kill you for it.”
“Ian is right,” Spade said, returning after slamming the door behind him. “Now, if you can manage to control yourself for a few minutes, I’ll have some other blood brought to you.”
“I wouldn’t have ripped her throat out,” I muttered. Probably not. “Even if I had, I couldn’t have killed Denise, with what she is,” I added defensively.
Charles glanced at Ashael before giving me a warning look. My brother caught the exchange and snorted in amusement.
“There’s no secret to be kept. Even if I couldn’t smell what Denise is—and I can—I can see it. Must be why you have all this anti-demon security. Raum branded her, eh? If so, relax. No one’s seen Raum for years, so that means he’s probably dead.”
“He’s very dead,” Spade said with cold satisfaction.
“Killed him, eh?” Ashael shrugged. “Good for you.”
“What makes you think it was only I who killed him?” Spade asked in a silky tone.
Good for Denise, then, too, I thought. And surprising. She hadn’t struck me as the demon-killer type, but that’s what I got for making a snap judgment.
“Don’t expect me to weep,” Ashael said. “Raum was an asshole. If demons were allowed to kill their own kind, one of us would’ve ended him centuries ago. But enough talk about the past. We have present issues to discuss.”
“Indeed,” Ian said. “Charles, if you would?”
Spade gave Ian a baleful look. Then, with an obvious edge, he said, “Ashael, won’t you come inside?”
My brother flashed a grin Spade’s way. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Chapter 22
The interior of Spade’s house resembled the exterior, with its mix of old and new. In the drawing room, shields that dated from the Elizabethan era hung under the antique crown molding, but a widescreen TV filled one of the recesses in the paneled walls opposite the modern couches. When Spade flicked a switch, the embroidered silk-and-taffeta draperies closed by automation.
We’d barely sat down when a male, blond-haired vampire brought me a tray containing a china teapot and a cup. The server poured warm, delectable blood into the cup, and I almost twitched from need as I watched. Spade didn’t trust me near any of his live-in blood donors, to feed me this way. His caution was probably a good idea. I might accidentally take too much if I tried to feed from someone’s vein right now.
I’d drained my little teacup before the vampire server finished putting the teapot back onto the tray.
Ian took the teapot from the blond vampire and handed it to me. In other circumstances, I would’ve argued against being so uncouth, but since I’d nearly leapt on Denise, I downed the teapot’s contents, not caring that I probably resembled a college frat boy chugging a beer.
Ian shot Spade a look. “Really, Charles? Expecting a starving vampire to sip from a teacup is presumption soaked in privilege and then deep-fried in stupidity.”
Spade had the grace to look abashed. “You’re right. I should’ve specified a more suitable method to serve her.”
The teapot was now empty, and I was still so hungry that I could chew on the fancy china just to get the extra droplets. Then again, that might be the last straw for Spade.
“Bring more blood, in large glasses this time,” Spade directed his vampire server.
I didn’t cheer, but it was close. Spade must have several human donors living nearby to have access to so much fresh blood.
“So, what’s the date today?” Ian asked in a casual tone.
Spade’s brows rose, but he said, “September nineteenth,” as if that wasn’t an unusual question.
My hands clenched, and the teapot shattered. I apologized as I picked up the larger pieces, waving away a new vampire servant who immediately rushed over to help.
September nineteenth! I’d only left yesterday, but here, it had been over six months since I’d gone with Phanes.
“Where’s Silver?” I blurted out.
A silly thing to focus on with three gods running amok, but I loved that little winged fluff ball, and he probably thought I’d abandoned him. How could he not, after this long?
“With Cat and Crispin,” Ian replied. “Having a grand time annoying her kitty, last I saw. Don’t fret. He’s fine.”
I let out a sigh of relief that had Spade’s mouth curling.
“Not such an ice queen after all, are you?”
I ignored the backhanded compliment. “Speaking of ice, have there been any strange cold-weather incidents lately? Or any significant earthquakes or volcanic eruptions?”
Spade frowned. “Another odd question, but yes. Last month, temperatures at the arctic circle suddenly dipped below normal after years of