Demon Night

man is overseeing their training so we’ve moved the novices to San Francisco. This is only a handful, though.”
    “You’re training vampires, too?” Charlie glanced at the woman’s fangs again and barely repressed her shudder.
    “Yes. They’re not all as bad as those who came at you, Charlie. Mostly, they live in the cities, forming communities and working like the rest of the folk. They were once human—and just like humans, some are worth knowing, and some you just want to acquaint with the end of your sword.”
    “But they drink blood.”
    “They do, but from one another—and not from humans, unless they intend to transform them. Communities have strict rules against that.”
    “Not the Seattle community, apparently.” She turned away from the canvas.
    Ethan was still looking at the painting, nodding slightly, a frown creasing his brow. It smoothed away when he glanced down at her. “For the most part, they do. But the remainder is why I’m here. The demons are mucking the community up; I intend to set it straight again.”
    And…what? Everything would go back to normal? “I hope you do,” she admitted. “I don’t think I want one sucking on my neck.”
    His grin was sudden. “To be truthful, Charlie, though there are several vampires that I consider friends, I’m not all that eager to have them sucking on me, either.”
    Cold lips, pointed teeth, blood…this time she couldn’t halt her shiver. “I can imagine it doesn’t feel very good.”
    “No, I reckon not.” His humor vanished as quickly as it had arisen. “You ought to take a few hours of sleep. I’ll be waiting for Jake, but we’ll head out to Jane’s first thing after he arrives. It’s best that you’re sharp.”
    The last thing she felt like was sleeping, but time alone to process everything would be welcome. Time alone…in a room filled with paintings of Heaven. “Is it okay if I take the big bedroom?”
    “Don’t matter none to me.” His long legs ate up the distance to the stairs, and she followed slowly. The suspenders formed a large Y on his back. “I’ll put your things in there.”
    “Can you remove the painting of…” What had their names been? “Colin and Savi? I don’t feel comfortable with it.”
    Ethan paused in the doorway to the bedroom, and the portrait vanished from the wall. “A bit naked, aren’t they?” he said quietly before entering the room.
    “Yes.” He didn’t mean unclothed—both had been dressed. “A little too personal. What did you call that place? It’s real?” She nodded to one of the other paintings.
    “Caelum.” The corner of his mouth tilted up, and his voice was gently teasing. “It’s real—and it’s Latin, so it starts with ‘C,’ not ‘K.’”
    She leaned her shoulder against the door frame, dipping her chin to laugh. And although she usually felt uncomfortable when anyone but Jane ribbed her about that quirk, this time the embarrassment didn’t come.
    Her laughter ended on a sigh when she caught sight of another painting, a different angle. “And you’ve been there?”
    “For a hundred years I lived there, and since then I drop by about once a day. Sometimes less, but at least once a week.” He fell into silence, and when she glanced at him, she found him watching her face. He seemed to straighten up, and said abruptly, “Where would you like your things? What do you need for the night?”
    The room didn’t have much furniture—just a bed and a wardrobe. “How about my dresser over in that corner, and then dump the junk from my bathroom on the bed, and I’ll put it up. My iPod, too.” She paused. “My computer doesn’t work if the spell’s up?”
    He shook his head. “It works, but won’t have online access.”
    “So I can’t even send her an e-mail until tomorrow—okay, then, I won’t need it.” She ran her fingers down the buttons of her coat, trying to think of anything else she would use. Her gaze ran to the en suite bathroom.
    Oh, Lord.
    Her cheeks flooded with heat. “Do you have super-hearing, too?”
    “Yes.” Ethan turned from the wall panel; she heard the soft sound of electric air heaters blowing to life. His brows drew together when he saw her expression. “Ah, hell, Charlie—I don’t listen.”
    “But from your apartment you could hear…what?”
    “Most everything in that building. If I listen close enough now, I can hear you digest your food. But I tune it out—it’s just life, and I can’t listen to all