Demon Night

quadrupling the size of his wings and the burning rage that possessed him couldn’t stop it from falling to the embankment alongside the head of the bridge, but he slowed it enough that the impact against the ground wouldn’t rattle Charlie around too much inside.
    The vehicle wasn’t damaged, and Ethan quickly rolled it upright.
    The shield around it vanished.
    A tug at the rear passenger door sent it flying behind him to crash against a concrete support post. His crossbow was instantly in his hand, and the bolt through the vampire’s forehead less than a second later. He tumbled out to lie motionless on the rocks at Ethan’s feet.
    Sammael scrabbled his way on top of the vehicle, perching in his human form, his dark eyes alight with interest.
    Ethan paid him no mind. He softly repeated Charlie’s name as he leaned in and slid his palms up the length of her legs, over her torso, pulling her clothes back into place. Her only injury seemed to be the bite at her neck, but he could hear the struggle of her heart trying to pump too little blood through her body.
    Even a Healer couldn’t repair that.
    Ethan’s breath shuddered painfully from his chest. No choice then, but the one she had left to make.
    He held her against him, sitting her up as best he could at the edge of the seat, then bent to haul the vampire from the ground, shoving him to the floorboard between the seats. A slice of Ethan’s knife on the vampire’s wrist got the blood flowing, and he smeared it over the punctures on her neck.
    “Charlie.” A gentle shake got little response. “I need you to wake up, Miss Charlie.”
    “Look how her toes are twitching,” Sammael said. “She’s still trying to kick.”
    Only knowing that if he didn’t do this soon he couldn’t finish it at all kept Ethan in that spot, hanging on to Charlie rather than tearing the demon apart.
    His stomach twisted as he laid her down and reopened the slash across the vampire’s vein. The blood dripped into her mouth, and he watched the convulsive swallowing of her throat with his heart pounding a sickening beat.
    Humans shouted on the bridge above, sirens wailing over them.
    Ethan sat her up, cupped her face in his hands, put his nose to hers. His voice was hard, loud. “Charlie, wake up . You got a decision to make.”
    A ragged inhalation passed her lips. Her eyes opened.
    “That’s good, Charlie, that’s just fine.” He curled his fingers, rhythmically stroking her cheeks. “Listen: you’ve got vampire blood in you. It’s what’s keeping you alive, but it’s not much. I need to know if you want me to complete the transformation, or if you want me to let you go.”
    Ethan felt the bewilderment in her psychic scent and closed his eyes so she wouldn’t see his own uncertainty. A woman shouldn’t have to make this decision, not like this; and if her choice wasn’t the answer he needed to hear, a man shouldn’t have to make the decision whether to honor it.
    He fought down the roar of denial that was pushing its way up from his gut, then he looked at her and laid it out straight. “Charlie, if you don’t become a vampire, you’ll die. And I need you to choose, because if I force this on you, it’ll go wrong. But you got to choose quick.”
    Her lips trembled, and terror chased the confusion from her eyes. “Ethan…I don’t want to be…” Her fingers pressed weakly into his forearms. “Please.” Her gaze searched his, frantic, beseeching. “ Please. ”
    She wanted another option, but there wasn’t one. “You’ll be alive.” He brushed her hair back, traced her jaw with the side of his thumb. “You’ll be strong. Or you’ll be dead.”
    A harsh, broken sound ripped from her, and she slapped her hands over her mouth. His throat aching, Ethan wrapped his arms around her, held her in. Her feet beat his shins, but she wasn’t trying to get away. She was fighting something different now—but she couldn’t much longer.
    “Your brother kicked like that,” Sammael said quietly, his voice sliding lower, deeper.
    “Charlie, you have to—” Ethan’s lungs seized up. He jerked back to look up at the demon, but didn’t see the sheriff. No…no, but Ethan heard him. Samuel Danvers. He hadn’t forgotten that slimy, self-righteous voice, not in one hundred and twenty years.
    Sammael was pursing his lips, his gaze turned inward as if in remembrance. “They made the rope short because he was so tall. But he was heavy, so they thought it might