I dredged up a smile for him. “Will do.”
“Thanks for the top-off, mate,” Rans said, as Len pulled out his car keys and urged Tristan to his feet. “Nice iron levels.”
Len shook his head in apparent disbelief, but didn’t respond to the quip. He guided Tristan out the door without looking back, while I shot Rans a look that said, ‘Really?’ A few moments later, the engine rumbled to life and headlights illuminated the ugly curtains on the front window. The car pulled away, and Len was gone.
“I’m going to go put a sippy straw in the manager’s vein,” Rans muttered. “Back in a tick.”
Despite his earlier banter with Len, now that we were alone Rans looked drawn as tight as a bowstring. I gave an absent nod of agreement as the events of the night started to sink in properly. Once he’d slung his leather coat over his bare torso and left, I walked into the bathroom, moving like a zombie.
The misshapen bullets and the pair of silver nipple rings still lay scattered haphazardly in the bottom of the tub along with a few splatters of blood. I picked up the bits of precious metal and set them on a square of toilet paper on the counter by the sink. Then I ran cold water in the bath until all evidence of gore was gone.
A look in the mirror showed a trail of dried blood snaking down my arm. The itching under the scab on my shoulder had eased, the skin around it starting to pucker in a way that said it would probably fall off soon. My brain didn’t want to examine that fact head-on quite yet, so I started scrubbing the blood off my skin instead.
When that was done, I washed off my ruined makeup. I was just blotting my face dry on a scratchy towel when Rans returned. He looked to be fully recovered from his flirtation with multiple gunshots wounds, but he was still tense. My eyes dropped to his pale chest of their own accord.
“You’ve still got the demon’s blood on you,” I said, looking at the rusty smear the woman had left on him after slicing her own palm. “And, well, your blood too, obviously. Plus the dried wax. You should clean up.”
But he shook his head. “Not yet. That blood is how she’ll find us. Might as well get whatever this is over with.”
“Or you could scrub it off really thoroughly. Then we could call a cab and make a run for it,” I said under my breath.
I wasn’t sure why the idea of meeting the woman again put me so badly on edge. Demons were... arguably... supposed to be on my side. After all, I was one. Sort of, anyway.
Rans was pacing now, sharp strides crossing the modest room quickly enough that the exercise didn’t look remotely satisfying. His hands were jammed in his coat pockets, and his expression was dark.
“Try not to take her presumption at the club personally,” he said, no hint of his apparent foul humor reaching his voice, which remained mild. “I’m fairly certain she’s a succubus; she probably didn’t even register the fact that she was blowing past my personal boundaries. Or yours.”
I frowned. “Was that a dig?” I asked.
He stopped and eyed me. “A dig at her, yes.” Then he resumed pacing.
Now that my makeup was off, I could give into the urge to press the heels of my hands into my eye sockets and rub at them until I saw stars, so that’s exactly what I did. “What do you think she wants?”
He snorted. “My crystal ball is still in the shop—sorry. Seems unlikely that her showing up in the same place as you was a coincidence, though.
I blinked away red afterimages and looked at him curiously. “So you don’t know her at all? With only six hundred and sixty-six demons, I’d sort of wondered.”
Rans shook his head, still pacing. “Nope. No idea who she is. I may have met any number of demons during the war, but...” He made a poof motion with his fingers next to the side of his head, miming memories flying away.
Then he stopped abruptly.
“What?” I asked.
“Magic,” he said, glancing down at his chest. It was still a wreckage of peeling candle wax and other people’s blood, but the dark smear I’d been fixated on earlier floated away from his skin like dust as he continued, “Looks like we’re about to get some of those answers.”
I watched the fine trail of rusty particles drift toward the motel room door... where the demon from the club now stood as casually as someone who hadn’t just popped into existence inside a locked room.
“Okay, then,” I managed.
“Hello again, dear,” she practically purred, her dark brown eyes sweeping over me from head to toe and back again. “My, my. It looks like everything I’ve heard about you is true. How intriguing.”
FOURTEEN
RANS MAINTAINED A WARY stance midway between the two of us, while I examined the demon with as much thoroughness as she’d examined me. She was no longer dressed for clubbing. Leather and lace had been replaced by a black sleeveless mock-turtleneck and tailored black trousers with practical ankle boots sporting low, chunky heels. Her age was difficult to pinpoint—she could have been anywhere from mid-thirties to late forties... had she been human.
Since she was a demon, she’d probably been around to see the dinosaurs come and go, if Nigellus was to be believed.
“And what have you heard about me, exactly?” I asked, drawing my spine straight and holding her dark eyes. These days, I was bringing new meaning to the term ‘being out of one’s depth,’ but that didn’t mean I was going to show it to this entitled demon bitch who thought she could paw her hands all over my vampire.
The demon tilted her head. I couldn’t help noticing that her chestnut hair had been swept up in an elegant twist—not
