cast pointed glances at her towels, but didn’t comment. Once again, Denise cursed Raum, the brands, and her long-lost relative for starting this whole mess.

“Very nice to meet you, too,” Francine said. Chad echoed that while giving Denise a once-over that made her feel like a woman instead of a walking monstrosity. Then Chad glanced at Spade, blanched a little at whatever Spade’s expression was, and cleared his throat.

“Do you want to wait, or should we get started now?”

“Let’s get started,” Spade replied. “Emma, please draw all the curtains. Alten, bring Mr. Higgins’s case, and then turn on every telly and radio in the house. Loud.”

The housekeeper didn’t go to the windows, but instead took a remote control and began pressing buttons. The drapes began to close.
Mechanically controlled
, Denise thought, shaking her head. Her mother would love that, let alone all the other expensive upgrades Spade’s house contained.

Alten carried a suitcase into the room and left it at Chad’s feet. Spade nodded at Emma and Alten, who took that as their cue to leave.

While the TV and other devices began to blare from every room, Chad opened the hard-sided suitcase and started pulling items out of it. Denise couldn’t help but peer curiously over his shoulder. The interior of the case was custom, because the larger pieces came out of their own padded, contoured cradles. Chad began to lay objects on a shiny steel tray. One looked like an oddly shaped power drill, then a package containing several long metal sticks, mini dark bottles, a cord, some sort of pedal, a razor, a squirt bottle, surgical gloves, something that resembled a square surge protector, and was that a
watercolor
set?

“I think it’s time to be very specific about your plan,” Denise said.

Spade sat on the couch, indicating the place next to him. She sat as well, but stiffly, putting her wrapped hands in her lap.

“Chad and Francine are demonologists,” Spade said, keeping his voice low. Denise didn’t think it was possible Raum could overhear anything with all the other noise, even if he was still nearby. “They’re also vampires, so they’ve been studying demons and people affected by them for quite a while. Such a long while, in fact, that they’re the ones who once helped a bloke with demon marks on his forearms…”

Denise sucked in her breath.
Nathanial
.

“…which is why I had to leave you here. If the demon could track you through those brands, then someone, somewhere, had to know how to negate them. So I needed time to track down the best experts on demonology, and I needed to do that without your demon being able to follow me,” Spade continued, his gaze steady.

She’d been right. Nathanial
did
manage to have the marks negated—at least enough that they weren’t used to track him anymore, and possibly enough that the marks didn’t continue to turn Nathanial into a monster. It made sense. If Nathanial had transformed wholly into some sort of beast, that would’ve made him a lot easier to find. People tended to notice a monster among them, even jaded people like vampires and ghouls.

Denise was so excited that she threw her arms around Spade, freaky towel-covered hands and all. She thought he’d left her for no reason, but he’d been out finding the people who’d helped Nathanial give Raum the boot. Maybe there was hope for her family
and
her after all.

“Spade,” she choked, unable to find the words to tell him how grateful she was.

His hands slid across her back, and then slowly, he pushed her away.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said, as something flashed across his face. “I don’t need reimbursement or gratitude to see this through to the end. I made a promise. There’s nothing more required from you for me to keep it.”

Denise sat back, stung. Was this Spade’s way of reminding her that things were strictly business between them, so she should lay off the looks and the hot flashes?

“Right,” she said, scooting back farther away from him on the couch. Then the numb composure that had seen her through Randy’s funeral and the months of dealing with PTSD came to the rescue, blanketing her hurt. Spade was doing her and her family an incredible favor. She wouldn’t spend however much longer it took sulking over being rejected. He might not want her gratitude, but he was going to get it,
and
her cooperation.

“What do I need to do?” she asked, proud her voice was even and calm.

Spade gave her a look she couldn’t read. “Chad’s going to tattoo you.”

Of all his possible replies,
that
one she didn’t expect. “Come again?”

“To simplify the explanation, brands are essentially permanent symbols representing a demon’s power,” Francine said, coming over to sit by Denise. “What we’re going to do is cover them with our own permanent symbols of power. These symbols will deflect the demon’s tie with you, or at least mute it to levels that the demon shouldn’t be able to strengthen—unless you come into contact with him again and he rebrands you. So don’t do that.”

Denise couldn’t stop her bark of laughter. “I don’t plan to.”

Chad was still arranging things, but he still spoke even though he didn’t glance up. “You can get preventive symbols, too. The ones on my arms are protection spells. Did them when I was human. They kept stray, noncorporeal demons from being able to possess me. You want any of those?”

This was so much to take in. “Do I need them?”

“I doubt it,” Francine replied. “Demon possession is rare, and it’s done by lesser demons trying to cross over. Most people never come into contact with demons, but when we were human, we needed them. When you fight demons, they fight back.”

Denise gulped. Considering how enraged Raum had been earlier, that wasn’t a comforting thought.

“Just another few minutes,” Chad said. “Then we’ll get you marked up.”

Chad began mixing various packets of powders with the content of a few of the small bottles, frowning at the wet, black mass in the dish.

“We’ll have to test you before we begin the tattoos,” he said. “Take off those towels and give me your arm.”

“No.”

Spade said it before Denise could begin to sputter out a refusal. His dark gaze was unreadable.

“The towels stay on. You’ll need to work around them,” he continued.

Chad looked like he wanted to argue, but Francine shrugged. “As long as the brands don’t reach into her hands, that should be fine,” she said.