Demon Moon

it; I like to, actually.” She returned her attention to the monitors, saw Sir Pup strolling through one of the parlors. “So, if something happens, my first response should be to run down here and lock myself in?” The demon could set fire to the house and she’d still be safe; she wouldn’t have the same protection if she was locked in one of the rooms, or a closet. When Colin nodded, she said, “How will I know if I can come out? Or if you need to be let in? You won’t appear on the video.”
    “If I do, don’t let me in.” But he frowned thoughtfully as he strode forward to stand next to her. He tapped a few keys, brought up the feed from the theater. “The portrait of Mary Shelley, here—” He pointed to a painting beside the large plasma screen. “—I’ll remove it, place it behind the sectional sofa.”
    “Okay. I’ll also get us panic buttons, and link them via satellite to SI. Maybe a personal alert for Michael to wear when he’s not in Caelum. If the shields are down, they should receive a signal, and he or Selah could teleport in. I might be able to incorporate them into our watches, or maybe a pendant, so that they’re always on us.”
    She rubbed her forehead, mentally running through the security, looking for any holes she could plug. There were holes, a lot of them, but short of imprisoning themselves in the room and waiting, there was little else they could do to prepare. Fleeing—to England or elsewhere—was tempting, but would make it more difficult to protect themselves.
    And it would allow Dalkiel to return underground. If they remained in San Francisco, it gave the Guardians a better chance of locating him.
    “Is it too much?” Colin said quietly.
    “No. I’m just frustrated, because no matter what we do, there’s going to be something we’ve missed. And I’m a little scared.”
    “Scared? Bloody hell, Savi, I have tried for months, and it is my gangster demon double who manages it?” He shook his head in mock exasperation, but his smile faded as soon as her laughter tapered off. “Don’t lose that fear, sweet. It’ll keep you sharp and aware. We know where we are vulnerable, and where we are secure—but to take either for granted is to court disaster. Our moment of greatest vulnerability will be leaving the house and traveling to Polidori’s every evening. We’ll vary our schedule, but they’ll eventually know to look for us.”
    “Does Polidori’s have a similar security system?” This one resembled the setup at SI; Colin had probably contracted with the same firm who had installed the security at the warehouse.
    “No. You’ll use the symbols in the suite and watch through the monitors. We’ll have Sir Pup with us; I’ll instruct him to remain with you.”
    She nodded, looked around the small shelter, and released a long breath. Half of her life spent avoiding the urge to run in order to protect herself, and now it would be her best defense.
    “So what exactly will we be doing at the club?”
    He heaved a great sigh and tilted his face toward the ceiling, with an expression close to pain tightening his features. “Conforming.”

    But for his hair, Colin’s life-sized portraits could have been a study in men’s high fashion from the early nineteenth century to the turn of the twentieth—and a study in his moods. Savi trailed slowly down the stairs, memorizing each one and trying to ascertain the cause of the niggling sensation that each one was not quite right.
    The third: Colin in fawn breeches and emerald waistcoat, smiling close-lipped; the proportions of his face and body were exact. Perfect. The eighth: The line of his jaw as he seemed to laugh at himself—or the observer—his fangs a startling counterpoint to the conservative black suit. The tenth: His angry glower tightening the skin around his mouth, his brows heavy and dark over his eyes.
    And the very last: Situated at the base of the stairs, and the only one in which he wore modern clothing—though his hair still overlong and curling at his nape and around his ears—cruelty in the icy gray stare, the mocking tilt to his lips.
    “Is my nose too long in this one?”
    Startled, Savi turned her head. Colin stood on the riser above her, leaning casually against the banister, looking up at the painting. Her mouth dried, and she took a few moments to let her gaze travel the length of him before she managed, “No. It’s exactly right.”
    A black shirt clung to his torso, the long