Demon's Kiss by MAGGIE SHAYNE Page B

rookie, you know that?”
    He rolled his eyes and headed to the van to fetch her bags, much as he hated doing it. She was still the woman who’d led him closer than ever to his redhead, and although she was dumb as hell about cars, he was pretty sure she’d just paid him a compliment.
    Roxy eyed the surroundings as they trooped toward the front door, nodding in approval. “This place is defendable. That fence—Okay, it’d be easily scaled, but you couldn’t drive up to the house. We’d see anyone coming for quite a ways, too. Good visibility. Up on a slight rise. Yeah—” she nodded “—I like it.”
    â€œI’m hoping it won’t need to be defended,” Reaper said. “But it’s good that it can be, just in case.”
    Â 
    The van was put away, and Seth had discovered the joys of projection TV. TV? Hell, this place practically had its own theater. He was flipping channels, and the others were running around making their own discoveries. If he had to guess, he would say Reaper was probably looking for the safest place to bed down for the day sleep, while Roxy was likely checking out the security system. As for Topaz…hell, Topaz was probably soaking in a Jacuzzi, sipping A Positive from a margarita glass with a little umbrella in it.
    Eventually, though, they all came to him, as if he were their center somehow, and sank into comfortable chairs to stare at the images flickering across the screen at the far end of the room as he flipped channels. There had to be three hundred to choose from. Maybe he should just choose a DVD from the thousand or so in the custom-made case that took up most of the wall to his left.
    â€œIt’s time to retire,” Reaper said.
    Seth glanced at him. “I don’t feel the lethargy coming on yet.”
    â€œBest to be secure before you do, don’t you think, Seth?”
    With a grin, Seth said, “Aw, c’mon, Dad. Five more minutes?”
    Reaper didn’t smile, but he did roll his eyes. Finally, Seth thought, a joke the guy actually gets. Seth kept flipping channels, so the flashing images and the partially uttered phrases of a hundred actors had to be irritating to everyone else, but he liked the noise. He kept pausing for a second or two on the interesting-looking programs, before moving on to see what else he could find. But then he heard something that made him stop.
    It sounded like a groan—like a tortured, pain-racked groan from the depths of hell itself.
    He turned slowly to see that Reaper, who was still in the center of the room, was bent over now, holding his head in his hands, and it looked as if he was starting to shake.
    â€œHey. Reap, what’s up, pal? What’s wrong?”
    Reaper lifted his head from his hands. His face was contorted into a grimace of utter hatred, utter vicious rage. And his eyes were glowing.
    Seth felt his own eyes widen, and he rose from the sofa, dropping the remote. “What the hell?” He glanced past Reaper at Roxy, who had gripped Topaz by the wrist, and was watching Reaper and looking downright terrified. Seth didn’t know much about Roxy but he didn’t think she scared easily.
    â€œGet out of here,” Roxy said.
    Topaz didn’t hesitate. She turned and ran from the room. Seth couldn’t, because Reaper stood between him and the doorway.
    Hell.
    And then Reaper lunged. Seth tried to dodge, but he wasn’t any match for the other man. Not in age, not in power, not in experience. Hell, he thought belatedly—just about the time Reaper’s big, meaty and oddly hot hands closed around his throat—he really shouldn’t have given that Noisy Cricket to Topaz.
    And then he was feeling his windpipe being crushed in a merciless grip as Reaper stared at him with unseeing, bulging eyes full of nothing but murder.
    And then it was done. There was a slight hissing sound, followed by a pop, and all of a sudden,