“You think he wants us dead?”
“He wants us gone, but I don’t think he wants us dead,” Gram said. “I was just using him as an example.”
“Of what?” Damon asked as he strolled into the room.
“Of an impolite vampire,” Zoe said. “You never heard of knocking?”
“I’ve heard of it. I just don’t believe in it.” Damon turned his attention to Gram. “You heard about the projection?”
Gram nodded. “I’m really sorry I missed it.”
“Neville checked the video feed from in here to make sure you hadn’t done anything to assist with that demon’s appearance. You’re in the clear.”
“Of course she is,” Zoe said. “When are you going to believe that?”
“When all this is over,” he drawled. “Maybe.”
Zoe remained silent, refusing to argue with him over his lack of trust. What was the point? That didn’t stop his attitude from aggravating the heck out of her, though. Especially when he got that sly yet intensely sexy expression on his face. She wanted to smack him in both forms of the word—as in kiss him and hit him.
“So neither one of you is familiar with a demon named Silas?” he said.
“I’m not familiar with any demons,” Gram said.
“Me, either,” Zoe said.
“I heard you ask the demon if he was the one who possessed you,” Damon said.
“He never answered that question,” Zoe said.
“Of course he didn’t. Demons never speak the truth.”
“He did say you were impatient and that was true,” Zoe pointed out.
Damon just glared at her.
You’d think that a vampire’s angry stare would make her think twice, but instead Zoe focused her attention on his mouth. A vampire who kissed like an angel. A fallen angel. Why was she so focused on noticing what a sensual mouth he had? She hadn’t felt that intensely about it yesterday, probably because before she’d been afraid she’d find signs of blood dripping from those lips of his.
Ick. That should be a major turn-off. Should be but wasn’t. Not that she wanted to see him that way, all bloodied up. But she’d kissed him and knew that he tasted really
Okay, enough of that. She really should be thinking about something else and not Damon’s mouth. She returned her attention to the conversation going on around her.
“What was he wearing?” Gram asked.
“That’s irrelevant,” Damon said impatiently.
“No, it’s not. It might give us an idea of his original time period. Was he dressed in a toga like a Roman or a Greek?” Gram asked Zoe.
“No.” She tried to concentrate. “He wore dark brown clothes. A shirt and vest and pants. But not modern. All dark. The vest had long sleeves and looked like it was made out of snakeskin or eel or something. I can do some research into men’s attire for the past five hundred years or so.”
“Or he could have been wearing that to throw you off,” the ever-suspicious Damon said.
“That’s possible, too,” Zoe said. “Even so, I want to check it out.”
“Of course you do,” Damon said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zoe said.
“That you don’t take orders well.”
“You’re not in the Union army anymore,” she said.
“But I’m still fighting,” he said.
“You don’t have to fight me. We’re on the same side.”
“Are we?”
“Yes. At least in this demon matter,” she qualified. “And I admit I don’t take orders well. It’s a family thing. None of the Adams women is blindly obedient.” She paused before admitting, “It’s also a witch thing.”
“Yes, well, it’s also a vampire thing.”
“I noticed,” she said.
They shared a look. It was the first time that Zoe felt this sense of sharing. In the past he’d glared at her and she’d glared at him. He’d eyed her breasts. She’d eyed his chest and abs. But this was something new. She didn’t even know what to call it, but it felt damn good. Too damn good.
She broke off the visual contact. “I’ll go check out that clothing idea.”
Her laptop was in the living room so she had to walk past Damon to leave Gram’s room. He stepped aside and gestured for her to go ahead of him. He quickly followed.
“I can’t think if you are leaning over my shoulder,” she warned him as she sat on the couch and picked up the computer.
“Because I’m a vampire?” he surprised her by saying.
“No. Because you’re you.”
He gave her one of his sardonic smiles.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
Half an hour later, she found what she was looking for. “He was wearing a doublet from the 1600s. You know what that means, don’t you?”
“That he’s been in hell a long time?”
“It means he could have been around for the Witch Hunt in Salem in 1692.”
“You have the date memorized?”
“Every witch does. It’s a critical date. Like the date you were turned.”
“July third.”
“At Gettysburg.”
He nodded.
“So this ‘wrong’ Silas was talking about doesn’t seem to be attached to your date but maybe to my family’s. Did I tell you he called me dearie?”
“No.”
“It wasn’t an endearment as much as a veiled threat or warning said in an outwardly courteous voice.”
“You’re sure there is no reference to a Silas in your family’s Book of Spells.”
She pointed to the thick book on the coffee table. “Do you know how many pages are in there?”
“No.”
“Neither do I. The book is wrapped in magic. Gram and I are the only ones who can access it. But maybe I could do a spell asking the book to find any reference to Silas.”
“Do that,” Damon told her.
“Don’t you have to include what we are looking for?” Damon said.
Zoe flashed him an angry look. “Do not interrupt me while I am casting a spell!”
“Or?” he said.
“Or your privates might fall off,” Bella said from the chair.
“Now I have to start all over again,” Zoe said.
She’d deliberately left the Book of Spells open so the pages could turn easier. They flew back to one of the