Demon Night

for what seemed an endless time. Charlie opened her eyes, stared up at the beams striping the ceiling. The silence was filled by the quick pounding of Sammael’s heart, and she wondered if it was anger or fear or hope that sent it racing. What did a demon feel at such a time?
    But there was no evidence of emotion in Sammael’s reply. “It is done, then.”
    Charlie lowered her chin, met Ethan’s gaze. His response was rough, his eyes glowing amber. “It is done.”
    No, she wanted to say. But it couldn’t be undone. Ethan had bound himself to this demon…for her.
    But goddamn if she wouldn’t give just a little back to him. Sammael’s hand fell away from her throat. Charlie braced her feet, snapped her head back. She heard the crunch, then added an elbow to his stomach before flipping upright.
    Sammael scooted away from the kick that would have liquefied whatever a demon carried between his legs. He stood, his eyes crimson, and moved like a shadow to the French doors.
    Ethan vanished his gun, but kept the crossbow leveled on Sammael, and his grin was wide. “Ain’t it just fine that you’ll be having to watch yourself around Charlie?”
    Sammael’s lips curled mockingly, but he didn’t insult her as she’d expected. “As you will with me, Guardian, once Jane is free.” He looked out the window. “How many of them are outside?”
    “I reckon three or four,” Ethan said.
    Sammael’s eyes narrowed. “We won’t go for Jane tonight. She’s not in danger, and I’ve no intention of endangering myself, either. So I’ll come to you when you do not have so many others around who might kill me as soon as I’ve given you the location.”
    Ethan nodded once. “You do that.” His finger flexed; an instant later, the bolt embedded in the door frame near Sammael’s head, the feathers quivering.
    Noise rushed in from outside; the arrow had destroyed one of the symbols.
    Ethan raised his voice, called out, “The demon’s fleeing—you all just let him fly.” His touch was light against Charlie’s waist. “You stay here while I walk him out.”
    She did, trembling as she watched Ethan follow Sammael onto the deck. Behind the demon’s back, he signed something with his free hand, and a psychic wave of dismay sounded faintly from the Guardians outside.
    He must have told them of the bargain.
    Ethan remained on the deck, talking silently with the other Guardians until Sammael was nothing but a speck against the ink-dark sky.
    His face was taut and unreadable when he returned, scratching new symbols beside the door, and her stomach rolled as she searched for anything to say. Thank you and I’m sorry and I love you were all about what she was feeling, and whatever came from her should be only for him.
    She clasped her hands together in front of her breastbone, so tight the ache in her fingers matched the one in her chest and throat. Quiet descended around the house. He turned to her, his crossbow hanging from his hand by his thigh.
    “Ethan.” She wished she had something better than “Are you all right?”
    His eyes closed, and his knuckles whitened before he abruptly flung the crossbow across the room. Charlie flinched, and was left hunched in anticipation of the crash that never came.
    He’d vanished the weapon. Angry enough that it showed, but too controlled to let it damage anything.
    And she’d seen him in many moods now, but never like this. What would he need from her? He’d been wound up even before they’d been attacked. Would he want her to talk to or touch him? To leave him alone?
    Her legs felt soft with her uncertainty, but her step was firm. Until Ethan told her to go, she’d stay.
    She didn’t stop until her palms met the solid wall of his chest. It rose and fell heavily beneath her hands, and she searched his downturned face for any sign of rejection or withdrawal.
    Lifting her fingers, she traced his jaw, so like iron. Her breath caught when he opened his eyes, caught her hand.
    His voice was low, with a gravelly undertone as if his throat had been scraped raw. “Don’t tiptoe, Charlie.”
    So she’d already fucked this up. She dug within herself for a smile, but knew it came out weak. “I just didn’t want to do anything wrong, or make this worse for you.” Her tone was supposed to be light, but seemed frightened to her ears. She sought to modulate it as she said, “After all, if you wanted to, you could get rid of me now—and forcing Sammael to provide me with blood