Demon Forged (10 page)

“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.

“Yes,” Irena said.

Alejandro stepped closer, close enough for Irena to touch, and looked up at the Virgo. “She did her duty. She judged them all when she said they were evil. Perhaps humans should be grateful she didn’t also carry out a punishment.”

“Perhaps people would’ve been more grateful if she
had
killed the evil humans among them.” Irena gave him a wry look. “You argue with the devil’s tongue, Olek.”

“No.” Khavi’s smile had an edge that was sharper than amusement. “He sounds like an angel.”

“
Angels?
You’ve met—” Jake’s phone buzzed. He looked at it and grimaced. He caught Drifter’s eyes, then jerked his head toward Lilith’s office. “I’m heading in. You want a ride back to Seattle?”

“I do.”

“Okay.” With his hand in Alice’s, Jake backed away, pointed at Khavi. “I’m going to ask you more about that.”

Irena held Alejandro’s gaze as Jake and Alice took their leave. Jake wanted to ask more about Khavi’s claim to have seen angels, but Irena did not care about that. There were no angels here. Only Guardians. Guardians and grigori.

Though when she looked at Olek, Khavi seemed very far away. “Did you think I would pull my knives out?”

“No. If it came to that, I think you would use your teeth.” His gaze settled on her mouth as if he expected her to snap her teeth at him—or to laugh. “If you will join me in the gymnasium, we will spar.”

She laughed now, in surprise. “Slaying the nosferatu didn’t satisfy you? You’ve had a victory today; do you now look forward to a defeat?”

“When did you last use your sword rather than your knives?” His smile came into his eyes. “You’ll find that I’ve improved.”

She knew he had. “I’ve beaten you with only a knife before.”

“That was before,” he said. “And you were not satisfied then. Now you will be.”

Her heart pounded. When had he last challenged her? Before the bargain with the demon, before she’d created an iron room to keep Olek out, before she’d left him to burn it all. Now, finally, he challenged her again.

The centuries fell away, and she was breathless, her world filled with him. Needing movement, she circled his lean form, her gaze measuring his length. Physically, he had barely changed. He still moved like smoke and flame.

Except for now, when he was a statue beneath her gaze.

“You
are
older. Which means that you use swords that are not matched to your speed or your strength. If we do this, I will measure you for new weapons.” She stopped behind him. His muscles were taut. Her fingers remembered gliding up smooth metal that was a match to his aroused form. “Or I will try to. It will be difficult to take your measure when you are begging for mercy upon the gymnasium floor.”

“Did you wear braids then?” Khavi’s harmonious voice smothered Irena’s good spirits. “Or is that something you
will
do?”

Irena held herself still. She wouldn’t anger just because the grigori had spoken to her. “Unless you have lied about being unable to see the past, then it must be the future, demon spawn.”

And it couldn’t be Irena’s future. She would
never
wear braids again.

“I saw it long ago, and it was not
your
future. I do not know when it happens. Perhaps it has, or it will.” Khavi drew her fingers down the sides of her jaw and brought them to a point a few inches from the end of her chin. “His beard was longer.”

Alejandro remained still, but he was like smoke again, dark and gathering. “Mine?”

“No. The demon’s whose future I saw. Though the rest of him was like you, the beard was not.” She drew the end of a braid to her mouth, ran the tip over her lips like a paintbrush. Her eyes met Irena’s. “The demon will say that he loves your—”

“
Nyet!
” The denial burst from her. Her knives were in her hands, and she was already springing forward.

She would silence the demon spawn herself.

Alejandro brought her up short. His arms wrapped around her waist, a steel band that she couldn’t bend to her will and wouldn’t break. He yanked her back against him.

“I suggest you leave, madam.” His voice and his psychic scent were sharp with icy disdain, but Irena felt the blasting heat of anger through his clothes.

“It was your past, then. And Michael has already slain that particular demon.” The grigori’s eyes flooded with black from edge to edge. Her Gift pushed out and swept back, scraping across Irena’s psyche like crushed shells caught in a tide. “Your future holds just as much death. You should be pleased; a demon’s spawn will fall beneath your spear. And soon, I think. I must see—”

She vanished silently. Irena stood, her chest a heaving bellows. Alejandro’s hands tightened, and she ripped out of his grasp, whirled on him.

“
Never again.
” She held her knife out, pointed at his throat. “I will tear your arms off.”

His skin stretched over his cheekbones so that they stood out like blades. He pushed her knife aside. His hands trapped her face, held her tight.

“What did he love?” he demanded.

“Nothing. A demon cannot lo—”

“They can.” His gaze searched hers. Looking, always looking. As if he never had before, as if he never would again. “It was your braids. I thought he’d—”

He broke off. Was that relief in his expression?

She hated him in that instant. Wanted to hurt him. “Tied me with them? Whipped me? Strung me up? No, he did none of those things,” she said bitterly.

Alejandro’s eyes told her that he’d thought all of that and more, and each imagining had been agony for him. That the truth relieved him tortured her more than a demon could have.

And not even the whole truth. Would that be a relief, too? It choked her to think so—and infuriated her.

If she told him what had happened in that iron room, Alejandro would understand her shame. He was not a fool, and he knew her well. But if relief accompanied that understanding, Irena feared her response. Her fury now was pale in comparison to what it could be—to what it had been with the demon when he’d finished with her.