First Drop of Crimson (2 page)

Denise was so caught up in her thoughts that she ignored the tapping sounds until they happened a third time. Then she froze. They were coming from her front door.

She left the kitchen and ran quietly up to her bedroom, pulling a Glock out of her nightstand. It was filled with silver bullets, which might only slow down a vampire, but would kill anything human. Denise walked down the stairs, straining her ears for each sound.
Yes, still there. Such an odd noise, like whimpering and scratching.

What if it was someone trying to pick the lock? Should she call the police, or try to see what it was first? If it was just a raccoon nosing around and she called the cops, they’d
really
discount anything she said in the future.

Denise kept the gun pointed toward the sounds as she edged around to the front windows. If she angled her body just so, she could see her front door…

“What?” Denise gasped out loud.

On her porch was a little girl, something red on her outfit. She was tapping on the door in a way that looked hurt or exhausted or both. Now Denise could make out the word
help
coming from her.

Denise set down the gun and yanked open the door. The little girl’s face was streaked with tears and her whole frame trembled.

“Can I come in? Daddy’s hurt,” the child lisped.

She picked her up, looking around for a car or any other indicator of how the little girl had gotten here.

“Come in, sweetie. What happened? Where’s your daddy?” Denise crooned as she took the child inside.

The little girl smiled. “Daddy’s dead,” she said, her voice changing to something low and deep.

Denise’s arms fell at the instant deluge of weight, horror filling her as she saw the little girl morph into the same man who’d murdered Paul. He grabbed her when she tried to run, shutting the door behind him.

“Thanks for inviting me in,” he said, his hand clapping over Denise’s mouth just in time to cut off her scream.

Spade closed his mobile phone, mulling the conversation he’d just had. Denise MacGregor. He certainly hadn’t expected to hear from her again. Now she fancied her cousin had been murdered by some sort of weredog—except weredogs or were-anything didn’t exist.

There could be another explanation. Denise said she’d maced the attacker with pepper spray and silver. She could have missed him, true, but then again, perhaps she hadn’t. If a vampire murdered her cousin, he could have tranced Denise into thinking she’d seen him transform into a dog—and that he hadn’t been affected by the liquid silver spray. Humans’ memories were so easy to alter. But if Denise
had
witnessed a vampire attack, the murderer would wonder how she’d known to use silver. He might decide to use more than glamour to make sure Denise didn’t retell the tale. That was a risk Spade wasn’t willing to take.

He cast a look at his bed with regret. Thought he’d long ago mastered the crippling lethargy that came with sunrise, that didn’t mean he relished driving to Texas now. Ah, well. It was the least he could do to ensure Crispin and Cat didn’t rush back from New Zealand for what was, in all likelihood, just the emotional breakdown of a human who’d snapped from too much grief and stress.

He remembered the look Denise gave him the last time he’d seen her. Specks of blood dotted her clothes, her face had been as pale as Spade’s own ivory skin, and her hazel eyes held a mixture of revulsion and fear.

Why did you have to kill him?
she’d whispered.

Because of what he intended to do
, Spade had replied.
No one deserves to live after that.

She hadn’t understood. Spade did, though. All too well. Humans might be more forgiving with their punishments, but Spade knew better than to show a rapist, even a potential one, any naïve mercy.

He also remembered the last thing Denise said when he’d dropped her off at her house later that night.
I’m so sick of the violence in your world.
He’d seen that look on many humans’ faces, heard the same flat resonance in their voices. If Crispin weren’t so busy with everything that had happened lately, he’d explain to Cat how the kindest thing to do was to erase Denise’s memory of all things undead. Perhaps Spade would do that himself, if Denise had become delusional. Kindness aside, if her grasp on reality
had
slipped, it would also eliminate a liability if everything Denise knew about them was erased from her recall.

Spade filled his satchel with enough clothes for a few days and went downstairs to the garage. Once settled behind the wheel of his Porsche, he put on dark shades and then clicked open the garage door. Bloody sun was already up. Spade gave it a baleful glare as he pulled out into the dawn.

Humans. Aside from tasting delicious, they were usually more trouble than they were worth.

Denise could barely breathe. Pain seared from her chest up her right arm and seemed to spread through her whole body. Lights danced in her vision.
I’m dying…

“Why did you spray me with silver?” a conversational voice asked.

The hand came off her face and she sucked in deep, painful breaths. Some of the burning left her chest, and her eyes focused enough to see that she was still in the foyer by her front door. Denise tried to push against the man gripping her, but she was so weak, she couldn’t even raise her hands. If the stranger let go of her waist, she’d crumple to the floor.

“Answer me.” A new flash of pain accompanied his demand.

Denise managed to reply even though the tightness in her chest made it hard to breathe.

“Thought you were…a vampire.”

The stranger laughed. “Wrong. Insulting, too, but interesting. What do you know about vampires?”

Her gun was on the table six feet away. Denise sagged in his arms, hoping he’d let her go. Maybe if he did, she could make it to the gun.

“Answer me,” the stranger said again, jerking her around to face him. His eyes burned with red highlights, but aside from that—and the faint smell coming from him, like he’d just set fire to something—he looked like a college student. His hair was a lighter brown than hers and pulled back into a ponytail. With his flared jeans and tie-dye T-shirt, he could have doubled as a young hippie.

But he wasn’t human.
Red eyes.
She’d never seen that before. He wasn’t a ghoul or a vampire, so what was he?

“I know vampires exist,” Denise got out, breathing a little easier as that crushing pain in her chest lessened into a throbbing ache.

“Any Goth wannabe could have silver mace on a key chain and believe in vampires,” the man said dismissively. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Another blast of pain accompanied his statement, almost doubling Denise over. When she could see again through the pain, the man was smiling. Denise thought of this monster’s face being the last thing her aunt and cousins had seen, and anger stiffened her spine.

“Vampires originated from Cain after God cursed him to forever drink blood as a reminder that he’d spilled his brother, Abel’s. They’re immune to crosses, wooden stakes, and sunlight. Only silver through the heart or decapitation can kill them—and decapitation is the only way to kill a ghoul. Is that good enough?” she growled.

He laughed as if delighted, letting Denise go. She fell as expected, but made sure to pitch forward, closer to the table and the gun.

“Very good. Are you someone’s property?”

“No,” Denise said, knowing
property
referred to humans kept by vampires for feeding purposes. Like TV dinners, only with pulses.

“Ah.” The stranger’s eyes gleamed. “A more romantic arrangement?”

“
Hell
no,” Denise replied, edging closer to the table under the guise of fixing her robe back around her. She’d been naked underneath it, but modesty wasn’t her goal. Reaching the gun was. No matter what this creature was, bullets might hurt it. Maybe enough to give her a chance to run away.

“Don’t mention that place,” the man remarked, wincing. “Brings back bad memories.”

That made Denise pause. She studied the stranger more closely. Red eyes. Smelled like sulfur. Not human, vampire, or ghoul.

“Demon,” she said.

He bowed. “Call me Raum.”

Denise wracked her brain to come up with what she knew about demons, but most of her knowledge consisted of watching
The Exorcist
. Even if she had holy water, which she didn’t, would flinging it on a demon, chanting, “The power of Christ compels you!” as in the movie do any real damage?

“This Spade you were talking to on the phone before,” Raum went on. “Is he a vampire, or a ghoul?”

Dread swept over her. Even though she and Spade weren’t friends, she didn’t want to put him in danger.

“He’s human,” she said.

The demon arched a brow. “But you told him what you saw, so he must know about vampires and ghouls. If you’re not property or a girlfriend, what’s your association with those walking corpses?”

Denise was careful not to say anything that could come back to hurt Cat. “I, um, survived a vampire attack a few years ago, so I tried to find out as much about them as I could. Along the way, I met other people like me. We share information. Look out for each other.”

Raum considered this. “You’re saying you have no real connections to the undead world or anyone in it?”

She nodded. “That’s right.”

He sighed. “Then you’re of no use to me.”

Agony slammed into her chest, as sudden as if she’d been shot through the heart. Amid the paralyzing pain, Denise managed to gasp out a sentence.

“Wait! I do…have connections…”

Just as abruptly, the pain stopped. Raum smiled in satisfaction.

“I thought you might. You know too much not to.”

“What do you want from me?” Fear unlike any she’d ever known slithered up her spine. She was at the mercy of a demon. There was no worse position to be in.

Raum knelt next to her even as she edged back. “I’ll show you.”

His hand pressed to her forehead. Light burst inside her mind, then images followed.
Raum inside a pentagram, a red-haired man on the other side. “Give me power like yours,” the red-haired man said, “and you can have anything you want.” Raum put his hands on the man, who fell back screaming.

Another flash and the images changed.
Raum standing in front of the man, holding out his hand. The man shaking his head and backing away. Raum advancing, then howling in rage as a pentagram appeared all around him. Flames rose from the star, the bottom fell out, and Raum disappeared from sight. Nothing but fire for a long while, then a slew of horrifying, blood-soaked images. Finally a sense of freedom. Then dozens more images of people dying, until at last, her aunt Rose, then Amber, Paul…and herself.

“Your ancestor Nathanial backed out of a bargain with me.” Raum’s voice felt like phantoms in her ear. “He managed to lock me away for quite some time, but I’m back and I want my payment.”

Denise shook her head to clear the awful images from it. “How can I do anything about that?”

“Because he must be hiding with vampires or ghouls,” Raum purred. “I can’t go into their world, but you can. Find him for me.
Bring him to me
, and I’ll leave you and the rest of his spawn alone.”

The rest of his spawn
. Her parents’ faces flashed in Denise’s mind. One of them had to be a descendant of Nathanial’s, since she and her cousins obviously were, and Raum meant to kill all Nathanial’s remaining family in his quest to find him.

She couldn’t let that happen. “I’ll find him,” Denise said.
I don’t know how, but I will.

Raum traced his fingers along her arms. Her skin crawled in revulsion.

“I believe you mean that. But as extra incentive…”

His hands tightened around her while a ferocious new pain erupted inside her. She could hear herself screaming, but over that was Raum’s careless laughter.

“Try not to die, will you? I’ve only just started.”

Spade wrinkled his nose as he turned down Denise’s street. Something foul reached him even through the ventilation system of his car. His eyes swept the road, expecting to see a car with a smoking engine or a roof being tarred, but there was nothing. The smell worsened as he pulled into Denise’s driveway.

Spade reached into his satchel, pulling out two long silver blades that he concealed in each sleeve. Then he got out and walked up to the front door. Once there, he inhaled deeply near the frame.

The stench of sulfur filled his lungs, enough to choke him if he were human. Spade expelled his breath with a curse. Only one creature could leave such a smell in its wake.

Denise MacGregor wasn’t imagining things after all, but she might not be alive for Spade to tell her that.

He leveled the door in one kick and then burst through, rolling at once to avoid any attack. Denise was crumpled on the floor near a couch, but Spade didn’t rush to check on her. He glanced around the room, assuring himself no one else was there. Nothing but the sounds of her breathing and heartbeat.

He checked every room and closet upstairs and downstairs, but found nothing. Satisfied that he wasn’t walking into a trap, Spade went to check on Denise.

She was unconscious, wearing only a robe with the belt untied—and she stank of sulfur like she’d bathed in it.

Spade’s lips thinned into a grim line as he peeled back the robe. He’d been prepared to find the worst, but surprisingly there were no signs of an assault. It looked as though the demon had come, knocked her out, and then left.

Spade closed her robe and smoothed away the damp mahogany hair that covered her face, shaking her lightly.

“Denise, wake up.”

It took a few tries, but then her hazel eyes opened, focused on him—and widened in panic.

“Where is he?
Is he still here?
”

Spade kept a grip on her, making his voice soothing. “No one’s here but me. You’re all right.”

Denise let out a harsh sob. “No, I’m not.”

She pulled up the sleeves of her robe to expose her forearms. Spade couldn’t stop his curse as he saw the star-shaped shadows marking her skin.

Denise was correct; she wasn’t all right. The demon had branded her.

Spade sat on the closed lid of the loo in Denise’s bathroom. She’d insisted on showering, even though he’d had to carry her up here. He’d offered to help her wash but she flatly refused. Humans. As if this was any time for him to feel voyeuristic.

He refused to leave the bathroom, though, stating he wouldn’t have her death on his conscience if she slipped and broke her neck while trying to get out of the tub. Denise responded bitterly that the demon told her she was beyond mortal death after being branded. Spade wasn’t sure that was true, so he’d taken her robe, leaving her with no other option but to sit on the tile floor and tug the shower door closed.

He could see her hazy outline against the smoked glass. Hear her fumble about as she went through what must have been all her soaps and shampoos. The air filled with different perfumes, overpowering the lingering scent of sulfur. Spade closed his eyes. He’d have to get Denise to a safe place soon. It was doubtful the demon would leave only to come right back, but she couldn’t stay here.

“I need a towel.”

Spade pulled out two, handing the bigger one through the crack she’d opened in the shower. Once she’d wrapped it around herself, he opened the shower fully, ignoring her protest, and lifted her up, using his free hand to rub the smaller towel against her dripping hair.

“I can do this myself,” she said, pushing at him weakly.

“Under normal circumstances, I don’t doubt it,” he replied, carrying her to her bed. “But you had a demon nearly give you fatal cardiac arrest, then force his essence through your body. No one would be on their feet after that, so quit arguing and let me help you.”