Free Demon Night by Meljean Brook Page A

‘clog’ just for you.”
    â€œBitch. I’d look that up, but I don’t know if it starts with a C or a K.” She waited until Jane stopped laughing before she added, “I don’t see why we can’t use half the amount.”
    â€œYou decide how much. I trust your math skills more than mine. The very thought of your accounting course makes me break out in hives.”
    â€œI like it.” Which had surprised Charlie two years previous, when she’d begun taking the online classes offered by the University of Washington, mostly to fill the afternoon hours. And, she had to admit, so that Jane wouldn’t think she was as directionless as she’d felt. She’d been a late registrant, and a business class had been the only one open—but she’d taken to it. Not easily, but she enjoyed the challenge. “That laptop you gave me is making a big difference, too. I think I might have killed myself if I went through another term with the dial-up on my old piece of crap.”
    â€œWell, don’t get too attached to it. In six months I’ll replace my new one, and if I don’t give it to you, I’ll just throw it away.”
    Charlie shook her head; the computer Jane had just bought was worth about five months’ rent. “That’s stupid.”
    â€œI know.” Jane shrugged. “But Legion’s confidentiality clause says it has to stay within my household. So I just consider you part of my household.”
    â€œAw,” Charlie said, though if her hands hadn’t been covered in butter, she might have given in to the emotion that swelled up in her and hugged Jane embarrassingly tight. “I don’t really need it, though, and I’d have to redo my settings.”
    â€œOh, the horror,” Jane said, rolling her eyes.
    â€œFuck you. It took me forever just to set up online banking this week. I don’t want to go through that again.” She paused, took a long breath; it always made Jane uncomfortable when she brought this up. “And if you send me your account info, I can transfer my payment to you each month instead of writing the check out.”
    Two bright spots of color appeared high on Jane’s cheeks. A half-inch-thick potato peel unwound beneath her knife. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”
    Charlie waited until Jane looked up, and steadily held her gaze. “Yes, I do.”
    Â 
    Charlie’s resolve to walk the four blocks to Cole’s—boldly and unafraid—faded with the setting sun.
    At seven thirty, she swallowed her pride. She might be crazy worrying about vampires, she decided, but she wasn’t an idiot: the twisted gate at Cole’s wasn’t a figment of her imagination. And there was no sense in going alone when she could just ask Ethan to take her.
    It didn’t occur to her until she was on the balcony, calling Ethan’s name over the wall, that a normal person would have knocked on his front door—and that if he wasn’t outside, he couldn’t hear her voice. But he either had very good timing or hearing, because a moment later his door slid open.
    She pressed her hands against the wall and rose up on her tiptoes as if the extra three inches might let her see over, and only succeeded in looking at a spot on the next piece of vinyl siding. “Ethan?”
    â€œCharlie.”
    That voice, so warm and smooth, and with a hint of amusement. Her fingers curled, her nails rasping faux wood grain. “Remember I told you last night I had an incident?”
    The amusement vanished. “Yes.”
    â€œI’m still a little jumpy.” She drew in a deep breath. “Okay, I’m freaking out. So I wanted to ask a favor.”
    â€œYou want your cigarettes back?”
    â€œNo.” Yes. Yes yes yes . Her eyes squeezed shut. “Though I guess we won’t be Pyramus and Thisbe anymore. I was hoping you’d drive me to