by Cat Devon
“I was attacked by three demons just between Zoe’s house and here. I had to compel the lady at the CTA bus stop to forget what she just saw,” Damon said.
“I know.” Nick gave him a look of approval. “I saw. You kicked some demon ass.”
“That may be, but I couldn’t find the spell book that unleashed the demons,” Damon said before tossing his bloody shirt into the trash and tugging on a plain black T-shirt from the stash he kept in his desk drawer. Turning to Neville, he said, “Have you isolated the demons yet? How many are we talking about?”
“Four got out before we locked down the tunnels, lowering lead walls between sections.”
“I killed three,” Damon noted. “So that leaves one still on the loose. What about in the tunnels?”
“There are three down there at the moment,” Neville replied. “That number has remained stable.”
“Do we have any visuals on them?” Damon said.
Neville shook his head. “They destroyed the surveillance camera.”
“Just like the witches did,” Damon said.
Nick pointed to the screens. “They didn’t destroy them. Irma temporarily incapacitated the cameras. I should have told her about the surveillance at our meeting. The cameras there are working again now.”
Which meant that Zoe’s grandmother must finally have remembered how to undo the spell she’d put on the cameras. At least that was one thing accomplished.
Damon returned his focus to the blank screen, which would have displayed a portion of the tunnel. “If we have no visuals, how do we know the number of demons in the tunnels has remained stable?”
“Heat sensors,” Neville said. “State of the art. Installed just a few months ago.”
At that point Pat Heller, the oldest resident of Vamptown given his claim that he’d been turned four hundred years ago, joined them. Pat was also a body artist and owner of Pat’s Tats next door to the bar. With his gray hair held back in a ponytail, the vamp was commonly mistaken for George Carlin before he passed away. Or so Pat claimed, being pleased with the comparison as Carlin was Pat’s favorite comedian. Since vampires remained the same as when they were turned, Pat’s hair remained long and prematurely gray as it had been when he’d been bitten back in the 1600s.
Personally, Damon got more of a hippie vibe from Pat than a comedian vibe although the vamp did have his funny moments.
Looking around, Pat shook his head. “I leave for one weekend for the Vamps in Vegas conference and I come back to mayhem. I have to say I wasn’t that surprised to hear we’ve got demons now. I was wondering when that would happen.”
“What do you mean?” Damon demanded.
“You’re a Demon Hunter. Why would you come to Vamptown to be our head of security? We haven’t had any demons in these parts for decades,” Pat said. “Half a century or more.”
Damon resented his insinuation. “So you think I’m responsible for the demons showing up here?”
“Not responsible. No,” Pat said, before adding, “But you are part of the puzzle somehow.”
“What puzzle?” Damon said.
Pat shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But it involves you and the witches.”
“I only met them today.”
“I realize that,” Pat said. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t some kind of cosmic connection between you and Zoe.”
“The only connection is that her grandmother released demons and I need to destroy them,” Damon said.
“These aren’t run-of-the-mill demons,” Neville said, inserting himself into the conversation before nervously pushing up his glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose. Bits of duct tape held the earpiece together.
“How would you know?” Damon demanded. “As Pat said, Vamptown hasn’t seen demons in half a century or more. You were turned forty years ago.”
“I wasn’t speaking from personal experience,” Neville said, “but from their energy level and heat levels. They won’t be easy to defeat.”
“Demons never are,” Damon said. “But that hasn’t stopped me before. It won’t stop me now. I need to get my hands on that book that released them.”
“How do you propose to do that?” Pat asked.
“By sticking to the witches like white on rice,” Damon said.
Pat’s partner, Bruce, entered the Vamp Cave, holding a tray with two dainty teacups filled with blood. There was nothing dainty about Bruce. The vamp was built like a brick outhouse. Nevertheless he was a self-proclaimed fashionista. Pat had once described him to Damon as part Hulk and part Armani.
“Tea time,” he cheerfully announced. Bruce’s occupation before being turned was that of a clown, which made him happy all the time. Or maybe he’d been born that way. Damon wasn’t sure. He only knew that he’d never met anyone as upbeat as Bruce. It wasn’t a character trait Damon was fond of in the least. Not that Damon had anything against Bruce. He just wished the vamp wasn’t such a ray of sunshine.
“So what are we talking about?” Bruce asked as he handed one teacup to Pat and took the other for himself before carefully setting the tray down.
“Demons.”
“Great.” Bruce grinned. “Demons or the straight-to-DVD sequel Demons Two?” Seeing everyone’s confused look, he said, “You’re talking about movies, right?”
“No, we’re talking about the demons in the basement,” Damon said. “Or the tunnels, to be more accurate.”
Bruce leaned forward with excitement. “Real ones?”
“Yeah.”
“Shut the door,” Bruce said.
“We have,” Damon said. “The demons are locked in the tunnel. For now.”
“For now?” Bruce repeated, suddenly nervous. “What do you mean by that?”
“They will find a way to get out sooner or later,” Damon warned.
“How soon?” Bruce bit his lip.
“There’s no telling, which is why I have to find that damn book,” Damon said. “The witches are the key.”
“There are two of them and only one of you,” Bruce said.
“Which means you’ll need help when you move in with them,” Pat told Damon.
“Who said anything about moving in with them?” Damon said. The truth was that he hadn’t actually formulated a plan yet. He’d been too busy fighting demons on the street and trying to locate the rest of their putrid kind.
Pat raised one gray eyebrow. “Did you have another plan in mind?”
“No.” Damon had to admit that moving in made sense. Keeping closer tabs on the witches was the only way to monitor the situation. Clearly relying on the surveillance cameras was not sufficient—things could change in an instant.
“At least Zoe already knows you are a vamp,” Pat said. “That should be helpful.”
“Helpful for what?”
“Dealing with her,” Pat said.
“Did you bring Zoe’s laptop so I can go over it?” Neville asked.
“No. I was sidetracked when she tried to kill me.” Seeing their startled looks, he explained. “She was possessed by a demon at the time.”
Nick frowned. “And you’re only telling us this now? You didn’t think it was worth mentioning before?”
“It’s been taken care of,” Damon said. “Her grandmother put a protection spell on her and Zoe did the same.”
“Who’s watching the witches now?” Nick said.
Damon pointed to the screen. “I sent Tanya to stay with them.”
“Heaven help us all,” Bruce said.
Chapter Seven
“So you’re a witch, huh?” Tanya gave Zoe the kind of dismissive look that the Dark Queen specialized in throughout the movie Snow White and the Huntsman. Tanya had been giving Zoe that look since Gram had made the mistake of inviting her in. After that, Gram had quickly returned to her own room, leaving Zoe to deal with their “guest.” “Show me something witchy.”
“So you’re a vampire, huh? Show me something vampy,” Zoe countered.
Tanya snarled
and bared her fangs.
“Okay, then.” Zoe took a quick step back. “That was fun.”
“What’s the matter?” Tanya taunted. “Are you afraid of me?”
“No,” Zoe lied. “That’s not it at all.”
“Then why did you step away?”
“I don’t mean to be rude but you could use some breath freshener,” Zoe said.
“Like I’d believe anything a witch told me.”
“You don’t know a thing about me,” Zoe said.
“I know all I need to know. If you think you can sell your wares here in Vamptown, you are sadly mistaken. I’m the owner of Tanya’s Tanning Salon.”
“Tanning beds are dangerous.”
“So are vampires.” Tanya bared her fangs again.
“Maybe you’d like to try one of my moisturizers…?” Zoe suggested.
Tanya was highly offended. “Vampires don’t age. We don’t get wrinkles. That’s why my boyfriend turned me. To keep me beautiful and young. So don’t think you have a chance with Damon.”
“Damon?”
“That’s right. Keep your witchy mitts off him.”
Zoe recalled licking his wrist. Remembered the taste of his skin on her tongue. She replayed the moment she’d sat on her bed and he’d leaned over her. “What did he tell you?”
“Everything.”
The fiend. Zoe wanted to kick his vampire butt. Damon had some nerve talking about her to this slutty female vampire.
Okay, so Zoe had no idea if Tanya actually was slutty, but she sure looked the type. Skinny but oozing sex in a tight tank top, spandex micro-mini, and stiletto black boots. And yes, given her librarian background, Zoe should know better than to judge a book by its cover. But if Tanya walked like a slut and quacked like a slut, Zoe felt justified in labeling her one. Besides, the female vampire had been rude since she walked in.
“If it was up to me, I’d let the demons get you,” Tanya said, flipping her hair over a tanned shoulder. “Not that I’m really here to protect you. I’m here to make sure you don’t do another witchy thing to make trouble. Damon sent me.”
“You can have him,” Zoe said.
“I don’t need your permission to get Damon.”
“Get him? I thought you said you already had him,” Zoe challenged her.
“I lost Nick to a cupcake maker. I am not about to lose Damon to a witch.”
“I already said I don’t want him,” Zoe assured Tanya.
“Yeah, right,” Tanya scoffed. “Every woman wants Damon.”
“Not the smart ones.”
“Are you saying that I’m stupid?”
“I don’t know you well enough to make a determination like that,” Zoe said in her best demure voice.
“Well, I know you well enough to know that I don’t like you,” Tanya retorted. “You act like you’re better than anyone else.”
“You should be relieved that I’m not interested in Damon.”
“It’s not like you’d be any real competition,” Tanya said. “I mean, look at you. There’s no way you could compete with this.” She pointed to her model-thin body. “Unless you used black magic.”
“I don’t do black magic.”
“You’re a witch. Witches do black magic.”
“Not all witches.”
“Maybe black magic doesn’t work on vampires. I’ll have to ask Pat about that.”
“Who is Pat?” Zoe said.
“He runs Pat’s Tats Body Art Salon and he knows everything.”
“Is he a vampire, too?” Zoe asked.
“Of course.”
“And a Demon Hunter like Damon?”
“No,” Tanya said. “No one is like Damon.”
Zoe’s curiosity was aroused. “What do you mean by that?”
“He’s special.”
“Because he hunts demons? What made him get into that line of work?”
“Why do you want to know?” Tanya asked suspiciously. “Because you’re a demon’s BFF? Is that why you unleashed them?”
“I didn’t even know demons existed until a few hours ago,” Zoe said.
“Then you’re the one who is stupid, not me.”
“Maybe I am,” Zoe muttered. She certainly didn’t feel like she’d made a brilliant move here. She for sure had not landed somewhere safe and secure. No way. Instead it felt like she’d left one bad situation back in Boston for another one here in Chicago’s Vamptown.
With her librarian background, Zoe was an excellent researcher. She should have learned more about their new location before moving. But there hadn’t been time. They’d had to leave in a hurry and this mess was the result.
Zoe didn’t like to hurry. She liked to be thorough and precise, although there had been times in her life when she’d taken a leap of faith. A very few times. And they’d all ended badly. Which should have been a warning about moving to Chicago.
But Zoe had thought she’d be leaving all that behind. Yes, she was still a witch. There was no leaving that behind. It was as much a part of her as her height or her long dark hair. Wait, she could cut her hair or dye it. But there was no changing the fact that she was a witch. She could change what she did with that ability, however.
The last time she’d taken a leap of faith, she’d hooked up with Tristin Winters. She’d fallen for him big time. As a professor specializing in the paranormal, he’d been comfortable in her world before he knew there was anything unusual about her, aside from her bicolored eyes.
He’d said he loved her. That she was the woman he’d been waiting for his entire life. Her mother, who’d still been alive when he’d proposed, had warned Zoe to take her time and not do anything rash like tell Tristin that she was a witch from a long line of witches.
No human was supposed to know.
But Zoe had trusted Tristin. She didn’t see how she could say yes to his proposal if he didn’t know the truth.
So she’d told him. He’d taken the news incredibly well. And he hadn’t made any demands on her. Not at first.
Tristin had been subtle at first. He’d been solicitous and sweet. Concerned and candid.
No one outside of her family and her coven knew Zoe was a witch. She’d never said a word to anyone else. It’s not like the admission was a great conversation starter. Besides, it broke the covenant of their coven to reveal to a human the fact that she was a witch.
Tristin got that. He understood her. Or so she’d thought.
He’d requested her help when there had been drastic cuts in funding for his department at the college. When he’d wanted her to help him in the stock market, he’d told her about his earlier trips to research the legends of Nepal and how he wanted to donate money to build schools there and help more of those in need.
She hadn’t agreed at first but had eventually taken another leap of faith and done it. A sign of how much she’d trusted him. That trust had been completely misplaced.
She didn’t learn that fact until her mother’s death. Even now, two years later, she missed her mother and felt the loss like a huge void within her. The dark side of magic had resulted in her mother dying and Zoe vowing she’d never use magic again.
Tristin’s compassion and understanding had only lasted a few days before he wanted her to cast another spell to increase his finances—for the greater good, he claimed. When she refused, he’d been furious and she’d broken their engagement.
Gram had stepped in and zapped Tristin with a memory spell to make him forget the fact that Zoe was a witch.
The entire experience had been a lesson very painfully learned. When their coven had eventually learned that Zoe had confided her secret to a human, they had been very angry with her. Zoe had been put on probation. Gram’s run-in with the motivational speaker had been the last straw as far as the coven was concerned. Like vampires, witches preferred to stay under the radar. The Adams witches currently had two strikes against them. A third could be disastrous. So they’d been sent away.
Not that there wa
s any danger of history repeating itself. Zoe didn’t trust Damon at all. Besides, he already knew she was a witch. He clearly had a thing against her kind. But if he knew that she’d once trusted her deepest secret to a human, he would most likely accuse her of being willing to reveal the fact that she was living among vampires, insinuating that she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Which wasn’t true.
It belatedly occurred to Zoe that the surveillance cameras were working. “We’re being watched, aren’t we?”
Tanya looked around. “By the demons?”
Zoe pointed to the surveillance camera in the corner of the living room up near the crown molding.
Was Damon watching? Had he heard what she’d said about him? She tried to remember exactly what she had said.
“So tell me more about these demons you unleashed,” Tanya said.
“I didn’t unleash them.”
“Right. The story is that your grandmother unleashed them.”
“It’s not a story. Did Damon send you over here to interrogate me?” Zoe demanded.
“What if he did?”
“Then I’ll tell you the same thing I told him.”
“The same story you made up.”
“It’s not a story. It’s the truth.” The expression on Tanya’s face clearly indicated that she didn’t believe Zoe. “Why would I want demons hanging around?”
“Because you’re a witch.”
“And all witches call upon demons?”
“I don’t know. You’re the first witch I’ve ever met,” Tanya admitted.
“Then let me be the first to assure you that witches do not want demons around. Witches aren’t evil.”
Tanya just gave her a look.
“Okay, so maybe somewhere on the planet there are evil witches,” Zoe said. “But we aren’t. We’re good witches.”
“Now you sound like Daniella.”
“She’s not a witch,” Zoe said.
“I know that. But she plays the songs from that musical Wicked when she’s making cupcakes.”
“I met her. She seems very nice.”
“I’m the one who saved her, you know. When she was trapped down in the tunnels, I mean. I escaped and got help.”
