Michael reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and took out a silver-coated stake that he’d swiped from Shane’s stash, and buried it in Rozhkov’s heart, just to be sure. Then he put the sword down and closed his eyes.
The dark was a storm inside him, a force like a whirlwind, stirred and excited by the violence. Yes, it said. Yes, this is you. This is how you are. How it will be.
He stood perfectly still, willing the darkness back into its carefully locked little box, forcing it with every ounce of what was left of his humanity. It was harder than ever before. So hard he was afraid that if he ever let it out again, no box would hold it.
That’s not me, he told himself. I’m not that. I can’t be that.
The terrifying thing was that he so, so easily could be. Oliver knew it. That was why Oliver had sent him, instead of doing it personally. It was the old vampire’s way of teaching him a lesson.
Not this time, Michael thought.
But he couldn’t really be sure about the next time. Not at all.
The whole thing seemed to take a lifetime, but when he went back downstairs, the little shop was still empty. As he pushed the shelf back in its place and heard it click closed, the beaded curtain rattled, and the shop clerk bustled out holding a steaming cup of tea.
“Here you go.” She beamed, and held it out to him. “I think you’ll just love it.”
It tasted of ashes and blood and fear to him, but he bought two bags anyway.
? ? ?
That evening, Michael found Chief Moses standing on their porch. Behind her, twilight had fallen, and the sky was a rich dark blue, painted through with the fading orange of sunset. She was bathed in the yellow glow of the bug light. Her hat was off and tucked under her arm in a strangely official way.
“I have some news,” she said.
“Bad news?” he asked her. She shrugged.
“Depends,” Hannah said. “Can I come in?”
She was human; she didn’t really need an invitation. He nodded and stepped back to let her cross the threshold. She sighed, as if this was something she really didn’t want to do.
“Can you get Eve?” she asked him.
“Sure. Why?”
“Just get her, Michael.”
He didn’t need to; he heard the clump of her boots on the stairs, and knew she’d heard the knock. Claire and Shane were gone off on their own somewhere, so it was just the two of them in the house. Eve arrived breathless and flushed, still adjusting her top from where she’d pulled it on. “Oh, Hannah. Hey. What’s up?”
Hannah nodded without any change in her poker-faced expression. “I need to show you a picture and see if you recognize the man in it.” She didn’t pause; the photo was on her phone, and she clicked it on and turned it to show it to both Eve and Michael.
It was Kiril Rozhkov.
“What’s he done?” Eve asked. She sounded resigned.
“He went and got himself decapitated and staked,” Hannah said. “From what I hear, not much loss from anybody.”
“You think we had something to do with it?” Michael asked.
Hannah shook her head. “Nope, but in his coat pocket I found this.” She reached into her own pocket and took out a plastic bag sealed with red tape. Inside was a photo of the two of them, the one that had been in the local paper announcing their marriage.
“I know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t Shane,” Eve said. “Or Claire.”
“I know that, too. They’re not the only ones in this town willing to stake a vampire now and again.”
“Then who do you think did it?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Hannah said, still expressionless. “I’m not likely to get to arrest anyone.”
She knew. Her gaze settled on Michael, and stayed, and he felt a momentary chill. “Well,” he said. “I guess someone thought it had to be done.”
That earned him a very small, tight smile. “Guess so. I had a word with Oliver. He says it’s finished.” Hannah returned the photo to her coat pocket, along with her phone, and nodded to them both. “Have a good day, you two.”
She left without another word. Eve stood where she was, lips parted on questions she obviously couldn’t quite voice, as Michael shut the door behind her.
“Are you all right?”
Eve stared at him for a few long seconds. “I guess,” she said. “It’s just—he said he was family.”
He took her in his arms and kissed her, very gently, lips and forehead. “Family takes care of its own.”
He stayed awake all night, haunted by the memory, the darkness, the violence, but she slept soundly cuddled against him.
And as dawn came, and he knew she was all right, he closed his eyes and slept with her, in the light.
AND ONE FOR THE DEVIL