Ravenous (9 page)

"And the demon at the top of the pyramid just gets bigger and badder the more servants and subservants and subsubservants it has? Eventually it gets a Cadillac and a time-share condo in outer Hades?"

"Precisely. And you, being more than usually powerful, would feed your master better than any ordinary servant. Turning you would be quite a coup. It would move our demon right up the corporate ladder."

Holly cleared her throat. "So this is an up-and-coming demon?"

Alessandro shook his head. "More than that. Only a master could cross over. That means it's already powerful and must have some servants helping it." Alessandro's hand drifted toward his bandolier. "Not even a master can come to our world without help."

Holly felt a slither of suspicion. "And you were going to ask those servants out to play tonight, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was going to join some other vampires who are searching Fairview."

"For what?"

"Possible servants. I saw something last night."

"Another dead body you neglected to mention?"

Alessandro looked away, his face creasing with something between guilt and annoyance. "No. A couple of creatures we call changelings. I killed them, but we would like to be sure there are no more. They may well have been the ones murdering young students."

"Okay, wait." Holly held up her hands, palms out. "One, you're telling me a demon popped out of my chimney. Two, it's planning to eat me. Three, it has local servants that you and your vampire pals are going to go hunting tonight. Have I got this straight?"

Alessandro gave a single nod.

She leaned forward, terror grinding deep in her gut. "So how come you know all this and I don't? A heads-up would've been nice!"

His face tightened. "I did not know about the changelings until late last night. There was yet another portal—they might have been connected to it somehow, or not. I'm not sure. Events are moving fast. I was hoping most of this would be just vampire business I could take care of on my own."

Holly's eyes widened with frustration. "Like the extra body at the Flanders house yesterday? Coulda warned me she was there before Detective Macmillan had me trying to rat you out. What the hell was I supposed to say?"

He waved an exasperated hand. "I came back to talk to you, but we got sidetracked, if you recall."

Holly felt herself flush at the memory. "Yeah, right. I'm such a good kisser you forgot you just found a corpse. C'mon, there's a vampire murdering women on campus. I'm starting school on Monday. Any information gratefully accepted."

Dismay pulled at Alessandro's face. He circled the table and crouched next to her chair. "I would never let anything happen to you. I'm your friend, remember? But I'm also… what I am. Don't ever kiss me like that and expect me to pass a sobriety test. I really had to leave, for both our sakes."

Uncertainty wrenched her. "You still could have phoned."
Goddess, I sound like a lovelorn teenager
.

He looked down. "You're right. I'm sorry. There was a lot going on, but I could have done that much. If it makes you feel any better, I spoke with the police earlier tonight." His expression said how little he had enjoyed the conversation. "They won't bother you again. I told them what they needed to know."

The anger was shrinking to pique. "Yeah, well, you can't be with me twenty-four seven. I need to be able to look out for myself. I'm a witch. If you give me the facts, I can deal."

Alessandro looked at her sharply, his curiosity a physical force. "Can you? Since we're snaring information, there's something I need to know. Battling that house last night put you flat on your back. Why is—how do you put it?—big-M magic so painful for you?"

Holly turned her face away, suddenly hating the fact that he was so near. She rose from the other side of her chair, got a glass out of the cupboard and started filling it from the tap. "My sister and I, we had an accident."

She said it flatly, as if it didn't matter, but the water jigged in the glass. Alessandro got up and took it from her hand, setting it on the counter. "What were you and your sister doing?"

"You have vampire business. That accident is my business."

He touched her cheek. "If that's the way you want it."

It wasn't. It hurt to argue. Breath caught, jagged, in Holly's throat. "It's not something I like talking about, okay? My ability is what puts food on the table. Something like this could be a career killer."

"I can keep your secret."

Holly nodded, feeling the ache of tears. "My sister and I played around with spells when I was quite young. One blew up in our faces. She never did magic after that. I wasn't hurt as badly, but it seems to have fried something inside me."

"Was there ever a diagnosis of the injury?"

"No, nothing anyone could explain, or so I'm told. I don't really remember that whole year. Huge memory loss. It's like something carved out that little bit of my brain."

"Trauma? An injury?"

"I guess. Grandma had every doctor and psychologist available have a look. They thought it was something to do with the fact that my parents died right around the same time. With the accident on top of all that, it was just too many shocks for a kid to take in all at once."

"Repressed memory?"

"Who knows? Witches never follow the textbook models, or so they told us a hundred million times." Holly didn't want to talk about it anymore.

As if he read her mind, he crossed to the liquor cabinet, pulling the doors open wide. "Water is inadequate. What do you drink?"

"Scotch, neat," she said automatically.

He smirked. "A warrior woman."

"What do you want? It's been a bad couple of days," she said in a testy voice.

He poured and handed her a glass with a generous measure of amber liquid. "Drink this, and then go to bed. You could do with an early night."

"What, with Demon Mousie on the loose?" She took a sip of the liquid fire, then set the glass down. "Shouldn't I go someplace else? Or would it find me anyway?"

Alessandro leaned forward and took her hand. His fingers were cool and competent. "The demon will be long gone by now. These creatures typically move away from their point of entry and go in search of a fresh hunting ground. Nothing more will happen in the house tonight." He squeezed her fingers and released them. "Nevertheless, I'll make doubly sure we're alone. I'll check every corner and cupboard and watch over you while you rest."

"Weren't you going to go hunting?"

He gave a slow, wry smile, sweet enough to melt any woman. She'd never seen that smile before, and it nearly stalled her heart. "You're more important," he said.

He bent and kissed her brow, as he had before, but did not stop there. His lips caressed her eyelids and slid down to sip, just once, at her mouth. The simple gesture held all the finesse of a skilled lover. Centuries of skill.

Her flesh tingled at his touch, part magic, part pure desire. A need to drown in it roused a soft moan from her throat. She felt his long, supple fingers slide up the side of her neck, resting in the hollow beneath her ear. Her heart seized at the touch, her knees shivering with the need to feel his lips where his fingertips caressed her jaw. Through her lashes she saw the yellow glint in his eyes.

Predator.

Alarm thrilled through her. Holly slid her own hand up, clasping his and pulling it away. "No. Stop, before I can't say no.
Please
."

"Don't worry," Alessandro said softly, taking one last kiss. "I know what I can't have. I'm on my guard with you now."

He backed away, the space between them empty oceans. Holly's limbs felt heavy, red hot, so she picked up her drink to avoid his eyes. Perhaps Alessandro knew what he couldn't have, but her body wasn't on board with abstinence.

But Holly couldn't push her luck. After all, she had the most to lose if Alessandro fell off the wagon.
Killer houses, vampires, demons. Sweet Hecate, I have so many bad ends in store, I'm going to have to rent a locker
.

That reminded her of something she meant to ask. "You said the demon would want to Turn me. What exactly did you mean by that? Is it different from…"

He did not answer immediately, his smile fading like slowly dying light. He understood what she meant.
Than when a vampire turns you
.

"It is worse. Much worse. They call it the Dark Larceny. Most demons start out human." Alessandro looked away. "They consume your soul and make you one of them. A nothing. A negative."

There was such dread in his voice, she shuddered. "Have you seen it done?"

His face drained of color, suddenly pasty beyond his already pale complexion. "Yes," was all he would say.

"Hey, Brian." Macmillan sat down at the bar, suddenly ravenous. He hadn't had a decent meal in days.

"Hey, Mac. What's up?" asked the bartender. He was tall and stocky and somewhere in his forties, still fit enough to take care of business if one of the clients got rowdy.

The Bayshore Pub formed one end of the strip mall across from St. Andrew's cemetery. It was Mac's favorite because it was close to the police station and there was always parking. Most days that was all he had the time or energy to consider.

"How are ya?" Brian asked.

"Busy."

"I hear ya."

Macmillan looked glumly at the rows of beer glasses on the bar. Nothing went with the fourth murder in two weeks like draft Guinness. Unfortunately, a sandwich and coffee would have to do. It was back to work after he grabbed something to eat.

"Kitchen closed yet?" he asked.

Brian looked at his watch. "Just under the wire."

Thank you, God
. "I'll have the steak sandwich. Medium-rare."

"Fries?"

"Nah." His stomach was a little off. Extra grease was pushing his luck.

Macmillan unbuttoned his raincoat, wondering if that was raindrops or something left over from the latest murder scene along the hem. It was hard to tell. The pub was only slightly better lit than the parking lot.

With weary inevitability, his mind went back to the scene. It had been another college coed. Another blond. Preliminary estimates on the time of death put it at around four thirty.

Which meant that Caravelli was in the clear, for all that he'd vanished from the Flanders scene. Mac had put surveillance on him and checked his whereabouts for the first murders. His alibis were good. One of his colleagues had even finally managed to question Caravelli right after sunset, arriving on the vamp's doorstep with a pair of uniforms. Apparently Caravelli had been civil but as forthcoming as the grave.

Why was it that all vampires had that jerk-off attitude? Sure, he'd saved Mac from whatever the hell those things were last night, but that didn't make him the bloody Fanged Avenger. Vamps were the same as everyone else. Eternal life didn't make a person anything besides old. The real value lay in what you did with all that time. As far as he could tell, most immortals wasted that opportunity on internal politics and fashion crimes.

"Here ya go." Brian set a mug of coffee in front of Mac. No cream, no sugar. Like all good bartenders, Brian remembered these things.

"Thanks."

"Food won't be long."

"Great." The coffee smelled like nirvana.
That
was what life was. Little things like good coffee, and a place where people knew how you liked it. He sipped gratefully. Vampires might get immortality, but look at their diet. What kind of a bargain was that?

Mac took another sip.

Tonight's body had been found in the wine cellar of the university's Faculty Club. No sunlight ever got down there, so a vampire could have done it despite the early hour. The neck wounds, the bruising, the positioning of the body had been the same. This one had a metal disk in her hand. The only one who hadn't was the one in the Flanders house, which made him think that somehow it got lost. What were those disks, anyway? A religious thing?

He took another swallow of Brian's strong coffee. He could feel his body groping for the caffeine. The only good point to this latest death was that the brass doubled the manpower on the case, which meant Mac finally got to take a break long enough for a hot meal, his first in three—or was it four?—days. He knew he shouldn't be sitting on his backside, stuffing his face, but he needed real food if he was going to pull another all-nighter. Unlike other players in this fiasco, he was only human.

Mac missed his partner, who was on maternity leave. Without her nagging to look after himself, he'd let work grind him down to the survival basics. Food. Clean clothes. He only vaguely remembered the concept of taking time out for himself.
I used to cook for fun. I was really, really good. And when was the last time I talked to a woman about something besides dead bodies
?

Too bad that Holly Carver had a boyfriend. She was everything: smart, pretty, brave, and she had that
something
that let a person know that if she was in their corner, she was there one hundred percent.

"See any of the game?" Brian asked, jerking his head at the silent big screen TV.

Mac looked up. "Not so far. Flyers winning?"

Brian grunted in disgust, rattling glasses.

Mac started in on the bowl of junk food on the bar. He'd never used to be able to eat after a murder scene, but after the first dozen, his body finally took over.

A woman came in and sat down at a corner table. Mac looked because, well, he was busy, not dead. Plus, she looked like the murder victims: blond, pretty, and barely legal. Mac kept an eye on her via the mirror over the bar.

The waitress sauntered over to the girl's table. The girl ordered while the sound system cranked out a hard rock standard. Aerosmith, maybe? Not the pub's usual sound track, but Mac liked it. He needed something kick-ass.

"Hey, there, Suki," he said as the waitress passed by on her way to key the order into the computer.

"Hi, Mac." Suki stopped, thrusting out one hip and tilting her head, which caused the lime green spikes in her hair to list like the rigging of a capsizing schooner. "Chickie over there says if you're gonna watch her all night you may as well join her."