Demon Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

used up when she’d been nine years old and Hugh had thrown himself in front of her, attempting to shield her from a pair of bullets.
    Even then, velocity had almost triumphed over virtue—one lead slug had passed a millimeter from her spine, the other an inch above her heart. Small distances in a small body, but had Hugh not been there, had his flesh not changed the bullets’ speed and trajectory, she wouldn’t have survived; the gunman had aimed for her head.
    Her parents and her brother had not been so fortunate.
    The flight attendant gave her a sympathetic smile. Yes, they’ve been in India. Oh! Their poor intestines. The grandmother will be in there for some time. And there goes the younger, stretching her legs as she tries to settle her stomach .
    At least that’s what Savi hoped she thought. Surely she wasn’t thinking of breaking strain, force per square inch, friction, James Bond villains, and magical venom. But it was hard to determine; maybe those things did occupy the mind of a woman who spent most of her time thirty-five thousand feet in the air between Britain and America, surrounded by a thin shell of aluminum.
    But the flight attendant probably didn’t think about the venom. Savi didn’t think about it much, either—she knew that Lilith had to cut into venom sacs beneath her hellhound’s tongue to collect it, and that Sir Pup was awake when it happened.
    It wasn’t an operation that Savi liked to consider, and she was grateful she’d never seen it.
    Down the portside aisle, past the sleeping businessmen and-women, to the coach class. Two blue seats near the windows, four in the center. The nosferatu was in the second row; she didn’t look at it as she made her slow circuit, crossing to starboard behind the last line of seats in the cabin. Most of the passengers slept.
    Michael? Selah? Now would be really, really good . The nosferatu’s arm hung over its armrest, its fingers flexing. In anticipation? How had it afforded the flight? Where had it obtained identification? Had it simply slipped in with its inhuman speed? Was there a body in the cargo hold—or in the airport—belonging to the person who was supposed to have been in seat 29B?
    She shook her head. It took some effort, but she quieted the portion of her brain that screamed for answers. Some things were very simple: Gravity made airplanes fall out of the sky when pilots and passengers were dead; a long distance divided by a short time made a fledgling’s speed too slow ; nosferatu were Evil, with a hatred of humanity, and no Rules preventing them from murder.
    Worse than demons. Or vampires.
    Or suitable boys.
    She uncapped the hellhound venom and poured it into her mouth, held it on her tongue. It tasted oddly sweet and heavy, like nectar from a sun-warmed peach. It was too bad her face had to be the delivery system.
    The passenger behind the nosferatu had reclined his seat. Hopefully asleep—and hopefully he wouldn’t mind that Savi was going to sit on his lap for a few seconds.
    She lifted the wire coil from around her neck. Made a single loop.
    Then she stepped into the row behind the nosferatu, dropped the loop over its head, and fell into hopefully-sleeping-guy’s lap.
    She didn’t have to pull much; the nosferatu’s powerful surge to its feet did most of the work. It yanked her forward, and she smashed into the seatback, almost swallowed the venom. The wire slid through her left hand, providing enough friction to tear and rip—her fingers, and judging by the sudden spray, its throat. Like pomegranate juice.
    The copper snapped. Oh god, oh god. Please let it have cut the carotid artery . It wouldn’t kill it, but it would give her time. Sleeping-guy yelled and struggled beneath her. She leapt up, her stomach against the headrest. Blood was everywhere. She sealed her lips against the side of the creature’s gaping neck, the pumping blood, felt its hand come up, its nails digging into her right shoulder—and she expelled