Demon Night

Mackenzie had come in from the gymnasium, and Jake was turning his head to the side so Charlie could see how well he’d healed up. She rose up on her toes to look close.
    Mackenzie frowned at them as he slid his sword into the scabbard on his back, then met Ethan’s gaze. The vampire pushed his flop of dark hair from his forehead, then signed, Drifter, would you like me to feed —
    Mackenzie’s pale hand closed tight when Ethan narrowed his eyes.
    Never mind, the vampire quickly gestured. And I wouldn’t have taken any from her — Becca is it for me. I was just offering because she’s in bad shape.
    Ethan nodded sharply, then slid his thumbs beneath his suspenders and studied his boots until he was certain he wasn’t going to say something he’d regret later. The thought of Charlie letting anyone else provide for her about tore him up and got jealousy roiling hot in his gut.
    He reckoned that meant Charlie was it for him, too.
    Jake was telling her about the tanker now, and her eyes were wide and bright when she glanced away from the novice to Ethan’s face, as if she wanted to gauge his reaction to Jake’s version of it.
    Ethan hadn’t been listening, but Jake must have been making him out to be a heroic warrior; she held his gaze, her bloodlust flaring. Jake blinked, and his words stumbled before he finished his story by falling to the floor with his arms and legs spread-eagled, projecting intense relief.
    Ethan’s jealousy receded, left his nerves jittering again. The feeding was just ahead, and she needed more than blood from him.
    She needed his control, and at that moment it was in short supply.
    He cleared his throat, forced himself not to think about her mouth or the heavy-lidded glance she cast at him each time the bloodlust turned her eyes more hazel than brown. “Which room, Jake? I ought to get Charlie settled in.”
    Jake raised his head. “It’s the last one on the right.” He rolled to his side, propped his elbow on the floor. “And Savi found a connection between Katya, Vladimir, and the Brandts, but it’s not much. It can wait.”
    “All right then.” He held out his hand to Charlie. “You ready?”
    Her lips parted, and she nodded. Her breath was slow and shallow. “At the motel, you asked Jane if Mark Brandt had contacted her,” she murmured as they climbed the stairs. “Why?”
    “Mostly my gut,” he said. “I wouldn’t like to be hit from the side, particularly if it’s regarding Legion, so I’m looking around to see what might be coming.”
    “Are the Brandts?”
    “Don’t know yet. It may be they’re just feeling things out, too.”
    She was silent for a moment, as if she was thinking it over. “I can call Mark. He asked me to dinner—probably to talk about Jane—but I can feel him out.”
    They reached the top of the stairs. “Maybe you could do that, Charlie, but I don’t reckon you’d enjoy dinner much.”
    She touched her lips. “Do you think he’d notice?”
    Ethan thought any man who sat across a table from that mouth and didn’t pay attention to it probably had little to offer for information or brains. “Yes.” He raised his voice a little, and kept hold of her hand as they moved into the common area. “This here’s the brood, Charlie.”
    He pointed and named, then hurried her on through moments afterward, not trusting that the novices would behave much longer than it took for Charlie to respond to their hellos.
    “So, this is like a dorm?” she asked.
    “That’s as good a description as any.”
    “But you live on Caelum?” Wistfulness fluttered through the rasp in her voice.
    He paused in front of her door. “I have a place in Caelum, but I don’t reckon I live there,” he said slowly. “Not in the sense that you mean. I don’t stay in Caelum for any length of time. Just visit.”
    “And drift? Is that why you went today?”
    “Yes.” He didn’t look away from her as they entered the room. Her expression didn’t change, except for a quick blink when her gaze lit on the twin-sized bed. “It’s not much,” he said again.
    “It’s okay. Like I said, kind of a dorm. Were the flowers your idea?” She turned to face him again with a smile.
    A huge burst of red roses sat atop the tiny desk. “That they were, though I’ll admit I didn’t select these. I’d have chosen something yellow.” Daisies or daffodils, or even yellow roses—any flower that looked more like the sun than like blood.
    He thought her smile dimmed,