Page 22 of Caroled
“No,” Collins replied flatly. “Humans are twisted fucks. But in a predictable way. I know what motivates them—anger, greed, laziness, lust, addiction. I know what to expect. I don’t know what the hell a goddamn furry scorpion wants and what it’s gonna do.”
He tucked the card inside his coat, clapped his hat onto his head, and started to stand. But Charles stopped him with a raised hand. “There’s one other thing, while you’re at it.”
“What?”
“There’s a pretty boy singing at the Sea Dog. He doesn’t look happy to be there.”
Collins snorted. “Nobody’s happy to be in that dump. What is it you want me to do about it?”
“Just make sure that whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it willingly.”
“Willingly comes in all kinds of flavors, Joe.” Collins shrugged slightly, suggesting capitulation. “But I’ll make sure he’s not in too much trouble, all right?”
“Thank you.”
Collins muttered something that sounded like “Goddamn feds,” and then departed without another word.
It Came Upon the Midnight Clear
The following night,Charles and Tenrael fought a vampire. She was a young one, probably turned within the past year, but that made her all the more vicious. Long-established vampires survived on restraint and tact. They were vulnerable, as creatures went, with their limited diets and many ways to be killed. Charles had even met a few vamps who fed on willing victims, never taking enough to harm them, and although that wasn’t his own personal thing, he didn’t judge any of the parties involved.
But this particular vampire had, according to informants’ reports, just arrived in town from Christ knew where, and she’d already slaughtered several dogs and a middle-aged man who’d been making a predawn vegetable delivery in Chinatown. She had to be dealt with.
It would have been best to confront her before sunset, when she was still at rest, but unfortunately it was well after dark when they tracked her to the inside of a small warehouse just off Stockton Street. She’d probably been no more than twenty when she died, but it was hard to tell—she was gaunt now, with filthy matted hair and rags for clothing, and she hissed viciously when they found her.
“You’ve been killing people,” Charles said to her, almost gently, because it wasn’t really her fault. Not too long ago, she might have been a perfectly lovely person going about an ordinary, harmless life. And then some bastard of a vamp had killed her and turned her into a monster. She couldn’t help needing blood to survive. But even though it wasn’t an animal’s fault that it caught rabies, that animal would still need to be put down.
The vampire bared her fangs. He didn’t see anything rational in her eyes, simply rage and fear and hunger.
“If you’d been turned by a vamp gentleman or gentlewoman, this wouldn’t be happening. He or she would have kept a leash on you until you learned control. You might have had a long unlife ahead of you. But I don’t have any vamp associates handy to teach you, I’m afraid.”
While Charles spoke, Tenrael had been creeping up behind her. A quiet, clean kill of a vamp required a wooden stake through the heart, and that meant getting close. Normally Ten was very good at moving stealthily, his dark wings camouflaging him and muting any sounds he made. But tonight he wore the ring, so there were no wings. He had shoes on too, and his step was just a little too loud on the dusty floorboards. Before he was within striking distance, the vampire shrieked, spun, and flew at him. She latched her fangs onto Tenrael’s throat, the force of her attack driving him back and making him drop the stake.
A vampire bite couldn’t destroy a demon, but it still hurt like hell. Tenrael shouted something foul-sounding in what might have been Etruscan, and Charles smelled his blood, rich and sweet and piquant.
Roaring, Charles surged toward them. He held a stake, but it was difficult to get a good angle. A bullet to her head would have slowed her considerably, but then Charles would risk shooting Ten as well. So he thrust the stake into her back with as much aim as he could muster. It wasn’t good enough. She whipped around, dragging the embedded stake from his grip, and went for his throat. Fortunately he was tall and she was short, so she ended up with a mouthful of his chest instead.
Charles swore—but not in Etruscan—and tried to pry the stake out of her back. Before he could get an adequate grip and before Tenrael could help, the vampire released him with an inhuman scream and stumbled backward. Her mouth and jaw were… melting. Like candle wax. As Charles and Tenrael watched, she shrieked and clawed at her face. Within seconds her nose was gone too, and then her eyes, and she slowly collapsed to the floor with a terrible gurgling sound. Her body melted, very rapidly, until nothing was left but hair, clothing, and a greasy smear.
“What the hell?” Charles breathed.
Tenrael’s throat had a gaping hole, but it had already stopped bleeding and he wasn’t paying the wound any attention. “Have you ever been bitten by a vampire before?”
“No.”
Ten nodded as if that proved his point. “Your blood destroyed her.”
Charles pressed a palm against the bite mark on his chest and shook his head. “I don’t see how. Your blood didn’t seem to bother her.”
“You and I are not the same, Master.”
“I….” Charles didn’t want to think about it. Because while being toxic to vampires might be a handy asset in his line of work, it was also a reminder that he wasn’t truly human. That he wasn’tanythingclassifiable. “Let’s go back to the hotel and clean up.”
“Your injury needs tending to.”
“I’ll be fine. We have a first aid kit.”
But Tenrael gently moved Charles’s hand out of the way, ripped open his shirt and undershirt to better expose the bite, and licked at it very tenderly. Nothing unpleasant happened. He didn’t scream and melt when the blood slid down his throat. Charles was, however, suddenly overtaken by the eroticism of Ten’s soft, damp tongue against his own skin, and his trousers became uncomfortably tight. “You consume blood too?” His voice sounded rough to his own ears. “I’ve never heard that about demons.”
