For a Few Demons More

them accountable. They're going to get away with it. I could handle that,' he said, his quickening breath giving away his fear. 'But he kicked me out of the camarilla, and no one will cross Piscary to keep me undead. It's a double death sentence. One done quickly by a stranger who will suck me dry for his or her pleasure, the other slow by madness.'

His gaze met mine, and I froze at the controlled panic in his gradually widening pupils.

'It's not a good way to die, Rachel,' he whispered, chilling me. 'I don't want to go insane.'

Tension pulled through me. Blood. He was talking about blood. He wasn't afraid of dying, he was afraid of not having anyone to keep him undead afterward. And he was looking for me to help him. Damn it all to the Turn and back. I can't do this.

Fear lay deep in his eyes, the rim of blue shrinking as he sat at the table in an empty apartment and saw his life fall apart and no one willing to risk Piscary's anger to help him. I shifted forward and sat before him, taking his hands on my lap. 'Look at me, Kisten,' I demanded, scared. I can't become his source of blood. I have to keep him alive. 'Look at me!' I repeated, and his darting gaze met mine in agitation. 'I am here,' I said slowly, to try to ground him. 'They won't find you. I'll work something out with Piscary. The thing is five thousand years old. It's got to be worth both of us.'

The water from his bath glistened on his shoulders, his expression slack in fear as he looked at me as if I stood between himself and insanity. Perhaps at that moment, I was. 'I'm okay,' he said huskily, and he took his hands from mine, visibly trying to divorce himself from his emotions. 'Where is Jenks?' he asked, changing the subject.

A hint of unease stained my senses. Not knowing why, I leaned back. Jenks's warning resounded in me. 'Home,' I said simply. 'He went to check on his kids.' But my heart beat hard, and the hair on the back of my neck rose. 'Hey… uh, I should probably head home and make sure he's okay,' I said lightly, not knowing why all my instincts said to leave, and leave now. If only for a moment. I had to think. Something told me I had to think.

Kisten's head swung up, panic clear in his eyes. 'You're leaving?'

A shiver rose through me and died. 'We have two hours before sunset,' I said as I stood, not liking him between me and the door all of a sudden. I loved him, but he was pulled to the breaking point, and I didn't want to have to say no if he asked me to be his scion. 'No one knows you're here. I won't be long.' Drawing away from him, I scooped up his clothes. 'Besides, you don't want to put these on until they're clean. I'll wash them and be back before sunset. Promise. It will get me some time to make up some spells, too.'

I had to get out. I had to give him time to realize he was going to make it. Otherwise he would assume he wasn't and would ask me something I didn't want to answer.

Kisten's shoulders eased, and he exhaled. 'Thanks, love,' he said, making me feel guilty. 'I wasn't looking forward to putting them back on. Not in that condition.'

I leaned forward and gave him a kiss from behind, my lips touching his cheek while his hand rose to caress my jawline. 'Do you want Jenks's shirt meantime?' I asked, slipping from him when he shook his head. 'You want me to stop and pickup anything while I'm out?'

'No,' he repeated, looking worried.

'Kisten, it's going to be okay,' I said, almost pleading. I wished he would stand up so I could give him a proper kiss good-bye.

Hearing my misery, he smiled and stood. We moved to the door together, his scent rising from the armload of limp clothes in my hands. Wet from the bath, he had almost no scent at all. I hesitated at the door and shifted my splat-gun-heavy shoulder bag up onto my shoulder.

His arms went around me, and I exhaled, letting my entire body meld into him, relaxing and just taking him in. Under the smell of soap was the hint of incense, and my eyes closed as I encircled him, holding him tightly.

For a long moment, we stood there, and I wouldn't let him go when he tried to rock back.

His eyes met mine, and his brow rose at my naked fear for him.

'It's going to be okay,' he said, seeing my doubt.

'Kisten—'

And then he pulled me closer, angling his head to kiss me. I felt the hint of tears prickle as our lips met. My pulse jumped, not from lust but heartache. Kisten's grip on me tightened, and my throat closed in misery. He was going to be okay. He had to be.

But in his kiss I could feel his fear through his tense muscles pressing against mine and his hold on me, a shade too tight. He said it was going to be okay, but he didn't believe it. Though he said he wasn't afraid to die, I could tell he was terrified of being helpless. And he was. A faceless stranger was going to try to end his life, and there would be no pity, no caring, no gentleness. Any sense of belonging or family, however warped, was going to be absent. Kisten would be less than a dog to whoever was coming. It would turn what might be a rite of passage into an ugly act of self-serving murder. It was not the way Kisten should die. But it was how he lived.

I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled from him. Our lips parted, and I met his eyes, heavy with unshed tears. He didn't believe. I was going to make him believe. I was going to prove him wrong.

'I have to go,' I whispered, and his hands fell from mine reluctantly.

'Hurry back,' he pleaded, and I dropped my head, unable to look at him. 'I love you,' he said as I opened the door. 'Never forget that.'

Almost in tears, I blinked fast. 'I can't. I won't. I love you, too,' I said, then fled, slipping through the door and into the hall before I changed my mind.

I hardly remembered going down the cool stairs, dark from old paint and faded carpet. I looked up before I got into my car, seeing Kisten's shadowy silhouette hovering by the filmy curtains. A shiver went through me, rattling my keys when I didn't stifle it. I hadn't known that the depth of control the undead had on their underlings was so strong that they would willingly submit to planned murder, and I again thanked God that I had never let any vampires, even Ivy, bind me to them. Though he was seemingly independent and confident, Kisten's mental well- being hung upon the whim of someone who really didn't give a damn. And now he had nothing. Except my trying to keep a faceless vampire from killing him for sport.

Never, I thought. I loved Kisten, but never would I let a vampire bind me. I'd die first.

Thirty-two

The soothing scent of vampire and pixy sifted through the upper levels of my thoughts, skimming through the hazy dream state I was slowly pulling out of. I was warm and comfortable, and as my mind moved from sleep to awareness, I realized I was curled up in Ivy's chair in the sanctuary with Jenks's black silk shirt draped over me. I didn't care to analyze my motives for falling asleep in Ivy's chair. Maybe I just needed some comfort, knowing she was going through hell and there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it.

Wait a moment. I'm sleeping in Ivy's chair? That would mean I was…

'Jenks!' I shouted, realizing what had happened and jerking upright. I'd come home to wash Kisten's clothes and had apparently fallen asleep, eight hours of spelled unconsciousness finally running thin. 'Damn it, Jenks! Why didn't you wake me up!'

God help me—Kisten. I had left him alone, then fallen asleep.

I jumped up to call Kisten on his cell, jolting to a surprised halt when my body protested at the sudden movement, aching from having slept in a chair. It was chilly, and I glanced at the mantel clock atop the TV in passing as I slipped my arms into coolness of Jenks's shirt. My shoulders stretched painfully, hurting all the way to my lower back. I was fastening the first button as I entered the kitchen. It smelled like lilac in here, and candle wax, and the clock over the sink said the same thing.

Five-thirty? How could I have just fallen asleep? I hadn't gotten much sleep yesterday, but zonking out for an entire night? I hadn't made any charms or anything. Damn it, I was going to kill somebody if Kisten wasn't all right.

'Jenks!' I shouted again as I found the phone and hit it to dial. There was no answer, and I hung up before I was dumped into voice mail. A pang of fear shot through me, and I tried to collect myself before I went and did something stupid.