Demon's Kiss. Maggie Shayne

was gathering by the time Seth opened his eyes, picked up his head and tried to get his bearings. A woman was making her way through the bystanders, coming closer, shouting at them to get the hell out of her way. Seth couldn’t see her. There was smoke and it was kind of—

       Smoke.

      Hell, that couldn’t be good.

      Seth turned in his seat to mention it to his companion, but Reaper was out cold, and Seth smelled blood, thick on the air. “Oh, shit. Reap, come on, man. Wake up.” He shook the limp shoulders, but nothing worked. Then he saw where the blood was coming from. A jagged piece of metal was sticking out of Reaper’s thigh, blood oozing from around it.

      The woman who’d been doing all the shouting was closer now, rapping on his window. “Get out of there! It’s gonna go up.”

      “Give me a sec.” He released his seat belt, then Reaper’s, then took his belt out of his belt loops, wrapped it around Reaper’s thigh, just above the wound, and pulled it tight. Any tighter and he would have risked busting the femur. Gritting his teeth, he yanked the metal out.

      Blood oozed all the same. He had to stop it.

      Hands pounded the glass again. “You need to get out now.”

      He ignored the woman, grabbed the duffel bag, and wrestled with it until he got the duct tape out. Then he tore off a piece with his teeth and used it to tape the gaping skin together. A second piece, and a third for good measure.

      The smoke was thicker now. His lungs were burning. The woman was tugging on the passenger door, but it wasn’t giving. The driver’s door was no good, either, mashed up against a telephone pole.

      He leaned back, braced his feet against the door, and yelled at the woman to stand back. She did, and he kicked with both feet. The door popped open, almost easily. Hell, he’d forgotten about how much stronger he was now.

      He put his back to Reaper, pulled the man’s arms around his shoulders from behind, and, with people reaching in, pulling to help, he managed to get them both out of the car.

      They’d moved about thirty feet away, into the darkness lit only by the glowing lights of other vehicles, when Reaper’s car blew to hell and gone, the explosion knocking Seth to his knees, with Reaper still on his back.

      And then that woman was there. “Come on, boy. Come with me. Daylight’s on the way, and so are the police and paramedics.”

      Seth stared at her, shocked. How could she know daylight was their enemy? She had long carrot-orange hair—not coppery, like his dream girl—that curled from top to bottom, and it was impossible to guess her age. There was something about her, some familiar feeling, almost like a scent.

      “You’re just a fledgling, aren’t you?” she asked Seth. “I’m Roxy. I’m one of the Chosen—that’s what you’re sensing. Raphael is my friend.”

      “His name is—”

      “Raphael Rivera, aka Reaper. And only his best friend would know that. Now, come with me, while they’re all distracted by the explosion. Hurry.”

      She helped him to his feet, Reaper still on his back, and led him toward her waiting car, shouting, “I’m a doctor, clear the way! I’m a doctor!” as she went. She opened the back door, and Seth eased Reaper in, onto the rear seat.

      The bleeding hadn’t started up again, so Seth got into the front, and then Roxy was behind the wheel, driving so fast that Seth felt himself gripping the dash until his knuckles turned white.

      Reaper moaned from the backseat when she took a corner too fast; then he spoke. “Roxy?”

      “Yeah, it’s me.”

      “No one else drives like that.”

      She laughed softly.

      “Are we being followed, Roxy?”

      She glanced up into the rearview mirror. “What do you think I am, an amateur? Why?”

      “Because that was no accident. It was a vampire—not quite a normal vampire, but a vampire all the same—driving that rig that hit us. And it was deliberate. ”

      Roxy frowned and swore, using a streak of profanity Seth had never heard from the mouth of a female in his life. Then she said, “Who are you going after this time?”

      “A rogue gang led by a man called Gregor.”

      “Those assholes?” She shook her head.

      “What do you know about them?” Reaper asked.

      Roxy shrugged. “Only what I’ve heard. They’re skilled, they’re mean, and they outnumber you.”

      “You know where they are?” Reaper asked.

      “No. But when you leave to find them, I’m going along.”

      “Absolutely not.”

      She met his eyes and smiled, a slow, sexy smile that seemed to speak volumes. “You’re telling me no? Since when has that ever worked?”

      Reaper closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto the seat of the car.

      “Who are you?” Seth asked her at last.

      She smiled. “I’m Roxy. I’m the oldest living human with the Belladonna antigen. At least, as far as I know.”

      Seth lifted his brows. “But I thought we—they all got weak and sick and died young.”

      “All but me.”

      “How old are you?” he asked.

      She fluttered her lashes. “How old do you want me to be?”

      Seth’s throat went dry, and Roxy released a bark of laughter and slapped her own thigh. “Don’t worry, pup. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” She gave him a wink, then bobbed her head toward the windshield. “Here we are.”

      Roxy’s place was a tiny cottage that looked like something out of a child’s fairy tale, all cobblestones and little green shutters, flower boxes overflowing with fragrant herbs, gardens flowing like colorful streams around the place and between the flat stones that formed a meandering path to the front door.

      She parked her car and glanced nervously at the sky. “Best get him inside, son, before dawn.”

      “I can manage on my own,” Reaper said. But his voice sounded so weak and pain-racked that Seth thought he might as well have said, “I can’t lift my little finger without help right now.”

      “Fortunately,” Roxy said, “you don’t have to manage on your own. You’ve got Seth now.” She smiled at Seth, and there was so much affection in the look that he wasn’t sure if she was hitting on him or just being friendly. The woman was a puzzle. He had no idea how to take her.

      He didn’t ask, though. Just got out, opened the back door and got a grip on Reaper’s shoulders, so he could help him inside.

      “Right through here,” Roxy instructed. From the waist down she was wearing a long, flowing skirt in bright splashy colors. From the waist up, she wore what looked like a leotard. Skintight, revealing a figure that was close to perfect, short-sleeved, with a V-neck all plumped full of cleavage. A moonstone glittered from a long chain, resting between her breasts. She jingled when she moved, and he realized it was due to the ankle bracelet she wore, along with flat, woven sandals that looked to be made of straw or something.

      Seth looked at her face again, baffled by his inability to guess her age.

      She just smiled more warmly and tipped her head, so her hair fell over one cheek. “This way. Put him in the guest room. It’s actually a walk-in closet, but I keep a bed made up in there for my undead friends.” She opened a door and stood aside to let Seth pass, with Reaper’s arm drawn around his shoulders. Reaper was silent, except for little grunts of pain every time he put weight on his leg. Seth