Ravenous tdf-1 Page 19

  Walking around the long nose of the car, she put herself on his left side, away from the gun. He gripped her hand.

  "Follow me," he said, and he led Holly between the graves.

  Short iron fences enclosed many of the plots, just the right height to trip over. Holly strained all her senses, trying to keep from stumbling. Water dripped from leaf to leaf. She could smell the sea, the cold mist salting her lips and turning her cheeks to ice. Above, the clouds thinned and rolled, the moonlight fading in and out, making gossamer trails in the fog.

  Alessandro stopped, and she bumped into him. With a brush of his arm he swept her behind one of the small mausoleums that dotted the cemetery. Gun poised, he crouched. She ducked down behind him, bracing herself on the gritty stone of the building.

  "What is it?" Holly whispered.

  He pointed. To their left shadows moved in and out of the fog. Shifting backward, he put his lips close to her ear. "Ghouls, and not the college crowd."

  Her next breath shook. A pack of ghouls was something to fear. Never needing an excuse to snack, they would shred and eat a lone human in a matter of minutes. She blessed Alessandro for bringing the gun.

  Twin notes of a foghorn moaned. She put her hand on Alessandro's shoulder, leaning in close. "What do we do?"

  He shook his head, the brush of his hair soft against her skin. "We wait and watch. They don't normally come to St. Andrew's. It's too far into the city. If they're sniffing around here, somebody sent them."

  "If they're being good little soldiers, then who's the general?"

  He held up a hand for silence. The creatures were crossing in front of the mausoleum, drawing close enough that Holly could see their outlines against the moon-whitened fog. She felt the glide of muscle and bone beneath Alessandro's jacket as he took aim. The physical contact was comforting, but she drew back to give him more room to move.

  There were half a dozen ghouls moving in a close-packed clump. Each about the size of a twelve-year-old human, they looked gangly and skinny, walking with a boneless, slumped posture. Many had ball caps and baggy pants, but ghouls never wore shoes. Their fingers and toes had long, curving claws that would shred through any canvas or leather in seconds. Holly shuddered, pressing against the rough, mossy rock of the mausoleum, wishing she could dissolve into it.

  Then she felt Alessandro tense. Pointing again, he indicated a figure that was pushing forward to assume the lead position in the pack. It was not a ghoul. Holly stared, squinting as if that would somehow make what she saw prettier.

  If it could have straightened up, it might have been as tall as a man, but the creature's spine curled over until the head seemed to thrust forward. Barrel-chested, hairless, and nearly naked, it half ran, half waddled in a rolling gait more animal than human.

  It stopped, turning to the ghouls. It hissed something at them, gesturing toward the ocean side of the graveyard. The ghouls milled in confusion until it cuffed one on the ear, knocking it to the grass. Then it waved a long, malformed arm again and turned to lead its charges away. As the pale light caught the thing's face, she could see enough of its features to make her stomach roll. It had no nose or mouth, just a slitlike opening full of needle-sharp teeth. Holly cringed back, sweating with petrified revulsion.

  A long minute passed before Alessandro spoke. "They're gone."

  "What was that thing?" she asked, feeling cold beads of perspiration run down her ribs.

  He turned, his eyes flashing gold in the moonlight. "That was a changeling."

  "A vampire?" she said, aghast.

  He rose to his feet, looking around. "We do not acknowledge them as vampires."

  "Where do they come from? How did that happen to them?" Holly rose from her crouch, feeling the blood return to her toes.

  Alessandro peered around the corner of the mausoleum before answering. "We do not speak of it, so do not repeat what I say."

  "Okay." Was this confidence her consolation prize, to make up for all the things he couldn't tell her?

  "We do not gratuitously make vampires. We control our numbers. There can be only so many, or…" He shrugged.

  "Too many wolves for the number of sheep?"

  He shifted his feet as if embarrassed. "Precisely. But it is also a complex process. It can easily go wrong, and if it does, the results are abominations."

  "The changelings."

  "Yes. Things happen during the Turning. Centuries ago there were blunders. The mistakes were allowed to perpetuate. Those were the changelings." He turned and looked around the corner of the building again. "I think it is safe to go on." He glided out of sight.

  Holly crept after him, her tennis shoes quiet in the long grass. She threw her senses open for a moment, testing the immediate area. She could feel Alessandro, a dark, still presence. His vampire mind was closed to her, but palpable. All around the spirits of the dead whispered to themselves, a low level of consciousness punctuated by the occasional restless mind. It was like any other graveyard. She could sense nothing else. Where, then, were the ghouls and their changeling leader? She should have been able to sense them if they were still on the grounds.

  Alessandro stopped and whirled, gun rising and braced in both hands. "Holly, get behind me!"

  Four changelings emerged from behind the tombstones, two on either side of the path. "Ssssandro!" one of them hissed. It might have been laughing, but its batlike face made it hard to tell.

  "Giuseppi," Alessandro replied. "How lovely to see you. It's been so long."

  He aimed his gun at the creature's forehead and pulled the trigger. Even with a suppressor, the noise seemed huge in the still, fog-laden night. Holly flinched away, but she still saw the back of the changeling's skull explode all over a stone angel. The silver bullet was pretty much gravy. A shot like that would kill anything, supernatural or not.

  There was a microsecond of suspense, the aftershock of violence shushing through the cedar trees. Then ghouls exploded out of the greenery, loping on all fours, gibbering and yipping like monkeys.

  Already Holly was behind Alessandro, moving as he moved, backing into the trees. He fired again and again, dropping a host of ghouls and one more changeling.

  Holly had no gun. She was her only weapon. With her senses open she felt the space around her, seeking a source of energy to use. The air of the graveyard was thick with ambient force, the magic of death and departing souls—no shortage of raw material. She just had to figure out how to use it.

  Power swam under her feet, viscous and sweet as syrup, a vein waiting to be tapped. She reached for it, but wavered. How bad is this going to hurt?

  The gun clicked empty. "Holly!" Alessandro shouted. "Quickly!"

  Agony. Learn to love it. She grabbed at the graveyard's ambient power and threw a blast at three ghouls charging from her right. She thrust blindly at the danger, relying on pure reflex. Sheet lightning flickered and the ghouls flew backward, end over end, their clothes aflame. Holly reeled, staggered by the recoil, nauseated by the pain and vertigo swirling in her head. Her aim was sloppy, but she'd gotten the job done.

  Alessandro faced the last two changelings. Pulling a knife from somewhere, he growled, fangs bared, pure menace in the sound. Holly backed away a few steps, her blood zinging with terror.

  With a roar he grabbed one changeling and threw it hard on the ground while the other jumped him from behind. The knife fell to the grass. The force of the attack knocked them all sideways, but Alessandro threw the second creature off, never letting go of his first opponent. The changeling on the ground beneath him snapped and writhed as Alessandro crushed its throat with bare hands.

  The second changeling rolled, snatching the knife as he got to his feet. Holly grabbed the empty gun from where Alessandro had dropped it and charged in, too wild with adrenaline to think clearly. The second changeling thrust at Alessandro, ripping the leather in strips from his jacket. She swung the gun like a club, catching the creature behind one pointed ear. It howled, a shattering, feral racket,
but it dropped the knife.

  Wheeling, it lunged at Holly. Claws whipped out, swiping at her face. Holly blocked the blow with her forearms. Heat lanced down her right wrist as one claw caught her skin.

  She ducked away, cradling her arm, and saw the full horror of its face, what features it had now mashed and distorted beyond even B-movie imagination. That was once human? Worst were the eyes, shriveled and yellow, but they blanked as Alessandro crushed its neck.

  Knees wobbling, Holly stumbled to the ground. The other changeling, the one Alessandro had thrown down and choked, was already dead.

  "We were ambushed! How come I was blind to them?" She gasped, trying to catch her breath. "I felt around earlier, but they weren't there!"

  Alessandro picked up the empty gun and holstered it. Then he retrieved the knife. His hands were steady, but he was grim. "My money is on a demon shield. The demon is helping the changelings fight us."

  Her jaw dropped. "A shield?"

  Alessandro grabbed her hand, pulling her up. "Demons can sometimes hide behind a psychic screen, rather like supernatural stealth technology. It's rare that they can screen more than themselves, but I've heard of it."

  "Sweet Hecate! If it's a shielding spell, it's huge! And so subtle you don't even know it's there." This was not good news. That meant the demon had enormous power.

  He tugged her toward the path. "Let me take you home. I don't want to find out if there're more ghouls where those came from."

  Holly didn't argue. They ran toward the car, the moon a fitful searchlight sweeping the fog. As soon as the T-Bird was in view, he stopped, sniffing the air. "Are you all right?"

  "I think so. You?"

  "I'm unhurt." He ripped a dangling piece of leather from his ruined jacket. His eyes still glowed in the darkness, the aftermath of his fighting rage.

  They slowed to a walk, then stopped beside the car. Holly leaned against the familiar planes of its hood, panting hard. Alessandro stood before her, crackling with tension. He was close enough that his toes brushed hers, the fringe from his pants brushing against the soft denim of her worn jeans. He held out his hands, offering to pull her upright.

  She wavered. A moment ago those hands had been wrapped around a changeling's throat. The memory spooked her, but also made her feel safe. He had saved her life. Her vampire, the one on her side, had been the most deadly. The comfort of that was primal, gut-level, and as fierce as the power that had sung through her moments ago.

  Holly took his hands, letting him pull her to her feet. She leaned on him as he held her arm, his fingers resting on the sensitive point just above her elbow. The night hummed around them, the electric darkness alive with expectation. Holly drank it in, letting it intoxicate her.

  They had battled an immediate, flesh-and-bone enemy. They had won.

  He protected me. I protected him back.

  His mouth brushed hers once, twice, and then took possession with ferocious appetite. The moment was as primitive as the deadly fight, the kiss merciless. Holly savored him, tasting and tugging, making demands of her own. At last she had the fringe within her grasp.

  Adrenaline thundered in her blood, driving it hard in her ears. Her fingers scraped against the ruins of his leather jacket, her nails finding patches of his mesh shirt and skin beneath. She worked her fingertips through the tears, caressing the hard planes of his chest beneath. Breathing harder, more raggedly, he pulled her hips against his.

  This was not all vampire magnetism. It was there, but only like an interesting garnish on world-class cuisine. Holly tore her mouth away, her gaze seeking his. His eyes were dark amber fire, a delicious alchemy of danger and need.

  I'm not supposed to be doing this. I'm supposed to be the strong one.

  The moment broke, or perhaps it only spun into something new.

  "You're hurt," he said, the words breathed more than spoken. He pulled her left hand from where it had burrowed beneath his jacket. He stretched out her arm, turning it palm up. Blood stained the torn sleeve of her coat.

  "I didn't even remember that," she said. "The changeling scratched me."

  But now that the wound had her attention, it hurt like hell. Alessandro tore back her sleeve, exposing a long shallow gash that wept blood in a slow ooze. He bent to the wound and inhaled, a faint rush of air that was oddly erotic.

  "The injury is clean." He gave her a sidelong look, carefully veiled. "But I can stop it from bleeding, if you'll let me."

  "Uh, no, I—"

  He bent his head, his long golden hair falling like buoyant silk across the inside of her elbow. Then his tongue slowly slid along the bottom of the cut, rounding it with delicate precision.

  Oh! Holly shuddered, transfixed and strangely aroused. Surprised, more than anything else. It felt… seductive.

  He raised his head, eyes wide and wild. "Is that all right?"

  Holly gave a mute nod. The moment stretched out, swollen with significance.

  Hot and wet, his tongue traveled up the length of her forearm, gentle and firm. Holly felt gooseflesh covering her from nape to toe, bringing her breasts to hard, aching peaks. There was the touch of teeth, nothing more than the glance of a hard edge in passing—but whenever she felt it, a jolt like honeyed fire speared her through.

  He took the blood with the humility of a supplicant, but with a sensuality distilled from centuries of unslaked lust. So much invested in a single act. She shivered, her body hot and cold, restless and yet hypnotized into a heavy stillness.

  When he reached the sensitive, ticklish crook of her elbow, ready to start down the other side, Holly made a tiny sound. Alessandro pressed his lips to her flesh where he worked, leaving a kiss. She put her other hand on the back of his head, losing her fingers in the thick, springy hair, cradling him against her.

  "I am yours," he whispered, his cheek brushing her skin.

  The truth of it trembled in her like the voice of a bell.

  The slow ritual of his tongue was rhythmic, patient, and tender. As Alessandro promised, the bleeding stopped, her life sealed safely back inside. When he was finished, he bound her arm in his large white handkerchief. Holly had always wondered why a vampire would carry one. Now she could guess.

  There were no words to speak. Holly leaned into his chest and he held her, the night whispering to itself all around them. How long they stood, she could not say. She felt cherished, at home.

  He is mine.

  Now what do I do?

  Unexpectedly, Alessandro caught his breath. "Macmillan."

  Holly stepped out of his arms. "Oh, Goddess, we were supposed to meet him!" And if the ghouls had found him first… Holly could not even bear to complete the thought.

  Alessandro already had a cell phone out, but Holly didn't recognize it.

  "Whose is that?"

  "It belonged to one of the changelings."

  "Why are you using it?"

  "To see who is expecting a call from this phone."

  Holly heard the ring at the other end, but she was distracted by the gathering frown on Alessandro's face. She heard the click of the phone being answered.

  "Giuseppi?"

  It was Mac's voice. Holly sagged against the car.

  Alessandro shut the phone. "We were set up."

  Chapter 20

  Macmillan is going to pay for this stunt.

  Alessandro signaled to turn. He was going to see Holly safely home, report to Omara, and then tear Macmillan's head off. He might reverse the last two items. Options were important.

  "But why would he do something like that?" Holly smacked the dashboard.

  Alessandro flinched, protective of the car. Who knew what an angry witch could do to vintage leather? "I don't know. Somehow our enemies got to Macmillan."

  Holly looked perplexed. "Last night he seemed fine."

  "What did you talk about after I left?"

  She sighed. "I don't remember. I kind of blanked out. I was doing a lot of magic, warding the house against more demon invasions.
Grandma thinks I might have popped a psychic gasket. Like I was telling you before, I seem prone to memory loss."

  Alessandro frowned. This isn't good. "You lost all memory of last night? I thought you said you had dinner and conversation."

  "Yeah, well…" Holly twisted her ponytail, as if pulling at her hair might stimulate brain cells. "I remember dinner. Good food, but pretty much everything else after you left is just… gone."

  "Are you sure it was simply stress?"

  "What else would it be? That's what Grandma thinks, anyway."

  Holly's grandmother was seldom wrong. He relaxed a little. "It wouldn't be the monotony of the detective's company? Perhaps there was nothing worth remembering?"

  "Yeah, right." Once more Holly thumped the dash with her fist. "What happened to him? He seemed like a nice, normal guy."

  He hated seeing her so upset. How can I fix this? "Leave Macmillan to me. I'll find out what's wrong. If he can be helped, I will see that it is done."

  Holly turned to face him, her features fading from light to dark as they passed under streetlights. "Thanks. I'd hate to think he ended up collateral damage."

  "You like him."

  "He's a decent guy. I'm sure he was pleasant company, even if I don't remember."

  "A night with me would be unforgettable." Alessandro let all the unspoken heat between them leak into his tone, let it wash away the fear and uncertainty he could hear in her voice. "You would not forget me."

  Holly's eyes glittered in the darkness. The look was pure feminine fire. Whatever else was happening that night, there was still unfinished business between them. Is it business we can risk finishing?

  Alessandro pulled into her driveway. Streetlights shone through the lacy branches of the hawthorn trees. He turned off the motor, a stampede of sensations raging through him. The taste of her was still in his mouth, everything she was, the salt and the sweet.

  The blood he'd tasted had been the merest tease, but it was all he'd dared take without causing harm. It had been her perfect trust that had saved her. If she had struggled just once, the instinct to hunt might have won.

  She trusted me. He loved her for that. All of him, the vampire and the man. He would go to his final death, walk into hell itself, if that meant she would live her life in safety.