“Miss Van Helsing?”
“Yes?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Girard said sincerely. “I’m a great fan of Abraham’s. He’s one of the reasons I got into vampire hunting.” It was partly true, Girard mused, along with the fact his father and grandfather had been slayers.
“You’re a hunter?” she asked, her expression skeptical.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Don’t doubt it for a minute, lady,” he said, his voice like ice. “I’m the best slayer still living.”
“Except you aren’t living.”
“How the hell would you know?”
“It’s a gift. You’re a vampire, recently turned, unless I miss my guess. And I never miss.”
Girard studied her, his eyes narrowed. “You’re a hunter, too.” It wasn’t a question.
She laughed softly. “I’m many things.”
Girard stared at her, completely baffled. Who the hell was she? What was she? He had been around a long time and he had never heard of a mortal who could discern vampire from human, nor had he ever seen a vampire hunter who possessed the voluptuous body of a siren and the angelic face of a saint.
She held out a hand in invitation. “Shall we go?”
“Go?”
She pressed her fingertips to the pulse in the hollow of her throat. “Didn’t you come here to feed?”
He nodded.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
Girard stared at her, his mind reeling. He knew there were people who got off on having vampires feed on them, but there was something about Miya that didn’t ring true. Why was she so eager? Just what was she up to, really?
He took a step backward. He hadn’t survived as a slayer as long as he had by ignoring his instincts, and every instinct he possessed was screaming a warning.
And yet ... his fangs extended as he imagined holding that curvy young body in his arms and taking what she was so blatantly offering.
“You’ll hurt my feelings if you say no,” she said, pouting. “It’s bad enough that Kaiden turned me down.”
“He did?”
Miya nodded. “Some men are afraid of a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.” She ran one dark red nail across his cheek. “Are you afraid?”
Girard shook his head. What did he have to be afraid of? He was a vampire. Sure, he was newly turned, but he had been sired by an ancient vampire, which made him stronger than an ordinary fledgling. As for Miya, hell, she couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet.
Miya smiled as she reached forward, took him by the hand, and led him toward the rooms in the back.
And even as Girard followed her, the words like a lamb to the slaughter played in the back of his mind.
Olivia straightened the collar of her dress. “Will you stay the night?”
Thorne winced inwardly. He should have seen this coming. “Olivia ...”
“Please, Kaiden.”
How could he say yes? How could he say no? She had given herself to him for years and never asked for anything in return other than to spend an occasional night in his arms. But, because of Skylynn, things were different now. True, they hadn’t made any commitments to each other, but how could he take Olivia to bed when it was Sky he loved? Doing so would be a betrayal of the worst kind.
He took a deep breath. “Olivia, listen to me,” he began, then stopped.
“What ... ?”
“Shh.” Rising, he cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowed. There it was again. A muted cry for help. Muttering, “Stay here,” he was out the door before she realized he was gone.
The muffled cry came from the last room at the end of the hall. Thorne didn’t bother with the door, but simply dissolved into mist and slipped through the crack.
Desmarais was on the other side, fighting Miya for his life.
Only, she didn’t look like Miya now. With her supernatural glamour gone, she was no longer a beautiful woman but a skeletal black-haired demon with wrinkled gray skin and blazing yellow eyes. She sat astride Desmarais’ hips, one gnarled hand circling his throat.
She hissed as Thorne materialized inside the room. “Go!” She pointed at the door with a long, skinny finger.
“Go, or I’ll kill him.”
Damn. What kind of demon was she? Not a succubus. They came to men, especially monks, by night and seduced them. This creature wasn’t looking for sex.
A mutant, then? Some kind of vampire succubus who drained men, not only of their blood, but of their life’s essence, as well. What better place for such a one to hunt than a Goth club?
“Go!” The demon’s voice was shrill now, her agitation growing.
Thorne shrugged. “Kill him if you wish. He’s no friend of mine.”
Desmarais stared at him, his eyes bulging with fear.
The demon studied Thorne curiously, and then she smiled, displaying yellowed teeth and fangs. “Come, join me.”
With a nod, Thorne moved toward the bed. With the demon watching him intently, he bent toward Desmarais’ neck, his own fangs running out at the scent of fresh blood on the hunter’s neck.
A cackle rose in the demon’s throat as she again bent her head to Desmarais’ neck.
A choked cry issued from Desmarais’ lips as the demon’s teeth sank into his flesh.
Thorne was moving, too. With all the speed at his command, he grabbed a handful of the demon’s hair and hurled her against the wall. She hit it with a loud thud and a snarl and then simply disappeared.
Thorne stepped away from the bed. In all his 432 years as a vampire, he had never seen another supernatural creature disappear like that.
Desmarais sat up, one hand massaging his throat. “What the hell? Why’d you save ... ?”
“If anyone’s going to destroy you, I want it to be me.”
Desmarais stood. With a visible effort of will, he gathered his dignity around him. “This doesn’t change anything between us.”
“I didn’t think it would,” Thorne replied. “But if you’re still determined to take my head, you might want to be a little more circumspect in your choice of prey in the future.”
Desmarais glared at him.
With a wave of his hand, Thorne left the room.
The sound of Desmarais grinding his teeth in anger followed him out the door.
“A demon?” Skylynn exclaimed after inviting Kaiden into the house. “You saw a demon?” Good Lord, first vampires and now demons. Suddenly chilled, she sat on the sofa and drew her feet underneath her. “Why didn’t you kill it?”