The Entity Who Came for Christmas

yet.

“Time to eat,” Gram called from the dining room.

“Before we go to dinner, do you have any advice on dealing with a vampire Demon Hunter?” Pru asked Zoe.

Bella raised her paw. “I do. Get the hell out while you still can!”

* * *

Simon stared out the loft window. Streetlights prevented him from seeing stars. The light snow earlier had cleared. He hated standing around doing nothing, but Damon had been correct in saying that no witch would help him if he interrupted their Yule Solstice celebration. So he’d have to wait.

He hated waiting. When he’d deliberately bumped into Pru in London, she hadn’t made him wait. She’d responded right away. When things hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected, he hadn’t waited around. Instead of appreciating his honesty with her, she’d turned around and cursed him.

This mess had gone on long enough. Time for some action. If not with Pru, then with demons. He glanced at his watch. It was almost midnight. “We have over seven hours until daylight,” he said.

“Daylight doesn’t bother me now,” Damon said.

“I’m at my most powerful at night.” Simon, too, could tolerate sunlight, but he was drawn to the darkness, for that’s where demons gathered. “Let’s do a little demon hunting. Are you game?”

“Always,” Damon said.

Simon knew he’d trained Damon well. He also knew Damon was a fierce fighter. But he didn’t have the many centuries of experience that Simon did. Nor the scars.

Vampire wounds healed unless you were beheaded or burned to a cinder. Then it was lights-out. But Simon’s scars weren’t all visible. He was cursed in more ways than one. He’d been cursed before Pru had cut off his sex life. At least she hadn’t cut off his privates.

His scars went back to his time in Camelot. When King Arthur had asked for Simon’s help, he’d been honor bound to oblige. How could he not? As one of the Knights of the Round Table, Simon was committed to serving his liege. He’d vowed to do whatever it took to protect King Arthur.

Merlin had stepped in, showing off his fangs. Simon had heard the rumors of Merlin’s magic, but he’d had no idea of what was to come. His transition had been rough. Merlin hadn’t used this particular curse, the curse of vampirism, on many before. In practicing it on Simon, he’d left wounds that couldn’t be healed. Some were physical, like the slashes across his chest. Others went deeper, like the memory of being locked in a dungeon and craving more blood so intensely, so fiercely, that he’d ripped the iron chains from the stone walls, breaking his wrists in the process. He’d become a feral beast and gone on a killing rampage in a nearby village.

Innocent humans had been slaughtered. That’s when Merlin had almost ended Simon’s life as a vampire. But instead, he’d taught Simon how to hunt and destroy demons. Demons like Mordred, who wanted Arthur’s throne for himself.

Merlin had turned Simon in order for Simon to serve as a better protector. And he had done so for a time. Until the battlefield at Camlann. Legend had it that Arthur had killed Mordred there. But no human, not even a powerful king, can kill a demon.

Simon had been the one who had shoved the spear through Mordred. Even so, despite Simon’s best efforts, Mordred had still managed to wound Arthur, who’d later died from those injuries. Merlin had been furious with Simon and banished him for centuries.

Remembering Mordred filled Simon with fury. Moving at vamp superspeed, he stepped outside and sniffed the air. “I smell the rot of demons.”

“Here in Vamptown?”

“No. Follow me.”

Simon took to the air. He didn’t consider it flying as much as airborne transport. It was fast, so fast that humans’ eyes couldn’t register his movements. It was also efficient and stayed well under the radar.

Maneuvering around Chicago’s famous skyline was no problem. He’d successfully navigated most of the major cities in the world, although there had been one towering 163-floor skyscraper in Dubai a few months ago that had been tricky. But Chicago, like New York City, had skyscrapers close together, which required increased concentration and due diligence. Simon had plenty of both, allowing him to arrive at his destination precisely two seconds before Damon.

“Here?” Damon looked around in surprise. “This is the Christkindlmarket in Daley Plaza. An outdoor market. It’s closed now obviously, but we’re in the middle of downtown Chicago.”

Simon ignored the towering Christmas tree with its twinkling white lights in the center of the plaza and instead focused on the rest of the holiday setup. “Quaint, hmm? The way they make the facades look like timber houses in an old European village. Just like the ones that sent out their inhabitants with torches to burn vampires.”

“Probably not what the organizers had in mind when they designed it this way,” Damon noted dryly. “What makes you think there are demons here?”

“This.” Simon drew his specialized dagger as a gang of demons descended upon them. There were at least a dozen. Their horns were protruding and their claws were sharp enough to slice through steel.

Simon used his powers to cut the electricity, shutting off the lights all around him and throwing the plaza into total darkness. He loved fighting in the dark. He could see the glowing reflection of the demons’ eyes and smell their putrid scent. Their snarls told him they were eager for battle.

Simon sliced the throat of the first demon to attack him and then the next. But each time he slayed one, the demon disintegrated and another took his place. These were not normal demons. These were mercenaries who didn’t disappear but left a pile of remainder that would regurgitate into an even stronger demon unless precautions were taken.

“Demon dust,” Simon told Damon, who was fending off a trio of demons. “Now I’m royally pissed.” Reaching into his right boot, Simon pulled another demon dagger out of its sheath just in time to stab it into the malevolent glowing eye of the demon who was millimeters away from ripping him apart.

Moments later it was over as fast as it had begun. Simon looked at the piles of demon dust surrounding him before turning to Damon and saying, “Call your witch. And tell her to bring a broom.”

CHAPTER THREE

“You rang?” Pru drawled sarcastically before looking around the darkened plaza with a grimace. The stench was nearly overwhelming. So was her anger at the way Simon thought he could order witches around. She’d made her appearance before Damon could phone Zoe. “I’m not here to clean up your mess.”

“Then why are you here?” Simon demanded.

“Because Zoe couldn’t come. This is the first time she has celebrated Solstice since her mom died. No way am I letting you mess it up for her.” After dinner they’d burned the yule log, which had included Pru’s hastily scrawled wish note. Then Pru had told Zoe and her grandmother that she needed some fresh air and gone out for a walk.

The truth was that she’d gone to look for Simon. She’d seen him fly off into the night sky and decided to follow him. At first it had been a stupid whim. Then she’d been almost compelled by a sense of urgency. She’d arrived in time to hear Simon’s comment about telling Zoe to bring her broom.

As if a vampire had the right to make such a demand. As if a witch still used a broom. Well, some did in special circumstances.

Clearly a battle had taken place here in the plaza, one that Simon and Damon had won. She saw the strange piles surrounding them but wasn’t sure what they were. So she asked, “What seems to be the problem?”

“The problem is that this is demon dust,” Simon said.

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?” She held out her hands, palms down, and recited the spell.

“Demons in dust