Demon Forged Page 7

  He thought of the ossuary, the spike. The memory of Rosalia’s condition hardened in his stomach . . . but that wasn’t what Lilith was asking.

  “I can’t make sense of it,” he said. “The church was being restored, but inside, the smell of paint was faint.” And if the painting had been completed months ago, the pews and altar had been sitting, covered, for at least that long. “But it hadn’t been abandoned. There was no dust. And the water in the stoup was fresh.”

  “A caretaker?”

  Alejandro had his doubts. “One who, in more than a year, did not come across Rosalia or the nosferatu in the catacombs?”

  “That is a question. I’ll ask Jake and Alice to dig around the church. And the nest?”

  “The nosferatu weren’t the ones who caught her. The last she recalls is fighting demons.”

  Lilith stopped swiveling. “Lucifer’s or Belial’s?”

  “She doesn’t know. But if they were the same demons Michael and Selah killed in Rome last year . . .”

  “They didn’t take the time to find out.” She stared at him. Though her psyche was tightly shielded, he could almost feel her mind racing behind that flat gaze.

  Trying to figure out how alliances might be shifting, he thought. Just as he had been since he’d realized there was a nest beneath the church.

  Lucifer had once allied with the nosferatu, but only because he’d promised the cursed creatures a new home: Caelum. Each of those nosferatu was now in the Chaos realm, from which there was no escape.

  It was possible that, before he’d closed the Gates, Lucifer had formed another alliance with the nosferatu—or instructed demons loyal to him to carry out his instructions after they’d left Hell. He’d done that once before, ordering a demon to sacrifice vampires in an attempt to change the resonance of one of Caelum’s Gates to create another Gate to Hell.

  That had been around the same time that Selah and Michael had slain the demons in Rome.

  But if the demons Michael and Selah had slain were loyal to Belial, that was something new. What would it mean if Belial’s demons had been courting the nosferatu, with a Guardian food source as an incentive?

  Unlike Lucifer’s demons, Belial’s worked together—many of them under the cover of Legion, a multinational corporation. Until the past spring, their only common goal had seemed to be replacing Lucifer on Hell’s throne with Belial, who had promised to return them to Grace. Only recently had the Guardians learned of a prophecy that predicted Belial taking the throne after the nephilim had been destroyed. Legion had begun courting vampire communities and trying to replicate vampire blood—which had been proven to weaken the powerful nephilim.

  In that, Belial’s demons and the Guardians shared a common goal: destroying the nephilim. Their reasons, however, couldn’t have been more different.

  If the nephilim only carried out the task for which they’d been created—executing those demons who broke the Rules—the Guardians wouldn’t have fought them. But once they’d begun eradicating the vampire communities, the Guardians had to stand against them.

  And the nephilim had their own leader to put on Hell’s throne: Anaria, their mother—and Michael’s sister.

  Alejandro had thought Anaria—a former Guardian—would be a better choice to take Hell’s throne than Belial or Lucifer, until he’d learned that Anaria had once led other Guardians to slaughter a human army. She’d believed that without the terror of war, humans wouldn’t be driven to the hatred and murder that landed their souls in Hell, and the slaughter had been the first step of a comprehensive plan to save mankind from themselves and to weaken Lucifer.

  No matter how good her intentions, she’d broken the Rules when she’d killed humans and had to Fall, her Guardian abilities stripped. Yet as one of the ten grigori who’d been born after demons consumed the flesh of a dragon and mated with humans, she was still too powerful—and, after Falling, she no longer had to follow the Rules.

  Michael had ordered her execution, but Anaria’s husband, Zakril, had hidden her away in a sarcophagus, instead. But when Zakril had been killed, she’d been trapped—for more than two thousand years. The nephilim had only recently freed her from that prison.

  The Guardians hadn’t encountered Anaria since her escape, but Alejandro knew they all dreaded the inevitable meeting. Though Anaria might harbor no ill will toward the Guardians, they had to fight the nephilim—and Anaria, as their leader, was a powerful, deadly opponent.

  Through the prophecy, had Belial’s demons anticipated Anaria’s return and allied with the nosferatu to strengthen their numbers against the nephilim? Or had there been another purpose?

  With a low sound of frustration, Lilith shook her head. “I don’t know what the fuck it means. When Michael gets in again, and Jake reports back on the church, we’ll work out how we’ll go forward with this info. Until then—” She lifted two folders from her desk, and Alejandro vanished them into his cache. “Rumors of human sacrifice outside London, and a bloodsucker community in Buenos Aires that we need to talk to, because their heads have just been killed.”

  Which might be just the usual vampire politics, similar to what had ousted Deacon. Or it might be a sign that the nephilim were planning another massacre—and might lead the Guardians to Anaria.

  Alejandro looked up as the lights in the room flickered, which meant that Jake had just teleported into the warehouse. Good. After Lilith gave the young Guardian his assignment in Rome, Jake could take Alejandro to his. It was still midday in Argentina, so Alejandro wouldn’t find any vampires awake for several more hours. He’d go to London first.

  Lilith frowned, picked up her cell phone, and sighed. When she began typing a message on the keypad, Alejandro took that as a dismissal.

  She caught him at the door. “Alejandro, hold on.” When he turned, she said, “We’ve got a potential problem: Jake’s here with Alice, and Khavi’s following them.”

  Khavi was a Guardian and one of the grigori. She was also Zakril’s sister and had hidden with her brother after Michael had sentenced Anaria to death. With her Gift of foresight, she’d been the source of the prophecy, but even that powerful Gift hadn’t helped her avoid being trapped in Hell by Belial, or prevented her husband, Aaron, from being killed by the demon. She’d lived a solitary existence in Hell for almost as long as Anaria had been in her sarcophagus. Though Alejandro would never make the mistake of thinking Khavi was harmless, she’d returned to Caelum with a gratitude that was genuine after Michael had brought her back from Hell.

  Khavi had visited SI a few times without incident, so Alejandro didn’t see the problem. “And?”

  “Can you run interference?”

  Interference . . . between Khavi and Irena? Christ. Had nothing he said made a difference? Irena hated demons, and everything they’d created—and had openly declared her distrust of the grigori. But that didn’t mean she’d kill Khavi without a good reason.

  Lilith held up her hand, as if to head off his anger. “Honestly, I’m with Irena on this one—I’m not sure we can trust that Khavi’s on our side. But like I said: We can’t lose anyone, and I’d rather have Irena’s temper directed at you. Michael can take it without hitting back. We don’t know enough about Khavi yet.”

  He couldn’t argue that. “You must be thankful that neither one is often here.”

  She looked surprised. “You’re wrong. I prefer it when people are as direct as Irena is. You know where you stand. And in her place, I’d question Michael’s decision to put me in charge, too.” Lilith shrugged. “But Michael’s an idiot, so what can you do?”

  “You could, perhaps, refrain from calling the Doyen an idiot,” he pointed out. And with a slight bow, he left.

  Irena knew she was making the others nervous. Alice’s mouth had taken on a thin, pinched look; her eyes were sharp and wary. Drifter had aimed for casual by hooking his thumbs into his suspenders, but the only reason he’d ever strive to look at ease was when he needed to cover up his tension. Jake chewed on
a toothpick and held onto a smile, but he’d edged closer to Alice—to teleport her away, if he needed to.

  And Khavi knew it, too. The grigori sometimes appeared confused, but her eyes were always clear. She pushed, just to see reactions, to find weaknesses. Irena knew this. Knew she was being tested.

  It didn’t matter if she failed. Demons played games; Irena did not.

  But she should have realized that when Jake and Alice teleported into the warehouse’s central hub, it meant that Alice’s language lesson with Khavi was over and that the grigori, her time free, might also teleport to SI. And while Jake and Alice had remained in the middle of the hub, Jake holding Alice against him until the disorientation of teleporting faded, Irena should have stayed in the gymnasium hallway—where she had a solid wall at her back—instead of walking out with Drifter to meet them in that wide, open space.

  But she’d been distracted by the flickering lights, and Drifter’s explanation that the electrical fluctuation was an effect of Jake’s new Gift.

  Then Khavi had arrived—and although Drifter continued to talk, Irena hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything he said. The demon spawn slowly circled their small group, her head tilted back as she examined each sign of the zodiac painted on the ceiling. She’d made it to the Gemini, behind Alice. Only the top of Khavi’s braided black hair was visible over the taller woman’s shoulder. Irena stepped to the side, trying to keep the grigori in full view between Alice and Drifter.

  Alice met her eyes, then moved toward Jake, allowing Irena a better angle. The long, black, silk column of Alice’s dress and her braid were just as severe as ever, and she still moved with the disjointed strangeness that she’d picked up from her spiders. But she’d softened, Irena thought, when instead of crossing her arms over her narrow chest, Alice slipped her hand into the crook of Jake’s elbow.

  Alice caught her gaze again. “Do you want to go to the Archives now?”

  Alice had been teaching Irena the demonic symbols she’d been learning from Khavi. Each week, they met in the Archive building in Caelum. They weren’t scheduled for another session until tomorrow.

  “No. I want you to go to Rome with Jake,” she began, but broke off as Khavi moved to the stand beneath the crab. A few more signs, and Khavi would be at Irena’s side.

  Then behind her.

  The hub suddenly felt closed in, shrinking.

  “What do we need to do?”

  Irena made herself focus on Jake. He’d grown up quickly, this young Guardian. A trip through Hell had forced him to, as had his relationship with Alice. He’d fought, sacrificed—and thanks to a second transformation, was stronger than Guardians several times his age. And now he was developing a second Gift . . . though he’d barely just learned to control the first one.

  In the hallway behind Jake, Alejandro slipped out of Lilith’s office like smoke. He caught her gaze. She looked away.

  “Search the church for evidence that more than three nosferatu lived there—but do not spend all of your time in the catacombs.” Irena couldn’t understand Jake and Alice’s fascination with ancient ruins, but she’d give them an opportunity to indulge it. “Find out who is restoring the building, and who looks after it. The condition in which we found it doesn’t make sense; I want to make sense of it.”

  Alejandro took a place between Alice and Drifter. Even if Khavi moved behind Irena, he’d be able to watch the grigori.

  The room stopped squeezing in on her.

  Though Alejandro spoke to Jake, he looked at Irena. “And when you see Lilith, she’ll have the same assignment for you.” He rarely smiled in the usual way; his mouth remained flat, though it seemed to deepen at the corners and his cheeks hollowed slightly. His amusement showed in his eyes, instead. “It seems Lilith’s and Irena’s plans aren’t so dissimilar.”

  Was he trying to bait her? Irena glared at him. “And you’d have given them the same task, as well.”

  “I reckon it’s only sensible to check it out,” Drifter cut in, running his thumbs up and down his leather straps. Irena wondered what made him more nervous: standing between her and Khavi, or between her and Alejandro. “And Rosalia—she’s doing all right?”

  Irena had just told him that Rosalia was fine. She gave him a look. “Yes.”

  Drifter’s face reddened, but as he’d no doubt intended, the topic had moved on from Lilith and her supposed similarity to Irena.

  “I met Rosalia a couple of times while I was training with Mariko,” Jake said. He cupped his hands in front of his chest, bounced them up and down. “She had the most amazing—”

  A poke of Alice’s bony elbow cut off the rest. Irena noted that Alice’s irritation was false, however—Irena hadn’t seen Jake even look at another woman in months. Most likely, he’d just wanted to produce that exasperated look in Alice’s eyes, and the faint smile on her lips.

  And thanks to Jake’s ridiculous comment, Irena was smiling now, too. Even with Khavi circling closer, she let herself relax, and watch the subtle play of irritation and attraction between Alice and Jake.

  They made a strange couple, but Irena had to admit they were a good match. Relationships between Guardians were difficult, even at the best of times. Violence filled their lives, and some took on long assignments where they had to adopt identities that had no resemblance to their role in Caelum. Over time, many lovers burned out or grew bored. Guardians had no institution like marriage, although some followed human traditions. They couldn’t reproduce. And, in Guardian society, a separating couple didn’t face disapproval or disgrace—or the stigma that a divorcing human couple might.

  So when Guardians made a commitment to stay together, it wasn’t for children or cultural expectations, but just because they loved each other that much. Some relationships were hotter than others, but in those Irena had seen endure, there’d always been deep respect and true friendship between the partners.

  Irena hadn’t been sure whether Alice’s strangeness had been a challenge for Jake or if Alice had just been desperate when she’d met him. But they’d settled into Alice’s quarters on Caelum, shared their free time and many of their assignments—and frequently disappeared together, returning with Alice’s hair unbound. Disappeared, often after Alice gave Jake the slight smile that she was giving him now.

  Which, in Irena’s opinion, was worth praising the gods for. Alice had been in severe need of a good bedding for more than a century.

  But Alice didn’t just appear well fucked; she looked well kissed, too. She and Jake had obviously found that deep respect and intimacy that would carry them through the centuries—or millennia.

  Irena suppressed the urge to rub away the soft little ache forming behind her breast. She was happy for her friend; this wasn’t envy. But maybe it was . . . a wish.

  But she wouldn’t look at Olek. And she wouldn’t dwell on what she didn’t have.

  Beside her, Khavi pointed at the ceiling. Irena couldn’t stop her reaction; she tensed, shifted her weight, and prepared to defend her space.

  She didn’t need to. Khavi only asked, “Who painted this? It is not the same person who has painted Caelum.”

  Like Michael’s voice, Khavi’s seemed to come from several tongues at once, melded into a harmonious one. Beautiful, soothing. Not unlike a Scitalis serpent that mesmerizes its prey before striking, Irena thought.

  And like that mythical serpent, Khavi was physically stunning, with the fine bone structure and bearing of an ancient queen. But she wasn’t elegant. She moved with the bold purpose of a warrior—if sometimes a quiet one. Her hair was the same as when she’d come back from Hell, a black cloud held in check by tiny braids. Bronze Age cornrows, Irena had once heard Becca call them. Khavi’s clothes were no longer ancient, however. She didn’t bother with the toga that Michael sometimes still wore; she’d traded them in for jeans and sandals. She looked no older than a teenager—except for her eyes.

  Those were old. And although at this moment she had dark brown irises instead of
pure black orbs, nothing human lay behind them.

  That was what Michael was. He’d fooled them. He’d given them the appearance of a being who’d once been a man, but he was really this. The grigori, unlike other Guardians and vampires, had never been human.

  Appearances are almost always deceiving. It was the first lesson taught to Guardians. Irena should have known that meant Michael’s appearance, too.

  “No, those were painted by Ames-Beaumont.” Drifter glanced up. “This one, Dru did.”

  “Drusilla, the healer,” Alice clarified.

  “Drusilla,” Khavi repeated slowly, as if tasting the name. Like her clothes, she’d updated her language, but her speech was a jumble of styles. Jake had said Khavi had learned English by looking into both his and Alice’s futures; Irena thought that, since then, she’d glimpsed more than just that.

  “I haven’t seen much of her,” Khavi said.

  No. Many of the Guardians kept away from Khavi. Her psychic scent was unreadable—except that it was dark, and it lay heavily across the mind unless they kept their psychic blocks high.

  And Irena knew very few Guardians who appreciated the grigori seeing parts of their futures—knowing when they would die, how they would die. Especially as Khavi chose which information to reveal. To what purpose, Irena did not want to imagine.

  So they kept away. If that disappointed or grieved Khavi, Irena did not pity her.

  “And that is the goddess Astraea, I think? The figure with the scales?”

  Drifter shook his head. “I sure don’t know.”

  “Yes,” Irena said. She met the grigori’s eyes. “The one who sat in judgment of humans until she decided they were too evil for her to bother with anymore.”

  Khavi’s brows arched. Like the rest of her, they were thin and delicate. Appearances are almost always deceiving. “You believe she was weak?”

  To set herself up as a judge, but run when the task became too difficult? Her wisdom could not have been worth much.