Bound by Light (12 page)

Not exactly crisp and refreshing, but Jake inhaled it nonetheless, his mind stretching out at the sight of so much daylight surrounding him.

His intake of breath gave him away.

The three Astaroths standing in visible form near the back terrace doors winked into nothing.

Jake swore under his breath and almost kicked the nearest pile of file folders. Did the bastards fly away—
again
? He felt like a fucking cat after sneaky, sneaky birds.

"Darian," he said, hoping for an answer. "Jared? Quince? Come on, guys, cut me a friggin’ break here. Captain Freeman
wants
me to talk to you. Work with you."

I sound like I’m begging.

Fuck.

Jake rubbed his hand across his short hair in frustration. If begging would help, maybe . . .

The air in front of him shifted.

A second later, the demon who called himself Darian returned to visible form, standing about six feet away from Jake. Close to the terrace doors, like any second he might change his mind and fly away. Jake wanted to snatch hold of him and anchor him to the floor, but at some deeper level, he recoiled from the idea of trapping another living creature. His gaze shifted from Darian to the soft, enticing light pouring through the terrace doors and the bluer-than-blue sky beyond. His heart beat faster and his blood surged. His essence and human form shuddered before he pulled himself back together.

Why does that keep happening?

Jake’s gut tightened and he almost lost focus on the task at hand.

For two years, I have no problems staying human—then I come back to this damned townhouse and twinkle, twinkle like the goddamned little star. Shit!

Breathing high and tight in his chest, Jake forced himself to let go of his own concerns and study his quarry instead.

For a moment, Darian remained all Astaroth, fangs sharp and shining, clawed fingers curling as his two sets of wings extended. His talisman glittered against his pale flesh as he studied Jake with his clear golden eyes, then slowly, slowly, pulled himself into a vague semblance of human form. A sort of vampiric human with see-through white skin and almost white eyes, but close enough. Jake would take what he could get at this point.

"So you can shift," Darian said, his tone one of quiet surprise. "You almost did a moment ago. We’ve wondered if you could."

Jake sucked back a defensive comment and forced himself to keep a relaxed posture. "I can shift into demon form, yes. I choose not to."

Darian glanced from Jake to the open terrace doors. "Why?"

Okay, so much for relaxed. Jake’s body went taut at all the joints, and he didn’t try to hide it. "I have my reasons. For now, I’m an OCU officer and that’s where I can do the most good in the fight against the Legion." At the word
Legion,
Darian’s eyes flashed golden and his lips pulled back around his fangs. Jake half expected the Astaroth to hiss.

"I would like very much to fight them," Darian said. "Every day."

Behind Darian, Jared and Quince materialized and assumed pseudo-human form. They didn’t speak, but Jake could tell by their expressions they hated the Legion as much as Jake did. "How old were you when you were changed?" he asked Darian on impulse.

"I don’t know." Darian’s reply was open, not offended or angry. "We estimate two years of human age, perhaps three." He gestured to the other two Astaroths. "They were younger."

A dull ache bloomed deep in Jake’s heart.

No wonder this bunch was so skittish.

To be so very young, to know nothing of the world in true human flesh. Their first memories would have been of pain and death and murder at the hands of those they trusted. The frustration he had built over the last fourteen days of chasing the elusive, uncooperative demons faded into concern and respect, and sorrow for the babies they once had been.

The three demons shimmered, as if perceiving his deep emotion, and Darian actually put a hand over his own heart.

"You . . . radiate," Darian said. "We have seen it before. It’s disconcerting. Among other things."

Jake had no idea what the demon was talking about, and he didn’t really care. When he spoke, he made sure his tone was calm and even, and as friendly as he could make it. "Captain Freeman wants me to work with you so you can participate more in our patrols and operations—if you’d like that."

He paused, but Darian and the other two didn’t say a word.

"I know you’re excellent natural fighters," Jake added, "but I can teach you things. Techniques. Ways that humans think, ways they’re likely to act. It’ll make you more effective in combat with any human foe." He cleared his throat. "Again, if you’re interested."

The Astaroths remained silent for what felt like a very long time. The afternoon sunlight kept playing havoc with Jake’s thoughts, as if it could grab hold of his soul, yank out his wings, and propel him out that window to fly for hours, days, weeks—

No!

By the time he caught himself, he was halfway to translucent.

Shit. I never lose control like this. What the hell is happening to me?

Was it the Astaroths? Being so close to his own kind? Pain stabbed at his temples, and he was actually glad for it. It pinned him to Earth, made his human form real and whole again. Jake breathed slowly, steadying himself as Darian nodded.

"We have desired to work with you, Leader, but we believed you did not truly wish to be near us."

Darian’s expression remained nearly vacant, but Jake knew he had to look shocked as hell.

Leader?

What is that about?

"By your leave, we will work with you on mornings you’re free, and any day it rains." Darian managed an expression that approximated a smile. "Afternoons like this," he lifted his hand toward the open doors as he reassumed his full Astaroth form, "weren’t meant to be spent indoors or on the ground."

Voices drifted through the library, and Jake heard people enter the room behind him. For a moment, Darian, Jared, and Quince remained visible. Then Darian’s eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back again. This time the demon did hiss—and all three Astaroths vanished.

Poof. Gone.

Air rushed past Jake’s face.

"The Astaroths have left the building," he muttered as he turned to face Freeman, Merilee, Delilah Moses—and behind Delilah, the goddamned drifting, empty-eyed image of his mother. Wearing that goddamned red dress.

Jake’s heart stuttered. He tried to swallow, but found his throat paper-dry and too tight to work properly.

He tore his eyes away from Delilah and the psychotic ghost-bitch, and his gaze landed directly on Merilee, who was standing beside them. She was dressed in a loose-fitting shirt and pants, and he figured she had been meditating or doing yoga in the basement gym.

Shit, but the thought of how she looked when she stretched, of her lithe, flexible body in various yogic poses, almost destroyed him on the spot. As it was, the way her flowing shirt draped against her breasts and the way those silky warm-ups hung at her hips absolutely pummeled Jake’s rational thought process.

Her sea-blue eyes stole his ability to move. Run away. Fly into the sky like Darian and the others.

Why did I get up today?

Why the fuck did I
ever
come here?

Freeman was talking, and Jake wanted to slam his fists against the sides of his own head to knock sense back into his brain.

"Did you hear me?" Freeman sounded delighted as he pointed to the open terrace doors. "I said great job. They were talking to you, weren’t they? You got somewhere. I swear those three—they’re weird. They’re different from the other Astaroths we’ve dealt with, just like—"

He broke off, and streaks of red flared across his cheeks.

"Yeah," Jake said. "I know what you mean. It’s okay."

Merilee’s gaze was fixed on the open terrace doors. "They’re like beautiful wild spirits that need to be tamed."

Her voice traveled all over Jake’s body like warm fingers—but her words made him twitch.

Wild spirits and taming.

Does she like them?

Do they like her?

He had a sudden image of killing Darian in their first training session. Accidentally separating his longhaired head from his scrawny pale shoulders.

Leader, my ass.

Jake had to grind his teeth to bring himself back to reality, or as close to reality as he dared to get.

She’s . . . my . . . partner for now.
Partner.
No different from a fellow police officer.

Merilee shifted her eyes to Jake and smiled, and he couldn’t help feasting on the sight of her in those soft-looking workout clothes one more time.

Well, maybe not exactly a typical police officer.

Jake looked away from her—and once more came face-to-face with his mother’s apparition, raising her—its—knife as if to stab Delilah Moses. The sight of it made Jake wish he could beat himself in the head without attracting unwanted attention.

Was the bitch attacking Delilah because she saved Jake once? Did his mother hate him that much?

He gazed at Delilah and his mother, relieved that none of his mother’s biosentient talents had transferred into the afterlife with her. No doubt his mother would be destroying Delilah’s cells and vessels as he watched, collapsing the poor woman’s body in on itself.

But you’re dead, Mother. You have no power here.

With everything he could muster inside, Jake willed the ghost-image to disappear.

Slowly, slowly, it did, allowing Jake to breathe more normally.

"Delilah and I have a little research to do." Merilee gave Jake another mind-devastating smile. "I’ll see you in six hours and fifteen minutes, at evening meeting."

All Jake could do was nod, try not to watch her ass as she walked away, and blow that little resolution all to hell.

After Merilee got a few steps past, Freeman got Jake’s attention with a cough. He folded his big arms across his chest, and the sarcastic look on his face said it all.

Jake sighed. "Obvious?"

"She’d have to be pretty thick not to notice." Freeman grinned. "And I don’t think she’s thick."

Jake waved him off. "Fuck you. Twice."

Freeman snickered, then pointed toward the library door. "Come on down to my office. Let’s go over some training ideas for your new friends." He cut his eyes toward the direction Merilee went and snickered again. "If you weren’t about to go on patrol, I’d buy you a cold one. Sure as hell look like you could use it."

"You have no idea," Jake muttered as he followed Freeman out of the library, trying not to concentrate on the sound or smell of Merilee—or scan the surroundings for the homicidal apparition of his mother. "Two or three would be more like it."

Early that evening, Jake glanced at Merilee, who was strolling beside him on a crowded walkway in her leathers, armed as always with her bow hanging over one shoulder and her quiver slung over the other—this time concealed by a red shawl. Waning sunlight played off her blond hair, turning it to soft-looking spun gold. As she paused in front of a store window full of high-definition television screens, people stared at her and he wondered if it was the weapons or her beauty.

Maybe both.

I’m pathetic.

It wasn’t so much that he was wearing a Cynda-singed shirt, or that the right leg of his jeans was smeared with dirt from a little fit Riana threw before they left the townhouse. Pregnant Sibyls, in all their psychotic glory—he was getting used to that.

No, it was more that all of his plans to just do his job, stay professional, and remain detached were going to hell fast. It had taken Merilee less than three weeks to turn his mighty resolve into so much wind.

I’m supposed to be getting used to working with her. I’m supposed to keep myself under control, watching out for her, making sure that this nightmare creature, this Stone Man, never gets to her, especially now that the elemental protections from Charlotte Heart’s sacrifice have worn off.

He had to have been insane, to think he could come to New York and blend in with the OCU and his brothers and just . . . ignore a woman like this.

But I have to. At least in that way.

If I can.

Damn.

Every time they worked together, she impressed him. He didn’t know what he liked more, her body or her brain.

Merilee was still staring through the store window at several flashing television screens. On the screens, head-shots of political candidates scrolled by. The evening news caption spoke of "dark horses" and new-to-the-scene politicians who might make a stir in the current race. Merilee pointed to one of them, a man who looked to be about fifty. Tall and fit and muscular, with dark hair. "Does that guy look familiar to you, Jake?"