First Drop of Crimson

His hands slid across her back, and then slowly, he pushed her away.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said, as something flashed across his face. “I don’t need reimbursement or gratitude to see this through to the end. I made a promise. There’s nothing more required from you for me to keep it.”

Denise sat back, stung. Was this Spade’s way of reminding her that things were strictly business between them, so she should lay off the looks and the hot flashes?

“Right,” she said, scooting back farther away from him on the couch. Then the numb composure that had seen her through Randy’s funeral and the months of dealing with PTSD came to the rescue, blanketing her hurt. Spade was doing her and her family an incredible favor. She wouldn’t spend however much longer it took sulking over being rejected. He might not want her gratitude, but he was going to get it, and her cooperation.

“What do I need to do?” she asked, proud her voice was even and calm.

Spade gave her a look she couldn’t read. “Chad’s going to tattoo you.”

Of all his possible replies, that one she didn’t expect. “Come again?”

“To simplify the explanation, brands are essentially permanent symbols representing a demon’s power,” Francine said, coming over to sit by Denise. “What we’re going to do is cover them with our own permanent symbols of power. These symbols will deflect the demon’s tie with you, or at least mute it to levels that the demon shouldn’t be able to strengthen—unless you come into contact with him again and he rebrands you. So don’t do that.”

Denise couldn’t stop her bark of laughter. “I don’t plan to.”

Chad was still arranging things, but he still spoke even though he didn’t glance up. “You can get preventive symbols, too. The ones on my arms are protection spells. Did them when I was human. They kept stray, noncorporeal demons from being able to possess me. You want any of those?”

This was so much to take in. “Do I need them?”

“I doubt it,” Francine replied. “Demon possession is rare, and it’s done by lesser demons trying to cross over. Most people never come into contact with demons, but when we were human, we needed them. When you fight demons, they fight back.”

Denise gulped. Considering how enraged Raum had been earlier, that wasn’t a comforting thought.

“Just another few minutes,” Chad said. “Then we’ll get you marked up.”

Chad began mixing various packets of powders with the content of a few of the small bottles, frowning at the wet, black mass in the dish.

“We’ll have to test you before we begin the tattoos,” he said. “Take off those towels and give me your arm.”

“No.”

Spade said it before Denise could begin to sputter out a refusal. His dark gaze was unreadable.

“The towels stay on. You’ll need to work around them,” he continued.

Chad looked like he wanted to argue, but Francine shrugged. “As long as the brands don’t reach into her hands, that should be fine,” she said.

“It’s not proper procedure,” Chad muttered.

Francine smiled at Denise. “Artists are always a bit temperamental, and Chad was an artist before he became a demonologist or a vampire.”

Denise smiled back at the woman, a little tentatively. Francine had such a warm, welcoming vibe about her. It made her occupation—and her being a vampire—seem so at odds with her personality.

Or was it? Francine was the first demonologist Denise met, and in truth, she hadn’t known that many vampires. There was the one who tried to eat her when she met Cat, of course, and Cat herself was half vampire. Then Bones, Spade, Ian, Ian’s sire Mencheres, Tate, a bunch of guards she never exchanged a real hello with…and now Emma, Alten, Francine, and Chad.

Less than a dozen, she realized. Not many to form an opinion about the entire species from, if she was being fair. But still, that New Year’s Eve, she’d seen how ugly the undead world could get.

“Denise.”

Spade said her name like it hadn’t been the first time. “Sorry,” she said, giving her head a small shake. “What do you need me to do again?”

“Sit on the floor and put your arm on the table, sleeves up,” Chad said.

Denise sat, trying to roll up the sleeve of her right arm while being careful that the towels didn’t fall off. Trying to get a grip on anything with her clawed hands bundled up was difficult, to say the least. After a second, Spade just tugged her sleeve up for her. Chad and Francine exchanged a glance, but didn’t say anything.

Chad looked over the exposed brand, whistling low. “It’s deep,” he said at last, tracing the star-shaped markings on her skin. “We’ll need to shave you and sterilize the area,” Chad went on, soaping and then shaving her inner forearm with a few quick, thorough swipes. After a spritz from the bottle next to him, he picked up one of those metal chopsticks with sharpened ends. Next Chad dipped the end of it in the panel that looked like a child’s watercolor set, but was actually the place to hold ink, it appeared. Then Chad poked her in the middle of her branded forearm hard enough to break her skin.

It pinched, but not bad. More like one of those finger-prick blood tests. Francine and Chad were staring very intently at her, though, as a drop of her blood mixed with the dark ink…and then the blackness faded to crimson.

“We have a problem,” Chad muttered.

Chapter Fifteen

“What problem?” Denise and Spade asked at the same time.

Chad swiped at the drop of her blood, bringing it toward his mouth—and then his arm was gripped in Spade’s hand.

“If you taste her blood,” Spade said, very quietly, “I’ll kill you.”

Francine stood up at that. “You have a very good reputation, but I won’t tolerate threats—”

“There will be no threats, as long as he doesn’t try to taste her blood again,” Spade cut her off, his tone pleasant and lethal at the same time.

“Just like the other vampire,” Chad said, shaking his head.

Denise leaned forward. “What other vampire?”

Spade wiped her blood off Chad’s finger, then with an arched brow, squirted it with the solution from the bottle and wiped it again.

“The vampire that was with that human, the one who had the brands like yours,” Chad replied, sounding a little annoyed. “He freaked over us not tasting the human’s blood. I’d forgotten about it until just now.”

Spade met her gaze, but Denise already knew not to say anything. Still, inside, she hummed with excitement. It verified that the vampire who brought Nathanial to Chad and Francine all those years ago obviously knew Nathanial’s blood had been turned into a drug from the brands. Just like hers. Tracking Nathanial through the Red Dragon trade would work. It had to.

“Remember the bloke’s name?” Spade asked.

Both Chad and Francine shook their heads. “He was a young vampire at the time. That’s all I remember,” Chad said.

“Must have been his property,” Spade said, dismissing it as if it were nothing. “Not polite to try and feed from someone’s property, even a drop.”

He didn’t trust them knowing. Denise felt a shiver of fear. She’d been so focused on the brands turning her into a monster, she hadn’t dwelled on how their other side effect might be dangerous. Spade might not want anything to do with the drugging effects of her blood, but others would. Red Dragon was the substance vampires bought to get high, and here Denise had it running all through her veins.

“As I said, we have a problem,” Chad continued. “Her blood overpowered the mixture in the ink, which