Demon Night

question? “She’s good. Just Jane. Working, scatterbrained. You know.”
    “Yes.” He wiped at a drop of wine on the edge of the glass and absently rubbed the moist pad of his finger around the gently flaring rim. A low wavering note sounded beneath his voice. “I heard that she was the brain behind the breakthrough in artificial blood production at the University of Washington a little over two years ago. Is she still there?”
    Charlie’s brows rose. Did he read medical journals in his spare time? He couldn’t have known Jane was involved, otherwise. Though the research and conclusions had been hers, and she’d authored the article, the UW Medicine department heads had stood in the limelight during the brief media flurry surrounding the announcement. It was one of the reasons Jane’s decision to leave UW had been easy for her.
    “No,” Charlie said. “Legion made her an offer last year.”
    The elder Brandt’s hands fisted on the table, and he exhaled sharply.
    It didn’t surprise her. Legion Labs had been the center of an ethics controversy six months earlier, when a Californian congressman with financial ties to the corporation had pushed for government funding on one of Legion’s research projects.
    Charlie glanced at the senator, saw the disapproving twist of his mouth, and couldn’t resist. “They aren’t Microsoft or Boeing, but they do bring in a little money to the local economy.”
    “Not the kind we want.”
    “It must be nice to choose the kind of money you want,” Charlie said. Those pale eyes narrowed, and she turned back to Mark with a smile. He was downing more of his drink, so she took pity on him and offered the information first. “I think Jane’s close to announcing her engagement to someone at Legion.”
    Mark’s jaw tightened. Poor guy. An asshole for a father and a torch for her sister. “I’m not surprised,” he finally said. The force of his drumming fingers against the tabletop increased, then he lifted his gaze to hers. “Well, I’m not in Seattle long, but I’d hate to lose touch again. Do you think we can go out for a bite sometime this week, catch up?”
    Catch up? Wasn’t that what they’d just done? Or did he want to invite Jane and Dylan on a double date—or worse, spend the meal pumping Charlie for information about her sister?
    But when she opened her mouth to decline, she saw the senator’s pinched lips and decided she could at least shoot him down out of his father’s sight.
    “It’s possible that I could arrange some time off,” she said. Could, but wouldn’t—and she might as well set up her rejection now. “I do have finals coming up, but I could probably squeeze a few hours in before you leave.”
    “Fantastic!”
    She wondered how many votes that smile would garner in the next forty years, and obligingly wrote down her home phone number. Charlie rarely answered it; anyone she wanted to speak with had her cell number. Only debt collectors and telemarketers called at her apartment—none of the former lately, but she was still wary enough to screen the calls.
    She passed Vin on the way back to the bar, widening her eyes in a silent Thank God that’s over that had him looking at the Brandts and grinning. In the corner of the lounge, Joel sat at his usual table, with the perfect angle on the television and his laptop open in front of him. Charlie eyed the amount of ice and alcohol in the glass of the woman whose rigid smile and frequent glances at her watch suggested that she was on an awkward date, and the much lower level in the glass of the guy who wasn’t impressing her. Most likely, the woman would be leaving soon, and he would be wanting another drink.
    The elderly gentleman at the bar was still nursing his. He didn’t sit primly, as Charlie would have expected of someone his trim size, but with the easy sprawl of a large man accustomed to taking up space. His right foot rested on the brass rail in front of the bar, the low heel of his shiny black boot hooked casually on the rung of the stool.
    This time he nodded when she asked if he wanted a refill, and he murmured a thanks when she tipped a splash into his glass.
    He picked up his drink, and gestured toward the restaurant with it. “I would venture that the young man only takes wine when his father dines with him.”
    Charlie blinked, then realized he must have heard Vin speaking to her earlier. “I think you’re probably right.”
    She studied him, tried to place his