Demon Moon

dissimilar. She glanced at the older woman, remembered her lack of surprise when Colin had bloodied his thumb. “You knew he was a vampire.”
    “I am old, naatin , not blind. Are you in love with him?”
    Her chest hurt too much to answer. Savi simply nodded. “There is no future in it,” she managed after a moment.
    “Oh, Savitri.” Nani leaned forward, patted her hand. “That is what I told your mother when she said she wanted to marry your father. And you know the conclusion to that.”
    Nani’s smile was somewhat watery, but Savi’s was, too. “Yes. I know.” They’d had fifteen blissfully happy years.
    And Savi was going to do everything she could to squeeze the same into a month.



CHAPTER 18

    A vampire’s psychic powers aren’t as evolved as a Guardian’s, demon’s, or nosferatu’s. Nosferatu-born vampires are somewhere in between—and all of the bloodsuckers are more psychically powerful when they are actually drinking the blood .
    —Savi to Taylor, 2007

    Colin’s quiet tension didn’t ease; not on the journey to Nani’s and during the flurried activity of packing, not after Savi’s teary-eyed good-byes before Selah whisked Nani away. They’d returned to his car in silence, and in the first few minutes it stretched awkwardly between them until Savi was certain she’d scream from it.
    Instead she fell asleep.
    A change in the car’s speed woke her as he turned into his neighborhood. Tall, elegant Victorian houses lined the avenue bordering the western side of Buena Vista Park, decorated ladies standing shoulder to shoulder. A wrought-iron gate guarded the drive; it slowly squeaked open when he pushed a code into a remote.
    She bent forward to look up through the windshield, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh my god, it’s the fairy-tale house. I’ve seen it in photos, like on ‘the best of San Francisco’ sites and whatever. I had no idea it was yours.” She’d known his address, but she’d never made the connection between the two—and she was certain the name of the owner had never been listed with the pictures. “How did the fire not make the news?”
    “The exterior was not badly damaged. There was little to film, and I immediately began to rebuild. Lilith did the rest.”
    Lilith must have concealed any connection to the fire and to Colin during the investigation into the ritual murders the previous year. Savi grinned, too enchanted by the house to feel slighted by his brusque tone—and the realization that he’d probably been the reason for her unexpected nap.
    A high fence and leafy trees hid most of the house from view of the street: an enormous Queen Anne, with rounded towers at each corner, gables, a steeply pitched roof, bay windows, and a second-floor balcony. The moonless, rainy night prevented her from determining the color, but she knew from the pictures it was a deep claret, with contrasting trim in the myriad ornamental details. Her eyes widened as she took in the narrow lawns at the sides of the house, the long sweep of landscaping in the front. “How did you get a lot this size?”
    “I purchased it not long after the earthquake.”
    Of 1906. “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide to acquire property: the best time to buy is after a major natural disaster.”
    He seemed to soften a little. “Yes.”
    She bit her lip, studying the line of his profile. A little wasn’t enough. How much damage had she done with her thoughtless question at the restaurant? Her heart climbed into her throat as he braked in front of the main entrance and killed the engine. “Will you invite me in?”
    Oh, god. She’d meant to sound sexy, sultry—to get through this moment on pure bravado. Instead a breathless vulnerability had crept into her voice, made it no more than a whisper.
    His eyes closed. “I had good intentions, Savitri.”
    Her hands clenched on her lap. Her legs trembled, her lungs seized up. That sounded like the beginning of every I’m-ready-to-let-you-go speech she’d ever received. I really like you, Savi. We get along so well, Savi. I thought it would turn out differently, Savi .
    It had never hurt before; but then, it had never really mattered before. “It’s okay,” she managed.
    She’d known better than to wish for anything, even something as short as a month.
    “I’m not bloody apologizing.”
    She glanced up in surprise at the anger in his voice, but he was already out of the car, around to her side. He hauled her out, dragged her