Demon Angel

gained altitude and speed, her hair tangling behind her. The wind stung tears from her eyes—the only kind of tears she'd shed in two thousand years.
    How could Hugh have traded this kind of freedom for a life on the ground? He could have given hers without losing his own.
    Using Alcatraz to orient her approach to the city, she flew into Golden Gate Park and found a secluded area in which to dress. If the Guardians had managed to follow her from the federal building, and during her underground trip around the Bay Area, they would attack her now.
    Minutes passed without her sensing anything out of the ordinary. Torn between relief and disappointment—she didn't want to die, but a fight would have been enjoyable—she walked out of the park, and caught the first bus that would take her south. She'd run enough for the day.
    The bus was almost empty. She chose a seat in the back and growled softly until the only nearby passenger, a teenager strung out on meth, freaked out. The driver kicked him off at the next stop, and Lilith was able to call Colin in relative privacy.
    He answered on the first ring. The loud, jingly tones of a TV game show played in the background as he said, "Agent Milton, my dear, I'm going to murder you."
    She grinned. He'd been a member of the British aristocracy as a human and hadn't let go of his accent; every threat of violence that rolled off his tongue sounded like an invitation to tea. "How's my puppy?"
    "He… they… it is fantastic. Eating everything in sight. And last week, it killed and ate two nosferatu who were intent upon ruining my rather spectacular visage. Which, I confess, makes up for the outrageous expense of feeding it for the last six months." His voice lowered. "And I believe it is keeping my new visitors away as well."
    Lilith sank back into her seat and closed her eyes in relief. She'd deliberately left the Guardians with the impression that she'd go to Colin's house that night. The vampire's cryptic response confirmed that at least one waited outside—combined with Sir Pup's protection, Colin would probably be safe, "The nosferatu won't risk coming after you with hellhound and Guardian stench everywhere. Especially if it's Michael's stench."
    They fell silent, and she heard a car salesman screaming about finance charges. The high volume on the television wouldn't keep the Guardians from hearing his part of the conversation, but it might mask hers.
    She waited until the game show resumed before speaking again. "Do you have your weapon?"
    "Next to me."
    "If anyone but me knocks at your door, use it." Pausing, she reconsidered. After their confrontation in the park, Hugh might seek out the vampire. "Unless it is He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named."
    "Voldemort?"
    She envisioned his smirk, and wondered how he'd managed to make it through two centuries on a steady diet of pop culture and little else. "The other one."
    "Does this mean the ban is lifted, and I can finally talk about him?"
    Oh, how she'd love smacking him around for the amusement in that question. "Yes."
    "Why now?"
    Lowering her voice to a whisper, she admitted, "I need you to tell me his name." She could use her computer to look up Hugh's address, but she didn't know his surname, or even if he still used "Hugh."
    She had to yank the phone away from her ear when he shouted with laughter. What had ever possessed her to become friends with a vampire? Particularly this one. "I swear, Colin, the only reason I only tolerate you is because you're extremely handsome."
    That quieted him. "Oh?"
    Ah, Vanity. Thy name is Colin Ames-Beaumont . "That's all you're going to get until you give me what I want."
    She easily imagined his grin as he said, "Christian name is the same. Family name is a stony demesne, often of the motte and bailey variety, and a dead automobile manufacturer with a first name not unlike an English king who liked to behead his wives."
    Hugh Castleford. "Thank you, Colin."
    "I'm glad you've returned."
    She stared up at the bus's ceiling, trying not to feel uncomfortable. They'd been friends for a decade, but she still wasn't accustomed to someone caring about her. "I'll see you later this evening," she managed. "Don't die between now and then. Unless my dog is hurt or unhappy—then you'd better wish for death before I get there, because I'll kill you slowly and painfully."
    "Don't ring off," he said quickly. "You promised more. Give me a lot more and I'll tell you the name of the woman not-Voldemort is living