Demon Night

a brilliant scarlet. Horror crept into Charlie’s veins and began a morbid dance with fear. “But I hope he comes soon. I’ve got a message for him, too.”

    Shape-shifting into Charlie’s form and waving at Jane through the window might have been a bit more successful if Jane hadn’t been so devoted to her work.
    The light in her upstairs office was likely keeping her from seeing him when he did take the opportunity of darkness and a street empty of traffic to hover at her window. The remainder of the time he spent in the small fenced backyard, watching the demon.
    Sammael didn’t appear all that concerned that a Guardian was outside the house; he lounged on the recliner in the unlit room, reading the Sunday paper, tipping it down now and then to cast a shit-eating grin at Ethan through the sliding glass door.
    Until the grin slipped, and confusion flitted over his features, his focus moving behind Ethan.
    Ethan spun around, caught Jake before he landed in a bleeding heap at his feet. His breath sucked in hard through his teeth when the sight, the smell hit him.
    Oh, Christ Jesus. The kid’s head had been shot to hell.
    Jake’s brain couldn’t be much good, but it must be functioning enough that he’d teleported here—his Gift manifesting in a moment of pain, terror.
    A hard shake and roaring Jake’s name roused him. His lids opened a slit before closing again.
    “Jake, goddammit! Is Charlie still in the house and the spell up?” Ethan’s voice roughened, tore at his throat. “ Is Charlie in the house? ”
    No verbal response—but failure and urgency filled the kid’s psychic scent.
    God Almighty.
    A bone in Jake’s chest snapped as Ethan grabbed him up tight and launched into the air. Couldn’t leave the kid behind in the yard—Sammael would be out within a second to kill him.
    “You get to a Healer!” Ethan had to shout over the wind, the torrent of his wings. “You anchor yourself to Michael or Dru, just like you did to me, and you teleport yourself to them. Or else you sink deep and stay underwater, and put your mental blocks up until it heals. You understand me?”
    Jake’s psyche had barely shifted to indicate that he did understand when the lake appeared below them.
    Ethan let him go, and was halfway across the expanse of the water before the kid hit the lake’s surface.

    The scene that had taken place at the house was as clear as if had happened right in front of him. Jane’s car, the heavy footprints in the gravel that intercepted hers, the blood on the ground. Ethan bent and sniffed, just to make certain: demon blood.
    He didn’t vanish any of the evidence. Human and vampire blood laying dead and heavy in his cache felt bad enough; demon and nosferatu blood tended to creep around his mind, like a bit of the creature still existed in the tiny drops.
    And though he was certain Charlie had been in the vehicle whose tracks led away from the driveway, he took an extra second to check the interior of the house—Charlie wasn’t hiding in any of the rooms. The second set of symbols scratched in the frame near the front entrance and Charlie’s bloody handprint on the porch told their own story.
    It was the same ploy Charlie had suggested—just showing up outside the window—but given a demon’s touch. She and Jake hadn’t had a chance.
    But there might still be time to get to her. Sammael wouldn’t want to force the transformation on her, but wait until he’d been able to manipulate and convince her to accept it—whatever it took to convince her.
    Most likely, that would be Jane.
    Less than ten seconds after arriving at the house, Ethan was in the air again, flying over the northbound road and mentally testing the occupants of each car, forcing his rising panic into cold determination, sending his probes in an ever-widening search. If her mind was open, he’d find her quick. And if she was projecting…
    He prayed it wouldn’t be pain.

    Charlie couldn’t tell if Dylan’s glowing eyes watched her in the rearview mirror—there were no irises or pupils to judge the direction of his gaze.
    The vampire sat next to her, blocking every attempt she’d made for the door or Dylan’s head. The demon was driving fast, but she’d have risked jumping out at speed to avoid what Henderson had in store for her.
    His hunger was almost palpable, and when he wasn’t avoiding her fists and elbows, he stared at her hand, her neck.
    “Mr. Henderson,” Dylan said. “Heal her.