Drinker of Blood Read online

  Footsteps hurried up and down the hall outside the room. Every agent was working an urgent case these days, it seemed. Even the ghoul squads were overwhelmed.

  Not all that long ago, they had days, maybe weeks, between cases. NHEs couldn’t cross the veil from the etheric plane on their own. For reasons no one understood, it took human will to bring them from their world to the mortal plane. Which meant for some reason, record numbers of people in Charleston had decided to start summoning demons.

  Why, John didn’t know. The heat, maybe. Maybe when autumn came in, people would regain their senses.

  It was illogical, but he clung to the hope anyway, because otherwise they were in trouble. Agents had already worked long enough hours to start making mistakes. If this stretched on much longer, those mistakes would become fatal.

  Zahira and Caleb crowded in on either side of him as John located the relevant file and brought it up. He fast-forwarded to the time stamp, then slowed the video to half speed.

  “There’s the victim, who has been confirmed as Mr. Derek Scheffler. Business major. The shining star of the tennis team, just as Officer Freeman said.” John stopped the video, then forwarded it one frame at a time. Scheffler entered the frame, looking as though he was in a hurry to get out of the rain.

  The picture wasn’t the best in the dim light, and the shadows of the trees made it even harder to see the NHE as it dropped from the branches and bore its victim to the ground.

  “It was waiting for him,” Caleb said. “Ambush.”

  “Waiting for him, or waiting for anyone who wandered past?” Zahira countered.

  “That’s a good question. I’ve asked for his student records, but since Mr. Scheffler was the victim and not a perpetrator, I doubt we’ll get them.” John continued to advance the video. Thankfully, there was no audio to accompany the violent attack, and the rain obscured some of the details.

  Within a short time, Freeman entered the frame, gun drawn. “There,” John said, stopping the video and pointing. “He shoots the NHE point blank. Forensics confirms they found a ricocheted bullet on the ground nearby.”

  Caleb leaned back in his chair. “Great. A bulletproof NHE. I swear, these cases just get more fun by the day.”

  John ignored Caleb’s griping. “That should make it easier to narrow down what…yes, Zahira?” he asked, given she was almost bouncing in her seat.

  “I’ve already made a list of NHEs with impenetrable skin,” she said in a rush. “There aren’t many, and all of them are very powerful. Stony-coats, trolls, and grendels.”

  “Well done,” John said.

  “You get the gold star for the day,” Caleb said. “Just like every other day. Good thing you’re here to pick up my slack.”

  Zahira’s bronze skin darkened, but a smile hovered on her lips. “Someone has to.”

  “Ouch.” Caleb put a hand to his chest. “Staked through the heart.”

  “All right, you two. Going by the footage, it isn’t a troll,” John said, bringing the conversation back on track.

  “Agreed.” Zahira straightened in her chair, all business now. “And a stony-coat would have eaten the liver and nothing else. What we’ve got is a grendel.”

  “Like in the poem?” Caleb asked. “You mean that was real?”

  “For a given value of real,” Zahira said. “There isn’t a lot of information on them, but I’ve put together what little I found for us to review.”

  John rubbed his eyes. Even though he’d gotten a decent night’s sleep last night, the pace of the last few weeks was wearing on him. “This isn’t good. It would take a powerful exorcist to summon something like that.”

  Caleb frowned a little. “Because your talent isn’t really exorcism, right? It’s manipulating etheric energy.”

  “Correct. Exorcism is the only legal application of our talent, so that’s the description most commonly used.” John stared at the footage on the screen. The grendel was nothing but a dark blob, thanks to the rain and the dim lighting. “Ordinary people can summon NHEs using the correct rites to breach the veil. But the more powerful the NHE, the more energy manipulation it takes. Forsyth needed a whole team to bring the drakul through. And that was with the human sacrifice.”

  Zahira paled. Caleb glanced at her. “Yeah, that’s how they brought Gray through, too. It was bad.” He paused. “Gray would like me to remind you he didn’t ask for it.”

  “Of course,” she said immediately. “He’s not to blame.”

  “Since we’re unlikely to get copies of Scheffler’s student records, I’m going to try to set up a meeting with his parents,” John said, deliberately moving the conversation along. Very little seemed to disturb Gray, but he knew from experience this was one of the things that did. The fact people—children—had died to bring him here, their throats cut by some priest long gone to dust, upset him now that he had access to a full range of emotions. “Just in case this wasn’t a random killing. In the meantime, we’ll scope out the college. If the victim was random, the faust is probably familiar with the campus, and felt comfortable enough to make his first kill there.”

  “Are we thinking a student?” Caleb asked. “Faculty?”

  “Or a groundskeeper, or member of the janitorial staff,” Zahira pointed out. “Or someone who works in the IT department.”

  “Way to narrow down the list of suspects,” Caleb said with a wry twist of his lips.

  “Then you’ll love my next suggestion,” John said, even though he knew the opposite was true. “If we can’t find the grendel, we need to find the exorcist who summoned it. Which means going down the list on the registry.”

  Caleb’s eyes widened. “Wait. You mean using the damn paranormal registry to go out and harass a bunch of people just trying to live their fucking lives—”

  “More people are going to die, Caleb.” John’s hands clenched on the armrests of his chair. “I know you aren’t in favor of the registry—”

  “I spent my life trying to stay off the damned thing, yeah. And this is exactly why.” Caleb scowled, and John could practically taste the shift in etheric energy. Gray must be rousing in response to Caleb’s fury. “Now you’re talking about hauling in innocent people who haven’t done anything wrong, just because someone might have—”

  “An exorcist was involved.” John returned Caleb’s glare. “One of them might even be the grendel himself. Either way, they’re our only solid lead, assuming we can’t pick up the grendel’s trail on campus.”

  Caleb clearly wasn’t going to let this go, no matter how much logic John threw at him. “And what if it’s someone from out of town? Visiting for a couple of weeks? Here on business? They won’t even show up on the local registry. You’ll be wasting—”

  “Caleb, enough!” John slammed his hand down on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zahira jump. “This is not a discussion. I’m the lead investigator, and I’m telling you this is what we’re going to do. Understand?”

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed and his lips pressed tightly together. Then he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, not bothering to disguise the bitterness in his voice. “I understand, all right.”

  * * *

  Caleb stomped into the condo on John’s heels, his hands shoved into his coat pockets and his shoulders stiff with suppressed tension. They’d spent hours roaming the campus, sniffing the air like some sort of supernatural bloodhound, and what had it got them? Nothing.

  Which meant tomorrow John started going down his list. Interrogating poor bastards unlucky enough to have the same talent John had.

  And what happened to them when a SPECTR agent showed up at their job, or in the middle of class, wanting to talk to them? Would the normals just shrug it off, or would they look at the exorcist with suspicion? Ask themselves why a Spec would be coming around if the exorcist hadn’t done anything wrong?

  “I know you’re mad,” John said. The rattle of keys and click of the deadbolt accompanied his words. “And I understand why. I do. But more p
eople are going to die if we don’t find the grendel. And we don’t have much in the way of leads.”

  “Yeah,” Caleb muttered. He stripped off his heavy coat and tossed it carelessly over the back of a chair, even though he knew it annoyed John when he did that. “I get it.”

  He could sense Gray watching. Gray didn’t like it when they argued. Well hell, neither did Caleb.

  “I do not know who is in the right. Or if it matters,” Gray explained.

  Of course it matters.

  John followed Caleb across the room, removing his coat and tie as he did so. “Then stop taking it out on me. I didn’t create this system, but I can’t refuse to use it if it might help save lives.”

  Caleb flung himself down on the couch. “It’s so damned hypocritical. Normals are the most likely to summon demons in the first place. Normal, male, white, 17-30 years old. But no one’s putting them on a fucking registry.”

  John sat by him. “I know.”

  He sounded so tired that Caleb finally looked at him. Really looked. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his usual cocky grin was absent. Had been absent, ever since they started running themselves ragged after every fool who thought possession was the answer to their problem.

  “I’m sorry,” Caleb said. He put his hand on John’s. “I’ve been a dick to you today. Again. I don’t know why the hell you don’t dump me.”

  John offered him a wan smile. “Because I love you. Asshole.”

  “I do not wish John to be sad.” Gray considered. “I do not wish any of us to be sad.”

  Me neither.

  “I’m a jerk,” Caleb said. He swung around to straddle John’s lap. Cupping John’s face in his hands, he tilted John’s head back to stare down at him. “And I’ll try better not to be, because you’re everything to me. To us. Gray doesn’t want you to be sad, and my attitude hasn’t helped. I’m sorry. All the rest of this…it doesn’t matter, so long as we’re with you.”

  “Same,” John said softly.

  Caleb leaned forward, his long hair tumbling down like a shining black curtain around them, blotting out the rest of the world. He kissed John, starting off soft and sweet, then deepening into something hungrier. Something to show John he loved him, needed him, appreciated him.

  John slid his hands down Caleb’s back, cupping his ass through his jeans. Caleb murmured encouragement, grinding his hips down against John’s hardening erection.

  “Let me make it up to you,” Caleb said. He leaned back, just far enough to see John’s face. “Do you want to fuck us? Or would you rather we fuck you? Get a little of that etheric energy boost?” Because at least John got one obvious perk for putting up with Caleb.

  “I am more than a perk,” Gray corrected him. “Although you are right. I am worth putting up with you.”

  Oh, very funny.

  “I don’t care about that,” John said. He frowned just a little. “You know that, right? I’m here for you, both of you, not for some increase in my paranormal ability.”

  “And you’re the only reason we haven’t taken off for parts unknown,” Caleb said. Which wasn’t exactly the truth, since he didn’t know how he’d stay off SPECTR’s radar if they did make a run for it. “The great sex is a pretty good bonus, though.”

  John grinned up at him. “Show me, then.”

  Caleb stretched back and stripped off his shirt, making sure to give John a good look at his body. Gray hovered right under his skin now, and his anticipation resonated with Caleb’s, reflecting back and forth into something exquisite.

  John tugged him forward to lick one of Caleb’s nipples. It sent a jolt through him, an echo back from Gray enhancing the sensation further. “You’re so hot,” John mumbled against their skin.

  “And don’t you forget it.” Caleb climbed off John’s lap, just long enough to shuck off his jeans and underwear. John hastily stripped as well, clothing ending up in a messy pile on the floor.

  Caleb straddled his lap again, pressing his cock against John’s. John wrapped his hand loosely around them both, the stroke of his thumb smearing precome over the heads. It drew a moan from Caleb, and Gray writhed from the pleasure.

  He gripped the back of the couch, rolling his hips forward and up, rubbing their cocks together. John rested his head back, his lips parted and face flushed with lust. “Yeah,” he growled. His free hand gripped Caleb’s hip, urging him faster.

  It felt so good, bodies sliding against each other. Caleb’s heightened senses were aware of every inch of velvety skin pressed against his own, of the musky scent of John’s desire, of the soft gasps of pleasure riding every breath. He rubbed against John, driving them higher, and all the while Gray hovered right on that line between manifesting and not.

  “You like this, don’t you?” John said.

  “Fuck, you’ve no idea,” Caleb growled. His prick ached, and his balls tingled, and he didn’t know how long he could hold back.

  “Then tell me.”

  Caleb closed his eyes, his thoughts scrambled with pleasure and the echo of pleasure. “It’s so intense. We’re so aware—of you, of us, of—”

  His sense of Gray sharpened unexpectedly. Nerves fired, insisting he was being held from behind. His fingers were on his own nipple, though he hadn’t deliberately moved his arm, pinching hard.

  Caleb’s eyes flew open in shock, his back arching as he came. John’s hand tightened on his hip, and a moment later, more warm spunk coated Caleb’s cock.

  “Fuck,” Caleb whispered. He slumped forward, bracing himself on the couch pillows. A second, long shiver went through him, not quite an orgasm, but something close. “Christ.”

  John’s hand slid from his hip to his arm. “Are you all right? You had a weird look on your face for a minute there.”

  “Yeah.” Caleb swallowed. “Gray got…creative.”

  Smugness. “You are welcome.”

  How did you even do that?

  “The same way you use your telekinesis when we fight.”

  At first, they’d had to completely hand over control of their shared body for Caleb to use his TK. But they’d gotten better at it, switching back and forth so fast it was almost seamless.

  “Huh,” he said aloud. “Well, that was weird, but good-weird.” He ran his hand along the line of John’s jaw, then kissed him. “So, did I remind you why you put up with me?”

  “That depends.” John kissed him back. “Are you making dinner?”

  “And doing the dishes.” Caleb climbed off him and stretched.

  John watched with an appreciative look. “Then I suppose I’ll keep you around.”

  Chapter 4

  Caleb woke to the sound of John’s phone ringing, shortly before dawn.

  He rolled over, yanking the covers above his head while John answered. Good thing he and Gray hadn’t tried sneaking out tonight.

  “Sure,” John said to whoever was on the other end. “We’ll be right there.” A moment later, he poked Caleb in the back. “Time to wake up.”

  “I don’t want to.” Caleb kept the covers tight over his head. “Why can’t things ever go wrong at a decent hour?”

  “NHEs do it just to annoy you personally,” John replied. “That was Special Agent Ericsson. He was on call tonight. The police brought him in for a homicide, and he thinks it might be related to the grendel case.”

  Gray perked up at that. “The demon?”

  Yes, the damn demon. Caleb sighed and threw the covers back. “Fine. But if it isn’t the grendel, Ericsson owes us breakfast.”

  A little over half an hour later, they parked in front of one of Charleston’s grand old homes on Short St. Like many of the city’s 19th century houses, it was built side-on to the road, with the main bulk of the house facing a private courtyard. Hanging baskets bedecked the upper and lower porches, swinging in the breeze. Red and blue lights strobed off the beige siding, and a large SUV with Strategic Paranormal Entity ConTRol stenciled on the side blocked the narrow driveway.

  Za
hira pulled up just as they climbed out of the sedan. The three of them made their way past an unhappy Charleston police officer and into the small walled garden in front of the house. A fountain gurgled softly amidst the antique iron garden furniture.

  Inside, the place was as opulent as Caleb had ever seen. Someone had spared no expense to decorate with period-appropriate furnishings; it felt more like a museum than a home. Crystal chandeliers cast soft light over the ornately carved marble fireplaces and gilded picture frames.

  Two SPECTR agents stood at the foot of the stairs. “Ericsson,” John said, “what have you got for us?”

  One of the agents turned to them. He had to crane his head back to look up at John, and Caleb practically towered over him. “Starkweather,” he said shortly. “Barillo says you’re chasing a grendel. Figure this mess is yours.”

  “Fill us in, then,” John said.

  Ericsson glanced past John to Zahira. His eyes darted to Caleb, then away again, as if he hoped Caleb might disappear if he didn’t look too close. “The victim is one Brice Wilkinson. Retired, but his husband still works and was away on business. He tried to call and text Wilkinson a couple of times over the last two days but couldn’t reach him. Apparently Wilkinson was bad about forgetting his phone, so it didn’t raise any alarm bells. The husband gets home just before midnight, goes upstairs to the bedroom, and finds Wilkinson dismembered and partially eaten.”

  A shudder ran through Caleb. What a thing to come home to. If he found John dead…

  Gray roused sharply. “Why do you think of such things?”

  It’s a little thing called empathy.

  “I do not like it.”

  Caleb frowned. Very little disturbed Gray—five-thousand years had given him perspective if nothing else. Except when it came to John. I can’t help it.

  Gray refused to be mollified. “We would never allow harm to come to John. Do not waste time imagining it.”

  “Any idea when the victim was killed?” John was asking. Caleb forced himself to concentrate on the conversation outside of his skull, rather than the one inside.