For a Few Demons More (13 page)

“Yes, thank God,” I replied, enjoying the mild rush. I liked kissing vampires in the dark. The only thing better was being in an elevator descending to certain death.

I was blocking his way into the sanctuary, and when he realized I wasn't going to invite him in, his grip on my upper arms hesitated. “Your class isn't until one-thirty. You have time to take a shower,” he said, clearly wanting to know why I was rushing out the door.

Maybe if you help me,
I thought wickedly, unable to stop my grin. He caught my look, and as a spark of titillation zinged through me, his nos
trils widened to take in my mood. He couldn't hear my thought, but he could read my pulse, my temperature, and considering the randy look I knew I had, it wasn't hard to figure out what was on my mind.

His fingers tightened, and from the hallway came Ivy's voice: “Hi, Kist.”

Not dropping his gaze, Kisten answered, “Morning, love,” not bothering to take out the heat rebounding between us.

She snorted, the soft sound of her bathroom door closing a clear indication that she was all right with the relationship Kisten and I had, despite their old boyfriend/girlfriend status. If he touched my blood, things would get nasty, which was why Kisten wore caps on his teeth when we slept together. But if I was going to be sharing my body with someone other than Ivy, she'd rather it be with Kisten. And that's…where we were.

Ivy and Kisten's relationship was more platonic these days, with a little blood thrown in to keep things close. Our situation had become a balancing act since she had tasted my blood and swore never to touch it again, but she didn't want Kisten touching it either, unable to give up the hope we could find a way to make it work, even as she denied it was possible. Defying his usual submissive role, Kisten had told Ivy he'd risk it if I succumbed to temptation and let him break my skin. But until then, we could all pretend that everything was normal. Or whatever passed for normal these days.

“Let's just go?” I said, my ardor cooling at the reminder that this screwed-up situation would hold steady as long as the status quo didn't change.

Chuckling, he let me push him to the door, but Skimmer's obvious throat clearing turned him from pliable vampire to immovable rock, and I slumped in defeat when her sultry voice echoed in the sanctuary. “Good morning, Kisten.”

Kisten's smile widened as his gaze flicked between the two of us, clearly sensing my exasperation. “Can we go?” I whispered.

Eyebrows high, he turned me to the door. “Hi, Dorothy. You look nice today.”

“Don't call me that, you S.O.B.,” she said, her voice scathing across my back as I slipped out before Kisten. Apparently Skimmer felt about Kisten the same way she did about me. I wasn't surprised. We were both threats
to her subordinate claim on Ivy. Neither of us was a true obstacle—me stymied by Ivy, and Kist because of their past—but try telling her that. Multiple blood and bed partners were the norm for vampires, but so was jealousy.

I took a deep breath as the door shut behind us, squinting in the sun and feeling my shoulders ease. It lasted all of three seconds until Kisten asked, “Skimmer sleep over?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” I grumbled.

“That bad, eh?” he added, taking the steps lightly beside me.

I glanced longingly at my convertible, then back to his Corvette. “She's not being nice anymore,” I complained, and Kisten picked up his pace to gallantly open the door before I could reach for the handle. Giving him a smile of thanks, I slipped in, settling myself in the familiar confines of his leather-scented, incense-rich car. God, it smelled good in here, and I closed my eyes and leaned back while Kisten went around to his side. I kept them shut even as he buckled himself in and started his car, willing myself to relax.

“Talk to me,” he said when he started into motion and I was still silent.

A hundred thoughts sifted through me, but what came out was, “Skimmer…” I hesitated. “She found out that Ivy's the one not allowing a blood balance between us, not me.”

His soft sigh drew my attention. The sun glinted on his stubble, and I stifled an urge to touch it. I watched his gaze flick behind us to the church through the rearview mirror. Depressed, I rolled my window down and let the morning breeze shift my hair.

“And?” he prompted as he gunned it, pulling out ahead of a blue Buick trailing smoke.

Holding my hair away from my eyes, I frowned. “She's gotten nasty. Trying to drive me away. I told her Ivy's just scared and that I'm waiting until she isn't, so Skimmer's gone from ‘I want to be your friend because Ivy's your friend' to ‘Suck my toes and die.'”

Kisten's grip on the wheel tightened, and he hit the brakes a little too hard at the stoplight. Realizing what I'd said, I flushed. I knew he'd rather have me lusting after a bite from him. But if I let him bite me, Ivy would snap. “I'm sorry, Kisten,” I whispered.

He was silent, staring at the red light.

Reaching out, I touched his hand. “I love you,” I whispered. “But letting you bite me would tear everything apart. Ivy couldn't take it.” Jenks would say that my saying no to Kisten had more to do with the threat of his biting me being a bigger turn-on than the actual bite might be. Whatever. But if Kisten found a closer relationship with me when Ivy couldn't, it would hurt her, and he loved her, too, with the fanatical loyalty shared abuse often engenders; Piscary had warped them both.

From my bag came the trill of my phone, but I let it ring. This was more important. The light changed, and Kisten pulled into traffic, his grip more relaxed. Ivy had always been the dominant one in their relationship, but he was willing to fight for me if I was ever tempted enough to give him my blood. Trouble was, saying no had never been my strong suit. I courted disaster every time I slept with him, but it made for great sex. And I never said I was smart. Actually, it was pretty stupid. But we'd been over that before.

Depressed, I let my arm hang out the window and watched the Hollows turn from homes to businesses. The sun glinted dully on my bracelet and its distinctive pattern of links. Ivy had an anklet in the same pattern. I'd seen a few others around Cincy here and there, earning shrugs and smiles when I tried to hide mine. I knew they were probably Kisten's way to show the world his conquests, but I wore it nevertheless. So did Ivy.

“Skimmer won't hurt you,” Kisten said softly, and I turned to him.

“Not physically,” I agreed, relieved he was handling this as well as he was. “But you can be sure she's going to put extra love in her petition to get Piscary out.”

He sobered at that, and quiet filled the car at the thought of what might happen if she succeeded. We'd both be up shit creek. Kisten had been Piscary's scion, betraying the master vampire the night I'd beaten Piscary into submission. Piscary was ignoring that right now, but if he got out, I was sure he'd have a thing or two to say to his ex-scion, even if Kisten had been the one keeping Piscary's business ventures intact, since Ivy wouldn't, her scion status aside.

My phone rang again. Digging it out, I looked to see that it was an unfamiliar number before I set it to vibrate. I was with Kisten, and taking the call would be rude. “You aren't mad?” I offered hesitantly, watching the emotion on his face shift from worry about his physical being to that of worry for his emotional state.

“Mad that you're attracted to Ivy?” he said, the sun flashing over him as we crossed the bridge. My face warmed, and he pulled his hand from mine to manage the thicker traffic. “No,” he said, his eyes slightly dilating. “I love you, but Ivy…Since leaving the I.S. and you moving in with her, she's never been happier, more stable. Besides,” he said, settling himself suggestively, “if this keeps up, I might have a chance at one hell of a threesome.”

My mouth dropped open, and I swatted him. “No way!”

“Hey,” he said, laughing, though his eyes were firmly on the traffic. “Don't knock it until you've tried it.”

I crossed my arms before me and looked straight out the window. “Not going to happen, Kisten.” But when I met his eyes, I could tell he had only been teasing me.
I think.

“Don't make plans this Friday,” he said as we stopped at yet another light.

I stifled a huge smile, but inside I was singing.
He remembered!
“Why?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

He smiled, and I lost my battle to remain unmoved. “I'm taking you out for your birthday,” he said. “I've got reservations for the Carew Tower restaurant.”

“Get out!” I exclaimed, my eyes darting to the top of the building in question. “I've never been up there to eat.” I squirmed, my gaze going distant as I started to plan. “I don't know what to wear.”

“Something that comes off easy?” he suggested.

A horn blew behind us, and, not looking, Kisten accelerated.

“All I've got is stuff with lots of snaps and buckles,” I teased.

He went to say something, but his phone rang. I frowned when he reached to take it. I never took calls when we were together. Not that I got that many to begin with. But I wasn't trying to run Cincy's underworld for my boss either.

“Snaps and buckles?” he said as he flipped open the top. “That might work, too.” Smile fading, he said into his phone. “This is Felps.”

I settled back, feeling good just thinking about it.

“Hey, Ivy. What's up?” Kisten said, and I straightened. Then, remembering my phone, I pulled it out and looked. Crap, I'd missed four calls. But I didn't recognize the number.

“Right beside me,” Kisten said, glancing at me, and a flicker of concern rose. “Sure,” he added, then handed the phone to me.

Oh, God, now what?
Feeling like I'd heard a shoe fall, I said, “Is it Jenks?”

“No,” Ivy's irate voice said, and I relaxed. “It's your Were.”

“David?” I stammered, and Kisten pulled into the driving school's parking lot.

“He's been trying to reach you,” Ivy said, her tone both bothered and concerned. “He says—are you ready for this?—he says he's killing women and he doesn't remember. Look, will you call him? He's called here twice in the last three minutes.”

I wanted to laugh but couldn't. The Were murder the I.S. was covering up. The demon tearing my living room apart for the focus. Shit.

“Okay,” I said softly. “Thanks. 'Bye.”

“Rachel?”

Her voice had changed. I was upset, and she knew it. I took a breath, trying to find a glimmer of calm. “Yes?”

I could tell by her hesitation that she wasn't fooled, but she knew that whatever it was, I wasn't running scared. Yet. “Watch yourself,” she said tightly. “Call me if you need me.”

My tension eased. It was good to have friends. “Thanks. I will.”

I hung up, glanced at Kisten's expressive eyes waiting for an explanation, then jumped when my phone, sitting in my lap, vibrated. Taking a breath, I picked it up and looked at the number. It was David's. I recognized it now.

“You going to take that?” Kisten asked, his hands on the wheel though we were parked.

In the next spot over, I watched a girl slam the door to her mother's minivan. Ponytail bobbing and mouth going nonstop, she chatted as she headed to class with a friend. They disappeared past the glass doors, and the woman behind the wheel wiped at her eye and watched through her rearview mirror. Kisten leaned forward to get into my line of sight. The phone vibrated again, and a sour smile lifted the corners of my mouth as I flipped the phone open.

Somehow I didn't think I was going to make my class.

David's hand trembled almost imperceptibly as he accepted the glass of cold tap water. He held it to his forehead for a moment as he gathered his calm, then sipped it and set it on the solid ash coffee table before us. “Thank you,” the small man said, then put his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands.

I patted his shoulder and eased farther from him on his couch. Kisten was standing next to the TV, back to us as he looked over David's collection of Civil War sabers in a lighted, locked cabinet. The faint scent of Were tickled my nose, not unpleasant at all.

David was a wreck, and I alternated my attention between the shaken man dressed in his suit for the office and his tidy, clearly bachelor town house. It was the usual two stories, the entire complex about five to ten years old. The carpet probably hadn't ever been replaced, and I wondered if David rented or owned.

We were in the living room. To one side past the landscaped buffer was the parking lot. To the other through the kitchen and dining area was a large common courtyard, the other apartments far enough away that it granted a measure of privacy by pure distance. The walls were thick, hence the silence, and the classy wallpaper done in browns and tans said he had decorated it himself.
Owned,
I decided, remembering that as a field adjuster for Were Insurance he was paid very well for getting the true story from reluctant policy owners trying to hide the reason their
Christmas tree had spontaneously combusted and taken out their living room.

Though his apartment was a calm spot of peace, the Were himself looked ragged. David was a loner, having the personal power and charisma of an alpha without the responsibilities. Technically speaking, I was his pack, a mutually beneficial agreement on paper that helped prevent David from being fired and gave me the opportunity to get my insurance at a devastatingly cheap rate. That was the extent of our relationship, but I knew he used me to keep Were women from insinuating themselves into his life.

My gaze landed on the fat little black book beside his phone.
Apparently that didn't slow him down when it came to dating.
Dang, he needed a rubber band to keep the thing shut.

“Better?” I said, and David looked up. His beautifully deep brown eyes were wide with a slow fear, looking wrong on him. He had a wonderfully trim body made for running, disguised under the comfortable suit. Clearly he had been on his way to the office when whatever threw him into such a tizzy happened, and it worried me that something could shake him like this. David was the most stable person I knew.

His shoes under the coffee table shone, and he was clean-shaven, not even a hint of black stubble marring his sun-darkened, somewhat rough skin. I'd seen him in a floor-length duster and dilapidated hat once while he had been stalking me, and he had looked like Van Helsing; his luscious black hair was long and wavy, and his thick eyebrows made a nice statement. He had about the same amount of confidence as the fictional character, too, but right now it was tempered with worry and distraction.

“No,” he said, his low voice penetrating. “I think I'm killing my girlfriends.”

Kisten turned, and I held up a hand to forestall the vampire from saying anything stupid. David was nothing if not levelheaded, and as an insurance adjuster he was quick, savvy, and hard to surprise. If he thought he was killing his girlfriends, then there was a reason for it.

“I'm listening,” I said from beside him, and David took a slow breath, forcing himself to sit upright, if still on the edge of the couch.

“I was trying to find a date for this weekend,” he started, glancing at Kisten.

“For the full moon?” Kisten interrupted, earning both my and David's annoyance.

“The full moon isn't until Monday,” the Were said. “And I'm not a college Werejockey high on bane crashing your bar. I have as much control over myself on a full moon as you do.”

Obviously it was a sore spot, and Kisten raised a placating hand. “Sorry.”

The tension in the room eased, and David's haunted eyes went to his address book by the phone. “Serena called me last night, asking me if I had the flu.” He looked up at me, then away. “Which I thought strange since it's summer, but then I called Kally to see if she was free, and she asked me the same thing.”

Kisten chuckled. “You dated two women in one weekend?”

David's brow creased. “No, they were a week apart. So I called a few other women, seeing as I hadn't heard from any of them in almost a month.”

“In high demand are you, Mr. Peabody?”

“Kisten,” I muttered, not liking the reference to the old cartoon. “Stop it.” David's cat was peering at me from the top of the stairway. I didn't even try to coax it down, depressed.

David wasn't cowed at all by the living vampire. Not here in his own apartment. “Yes,” he said belligerently. “I am, actually. You want to wait on the veranda?”

Kisten raised a hand in a gesture of “whatever,” but I had no trouble believing that the attractive, mid-thirties Were had women calling him for dates. David and I were comfortable leaving our relationship at the business level, though I found it mildly irksome that he had issues with the different-species thing. But as long as he respected me as a person, I was willing to let him miss out on a good slice of the female population. His loss.

“Apart from Serena and Kally, I couldn't reach one.” His eyes went to his black book as if it were possessed. “None of them.”

“So you think they're dead?” I questioned, not seeing the reason for the jump of thought.

David's eyes were haunted. “I've been having really weird dreams about them,” he said. “My girlfriends, I mean. I'm waking up in my own
bed clean and rested, not mud-caked and naked in the park, so I never gave them much thought, but now…”

Kisten chuckled, and I started wishing I'd left him in the car. “They're avoiding you, wolfman,” the vampire said, and David pulled himself straight, ire giving him strength.

“They're gone,” he muttered.

I watched warily, knowing that Kisten was too savvy to push him too far, but David was erratic right now.

“Either they don't answer their phone or their roommates don't know where they are.” His eyes slipped to mine, haunted. “Those are the ones that I'm worried about. The ones I couldn't reach.”

“Six women,” Kisten said, now standing at the window wall that looked out on a small patio. “That's not bad. Half of them probably moved.”

“In a month and a half?” David said caustically. Then, as if galvanized by the admission, he went to the kitchen, his pace fast with nervous energy.

My eyebrows rose.
David dated six women in as many weeks?
Weres weren't any more randy than the rest of the population, but remembering his reluctance to settle down and start a pack, I decided it probably wasn't that he couldn't keep a girlfriend but rather that he was content playing the field. Playing the pro field.
Jeez, David.

“They're missing,” he said, standing in his kitchen as if having forgotten why he went in there. “I think…I think I'm blanking out and killing them.”

My gut clenched at the lost sound of his voice. He really believed he was killing these women.

“Well, there you go,” Kisten said. “Someone found out you're a player and called the rest. You've been stung, Mr. Peabody.” He chuckled. “Time to start a new black book.”

David looked insulted, and I thought Kisten was being unusually insensitive. Maybe he was jealous. “You know what?” I said, spinning to Kisten. “You need to shut up.”

“Hey, I'm just saying—”

David jerked as if remembering why he had gone into the kitchen, popping open a tin of cat food and shaking it onto a plate before setting
it on the floor. “Rachel, would you refuse to talk to a man you'd slept with, even if you were mad at him?”

My eyebrows rose. He hadn't just dated six women in six weeks, he'd slept with them, too? “Uh…” I stammered. “No. I'd want to give him a piece of my mind at the very least.”

Head lowered, David nodded. “They're missing,” he said. “I'm killing them. I know it.”

“David,” I protested, seeing a hint of concern on Kisten's face, “Weres don't black out and kill people. If they did, they would've been hunted into extinction hundreds of years ago by the rest of Inderland. There's got to be another reason they aren't talking to you.”

“Because I killed them,” David whispered, hunched over the counter.

My gaze drifted to the ticking wall clock. Two-fifteen. I'd missed my class. “It doesn't add up,” I said, coming to sit at a barstool. “Do you want me to have Ivy track them down? She's good at finding people.”

Looking relieved, he nodded. Ivy could find anyone, given time. She had been retrieving abducted vamps and humans from illegal blood houses and jealous exes since leaving the I.S. It made my familiar rescues look vapid, but we each had our own talents.

My motions shifting the stiff barstool back and forth slowed. Since I was here, I ought to see about taking the focus home with me. Anyone who cared to look it up would know that I belonged to David's pack. Being a loner and trained to react to violence, David was a hard target. Anyone he worked with, though…

“Oh, shit,” I said, then put a hand to my mouth, realizing I'd said it aloud. Both Kisten and David stared at me. “Uh, David, did you tell your dates about the focus?”

His confusion turned to a soft anger. “No,” he said forcefully.

Kisten glowered at the smaller man. “You mean to tell me you nipped six women in six weeks, and you never showed them the focus to impress them?”

David's jaw clenched. “I don't need to lure women to my bed. I ask them, and if they're willing, they come. Showing them wouldn't have impressed them anyway. They're human.”

I pulled my elbows off the counter, my face warming in indignation. “You date
humans
? You won't date a witch because you don't believe in
mixed-species parings, but you'll
sleep around with humans
? You big fat hypocrite!”

David pleaded with me with his eyes. “If I dated a Were woman, she'd want to be a part of my pack. We've been over this before. And since Weres originally came from humans—”

My eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I got it,” I said, not liking it. Weres came from humans same as vamps, but, unlike becoming a vamp, the only way to become a Were was to be born one.

Usually.

My thoughts zinged back to yesterday morning and being woken by a demon tearing my church apart looking for the focus.
Oh-h-h-h, shit,
I thought, remembering to keep my mouth shut this time. Missing girlfriends. Three unidentified bodies in the morgue: athletic, professional, and all with a similar look. They were brought in as Weres, but if what I thought happened
had
happened, they wouldn't be in the Were database but the human. Suicides from last month's full moon.

“David, I'm so sorry,” I whispered, and Kisten and David stared at me.

“What?” David said, wary, not distraught.

I looked helplessly at him. “It wasn't your fault. It was mine. I shouldn't have given it to you. I didn't know all you had to do was have it in your possession. I never would have given it to you if I did.” He looked blank at me, and, feeling nauseous, I added, “I think I know where your girlfriends are. It's my fault, not yours.”

David shook his head. “Give me what?”

“The focus,” I said, my face wrinkled in pity. “I think…it turned your girlfriends.”

His face went ashen, and he put a hand to the counter. “Where are they?” he breathed.

I swallowed hard. “The city morgue.”