Demon Moon (16 page)

But Colin was searching for one that struck a familiar psychic note or possessed a fleeting resemblance to Savi—
anything
to ease the ache of his need for the wide-eyed, curious, stubborn woman. And it was the one who came out of a film rental shop that caught Colin's attention: small and dark, with skin like cinnamon. His hunger sharpened, and his nostrils flared as he tried to detect a scent. He hoped it would be sweet and clean.

Before Caelum, he had never needed a substitute—had never fixated on a living being. Savi might very well have called his behavior creepy; Colin would have agreed, if he'd ever managed to forget whoever he was with wasn't the one he wanted.

And if the community's vampires were still following him and analyzing his feeding patterns, they'd soon have more evidence of his latest obsession. He smiled grimly as he crossed the street toward the rental shop and performed a cursory scan of the surrounding area.

A vampire
was
near. His psychic scent burned with resentment, but was focused away from Colin—and the vampire gave no indication that he knew Colin was there. Not following him, then. A quick glance at the vampire confirmed it; two blocks away, the male sat at a café's sidewalk table, facing the opposite direction. Brown hair touched the vampire's shoulders, but Colin could easily see the hair above his ears had been cut short. Good God. The sod
could
see his reflection, and yet he'd retained a horrid, outdated—

A faint cry of pain and fear cut through the noise of the passing cars, the human conversations.

Colin frowned, turning toward the sound. None of the humans reacted; none had likely heard it. Only Colin—and the vampire, whose fists clenched at his sides. The cry had originated beyond the vampire, at least a couple of blocks farther down the street—and the vampire's psyche had not projected concern or surprise, but had flared hot with jealousy.

The mental probe Colin sent toward the sound was stronger than his initial scan, and he immediately sensed another presence—a female. Older than the first vampire, and better able to shield her mind.

Outside the rental shop, Colin's cinnamon-skinned prey paused, then stared at him. Bloody hell. Colin flashed a charming smile, but, to human eyes, he must have appeared to vanish an instant later. Colin didn't detect any indication that the male vampire had seen him move, either; perhaps the male had had a moment's glance in the wrong direction and missed Colin's dash down the street.

Just as well. Colin halted at the mouth of an alley—more of a small enclave between two buildings, backed by a brick wall—and in the darkness easily discerned the vampire, her long auburn hair and black dress. She stood over a raggedly-dressed figure lying twisted in the rear corner of the enclave.

The odor of human blood hung thick in the air—a large quantity of blood. The stench of new death slowly rose beneath it, and the fetid scent of a long-unwashed body.

Colin silently stepped from the pavement into the shadowed alley.

The vampire startled, her hand flying to her chest as she whirled around. Then her face relaxed into a smile that, two hundred years earlier and without an introduction, Colin would have thought presumptuous. She might have recognized him, but he did not know her. Did not wish to know her.

“You were right,” she said, and Colin's gaze fell to her chest. Blood stained the bodice of her dress.

“I often am,” Colin murmured as he moved past her and crouched next to the corpse. “Pray tell me, however, what I have said that inspired
this
?”

She laughed, a studied trill from her starlet's lips. “That we ought not to be limited to our bloodsharing partners. That the humans ought to be ours for taking and feeding.”

Her bloodlust was still strong within her; whatever she thought humans ought to be, she had not finished feeding from this one. Excitement coiled from her psychic scent, along with a swelling of pride, of power. And she deliberately projected reverence toward Colin, coupled with admiration. Was she attempting to flatter him?

With a tug on the threadbare military jacket, Colin rolled the body over. The man's throat had been torn open. The front of his trousers had been shredded, and his penis had not yet lost its tumescence. “I daresay he must have taken to you whilst you fed.” He glanced up at her breasts, her face, and he stood. “Though I cannot comprehend why.”

Her laughter trilled again, as if she'd assumed his statement was a jest, but her mouth quickly tightened into a grimace. “I thought his fear would prevent his lust,” she said.

No. For some, a scare only increased their ardor. In the past two centuries, Colin had purposely frightened a few humans—but he never fed from them. He almost always chose a person that he found attractive in some manner, someone he wouldn't resent fucking; he'd never considered killing them to prevent the sex…though obviously this female had. And her psychic scent revealed that she'd enjoyed it.

“What of your partner?” Colin asked softly. “Will he have his turn next?”

“He does not want one. He only watches, so that no one happens upon me as I feed. But I will not have to concern myself with exposure in the future; I had not realized how easily humans are disposed of. No one will miss a beggar.” She placed her hand on his arm, and her long nails slid down his corduroy sleeve. “My consort does not like that I sought blood elsewhere, but his attachment to me is much more powerful than mine to him.” Her fingers circled his wrist, and her bloodlust burned hotter. “You
are
warm.”

Her touch was cool; Colin did not think it unpleasant, except that it was hers. “I am,” he said.

“The others who have fed from you have said that your blood is dark and powerful.”

“Have they?” Brittle amusement curled his lips. He could not imagine with whom she had spoken; everyone who'd fed from him was dead. And if she'd had any sense, she might have seen the sharpness of his smile for what it was and been frightened.

But she was staring at his neck. “I am the eldest of them. The strongest. You and I could so easily rule the community together.” Her eyes met his, her gaze hungry. “Tell me that you do not think so as well.”

“I think,” he said as he pulled his wrist from her grasp, “that I ought to retrieve a few items from my car.” His weapons.

“No!” She caught his arm again. He stilled and looked down at her. And
now
terror threaded through her scent, but she did not recognize his anger; her gaze searched his face, and she blinked rapidly as if to clear her vision. “Don't go yet. We can get rid of the body later. Let me feed from you. Please.” Her chest heaved. “Your face. I haven't seen you like this. You're so…” Her fear climbed and choked her words.

Yes, he was. “You do not want to feed from me.” His swords were kinder than his blood was.

Kinder than Colin was.

“Yes.” It come out like a hiss from a demon's tongue.

Revolting. “Very well,” he said, and her expression reflected her surprise when he offered his bare wrist, already bleeding from the slice he'd made with his silver pen knife. She hadn't seen him roll up his sleeve, or cut himself, but she did not hesitate. Her mouth covered the wound.

Her pleasure flashed into his veins. Christ. Vampires' psychic strength increased when feeding, but her mind was no match for his. He reinforced his blocks, heard the noise of protest she made before the bloodlust gripped her. She held his wrist to her mouth and reached for his trousers with her free hand. He trapped it in his, kept her away from him.

She tried to writhe closer, drinking deep. Her bloodlust battered at his shields; he set his jaw and fought his hunger and arousal. Would that he could ignore his as easily as Savitri ignored hers—

No. Do not think of her now
. If he did, he'd probably give in to the lust, fuck this vampire against the wall. Nor did he want to associate Savi with what would surely happen next. The burning—the reek.

The female's bloodlust broke and she lifted her head, gasping. “I have heard that…you have no desire, but—” She bent and licked the now-healed line on his wrist.

Colin stared at her. Nothing yet. Nothing. Perhaps after two centuries—

She stiffened, shuddered. Pain burst through her psychic scent. Her eyes opened wide. Her fingers warmed against Colin's skin, and he felt the flare of heat from her body.

Colin slapped his hand over her mouth before she began screaming.

The Guardian dropped out of the sky like a falcon and slammed to the asphalt in a crouch, his wingspan stretching the width of the alley. Colin rolled his eyes. Show-offs, the lot of them—though Colin had not previously thought Drifter was.

The wings vanished as the Guardian rose to his feet; with his brown hair, a long brown coat, and coarse brown trousers, Drifter was a mountain of a man. A bloody
tall
mountain of a man.

Drifter's eyes narrowed as he looked at Colin leaning casually against the brick wall, and at a glance the Guardian took in the two figures at Colin's feet. “I reckoned Agent Milton lied to me when she said that you were in danger.”

“She likely wanted to see how quickly you could move.” No Guardian would have wanted to be assigned to cleanup.

Judging by the wry smile on Drifter's mouth, he'd come to the same conclusion. He sank to his heels and examined the bodies, the bottom of his duster bunching on the filthy asphalt. “That smell coming from this one?”

“Yes.” Sulphur and burnt flesh, though no evidence of it showed on the female's pale skin.

With the tips of his fingers against her chin, Drifter turned the female's head, exposed her neck. “You didn't drain her?”

“No.” And Colin had no intention of offering an explanation of how she could be dead with no injuries to show for it.

Drifter propped his elbows on his knees, his gaze traveling between the female and the dead man. “Did she have a consort?”

“Yes.” Colin had returned to the street, but the moment the other vampire had seen Colin, his brief flare of recognition had been followed by realization and terror. He'd run, leaving a psychic trail of grief and fear in his wake. Colin had let him go. “He fled. There are many in the city who still need a partner,” he said dismissively. “He'll find another.”

“A woman like this, you figure he's mighty attached.” The female and the human vanished into the Guardian's cache, and Drifter stood. “She may have been a murderer, but she was a fine-looking one.”

“And even murderers need affection.” Colin's smile was mocking.

“That we do,” Drifter replied easily, and scratched his great anvil of a jaw. “Seems to me that you ought to have least found out who he was, explained the Rules, and warned him not to retaliate.”

“Against me? Don't be absurd.”

Drifter's brows rose. “Word around SI is you've been coming in every day, which you've never done before. And you've been visiting Miss Savi in the tech room regularly.”

Colin straightened up from the wall. His voice hardened. “What is your point, McCabe?”

“Just that if
I
have heard where your interest lies, just passing through, it won't take long before others know it. Such as those who've been watching you.”

The vampire community? Colin shook his head. “They wouldn't dare threaten her.” And if they did, he'd kill each one of them.

“It may be you're right.” Drifter shrugged and moved back to the center of the alley, forming his wings. “And this vampire I've got in my cache is a powerful indication nothing will come of that interest, anyway. It gives me quite the advantage.”

“How is that?” Colin asked softly. If Drifter thought to capture Savi's affections for himself—

“I figure it'll only be another day or two before the novices at SI start up a wager, placing bets on when you transform her. So when I write in ‘Never,' I'll be guaranteed a win—though I reckon I'll have to wait an eternity to collect it.” Drifter smiled; a wide-brimmed hat appeared over his hair, and he tipped it in a mock salute. His wings arched, and with a single beat lifted him straight into the air, high and quick; in the dark, no human would likely have noticed the movement or, if they had, been able to determine what it had been.

A violent gust of air followed in Drifter's wake, swirled the alley's odors around. Colin returned to the street, and looked for the one who had appealed to him before. Gone.

Blast. He ought to have just immediately contacted SI instead of confronting the female. It wasn't his responsibility to police the vampire community or to slay those who broke the Rules.

Colin plucked a rose from a vase on a sidewalk table as he passed it, crushing the bud in his hand, erasing the stink of the alley. Apprehension uncoiled in his stomach. Savi would undoubtedly learn of his killing the vampire. What would she think of it, when she was conflicted over the execution of a nosferatu?