Demon Night

Her sarcasm didn’t carry well, so she added, “He can copy your voice, Jane. He can fake an e-mail.”
    “I’ll put something in there he won’t know. Something from when we were kids that I’ve never told him.”
    “And what if I don’t hear from you one day? What do I do?”
    Through the door, she heard Ethan softly tell her, “We come and rescue her, Charlie.”
    Charlie whirled in his direction, her fist clenching. “But you said you weren’t a hero.”
    Jane frowned in confusion. Ethan didn’t speak for a long moment, and when he finally answered, it was with laughter in his voice.
    “Well, hell, Charlie—I sure wish I’d been a hero to you last night. And so the notion of being one must be growing on me.”
    Jane pointed at the entrance. “Is he listening?” At Charlie’s nod, she pulled the door open, made a sweeping gesture to wave Ethan in. When he stepped into the room, she examined him with narrowed eyes and her hands on her hips. “So you’re going to make sure my sister gets the blood she needs?”
    Ethan’s brows rose, and he darted a glance at Charlie before looking at Jane again. Amusement lurked at the corners of his eyes. “Yes’m.”
    “For how long?”
    “I reckon as long as she needs me, I’ll be happy to oblige her.”
    Charlie closed her eyes, hung her head, and hoped they thought she was laughing.

CHAPTER 18
    Ethan couldn’t figure Charlie at all.
    During the two hours he’d spoken with Jane, explaining the Rules and answering the questions she’d thrown at him, Charlie had withdrawn into herself. Not numb, as she had been after the attack in the phone booth, just quiet. Her only strong reaction had come when he’d taken Jane’s blood to have as an anchor, should Selah, Michael, or Jake ever need one. Unless Jane was behind the spell or shielding, they’d be able to teleport to her.
    When the crimson drops had welled on Jane’s finger, Charlie had risen from her seat on the bed. She’d closed the door to the bathroom behind her, her bloodlust licking tongues of fire over his skin.
    She must have been feeling it bad, but she wasn’t showing it—though her body was. She’d lost weight already; a hell of a lot more than he’d have expected in one day of not feeding.
    But she’d returned to the room with a smile on her face—a smile that had remained through the good-byes and embraces that she and Jane exchanged in the parking lot. She waited until her sister had driven out of sight.
    Then she turned, and he’d had barely a moment to brace himself for the quick series of punches she aimed at his chest. Not landing them hard—just working out whatever had been simmering in her. And then she was leaning on him, her cheek pressed over his heart and the heel of her left hand weakly thumping the other side of his chest.
    He laid his lips against the top of her apple-scented hair, held her tight.
    When she stopped beating on him, she asked in a tired voice, “What time is it?”
    He’d given his cell phone to Jane, and had to look around and peer in through the window of the motel’s office to see. “About ten thirty.”
    “Shit. Shit shit shit.” She pulled away and was on her phone a second later, turning her back to him as she coughed and told Cole she might be in tomorrow, that some medication had put her to sleep so she was late calling.
    She didn’t face Ethan again when she finished, but stared down the road with a haunted expression deepening the hollows in her cheeks.
    “Charlie,” he began, but she shook her head.
    She looked up at him before gazing down the road again. “I’ll tell him tomorrow that I’m not coming back. I can’t do it today.” Her breath hitched, but her expression didn’t change. “Hell, maybe tomorrow he’ll just realize I’ve been lying and fire me. You still have my laptop, right?”
    He frowned, but nodded. “Yes.”
    “I guess I can finish my classes, then.” She rubbed her forehead. Her fingers were trembling. Ethan watched them shake, wished she’d lean on him or hit him again, and make him good for something while she was hurting. “I’m sorry about what she called you,” she said quietly.
    The bit about being a murderer? “It’s true enough.”
    She whipped around to face him. “That’s not the point—”
    “Easy, Charlie.” He held his hands up in surrender, grinning. “You already defended me real well. And Sammael must have put that particular concern into her—I ain’t about to fret