Demon Forged (8 page)

Alejandro’s profile was a rigid mask. “Our
purpose
is to protect humans.”

“By killing demons.”

“Even those demons who can be useful to our purpose?”

“Yes.”

On the bed, Rosalia tore her wide-eyed gaze from them and looked to Hugh. “Dru said Michael created Special Investigations so that we’d have a human avenue when we need one. That you are training the novices here . . . with Lilith.”

Hugh smiled slightly. “Lilith has Fallen—or rather, the demon equivalent of Falling. She’d only been a halfling demon: A human changed by a ritual,” he added when Rosalia’s brow creased.

“A
willing
ritual,” Irena said.

It wasn’t as if Lilith had been forced to become a demon; she’d had a choice. And given the options of serving Lucifer or death, Irena would’ve chosen much differently than Lilith had.

Hugh inclined his head, acknowledging Irena’s clarification. “Michael asked Lilith to head the agency. She spent almost two decades working for the FBI, and so she was most qualified for the position here.” He pulled off his spectacles and began to clean them against his shirt before adding, “And I’m
with
her, Rosalia. Not just here at SI.”

Rosalia’s brows rose in surprise before she smiled. “You always had a soft spot for her.”

Irena curled her lip. “And do we also love Rael?”

Alejandro sighed. “We could not do this without the access we are afforded by the American government.”

“Yes, we could—”

“Could not do it
as easily
.” His fingers clenched at his sides.

“You don’t know Rael’s motive.”

“No, we don’t,” Alejandro admitted.

“Do you believe it’s in our interest?”

“Do you believe we’re blind to his nature?”

“So you get in bed with a demon because it’s easier.” Irena sneered up at him. “It is sickening.”

Alejandro faced her, his silken voice deceptively mild. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I thought you’d understand this, Irena. The Ascension has put a knife to our throat.”

Irena’s breath left her in a rush. She took a step back, then another.

But it lay unspoken between them: Olek wasn’t the one who had chosen to get into bed with a demon.

And she could still see the blade that had been against his throat.

The only way to stop the pain and anger crushing her chest would be to cut out her heart—and so she did now the same thing she’d done then.

She left. She didn’t look back.

Always, everything went back to his misstep. Back to that blood-spattered room.

With regret digging a hole in his chest, Alejandro listened to the door close behind Irena. Only his will prevented him from succumbing to his need to follow her.

His will versus his need. For centuries, they’d battled each other. One day, he knew, either his will or his need would crumble into nothing. He didn’t know which it would be.

And he didn’t know which he
wanted
it to be.

But even if he went after her, nothing more could be said. On the matter of demons, Irena was as capable of compromising as an armless man was capable of holding a sword. The only outcome would be more anger, and sharp words, and another return to the room he’d burned four hundred years ago.

And he still wouldn’t be certain if it was her stubbornness that infuriated him, or the knowledge that she was right: It
was
sickening that the Guardians collaborated with a demon.

But the Ascension
had
put a knife to their throats. Though the Gates to Hell were closed, hundreds of demons remained on Earth—far more than there were Guardians. Given a few decades, the Guardians could gather resources, technology, and the human and vampire staff that would bolster the Guardians’ small numbers, forming an organization that served the same function as Special Investigations. Given a few decades, Michael could find and transform more humans into Guardians. Given a few
more
decades, those Guardians could be trained and ready to fight demons.

They didn’t have decades, however. And so they’d revealed themselves to a select few within the American government, and been forced to pick their battles with demons—Rael in particular. Irena would have the Guardians slay every demon openly, if necessary—but if the demons felt threatened and presented a united front, it’d likely be a Pyrrhic victory for the Guardians . . . assuming it
was
a victory.

Alejandro wasn’t ready to make that assumption.

The anger drained from him, as did the heat from his skin. Fortunately, his Gift didn’t manifest as color in his face—and although Castleford and Rosalia watched, they likely didn’t know how much Irena’s leaving bothered him.

Or so he preferred to believe. Maybe they would believe it, too. “I apologize. Irena and I have been friends long enough that we no longer spare our tongues.”

Perhaps Castleford, with his ability to read lies, detected Alejandro’s. For although it was true that he and Irena didn’t spare their tongues, it was more accurate to say they could not control their tongues.

Or
he
could not. He didn’t think Irena tried to.

But Castleford only looked to Rosalia again. “Obviously, not everyone is pleased with the arrangement.”

“Yes.”

She rose from the bed and approached Alejandro, her arms crossed beneath her breasts and her hands tucked into the crooks of her elbows.

She fussed
, he suddenly remembered. During her specialization with him, she’d had a habit of absentmindedly—almost maternally—straightening his clothing or his hair. Not just his, but anyone of her acquaintance.

And he hadn’t shown her his discomfort then, just as he didn’t step back now.

Of course,
then
he’d been waiting for Irena to return. Rosalia had specialized with him during the second century Irena had been away from Caelum, when any other woman’s touch had still been unwelcome. Only after she’d come back, after she’d spoken to him in French as she would a stranger, after he’d realized that too much damage had been done and no amount of time could heal it . . . only then had he looked at another woman.

And now . . . now was no different.

Except that although Rosalia’s gaze ran over his hair and his shirt, her hands remained tucked. She turned her face as if studying the windowless walls and walked slowly past him, her bare feet pale against the dark wood floor.

She’d never have any memory of how the nosferatu had used her. Alejandro couldn’t decide if that was better than knowing. Perhaps the details that her imagination filled in weren’t as bad as the unknown reality.

Perhaps they were worse.

“How are the demons different?” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Some follow Lucifer and some follow Belial, but they have never been
different
in any significant way. Has that changed, as well?”

If her tone had been harsh and fueled by frustration, her question might have come from Irena. And even though Rosalia was obviously more willing to listen, Alejandro didn’t have the energy to go through it one more time.

“Their natures haven’t changed, no,” Alejandro said quietly, and inclined his head toward her former mentor. Castleford had infinite patience. As both mentor to the youngest novices and Lilith’s partner, he needed it. “But I’ll let Hugh explain how their interests have. I am glad to see you well again, Rosalia.”

She nodded. “And you.”

The moment he opened the door he regretted leaving the soundproofed room. From somewhere downstairs, Irena’s laughter hit him, swept through him. His body tightened with need, but he forced himself to walk smoothly out of the room.

Will and need. He let them wage their war.

Finding Rosalia as they had brought too much too close to the surface. The Guardians often fought demons and nosferatu. Battles were quick and fierce and bloody. It wasn’t unusual that Guardians were injured or killed. But it wasn’t common that Guardians were
violated
in the way that Rosalia had been . . . as Irena had been.

No, the demons’ natures hadn’t changed. They just rarely got the opportunity to have a Guardian helpless and unable to fight back.

Or bound by a bargain that prevented her from fighting back.

Pim had joined Becca in the common room. When they saw him, discomfort squirmed through their psychic scents. Alejandro had little doubt they’d been discussing the argument Becca had witnessed. But did they truly think Irena would kill Lilith?

Biting back his irritated sigh, he nodded at both of them, then looked toward the corridor that led to the southwest corner of the building. At the end of the corridor was a room full of mirrors, and a quiet observation area. It would be empty; the room was only visited by the two vampires who suffered from a curse that transformed mirrors into a visual link to the Chaos realm.

But Alejandro didn’t want quiet. Didn’t want to be left to his thoughts. Not when they were filled with Irena. It would have been easier if only anger and lust existed between them. They’d have fucked. They’d have fought. And it would have been done with.

But it never would be done. And there was just this endless . . . nothing. A nothing punctured by brief moments of fighting and their so-called friendship.

Dear God, how he wanted to be done with both.

Silently, he crossed the common room, heading for the stairs leading to the first level. The metal stairs ended in a large open room that served as the warehouse’s central hub. A painted zodiac circled the ceiling. Hallways radiated in four directions: the main corridor leading to security and the front offices, beyond which most humans and visitors never saw; the tech room, more offices, and conference rooms to the right and left; and toward the practice gymnasium and locker rooms at the back of the warehouse.

Irena stood in the hall leading to the gymnasium, talking to a Guardian in a long brown coat who dwarfed Irena’s smaller height. If she’d run into Drifter, that explained her laughter—and why she hadn’t already left the building. Drifter could put anyone at ease, pull anyone from their temper. It wasn’t a Gift, but it was a talent—particularly with Irena.

The tall Guardian tipped his head at Alejandro. Irena remained facing Drifter, her shoulder propped against the wall, her hip cocked and her weight resting on her right foot.

Alejandro fought the urge to walk up behind her, to see how long she’d pretend he wasn’t there. Of course, that she hadn’t looked around told him exactly how attuned she was to his position. Irena never let anyone else approach her from behind unwatched.

From the offices on the left, a woman lifted her voice and called Alejandro’s name.

Lilith.

Irena looked around then, her eyes glittering. Alejandro took a small measure of satisfaction turning his back to her and heading toward Lilith’s office.

No, Irena might not understand Alejandro’s willingness to take assignments from the former demon, but they’d been doing good work here at SI, no matter who directed it—and no matter how difficult Lilith could be.

She’d been one of Lucifer’s demons, though she probably couldn’t have been called loyal to him—only desperate to survive. If she hadn’t become human again, hadn’t fallen for Castleford, she still wouldn’t have been like Lucifer’s other demons. Those who’d escaped Hell before the Gates had closed now grabbed whatever power they could before Lucifer returned to Earth.

Those were the demons that the Guardians hunted most often through SI. Belial’s demons posed a different problem.

He stepped into Lilith’s office. She was sitting behind Castleford’s desk, the phone receiver at her ear, her expression trapped between impatience and affection. She began to speak in Hindi and was cut off midsentence. Her fingers dragged through her black hair, then she caught his gaze and waved at the chairs facing her desk.

Alejandro walked toward the oil painting of Caelum filling the wall, instead. It’d been painted by Colin Ames-Beaumont, one of the two cursed vampires—and the only vampire who could resist the daysleep and walk in the sun, which had allowed him to visit Caelum. Alejandro thought he’d done a fine job of capturing the realm’s beauty, its cerulean skies and white marble towers, the temples and arches and minarets. Incredible . . . and yet still nothing compared to the reality of Caelum.

He studied the painting until, after a few more stuttered attempts and interruptions, Lilith disconnected the phone.

“Fuck me,” she said quietly.

Alejandro faced her, lifting his brows.

She walked by the door to kick it closed with the toe of her boot. The soundproofing silenced the noise from outside the office, though the psychic scents of the Guardians in the building were still present. Lilith removed her black suit jacket as she stalked to her desk, and tossed it over the back of one of the chairs she’d offered him.

“Auntie,” she said with a slight glare, as if daring him to laugh.

Ah. After Hugh Castleford had become human again, he’d been taken in by an Indian woman and her granddaughter. Auntie had become Lilith’s grandmother by association—a seventy-year-old woman who’d apparently just ridden rough-shod over the two-thousand-year-old Lilith, who’d once stared down and out-lied Lucifer.

Practice and diplomacy kept Alejandro’s lips from twitching. He gestured at the closed door.

“Is this regarding something you don’t want the others to hear?”

“No.” Lilith dropped into her chair and began swiveling back and forth. “I just know it’ll piss Irena off if you’re in here with me, and she can’t hear what we’re saying.”

This time, practice and diplomacy prevented his anger from showing. “You don’t need to use me to piss her off.”

She grinned. “No, that’s true. It’s just the quickest way to do it.” Her dark eyes regarded him closely before she said, “There’s a vampire upstairs. Tell me about him.”