"A man asking me to dinner is unexpected?"
"You met over a pile of dead bodies mere days ago. Now he's carving little radish garnishes and humming to himself. It's creepy." Alessandro turned, nodding to his left. "The living room is through there. Make yourself comfortable while I open the wine."
Just what I need, A chaperon. Piqued, she went to take a seat but then stopped cold as she entered the room. The sight made her breath catch in her throat. The room was small, but tall windows stretched across most of two walls, showing the glittering sweep of the harbor beneath a waxing moon. The city lights were so bright she could almost taste the colors like berries on her tongue.
"Hi. Come on in." Macmillan walked into the room, casual in an oversized, V-necked red sweater. It showed off the strong muscles in his neck and shoulders.
"Nice view," she said, doing her best to mean the skyline and not the man. This place is full of good scenery.
Macmillan smiled. "Down there is your neighborhood." He pointed, and she leaned into him to follow the line of his finger. "And just along the horizon—yes, there—you can see the lights of Port Angeles."
His hand moved to her shoulder and he turned her to see the blur of tiny sparkles wavering on the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Holly could feel the line of heat where his body nearly brushed hers. Her eyes traveled from the window to Macmillan.
"Thank you for cooking dinner," she said. "I'm surprised, with the investigation, that you get a day off."
Her words were light, but she'd been wondering a lot about that point. She'd have guessed Macmillan to be the workaholic type, and weren't homicide detectives supposed to be slaves to their jobs at times like this?
His face tensed. "Actually, I was sick today. Nothing catching, I'm sure."
She watched as the tips of his ears turned red. There was something he wasn't saying. "Are you okay?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, I was starting to feel better by the time I called you. I'll live. In fact, right now I feel great. Maybe the rest did me good."
He was so close, Holly could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek, driving away all other thoughts. "Well, I hope I can help you with whatever it is you need."
He gave her a melting smile. "I hope you can, too."
Okay, he said he wanted to talk for personal reasons, but just how personal did he mean?
Alessandro clattered pots in the kitchen, breaking the moment. Holly took the opportunity to glance around the rest of the room. It was lived-in but tidy for a bachelor's place, old and new furniture blending in a comfortable sprawl. A litter of books and magazines showed a wide variety of interests, from mountain climbing to UFOs. There was a big, manly TV supporting framed photos of family, friends, and a grinning black Lab. One shot showed Macmillan receiving a police award. He looked good in uniform.
Alessandro entered with a tray of wineglasses, a cloud of delicious cooking smells wafting around him. Holly's mouth started to water. Alessandro, on the other hand, looked vaguely green. Vampires hated strong food odors.
Macmillan waved toward the couch and chairs. "Dinner'll be another few minutes. Shall we sit?"
The detective clearly meant to sit next to Holly, but he was thwarted. With lazy grace Alessandro sprawled right where Macmillan was headed, taking up enough room with his long legs for three. He flung one arm along the back of the couch, the full sleeve of his pink shirt draped to advantage. As he looked up at the detective, eyes wide with innocence, a taunting smile played along his lips.
Macmillan and Holly politely took the side chairs, effectively separated. More amused now than anything, she crossed her legs, dangling one hooker shoe. "Well, you two started the party without me. Where are we in the great information exchange?"
Alessandro laced his fingers over his stomach. "I was about to begin discussing the mouse. It is, believe it or not, relevant to the murders. At least, that is my theory."
Macmillan narrowed his eyes. "All right, I'll bite. Mouse?"
Holly tilted her head, watching the two men. Macmillan didn't blink. The detective had guts. Few men dared to stand their ground with a vampire, much less Alessandro.
Alessandro gave a lazy wave with one hand, but he regarded the detective intently. "What do you know about doorways to hell?"
She saw Macmillan's jaw clench with tension. "I think there's one that leads to my desk at work."
"We do not jest."
"Hell, huh?" Macmillan gave a short laugh. "What, I'm going to be arresting the devil next?"
"No, no, it's not really hell in the usual sense," said Holly. "Not fire and brimstone per se. It's called the Castle. It's a prison built for demons."
"Then it's a jail. You're not talking literal hell?"
Holly opened her mouth to reply, but Alessandro broke in. "Eternity imprisoned without hope or future. Do you have a better name?"
Mac shrugged. "Okay, fine. What's hell—or prison, or the Castle, or whatever—got to do with a mouse?"
Holly and Alessandro looked at each other, then took turns describing the portal in Holly's house. After that, Alessandro filled in more details about the portal that had opened up behind Sinsation. It was the first time Holly had heard the whole account of that night.
"Y'know," Mac said incredulously, "I've worked in this town for years. Sure, there's some supernatural crime, but this stuff is outside the box."
When he spoke, his strong-boned face was mobile and young. When he was still it fell into the lines of a mature man, tired and a bit hard. His eyes reminded Holly of a surgeon she knew, that same look of someone who had seen the insides of too many people.
As a cop, perhaps he had.
"So how do portals work?" he asked. "How do the prisoners break out?"
Holly replied, because, between spellcasting and figuring out what to wear, she'd been thumbing through a couple of books Grandma had loaned her. "Demons might have the strength, but they can't find their way on their own. Someone has to summon one, usually by name. Set up a beacon to show it the path, if you like. At least, that's the theory. I don't have direct experience."
"So the summoner sets the beacon and the demon opens the portal?"
"If the summoner is powerful, he or she can send power to help the demon, but yeah, that's the basic idea. Sometimes the demon makes it through on the first try, or else it just keeps poking holes until it manages to crawl through. It can't stray far from the point of summoning. If it does, it'll lose the connection that allows it to cross over."
As they talked, Macmillan's color rose. He looked fascinated and appalled. "So this is going to happen again?"
"It already has," said Alessandro. "Several times."
Holly picked up her wineglass and had a sip. "But the demon has come through now. I don't know if there'll be any more portals."
Macmillan got up and then came back with his notebook. He flipped it open and started scribbling. The intensity in his movements and expression reassured Holly. She hadn't yet figured out why Macmillan was playing the host with the most tonight, but this was normal cop behavior she could understand.
"So," he said, "there has to be a summoner out there somewhere."
"There is," said Alessandro. "Holly, remember I asked you about tracking that spell when we first got to the Flanders place?"
"Yeah, we never got back to that. You said your client was having problems with someone calling up a destructive entity in his warehouse."
"When was that?" Macmillan asked sharply.
Alessandro gave a wry smile. "A few weeks ago. About the same time as the murders. Violent death, or the blood from it, contains power of its own. It might be a necessary ingredient for opening a portal."