Demon Bound

Charlie was halfway through a story. In Charlie’s hands, what had probably been a mildly amusing exchange became an epic encounter, with Marsden heroically resisting a geriatric vamp’s increasingly desperate attempts to sex him up beneath a spotlight.
    The last two months, Charlie had been learning the ropes at Marsden’s theater in preparation for opening a similar theater for the Seattle vampire community. Chances were, she had many years’ worth of these stories now.
    And he’d probably feel more like laughing at them later. Jake finished his beer just as she wound up her tale, and used his empty glass as a non-dick reason to get up and head to the bar.
    Old Matthew Cole didn’t need to ask his preference. A new beer was in front of Jake almost before he slid onto the bar stool.
    Jake took a deep swallow. It didn’t do anything for him—and he’d have sworn beer tasted better when he’d been human.
    But even though they didn’t need to eat or drink, Cole’s bar had become the unofficial gathering place for Guardians and vampires in Seattle. Ordering helped them fit in with the humans, and made sure that Old Matthew wasn’t stiffed for his hospitality—not to mention his silence about their true nature.
    But then, Old Matthew probably enjoyed flipping the bird to whatever authority he thought might take exception to their existence.
    Jake watched the old man make change at the register, then glanced in the mirror behind the shelves of bottles. Shit. The “old man” was his age. And it was possible the only reason Old Matthew wasn’t sitting in Jake’s place was that instead of being drafted, he’d been in prison—making time for murders he hadn’t committed.
    From the direction of the table, Jake heard a chair scrape, and he tracked Charlie’s approach in the mirror. She was already smiling at Old Matthew, and his dark face wrinkled when he grinned in response.
    “You come on back here, Charlie girl.”
    “I thought I quit,” she said, but she rounded the bar, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You’re going to make me work?”
    “Well, now that you mention it, I could use five. Robbie called in sick.”
    “I can give you more than five if you need it.”
    “Not at your own to-do. And not when your man isn’t here. You got trouble tonight, Charlie?”
    “I hope not.” She tied on the apron Old Matthew gave her.
    “Cora and Angie called when we were on our way over here. They found a vampire ashed up in the University District, and the partner was missing. The partners hated each other, so it might have just been a fight and she took off, but . . .” Her shrug hid the worry from Old Matthew, but Jake could feel it in her psychic scent. “They’ve got to check.”
    One nephil had moved into Seattle last spring and picked off the leaders of the vampire community. Drifter had managed to slay the nephil, preventing the full-scale vampire massacre that had followed similar assassinations in other cities—but there was no way of knowing if the nephilim intended to move against Seattle again.
    Cora and Angie were the Seattle community’s new heads, and the probable targets if the nephilim’s MO held—but Drifter made a point to investigate any unusual vampire death, and rule out nephilim involvement.
    “Golly gee,” Jake said. “I bet Drifter’s having a great time.”
    Charlie rolled her eyes, but her worry faded. “And I bet you’re glad you got in too late to go with him.”
    “You’d win that bet.” Cora and Angie required more patience than Jake had in supply.
    “I thought you came in with Alice, Jake.” Old Matthew looked over at the table. “Did you lose her?”
    Charlie answered for him. “When Irena showed, they went over to the theater. They haven’t seen it since we’ve started re-modeling.”
    “I’ll tell you, Charlie girl—I sure am looking forward to you opening up. We didn’t get many coming over from the theater before, but it’s been feeling quieter in here since they closed.”
    Jake grimaced, and slid a stack of fives across the bar. Old Matthew began to frown at him, but nodded when Jake said, “The money talk reminded me. It’s to cover Alice’s bill. Whatever she drinks or eats.”
    Charlie clubbed her hay-colored hair into a long ponytail. “What did you say to her?”
    “Something stupid.”
    Old Matthew fanned the money. “Son, that’s a lot of stupid.”
    “Yeah. Well, part of it is an advance payment.”
    The bartender