Shadows in the Mist Page 7

  “Yeah. I see the moves. I get what you’re doing. From a guy’s point of view and a…a creature’s. I speak demon now, apparently.”

  Erasmus narrowed his eyes and raised his chin slightly. “Whatever are you talking about?”

  Jeff forked his fingers and jabbed from near his own eyes to point them toward Erasmus. “I’m watching you,” he growled.

  “Jeff,” I said. “Don’t wolf out.”

  “Not wolfing. Just…watching.”

  He kept his eyes on Erasmus even as he tugged the front door open. Watching, he mouthed, nodding. He slipped through the door onto the wet street. His clothes suddenly shed from him as he morphed into a blond wolf; arms shortening, ears pointing, snout elongating. He fell forward onto his paws and glared back at me through the window, eyes glowing yellow. He threw back his head and howled, a long lonely sound, before giving one last nod and taking off up the street, loping toward my grandpa’s. I watched him until the tip of his tail disappeared from view.

  Chapter Six

  I closed the curtains and turned. Erasmus and I were finally alone.

  He strode to the door and threw the bolt. He’d certainly seen me do it enough times. Which was why he checked outside and drew the curtains on the other windows as well. Then he moved to stand before the fireplace, watching the flames.

  “Don’t pay any attention to Jeff,” I said, even as I felt sorry for my ex. His new life couldn’t be any easier than mine.

  “I have no intention of paying him the least bit of attention.”

  The fire crackled and the beams of the house settled. The wind kicked up a bit outside, tossing leaves against the walls, but it was otherwise still in the room, and quiet.

  “This is cozy,” I said finally. My ears still prickled, listening for the dragging of feet and clanking of armor from our new zombie friends.

  “It’s nothing of the kind. I’m here protecting you. You should…you should go off to bed.”

  “And what will you do?”

  His eyes were too shadowed to discern any intent. “Stay here…and guard.”

  Even though I was hurt that Ed was giving us “a break” when we’d only just started, it was hard to blame him when I couldn’t help but give Erasmus smoldering looks.

  I swallowed. Ed wanted a break. Fair enough. “You don’t have to stay down here.”

  “I promise I will not disturb you.”

  “But you do. You know you do.”

  “I…don’t know what you…”

  Looking at him steadily, I walked forward and took his hand. It was warm and dry. “Come upstairs.”

  “What about…your constable?”

  “I think that is something we both don’t have to worry about for now.”

  He took a deep breath and expelled it. “You want me.” It was a growl. It seemed a bit triumphant.

  “I thought that would be obvious.”

  He let me lead him up the stairs by the hand and to my room.

  I could tell he was looking around for any dangers first before he turned to me. “I will protect you,” he whispered.

  I smiled my wickedest smile. “But who’s going to protect you?”

  He frowned at first, and then his lips changed to a lop-sided grin. “I see.”

  “You will.”

  He reached for me, but I got to him first, peeling that ever-present duster over his shoulders. He sloughed it off, and it slid down his arms, pooling on the floor.

  Was I doing this? My last date with Ed was barely cold, barely a memory. His breaking it off had hurt, no matter how temporary or permanent. Yet I still wasn’t stopping.

  “What is it about you?” I said, shaking my head and unbuttoning his shirt.

  He watched me do it before lifting his eyes. “I assure you, I am applying no ‘demon hoodoo,’ as you put it.”

  “Are you sure?” I slid his open shirt down over his arms, which bulged with clenching muscles. I couldn’t help but touch them, easing my fingers over their contours. The shirt fell away, and there was that toned torso again, furred at the chest. A line of dark hair traced the pattern of the tattoo that speared down the center of his frame, a tattoo that marked him as an Eater of Souls. Chosen Host souls. My soul.

  I dug my fingers into the dark hair and touched the tattoo. It must have been sensitive, because he grabbed my hand and gently redirected it. Then he cupped my face and brought me closer to kiss.

  His lips were soft but hot, and his mouth tasted like embers. It might sound strange, but it was soothing and warm and sweet-tasting. Like hot spices. Like nothing of this earth.

  He held my face and kissed me deeply, turning his head slightly to taste a different part of my mouth, my lips. I ran my hands down his neck, down his arms, under his ribcage. I could feel his heat and smelled the smoke. He was smoldering again. When I felt my own clothes fall away, I realized that he had reduced them to ash. Dusky pieces drifted to the floor at my feet.

  “I liked that sweater,” I whispered against his lips.

  “I’ll find you another.” His hands moved past my jaw and tangled in my hair, lifting it from my neck and grasping it in his fingers. Using it to steady my head and hold my mouth where he wanted me. I pressed against him since there was nothing between us. His own trousers seemed to have burned away as well and I could feel his hardness digging into my thigh.

  “Are you certain,” he said between kisses, “that you are not using human ‘hoodoo’ on me?”

  “I’m not magic.”

  “The hell you aren’t.” His mouth stopped all conversation, working over my lips with deep intent. He pulled me downward and I was surprised when we hit the bed. He didn’t bother throwing back the comforter. He moved over me, arms encircling my bare skin, and lips moving over my neck.

  This, my mind said. This. I don’t really know what it meant, only that I didn’t need to think, didn’t want to. I suddenly grabbed his hair and yanked his head toward me. I looked him in the eye before I pulled his neck down to my mouth, took his skin between my teeth, and bit down.

  When I drew back, he had a weird look on his face that then turned dreamy. I pushed at him hard. Startled by my aggression, he seemed puzzled when he suddenly found himself beneath me. He tried to rise but I shoved him back down. He tried to rise a second time until I got on top of him and…settled in.

  His mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back. But it wasn’t long till he got the hang of it, and those kneading hands found my hips before sliding up to my breasts. I threw my head back, letting him touch me, letting him look at me. His face, usually so guarded and so stiff, was finally open and full of abandon. He seemed to thrill to his new-found freedom, and his hands fell to my waist and clutched tighter, enjoying us together, raising his hips into me.

  With both of us writhing, I didn’t think it would last long. His urgent movements matched my own. One hand tightened on my hip, the other snaked between us. I felt him surge within me, my own arousal rising to meet his, especially with what his hands were doing. He growled, breathing harshly through clenched teeth when he reached his peak. I reached mine a little after, eyes closing as I let it wash over me in trembling waves…with the scent of smoke in the room. I chuckled a little at the thought at how literally smokin’ hot we were.

  Pressing a hand to his chest to steady myself, I swept my damp hair out of my eyes.

  He was looking at me with some surprise.

  “What’s the matter?” I took in my fill of his handsome features sheened with sweat. “No woman has ever taken charge of you before?”

  He shook his head slightly, and I grinned. Rolling off of his chest, I lay beside him, letting the sweat cool on my skin. “Welcome to the twenty-first century.”

  “It’s certainly an interesting century, I’ll admit.”

  The room was cold, and I nudged him to move so that I could get under the covers. He complied sluggishly and after a moment of hesitation got under them with me. He had turned his head to look at me—perhaps
to see if he needed permission—and didn’t seem to have any intention of turning away. “I would have thought that you and your constable…”

  “Do you really want to talk about Ed right now?” I’d pushed Ed from my mind completely. I might have felt a twinge of guilt about him, but it quickly disappeared. We still weren’t exclusive. Especially with a break.

  “Hmm. I find that I don’t.”

  Facing him on the pillow, I could run my hands through his chest hair. This time, he made no move to stop me, even when I brushed against that damned tattoo. I studied his features in the strands of moonlight that wisped through the curtains. It seemed like he was looking at me for cues as to what to do next. Maybe Mr. Demon Lover wasn’t as experienced as he let on.

  “You’ve been alive a long time, haven’t you?”

  “As I have said before.” His voice was deep and resonant, eyes lidded. “Eons and eons.”

  “And you’ve been with…human women.”

  He raised an inquiring brow. “Not as many as your imagination is concluding.” He pressed a finger delicately to my forehead. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  I pushed the finger away. “You had me believe—”

  “You are easy to bait.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “It seems that in earlier centuries, both men and women were too afraid and cautious of demons. There were only a few encounters with each of your species.”

  “Men and women?”

  “Of course.”

  I mulled that over. My hand stopped stroking. “They were afraid of you. Too afraid to—” I gestured stupidly.

  “I have encountered many different belief systems. It is only this century where they seem…scattered.”

  “I don’t have a belief system.”

  He nodded. “My point. And that, too, is intriguing.”

  I turned to lay on my back. “To tell you the truth, I just don’t know what to believe.” A sudden thought made me shift uncomfortably. “If there’s a Hell, is there also a Heaven?”

  “I haven’t the least idea.”

  “But there are souls.”

  “Believe me when I tell you, Kylie, that I do not know.”

  He wore that sincere expression again, and I did believe him. So much so that I leaned over and kissed him. He blinked, confused.

  “You’re staying, aren’t you?” I scooted closer till I could have been in his arms if he merely moved his hands. “You don’t have to leave, you know.”

  I decided not to wait for an answer. I snuggled down into the hollow of his shoulder and finally felt his arms slide around me, yanking me toward his warm, naked body. He said nothing as he held me. I soon drifted off and began to dream, but thank God not about ghouls or zombies.

  I woke once in the middle of the night to someone nibbling gently on my neck. A hand did some exploring, and when I rolled to my back, male lips joined the roving hands. Entwined, we coupled again, slower this time, with words whispered in a language I didn’t recognize and gentle kisses peppered over my body.

  When I awoke in the morning, spread out on the mattress as I was wont to do, he was still there beside me, sitting up and looking at me. I stretched. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” he said tentatively.

  “You have a funny look on your face. Haven’t you ever spent the night with your human conquests before?”

  “No.”

  His stark answer made that languid feeling slip away. “Oh? You’ve never slept all night with anyone?”

  “I don’t sleep.”

  “I didn’t mean that… Wait. You mean you don’t ever sleep? At all?”

  “No.”

  “Then what did you do all night?”

  “Listened to your breathing. Sensed your dreams. Replayed in my mind our encounters with the Draugr and the ghoul. Speculated as to where Andras might strike next. Counted your eyelashes.”

  “All night?”

  “Yes. Well…except for a certain interval…”

  I smiled. “How many eyelashes?”

  “Five hundred and fifty-three.”

  I gently raised my hand to his face, stroking his cheek. His beard stubble never grew any longer and was never shaved. “What must it be like to be a demon?” I said softly, almost more to myself than to him. “To never sleep, never eat. No past…and no future.”

  He shook his head, frowning. “It is what it is. I was created for a purpose, and I fulfill it.”

  “Except that you’re undermining it.”

  He cocked his head. “How so?”

  “Well.” I toyed with the comforter, not looking at him. “You said you weren’t going to eat my soul. And you’re trying to help us find a way to stop the Booke once and for all.”

  “I never said I would do the latter.”

  It was my turn to sit up. I grasped the covers to my chest. “Yes, you did. You said you’d help me to close the Booke for good.”

  “I think you are mistaken.”

  “Erasmus, we have to! We can’t keep letting it ruin other people’s lives.”

  “May I remind you that if the book is no more, then so shall I be.”

  A sharp sting in my heart made me take a breath and push my hair behind my ears. “I said I’d find a way around that. I don’t want you to not exist.”

  “How very thoughtful.”

  “I mean it.” I clasped his hand. His fingers entwined with mine for only a moment before slipping away.

  He looked taken aback. “Why should you care?” he said quietly.

  “I just do, okay? I mean…” I huffed an exasperated sigh. “You get under my skin.”

  Tentatively, he took my hand back, examined it, turned it over. “Yes, an apt description. I believe you have ‘gotten under my skin’ as well.”

  “I bet you say that to all the Chosen Hosts.”

  He looked at me with the sincerest expression I think he’d ever worn. “No, I don’t.”

  I carefully took my hand back and glanced at the clock. “I have to get up. Get washed and dressed…and stuff. You, uh, do whatever it is you do in the morning.”

  I slipped out from under the covers and shivered as I grabbed my robe at the end of the bed. He watched me curiously as I tied the belt around my waist and made my way to the bathroom.

  I leaned against the bathroom door after I closed it, my heart pounding. And here I thought that he might be taking advantage of me. It was clearly the other way around. He was the innocent. After all, he was only conscious when the Booke was open and causing destruction. He hadn’t really time to form an opinion for himself on anything, let alone humanity. No wonder he was so screwed up.

  I suddenly felt very bad for him. And for his strange life. He didn’t want to die any more than I did. But if the Booke was gone, he’d be gone, too.

  I took my thoughts with me into the shower, and when I got out wrapped in a towel, Erasmus was no longer in the bed or the room. I got dressed and hurried downstairs. The coffee was brewing in the drip, and he had turned the lights on in the shop. I took a moment to look around. It was all still here. My shop. Its overstuffed wing chairs, the tables with displays and urns for tea samples, the shelves with teapots and accessories, the antique buffet with its drawers of herbs. Everything was in its place, except for what he’d sold yesterday. And when I did a quick inventory, it seemed that he had sold a lot. He hadn’t made any receipts, so I’d had to extrapolate from what was missing, but it turned out he was quite the persuasive salesman.

  I found him in the pantry, dressed in his usual dark shirt and trousers again with that long, black leather duster. He had a cracker in his hand, of all things. He hadn’t noticed me, and I quickly hid behind the door to watch him. What in the world was he doing?

  He lifted the saltine to his nose to sniff it, then grimaced in disgust. Carefully, he opened his mouth, crunched down, and slowly chewed, eyes drawing down to slits. All of sudden, he heaved and spit cracker spatter into his palm. He stuck out his tongu
e and wiped it with his hand.

  He was trying to eat solid food. For me. To save me.

  I turned away, overcome with emotion, and squeezed my eyes shut. The tears came anyway, so I balled my hands into fists and pressed my nails harshly into the fleshy parts of my palms.

  “What are you doing there?” he said, eyes narrowing.

  I wiped hastily at my eyes and turned to face him, plastering on a smile. “Nothing. What are you doing?”

  He hid something behind his back. “Nothing.”

  I smiled secretly as I exited the kitchen for the shop. You can’t fool me, Erasmus Dark, you old softy.

  * * *

  I began my day counting out the till and showing Erasmus how to use tablet the register, though he didn’t seem to be absorbing the information. He kept sneaking looks at me. “Erasmus, if you’re going to help, you have to use the register.”

  “I don’t see why. It seems unnecessary.”

  “It isn’t. There’s tax to collect and inventory to maintain.”

  “I don’t like your machine.”

  “Well…how about this?” I opened a drawer and pulled out an old school receipt book. “If you sell something, you write it down here. The item, the quantity, the number on the tag, and then the price. Can you do that?”

  He took the receipt book and looked it over. “I suppose.”

  “You know, you seem good at this. Are you really not using magic on people?”

  “I am naturally beguiling.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes. Haven’t you noticed?” He grinned slyly.

  I ignored it. “Maybe you could mind the store, then, while I see if I can’t get Ruth Russell to come over here. It’s time we get into her head.”

  “What? If you think you can order me around just because we—”

  “I’m not ordering you around. I’m just asking for a favor.”

  “I should go with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t trust her.”

  He had a point. But I hated to keep closing the shop.

  The door opened, and the bell above it jangled.

  “Jeff.” I greeted him with a genuine smile. “What are you doing here?”

  He glared at Erasmus. His eyes didn’t wolf out, but it seemed like they wanted to. “Thought I’d let you know how it’s going at your grandpa’s place. See if you needed any…help.”