Ravenous

Sweetie was up on its hind legs again, clawing at the magically adhering towel with swipes of its forepaws. Holly backed up and into the hallway. Frustrated and blind, the mouse fell forward, cracking its head loudly on the old oak door frame. It shrieked with rage, a sound like torquing metal.

The tail lashed forward, bullwhip-fast, and caught Holly's ankle. She barely felt its touch until it snapped tight, searing her bare skin in its coils. It burned like acid.

Screaming at the pain, Holly shot whatever energy she could muster. It was enough to smack Sweetie on the nose. The tail released with a slithering noise and Holly scrambled away, smelling her own burned flesh.

The tail came at her again, but she was watching for it. Holly was running out of the hallway. Still blinded, the mouse lunged forward one more time. Holly ran, skidded, and stumbled down the stairs, clinging to the heavy banister.

Sweetie scrambled after.

Halfway down, Holly grabbed the rail and swung her legs over, the same way she had as a kid. A cracking sound snapped the air as her feet left the stair treads, but the old wood held. With a whoop of terror, Holly dropped to the floor on the other side and landed with a gasp, sprawling on her hands and knees.

'Terry eleison!' she spat, her voice barely above a whisper in her fright. With the last of her power she delivered another shock to the towel.

Sweetie, startled, blind, finding no purchase with its claws, tumbled down the stairs and landed in a limp heap. Somewhere on the way down, it broke its neck. The mouse thing lay silent for a moment before shivering and dissolving into nothing, small particles powdering away to thin air.

What the hell?

Jumping to her feet, Holly gaped at the empty space a few seconds, sweat beading over her cold, trembling skin. Her ankle burned, but the heat was fading now. The other pain, the aftershock of magic, throbbed like a full-body bruise.

With glacial slowness, she approached the spot where the mouse had fallen, her bare toes shrinking away from where it had touched the floor. No hint of its presence. No trace. No shred.

A door slammed upstairs. Holly started, but felt a new surge of angry bravado. Racing up the stairs, she froze on the top step. The nursery door had shut. There was a whispering sound—not voices, but something feathery. It was a sound she knew of old, one of the house's familiar noises. The place was healing itself.

The thought that there had been something to heal burned in her brain. What was going on? What had just happened? Hiccuping in fright, Holly ran down the stairs and into the bathroom. She tore through the pile of clothes on the floor, scrabbling for her phone.

The first speed dial on the phone was Ben's. She rejected his number with barely a thought, and not just because he was magi-phobic these days. This wasn't the sort of emergency that could be solved with a pie chart and a tax lawyer. With shaking fingers, she punched a button.

'Caravelli,' came the familiar voice at the other end of the line.

'It's Holly.'

There was a micropause. 'What's wrong?'

His voice held an edge of intent, as if she had his complete attention. She blessed him for it. He was there when it counted.

'Pardon me for asking this,' he went on, 'but do you have the hiccups?'

Her thoughts suddenly went sideways, like a stack of books tumbling into disarray. 'You have to come help me,' she said. 'I killed a mouse, and it was awful!'

Chapter 9

It took Holly twenty minutes to pull herself together and put on some clothes. She was too rattled to bother with makeup or drying her hair. So what? In a choice between the fashionistas and Mousezilla, I try to be practical. Low heels every time.

By then Alessandro was at the door, waiting for his invitation to enter.

Straight from the pages of Gentleman Goth magazine, he sported lean black jeans, a black turtleneck, and boots of heavy, silver-studded black leather. A bandolier was slung across his chest, supporting a connoisseur's collection of small weaponry—stakes, knives, and, at his hip, a tightly coiled bullwhip. All he lacked was Fangorella at his feet, fondling his thigh and swooning with terror and desire.

Okay, thought Holly as he strode across the threshold in a swirl of testosterone and leather coat. He's feeling his inner Prince of Darkness.

Holly, on the other hand, wore fuzzy pink mule slippers, her wet hair soaking through her sweater. She felt about as sexy as a dust mop.

'Hot date?' she asked, eyeing the whip. 'Or do you really hate mice?' Macmillan is right: I have no idea what he does with his spare time.

'More like a bad reunion,' he said, looking around. It was the first time he had been in her house.

He produced a paper bag from the pocket of his coat. 'I was on my way out when you called, but I stopped by the hardware store for you.' He extracted a bargain-priced mousetrap from the bag. His expression held nuances of manly exasperation, as if he expected her to shriek and leap onto a table at the first sign of a rodent.

She could have slugged him. Holly closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing for a full ten seconds. 'That's very kind, but I think if this mouse's brother turns up, I'll need something a bit larger.'

His sensitive-guy face—a stretch for a vampire to begin with—grew a tad condescending. 'Was it a rat? How big was it?'

She held a hand over her head. Comprehension dawned, and the smug look faded from Alessandro's eyes. 'I see,' he said, putting the mousetrap away. 'That's different. I apologize.'

She decided to let him live. 'I felt the doorway this thing used open and close. It came through in the nursery.'

Alessandro shook his head, confused. 'Say that again?'

'Apparently there's some portal activity going on in town.'

'There was a portal here?' Panic cracked the last word.

'Yeah,' said Holly. 'Where else would I get a six-foot mouse?'

He gripped her hand. 'And you say it came through? It was not just a portal trying to open—something actually entered?'

'It was solid until I killed it. Real enough to give me this.' She pulled up the leg of her jeans to show the burn from the creature's tail.

Alessandro knelt and touched the skin. 'Is it fading?'

His cool fingers felt good, bringing back all the sensations from their kiss the night before. Shivers rippled up her skin as he explored the burn, tracing the bones of her ankle with a feather-light touch. As he worked his way around, the shivers became burgeoning warmth. Holly's breath grew uneven.

Now was not the time to remember how good he tasted. In reality, that time would never exist. A regretful sigh caught halfway into Holly's chest, aching. 'Yeah, the burn looked a lot worse before.'

He sat back on his heels, running a hand through his long blond curls. 'You're lucky it didn't get a good grip. That should be healed by morning.' He looked around. 'Show me the room where it attacked.'

Holly led the way upstairs, filling in the details of her encounter with Sweetie. When they got to the third floor her feet froze on the top stair. Suddenly cold and nauseated, she wavered, anxiety rising up like a bad meal. There was no presence there, just memories—but they were bad enough. That thing came into my home. This isn't like any other job. It's personal.

One step behind, Alessandro prodded her to move so he could push past to the hallway. Holly felt the brush of his heavy, soft coat and yearned to clutch it like a child with a security blanket.

'That room is the nursery?' Alessandro asked, almost straining like a hound on point. 'It's a traditionalist, then. Demons like the symbolism of devouring the innocent almost as much as the feast itself.'

'Great. Lovely.' Holly mounted the last step. 'Are you sure it was a demon?'