A Darker Crimson

by Carolyn Jewel

  She tried to move away from him and this time, her legs obeyed. But the swirling inside filled her and took him with her. His breath came fast at first, then slower and softer. One last touch; he gave a stroke along her cheek. He withdrew. How alone she felt.

  Now that he was done, his hatred of humans raged through him, warred with the dark and tenebrous heat that coursed through them both. He dressed with the same heart-wrenching grace as before and left without a word. But in her head, Claudia felt him. She would never be free of him.

  After Lath left, she gathered her clothes and dressed herself. She curled up on the pallet, eyes closed tight. A classic reaction, her head told her. But all the reading and lectures in the world on paranormal assault hadn’t prepared her for the reality of intercourse with a creature who made her want him even when she didn’t. She’d rather have Korzha any day. Korzha didn’t want her either, but he’d never leave her feeling like this. He’d convince her sex with a him was exactly what she’d been missing her whole life.

  Hours later, a lifetime later, the window inched open. Air flowed through the opening and something moved with it, silent as falling snow. But she knew him. The shift in the stillness of the air was the reason. She knew he was there. Korzha. Not Lath.

  She gave no sign of being awake. All the better if he thought she was asleep. For a while, the quiet deafened her. Behind her closed eyes, she tried to guess what he was doing.

  At last, he spoke. “Oh, dear-heart,” he whispered. “I am so sorry.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I know you’re not asleep,” Korzha said to Donovan’s back. A note of anger underlay his words, and he tried to smooth out his reaction. “Who was it?”

  Without turning over, Donovan said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” Her mind was closed to him, and that made his heart ache. He would not feel for her. Did not want to. “This room reeks of sex.” His voice trembled, and the betrayal of his control shocked him.

  Humans always misjudged a vampire’s ability to see and sense. Always. A child had more hope of gulling a vigilant parent than a human had of deceiving a vampire. Her breathing went shallow. She really did not understand she couldn’t fool him. Not about this.

  “What difference does it make?” she said.

  Did she think he felt nothing?

  “Go away.” Her voice came out lifeless, and Korzha wanted to weep the tears that ought to be hers. He reached for her mind again in a light touch that sent her sitting bolt upright, ready to battle. She was a warrior to be admired. The first thing he did was look at her eyes. There was no hint of madness, only hopelessness. “Don’t you dare try any of that voodoo head stuff on me, Korzha.” She teetered on the edge of hysteria, and he could smell the tears coming. “Just don’t, okay?”

  Instantly, he was at her side, kneeling, close enough to touch, but not touching. He was done with humans. Done. In all things emotional, he’d been done with them for longer than she’d been alive. She should not feel so dear to him. None of that changed the fact that he wanted to make everything all right for her. This was his fault. His alone.

  She pushed him. “I said go away.”

  “Are you hurt?” The demon’s scent rose to him. Sweat. Heat. Lust.

  She let out a sharp puff of air. “Not so you can see.”

  He took her face between his hands and tipped her head toward his. Their eyes met, and he almost couldn’t stand to look. She radiated despair, a quiet closing of a door in her mind. The smell of sex and sweat, hers and the demon’s, became sharper. He ought to have known this would happen. He knew enough of demons and their natures that he ought to have known she wouldn’t be safe. He should have come after her right away, healed or not. Safe or not. While Jaise was alive the other demons hadn’t dared touch her. But now? A different demon had done just that, had put himself into her body and left her like this. Anger rose in him, fury. He, Tiberiu Korzha, had touched her body, caressed her, fed from her and marked her as his. She trusted him enough to agree to a permanent connection between them; vampire and vampire-maker. If she hadn’t trusted him, she would have made her own deal with the demon Council. He wanted to kill whoever had done this to her.

  “Go away,” she whispered.

  “I should have come sooner.”

  “Why? What do you care? The deal’s off. There’s no point in converting me now.” She swallowed hard. “I’m going to die, so nothing you do or don’t do makes a hell of a lot of difference.”

  He used a thumb to wipe away a tear she didn’t realize she’d shed. He lifted his hand from her face and stared at the drop of water balanced on the side of his thumb. His tongue flicked out and caught it. There was a lovely taste of salt. “This is my fault,” he said.

  She laughed bitterly. “How do you figure that, Korzha?”

  “If I hadn’t let you see me that night, you’d never have come to investigate. You’d never have been anywhere near Jaise or any other demon.”

  “They would have gotten to me sooner or later. The only question is whether it happened before or after I started taping up posters with my daughter’s face on them. Whichever way, I’d be just as bad off as I am now, so, you know, fang, really. Don’t sweat it.”

  “I let myself get caught up with half-demons in the city.” God, no. This was not the time to speak of Mika and Conor. She didn’t know, and it wasn’t important. “We leave now,” he said.

  She resisted the pull of his hand on her wrists. “I’m not going anywhere without Holly.”

  “I’ll take care of that.” He let her go and rose. “We’re going now.”

  “Where?” She pushed to her feet. He knew from the way she stood that she was sore between her legs, and damp with the demon’s seed. “Why?”

  Korzha whirled on her, and Donovan, whom he’d rarely seen back down from anyone or anything, took a step away. He didn’t let her see the extent of his anger. With some effort he suppressed his reaction but anguish bubbled up. “I do not countenance any creature who does what happened here tonight. I will not stand by and let it happen again. I promise you, I will get you and your daughter to the portal. The rest is up to you.” He had to fight back his desire to do more.

  Her lip curled. “What about the Elismal?”

  “What about them?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing, I guess.”

  He bit back his retort. That darkness so indicative of the more dangerous demons impinged on his senses. Elismal. He recognized their arrogant over-confidence. There was something else, though, darker and separate from the Elismal demons. The thing that had assaulted Donovan. It was heading this way, too. In a flash, Korzha was outside the window, clinging to the wall, hand outstretched. “Move it, Donovan. They’re coming. He’s coming for you again.”

  “It’s no good,” she said. “Demons can sense me. Take me with you and we’ll both end up dead.”

  “No we won’t. I can shield us both.” He stretched his hand to her again. “Come on,” he said.

  The door flew off its hinges. Donovan threw herself at the window, grasping for his hand. From over her shoulder, Korzha saw Aslet and three other demons rush in. The air wailed in his ears, a hurricane of motion. Aslet opened his mouth to speak, his hand pointed at Donovan’s back, but the word didn’t reach Korzha’s ears because he snatched at Donovan’s collar and hauled her up and out. Her feet left the ground, and when she was out the window, her legs swung wide and threw him off balance. He tilted precariously. Donovan rocked her hips toward the wall, keeping her legs moving, an instinctive reaction on her part. It worked, her center of balance shifted, and he recovered.

  He reached the rooftop just as Aslet and another demon with a thatch of dark blond hair did, too, exiting a nearby stairwell. Emotions flashed through him. Not Donovan’s. Not Aslet’s, whose mind Korzha recognized without much difficulty. No, these were the emotions of another demon. One dark and strong enough to broadcast his feelings directly i
nto any receptive mind. One who knew Korzha was taking Donovan away from him. He felt the demon’s emotions: rage, fear, jealousy. And, oddly enough, concern for Donovan’s safety, and a direct challenge to Korzha’s link with her.

  The blond demon split off to the right, Aslet to the left, both trying to head them off. Korzha reached an attic projection and poised on it. Donovan got her arms around his neck. He cloaked himself and her as dozens of demon guards suddenly took to the air. They’d learned their lesson after the debacle in the Council room. There was no going upward to safety this time. Korzha breathed in Donovan’s scent. The monster in him was aroused by the smell of her blood, the heat of her body. Acrid sweat. Stale sex. He got an arm tighter around her and plunged off the side of the palace. Wind whistled past his ears. He braced himself for landing, cradling Donovan and absorbing the bump. He turned her toward him, and she put her arms around his shoulders, holding tight as he raced across the courtyard and leapt for the wall, away from the palace and into Biirkma.

  Downhill, along the city’s narrow streets he raced, turning corners at a dizzying speed. Demons screeched overhead. Korzha got brief impressions of his surroundings. Every now and then, he saw someone disappear into a house. Doors slammed, windows banged closed. Far away the air shrieked, bodies hurtling through the night at top speed.

  He kept moving. Away from the palace. In the dimness of the moonlight, Biirkma’s impression of age reminded him of his first sight of London, the city to which he’d headed after he first left Romania. Biirkma possessed a similar grandeur, though here the buildings were of stone undarkened by the smoke from thousands of fires. And the air smelled different, cleaner, sharper. Older. The position of the moon matched his internal clock. Late night, heading toward morning. Not much time. Below, animals barked, yowled in protest and then shushed, their cries cut off.

  Korzha leapt onto another roof as a howl split the air. The sound sent ice shivering down his back. He knew without doubt it was the demon who’d killed Jaise, the Bak-Faru who’d stared at Donovan like he couldn’t decide whether to kill her or lay her flat on her back. Apparently, he’d made his decision, whether Donovan wanted him or not. The demon’s rage and jealously filled his head. Donovan’s arms tightened around him as he leapt from roof to roof. At last, he was out of range.

  He plunged downward again, into a street so narrow that moonlight did nothing for shadows blacker than black. He set Donovan on her feet and pressed his back to the vine-covered wall. She did likewise. Crushed blossoms gave off an over-sweet smell. Her breath came too fast, too human. With luck, the flowers would mask her scent. How did humans survive to dominate Earth when they had so little physically at their command?

  Across the street and under the glow of a fuzzy blue lantern was a door painted the color of old egg yolk. There was no one inside the house beyond. Korzha touched Donovan’s arm, signaling that the door was their destination when the street cleared. She nodded. Overhead, red tinged the crescent center of the moon, the craters and crevices so clear he wanted to reach up and touch them.

  The street where they’d come to a stop exited onto a wider avenue where demons walked in greater numbers. Some looked around. A few broke into a run. Others dashed into buildings. A covered sedan chair carried by two bare-chested demons appeared. The owner’s head popped out once, a pair of pale yellow eyes scanning the alley.

  “Shit,” Korzha muttered. He willed the demoness to see nothing, to sense nothing but demons on the wing.

  The sedan-chair curtain flicked back, and its bearers trotted away. Korzha motioned with one hand. There was a faint snick and across the street the yellow door swung open. Korzha grabbed Donovan’s wrist, swung her into his arms and leapt, catlike, across the avenue. He slipped inside and closed the door after him. The bolt slid home. He waited for Donovan’s eyes to adjust to the light. As in every demon home he’d seen, lights came on with the first movement, glowing blue.

  “Someone lives here,” she said.

  It was a cozy room with a low wooden table, rugs, two piles of pillows, and cupboards lining the walls. Wood and stone. Nothing synthetic. “But they are not at home.” Korzha said. He turned to the cupboards and started opening them. Now that he wasn’t running like hell, it was easier to extend his shield to Donovan. “It’s why I chose this house.”

  “Well, yeah, but—What are you doing?”

  He pulled open another cupboard and rifled the contents. It distracted her, focused her on right now instead of what had happened. Good. That’s what he wanted. “Looking for something more comfortable to wear.”

  “What for?”

  “If we’re going to pass, for however brief a glimpse, we’ll have to dress the part.” He looked her up and down.

  “Pass?”

  “Dear-heart. Draga inima.” He put a hand over his chest. “While I find your current attire très charmante, it lacks the local flavor.”

  “Creep,” she said, but not with much feeling. “None of that vampire voodoo head stuff on me.”

  “Forgive me.” He hadn’t meant to, but honestly, reaching for her that way, with his psyche, was his nature. Now that he’d fed from her deeply, enough to forge a surprisingly strong connection, such a reaction was instinct.

  “I am not going to let you bite me,” she said.

  “No time for intimacies, I’m afraid,” he replied with a laugh. He found a cupboard with clothing in it and dumped the contents on the table. When he looked up, he caught her a furrow between Donovan’s eyebrows. “What?”

  “I mean it.”

  “I’m sure you do,” he said.

  “Well?”

  “Officer Donovan.” He sat on the floor and selected clothes that looked a reasonable fit for him. He shoved the rest toward her. “You are so engagingly…human.”

  She snatched something from a peg by the door. When she turned back to him, the leather straps of a knife and sheath dangled from one hand. His eyebrows lifted. “Protection,” she said. “A girl’s got to have some protection.”

  He nodded. “Good. Fine. Now, please find something that looks like it might fit you, Donovan. You need to at least try to pass for a demon. It’s not that hard.”

  “Right.” With the sheath dangling over her arm, she knelt to look through the clothes. Korzha made small talk.

  “My sort has had to pass for human if we wished to continue in our lives in Crimson City,” he said.

  She held a pair of trousers to her hips, but snorted. “Your sort. Do you mean criminals or killers?”

  “My sort,” he said, “want only to assure ourselves we will not be hunted down for the mere fact of our existence.”

  Donovan rolled her eyes. “Is that someone’s bleeding heart I hear? A killer’s bleeding heart?”

  Korzha’s eyebrow quirked, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t defend himself. She could say anything, think anything if it helped keep her mind off what had happened to her. He was sorry for what had happened to her and angry that another creature had dared touch what was his by vampire tradition. And such fierceness for a human: If Donovan were a vampire, she’d be running one of the four Families one day.

  “Today, right now, if you want to live, you better be a killer, too, yes?” he asked. She pricked up her ears, and he knew he’d let his old voice come back, the old-Europe voice. Orcus seemed to be reverting him in more than one way. “You’ll have to pass here, Officer. At least from a distance. I can only cloak your humanity so much. The sooner you learn to deny what you are, the better for everyone. I assure you of that.” He plucked a shirt from the pile on the table. “Your daughter is alive. Do not give up hope. Do try not to get yourself killed in some moment of grief.” It was his biggest fear.

  “I’ll manage,” was all she said.

  He allowed himself a moment of bitterness, thinking back to her earlier accusations. “As if,” he said, “you’ve ever pretended to be something you’re not.”

  She laughed, a cold, sad sound. “Korzha,” sh
e said. “You have no idea how long I’ve been ‘passing.’”

  What could she know about that? “Humans are so infernally naive. There ought to be a law to protect you from your own stupidity,” he said.

  Hand over her chest, she replied, “My own bleeding heart says I have a right to my stupid opinion and that I will defend to the death your right to have one, too.” She grinned at him. “See? Ain’t equality grand?”

  “How grateful I am.” He laughed. “Where would I be without you and people like you?” He put both his hands on the table and leaned toward her. Seeing her smile was good. He kept back a grin of his own.

  “I told you.” Her dark-chocolate eyes widened. They were eyes a demon had stared into while he took her. He found his anger again. “None of that voodoo head stuff you vamps do.”

  “I’m doing what I must,” he said.

  “Fang, I can’t tell you how sick and tired I am of hearing about what other freaks must do. Particularly when I don’t want to do whatever it is they think they must do.”

  That didn’t stop him touching her mind. “I am trying to keep you from getting killed. Your pathetically short mortal life, the one for which you are so grateful, could be considerably shortened at any time.”

  Eyes wide, Donovan backed away from him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Korzha laughed. He took a step toward her. “I’m not going to bite you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Liar. But know this: I can survive here indefinitely without you, Officer. You can’t. Even the weakest demon will know what you are. Without me, you won’t last five minutes.” He felt a need to challenge her, to know, really know, if she was as resilient as his connection with her suggested. It seemed she was. Donovan faced him down.

  “Maybe so, but without me, fang, you can’t get back through the portal. So you better hope I live long enough to get us through.”