Demon Moon (3 page)

E.T.A?

Forty-five minutes.

Oh, god. Too close. She stared at the screen and willed the number to decrease. But wishing had never helped her before; it wouldn't now. She didn't have time, she didn't have a sword or a hellhound or a gun—what did she have?

Hellhound venom. Hugh had given it to her along with a few other methods of protection. It was in a perfume vial—a significant payload, enough to paralyze the nosferatu, but she had no way to deliver it. Stabbing wouldn't work; the creature was too fast. And even if she managed to cut it with a venom-laced blade, it wouldn't slow it enough to allow her to get away. Not a lot of damage could be done with the few items she had—a plastic fork to the eye?

The big fat zero was growing morbidly obese.

As if concerned by her lack of reply, Colin wrote,
Do not be afraid, sweet Savitri.

I'm not.
Not for herself. But Nani, the other passengers?

You should be.
A round yellow face suddenly winked up at her.

“Shh,
naatin
,” Nani admonished a moment later. Savi stifled her laughter; it had too sharp an edge, anyway. “You waste too much time with those friends online.” The rest lay unspoken: Had Savi not spent so much time on her computer, she'd have passed her classes, finished her studies, obtained the almighty degree. It did not need to be spoken; it had been said a million times. Nani meant well, of course—it was just that Savi's idea of what was good for her conflicted with her grandmother's.

But it was hard to blame it on a generation gap when a two-hundred-year-old vampire finished a sentence with a smiley.

She closed her eyes, tried to imagine his expression at that moment. His features were impossible to forget: his short hair, like burnished gold; the darker, slashing brows; thick lashes around wintry gray eyes. A blond god, with a deity's careless cruelty; the firm line of his mouth suggested it, and his smile was a predator's.

Was that wink to reassure her or to mock her?

Talk to me, sweet. Can you see it?

Savi turned, leaned out over the aisle.
The top of its head.
It took only another minute to locate the seating plan from the airline website and send him the link and seat number.

You're in first class?

Nani's with me.
And the reason she'd chosen the ridiculously expensive tickets. Savi had insisted over Nani's protests, citing reasons that ranged from her grandmother's age to the fatigue of the endless flight and multiple connections.

Did it accomplish anything? Is she impressed by what you've made of yourself, or does she think you more reckless than ever, tossing away money?

Ah, there it was. She could almost hear the aristocratic accent, the lazy viciousness.

Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?

Yes. The nosferatu will eat your fear. It's ambrosia to such as us.

She sighed. Surely he realized that seven months of living near Lilith had inured her to such melodrama. And he didn't need to convince her that the nosferatu was terrible, evil—she knew what it was.

I'm not afraid
, she repeated.

She didn't add that if he asked again in forty minutes and Michael still hadn't shown, he'd get a completely different answer. Colin took as much pleasure in producing fear as he did in his appearance. And Savi was easy—but not
that
easy.

Colin tore his hands through his hair and tried to ignore the voice yelling at him through his speakerphone. “Make sure she stays calm, Colin, or I'll rip your balls off! Tell her to get into that bathroom right now and use the fucking symbols.”

Shut up, Lilith
. He didn't say it aloud, because she would rip his balls off. They'd regenerate, but he liked that part of his anatomy too much to lose it, even temporarily. He said through clenched teeth, “Agent Milton, my dear, you are
not
helping. Where's Castleford?”

At times, it was much easier to deal with the former Guardian; his self-control was near legendary, his focus unrelenting. Lilith's was…not, and the more she cared for the person threatened, the more demonic she became.

Colin had no intention—
no time
—to manage her fear over his own.

He heard the deep draw of her breath through the speaker, the buzz of her motorcycle. Her tone was slightly more even when she continued. “Training the newbie vamps over in the Mission. He's on his way now. I'm almost to our place. That plane—I
knew
it. The bloodsucker probably thinks it's an abomination for humans to fly. Goddammit, I've been stonewalled for a week by the FAA and the British—”

“Lilith!”

Another deep breath. Then softly, “This is going to kill him, Colin.”

No, the only thing that might kill Castleford would be losing Lilith; but Colin realized it was something he could use to convince Savitri to hide. Her relationship with Castleford echoed that of a brother and sister—she might not fear for herself, but she might do as Colin asked for Castleford's sake.

“Get her in there, Colin. I don't care what you have to do or say. You're beautiful; promise her use of your glorious body for the next fifty years.”

“You don't have to manipulate me, Lilith,” he muttered. Recollection of Savitri's caramel skin, her scent, and the taste of her blood might tempt
him
, but he doubted he would have the same effect on her.

Castleford wants you to take Auntie to the washroom and use the protection of the symbols to keep the nosferatu out.

He waited restlessly for her reply, rubbing at a spot of Prussian blue on his palm. Caelum had become yet another obsession, but it slipped away with each stroke of his brush. And as with all that was elusive, he only pursued it the more. Soon his memory of Caelum would be a pale imitation of the images on canvas.

Run, Savitri. Hide
.

“Is she going?”

If Michael and Selah arrive before the nosferatu begins killing everyone, there's no need to hide. And if I use them to put the spell around the restroom and hid inside, Michael and Selah wouldn't be able to teleport into it to save us if they arrived after the nosferatu killed everyone. So unless Michael can carry an airplane, we'd die anyway. The symbols couldn't protect us from a crash.

She had to be logical. “Can Michael carry an airplane?” Colin asked aloud. It wouldn't surprise him if the Doyen could. Michael could heal injuries, transform humans into Guardians, and teleport across realms. All other Guardians possessed only one unique Gift in addition to incredible strength, speed, and the ability to shape-shift and create clothing with a thought—but their leader was an exception to that rule.

“What? No.” Lilith paused, and the sound of the motorcycle died. “I don't think so. It doesn't matter, Colin: lie to her. Hell, give me two minutes to get inside and online and I'll do it myself.”

I have venom. I have an idea—just in case.

He typed his response with inhuman speed.
No, Savi. Whatever it is, don't try it. Lilith's almost ready to talk to you. Wait for her.

She'll lie to me. I'm giving Michael until 9:50. I can't wait longer than that. There are four hundred people on here, Colin.

His gaze fell to the clock in the corner of his screen, and his gut twisted. He tried to think of a lie, tried to think of anything that might convince her.

Tried to think of anything he could say that she would trust.

I have to close my computer. Give my love to Hugh and Lilith.

Suicide. No question where she'd learned it. Just like Castleford.

You're human, sweet. Wait for the Guardians.
And to make her smile, even if he could not:
You must wait to see me again, if nothing else.

They'd better hurry, vampire. Even you aren't pretty enough to stop a nosferatu. But perhaps I'll flash a picture of you at him first, just to see.

A smiley grinned up at him. He stared at it, unable to believe she'd be such an idiot. He had been attacked by one of the nosferatu two centuries before; the result had not been as lovely as his face suggested. Three people—two of them Savitri's friends—had been mutilated and killed earlier that year. Did she think because Castleford and Lilith had pulled off the impossible that she had gained some kind of imperviousness by association?

What the bloody fucking hell was wrong with her? Did she have absolutely no sense of self-preservation? Had she learned nothing when she'd been in Caelum? She'd evaded his presence so well since they'd returned he knew she'd not forgot
all
of it. Why would she be so stupid and careless, taking another risk with her life like this?

The messenger logged her out.

“I'm going to kill you, Colin.” Lilith's voice was low and dangerous.

He bit his tongue. Blood filled his mouth, and he rang off without a word.

Savi decided that she wouldn't need protection from the nosferatu—it would either kill her or it wouldn't—but she would from the other passengers. Did Britain have anything similar to the U.S.'s Federal Air Marshal program? Would there be armed guards undercover on international flights? Savi had been shot before; she didn't want to repeat the experience. But it would take too much time to find out—better to just look after herself and Nani as best she could after she'd killed the damned thing.

The battery pack slid out easily. Not much room to maneuver, but her hands were slender, her fingers long. Her lovers had often complimented them, as if she'd come by their design through accomplishment instead of genetics.

Her other tools were in her checked luggage; it was impossible to carry on screwdrivers and clippers. They'd have made this easier, but they weren't necessary.

She smiled to herself. A screwdriver to the nosferatu's eye—
that
would have been interesting, though probably no safer or more effective than a plastic fork.

She reached into the empty battery slot, and paused. Not smart to let anyone see her do this. Though most of the passengers reclined in their seats and slept, a few were reading or using their computers. The flight attendant might pass by at any moment, and would be justifiably suspicious if she saw Savi tearing out the guts of her laptop.

No, it's not a bomb that I'm making, but I do intend to maim—and hopefully kill—a cursed bloodsucking fiend. Do you mind holding this penlight for me?

That wouldn't go over well. Nor would Savi's assurance that it would all be unnecessary if Michael and Selah arrived.
I know a couple of humans who've been given angelic superpowers and Gifted with an ability to teleport; they can pop right into the plane and teleport the fiend away faster than you can blink. You probably won't even notice
.

No.

A blanket over her lap hid evidence of her not-quite-terrorism, if not the movements beneath it. Perhaps the flight attendant would think she was masturbating.

Dammit. That's what she should have told Colin she'd be doing in her final hour: imagining Michael's face as she brought herself to multiple orgasms.

The insult to his vanity would've probably made his head explode.

“What are you doing,
naatin
?”

“Trying to find my power inductor, Nani.” Savi ignored her grandmother's exasperated sigh and waited until she closed her eyes again. Nani had the ability to nap anytime, anywhere—within moments her breathing deepened, and a soft snore came from her throat.

Savi hooked her fingers in the gap between the battery housing and the power supply, clenched her jaw, and pulled with steady pressure. The plastic was the same as the outside casing, resistant against impact.

It finally cracked; she gasped in pain, then worked loose the small, flat piece and removed it. Her nail had torn in half. Fighting tears, she sucked on her fingers until the sting eased.

At least the injury was useful; she'd need the blood later.

The inductor retained the heat from its use, and it was probably better to unwind the wire while it was warm. No time to let it cool, anyway. It must be done slowly and carefully—a single kink in the thin length would ruin everything.

Another steady pull around the inductor's copper coil; this one was more difficult. Tiny screws held the inductor in place. They wouldn't give, but the iron bobbin in its plastic seat would.

Maybe. If her hand didn't give first; it already cramped from the awkward position and the force she applied. The edge of the broken casing cut into her knuckle, then suddenly sliced deeper as the bobbin snapped free.
Oh god, oh god
. She could barely move her fingers, so badly did they ache.

Breathing shallowly between her teeth, she used the nail of her left forefinger to find the end of the wire. It had been sealed, but she picked at it until the tip came free of the spool. Twenty-four gauge copper wire, seventy-five wraps around the bobbin. Almost two meters. She'd ordered it to those specifications less than two months before. The wire was thicker than a typical inductor coil, but she'd wanted to see how it performed with international voltage.

Not well; it fluctuated and overheated too easily. But it was as thick as piano wire, if not as sturdy—the tensile strength one-tenth that of steel.

It
should
work; the only real question was if she was strong enough, quick enough.

Probably not. But she had to try.

She gingerly placed the laptop beneath her seat and began unrolling the wire. Glanced at her slim gold watch. Twenty minutes.

Savi knew very little about magic. She knew nothing of how the symbols worked, only that they did.
Silence. Surround. Lock
. Hugh had shown them to her for an emergency and explained the rules: the lock was keyed to the blood of whomever cast it. That person could go in and out as they pleased. Anyone else inside when the spell had been cast could leave, but not return. If no one remained inside or the symbols were destroyed, the spell broke.

And no one outside could hear through, enter, or break through the surround. No
being
could—but fire, flood? The structure was not impervious to damage from natural sources, including gravity and the crushing pressure of the Atlantic.

She wound the copper into a huge coil, slipped it over her neck. It had taken her five more minutes to prepare it than she'd anticipated.

“Nani!”

She didn't wait for her grandmother to come fully awake before pulling on the older woman's arm.

“
Naatin
, what—”

“I cut myself,” Savi said quickly. “Help me in the bathroom?”

The restroom was vacant, thank god. She'd have hated to walk past the nosferatu bleeding like this. She pushed her grandmother in ahead of her, turned, and locked the door. Her earring post barely made a scratch in the plastic, but it was enough. She finished it with a dab of blood over each symbol.

Silence. The hum of the engines disappeared, though she could still feel the vibration beneath her feet.

Her heart pounded. It must have been doing so for a while, but this was the first she'd noticed its rapid pace, or the clammy perspiration on her face. Gooseflesh raised the fine hairs on her arms.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, to rebuild her mental blocks. Hugh had been teaching her to guard her mind since she'd returned from Caelum; she'd put the shields into place as soon as she'd recognized the nosferatu, but the toll of pain and stress might have weakened them.

No psychic emissions could penetrate the spell; before she exited, she'd make sure her shields were solid.

“Naatin?”
Her grandmother's query held an edge of fear.

“Nani, there's a nosferatu on board—those things that killed Ian and Javier, you remember?” She lifted the hem of her long linen skirt and dabbed at her upper lip, her brow. Her fingers left a stain on the pale green.

It was going to be a bitch to run in.

Nani's mouth set in a thin line, and she shook her head. “Hugh destroyed them—”