Demon Moon

vampire community had been…unpleasant.
    They should look and admire; they shouldn’t expect anything in return.
    Colin leaned back, stared up at the ceiling. He’d known that others had watched him and his movements over the past few months, but he hadn’t realized they’d catalogued his victims and analyzed the results. Statistically, dark-haired women would be his primary source of blood—but statistics wouldn’t account for the trend they’d observed.
    An obsession, fueled by guilt. This one would burn out soon, as well.
    A chime from his computer alerted him to the incoming mail. Lilith, likely with an effusive description of his beauty. He wasn’t in the mood for it.
    But he stayed his hand from closing the program. It wasn’t from Lilith, but Savitri Murray, who lived in the apartment above Castleford’s garage. Who played with her electronic devices and kept the books at her grandmother’s restaurant. Who never looked at anything with fear, but instead a wide-eyed curiosity. Dark, lovely Savitri.
    The message was probably a mistake—something in which she’d accidentally replied to all of the original recipients instead of just Castleford or Lilith.
    The subject line said only, A question…Help?
    His lips twitched. Always questions with her. Endless questions.
    She wouldn’t look to him for answers. His smile faded, but he opened the e-mail, intrigued.
    Is there any *good* reason for a nosferatu to take the overnight flight from London to New York?
    He stared at the screen, dread freezing an icy knot in his chest. No idle question, this. An airliner from Heathrow had crashed into the Atlantic the previous week, the cause of the malfunction unknown. And Colin knew Savi was scheduled to return from India via London that evening.
    Oh, bloody hell.

    The probability of this ending well was a big fat zero.
    Savi went back once, just to make certain her eyes hadn’t deceived her—she wished they had. There, in the aisle seat, near the starboard wing: a pale face with liver-slice lips. No eyebrows. Huge, muscular form. Cap pulled down over its ears to hide their pointed tips.
    Nosferatu.
    She quickly glanced away.
    The flight attendant smiled apologetically when Savi returned to the cabin, as if good flight attending should have included the power to prevent Savi’s bladder from reaching the breaking point while the two restrooms in first class were in use. “Is there anything I can bring to you, Miss Murray?”
    Do you have a sword in your little beverage cart?
    Savi shook her head. With luck, this would be over before Nani woke from her nap. She would be disappointed; Savi had promised her grandmother she wouldn’t use the computer on the long flight home.
    But then, Nani was often disappointed in her.
    “Asha looked very beautiful,” her grandmother said without opening her eyes.
    “Yes, Nani,” Savi said automatically as she sat down and checked her e-mail for replies. Thank god the airline provided Internet access through a LAN connection—it would be easier if she could use a phone, or the microphone in her headset, but the nosferatu might hear her speaking. E-communication was her safest option.
    “Her hair was exactly as a bride’s should be. You should grow yours out. No suitable boy is searching for a hedgehog to be his wife.”
    “No suitable boy is searching for a college dropout, either,” Savi muttered, and glanced away from the screen.
    Nani’s face was drawn and tired; the trip to Mumbai had been difficult for her. Like Savi, she had delicate bones and a slim frame—but she’d not had Savi’s luck in avoiding the parasites and bacteria that were so easy to pick up abroad. She’d spent a good portion of the month dehydrated, unable to eat or drink without losing it later.
    Despite her frailty, Nani’s voice was steady, strong. “You’re twenty-six, naatin . You are beautiful, but if you wait much longer you will have only divorcés and shop owners to choose from.”
    Savi fought the hysterical giggle that rose in her throat. The nosferatu wouldn’t leave much for a divorcé or a shop owner to marry.
    Her instant messenger connected, and she scanned the list of online friends. No one she could trust to call Lilith or Hugh, or even the vampire. What time was it in San Francisco? Nine in the evening, but perhaps Lilith and Hugh were near their computers at home.
    Just in case, she duplicated the e-mail and sent it as a text message to their cell phones, then surfed