Demon Bound (36 page)

“Of course not. Only the frozen field is; the others are reborn after they've been cleansed—given another chance. As for the nephilim, the nature of their surrogate mothers prevented them from holding their forms outside of Hell.
That
is best, for it means the nephilim need to possess a weaker human body while on Earth.” Khavi paused, studied their faces, and must have seen the confusion there. “The humans in the Pit aren't flesh,” she explained, and touched her fingertips to her forehead. “They are this. Spirit, energy. It takes form in this realm. So the women in the Pit had bodies to carry the seed.” Her mouth twisted. “Zakril and Anaria's seed.”

“Their children,” Jake pointed out, “but the nephilim serve Lucifer.”

“They serve the
throne
.” A smile ghosted over her lips before she faced the wall again, placing each hand over a crimson symbol. “I imagine that was Anaria's doing; once she realized how their experiment had failed, she made the best of it. And so Lucifer used the nephilim to enforce the Rules against his demons on Earth. A Guardian could find little fault in that. And if in Hell, Lucifer used them to keep other demons in line—slaying, for example, any who rose against him—a Guardian might not fault that, either. The grigori might, however, even though the demons slain were not as they once had been.”

“Lucifer was killing each of your demon parents because they were rebelling against him,” Alice realized.

“All but Belial,” Khavi confirmed. “And only because Anaria intervened, and led the nephilim against Lucifer.”

“Even though they served him?”

“If they had succeeded, Anaria would have been on the throne. As it was, disobedience only risked Punishment or death. When they were defeated, Lucifer destroyed half and imprisoned the others. I suppose he thought he would have use of them again.” She cast a wry look over her shoulder. “I could have told him for certain.”

One of the sarcophagi had been missing from the rephilim's prison. “Was Anaria locked in with them—then rescued?”

“Yes. Zakril, Michael, and I went for her. Lucifer was too arrogant to guard the prison well, and it still took half our blood, our combined voices, and all of our knowledge to release her.” She smiled. “I believe he moved the prison after that, and shored up its defenses.”

“He put it in the spider,” Jake said with a faint grimace. “Good hiding place.”

Khavi nodded. “Afterward, Anaria told us what she had done—all of it with the best intentions and kindness: to give Zakril children; to liberate Hell from Lucifer's tyranny. She'd intended to abolish the Pit, to let the humans be free in Hell, and never feel pain from the flames.”

“Oh, man. Yeah, I can see why it'd be hard to give her a slap for that.” Jake shook his head. “But I'm guessing the ones who are burning deserve it.”

“Yes.” Khavi pushed against the wall, grunting the words. “And without flames, never cleansed. Never released or reborn. Never given the chance to be human again.”

Alice and Jake moved forward to help, but she stopped them with a sharp glance.

Oh, how she loathed feeling useless. Crossing her arms beneath her breasts, Alice asked, “What were your responses to her?”

“Michael and I were more forgiving than Zakril”—this time, it was the wall that groaned beneath the pressure; Khavi's feet dug into the floor, her back and arms shaking with strain—“who felt betrayed. For a time. Then he returned to us. I do not know how many years passed before Anaria decided to . . . make humans . . .
better
.”

With a final shove, a seam split the center of the wall, ran along the ceiling and floor. Doors now—and they opened easily, revealing an empty black stone room.

A familiar hum filled the chamber, resonated deep within Alice's flesh.

Disbelieving, she turned to Jake—and laughed aloud as he snatched her up, swung her around.

He did not completely release her when Khavi made an impatient sound, but set her feet on the floor and remained at her back, his arms linked around her waist. How casually he did that. Yet it was with the greatest self-awareness that she lightly rested her hands on his forearms.

She felt very young when Khavi observed them with an air of indulgence that was both amused and annoyed. An expression, Alice feared, that resembled what
she
had bestowed upon her students whenever she'd found them with their lovers instead of training.

It was fitting, however—with Jake, she
did
feel younger than she had since she'd accepted Teqon's bargain. No less burdened—but so much more hopeful.

Khavi's gaze locked on hers, and she spoke solemnly in ancient Greek. “You will not fulfill your bargain, and so your companion will die.”

Jake? Oh, God. Oh, dear God.

Desperately, Alice retranslated Khavi's words. The meaning didn't change. “No. I do not believe you.”

Her denial meant nothing. Khavi shrugged. “I have seen it. In his attempt to free you, his heart will be cut in two by Teqon's sword. How could he survive?”

He couldn't. Oh dear God, he couldn't. No Guardian could.

And she could not conceive of this. She could barely speak over the panic tearing through her. “Show me what you saw.”

A still image filled her head: Jake, his swords held out to his sides like a brash man inviting a blow. Determination had hardened his features; his blue eyes were filled with fear and hope. A black ribbon was tied around his left wrist.

And Teqon's sword was embedded in Jake's chest—through the Styx logo on his T-shirt.

Alice's heart suddenly seemed to be pounding against icy needles, each beat piercing, bleeding. This couldn't be a trick—Khavi couldn't have known about the logo; Jake hadn't worn that shirt since they'd been in Hell.

You going to fill me in anytime soon?
Jake asked.

Alice tightened her fingers on his arm, unable to respond.

Without a shift in tone, Khavi moved into English. “Anaria slaughtered an army of humans. Those Guardians who assisted her were given a choice to Fall or Ascend. But Falling would not remove a grigori's strength, and her actions were no better than a nosferatu's—so Michael ordered her death.”

Too numb to be surprised, Alice stared through the open doors, at the Gate she couldn't see. When she returned to Caelum, she would . . . she would . . .

What?

“It was as if Michael had removed his own heart by giving the sentence, and Zakril would not let him bear the burden alone. So Zakril claimed it was his right as husband to carry out the execution. But he did not.”

“Michael thinks he did,” Jake said.

Khavi smiled. “Unlike Anaria, Michael has no Gift to see Truth. Zakril lied. We hid her instead, hoping that with enough time, Michael's anger would lessen, and Anaria would be forgiven—enough to live, even if she was never transformed to Guardian again. And that she would also see the error she had made, and atone for it. Many others came with us, those who had believed in her, and who wanted her to try again for Lucifer's throne. Anaria shared with Zakril and me what she had learned from Lucifer. We built this place, the temples, and moved as often as necessary.”

“Whenever Michael got close?”

“Yes, but he only knew that I was among those who had left Caelum, and I had nothing to fear from him. He would not kill us for believing what Anaria had believed. Usually, we moved because demons found us.”

“So, except those times, you were all cozy together. What's with the statue of Anaria and Zakril, then?”

Behind them, Lyta whined softly. Khavi's face lost expression, but the quickness of her speech revealed her urgency. “I do not know. Zakril, Aaron, and I had been searching out a location for the next temple. When we returned, the statue was there, and most of the Guardians had been killed. Anaria told us she was tired of hiding, that she wanted to resume what she had begun.” She turned away from them. “We subdued her. Zakril still had Lucifer's sarcophagus, and we sealed her within. We only intended to hold her until we could find a place Zakril could remain with her, and be completely isolated from others. We separated to look. He must have built two—probably a temporary one, and then a more permanent temple he built while he entrusted the remaining Guardians to guard the sarcophagus. And he must have done it quickly, because the concealment spells were already in place when Aaron and I came here to await Zakril.”

“Who's Aaron?”

Khavi pointed at the table. “My husband. Like Zakril, he had a Gift for shaping stone. And he sacrificed himself to save me when Belial ambushed us.”

Behind her, she felt Jake's wince. “Oh, damn. Sorry. I didn't realize.”

Khavi frowned at him. “How could you not? There is a Gate. Obviously, a Guardian sacrificed himself for another here.” Her gaze rested on Alice. “A Gate is not a companion.”

No, it wasn't. Alice's throat ached unbearably. “Zakril never returned.”

“I knew he would not. I no longer see him—have not seen him since I came here. Until Michael comes, there will have been only you, your companion, and Belial.” She paused, and visibly shuddered. “Who has almost arrived. You must leave now, so I have time to close the Gate. Please, do not delay in telling Michael that I await him.”

His arms still wrapped around her middle, Jake urged Alice forward. “We won't.”

“A moment.” Alice called in a unit of vampire blood. “Please feed this to the weaver. Perhaps she'll survive until we return with Michael.”

Confusion crossed Khavi's face, but she accepted the bag. “I will try. Now—”

“Hold on,” Jake said. “One more thing—Belial's been using you as his personal little oracle, hasn't he? You've been telling his future—”

He broke off as Khavi held out a rolled parchment. Alice took the scroll—and because it was not a
Scroll
, she vanished it.

“That is what you will request,” Khavi said. “The prophecy I gave to Belial.”

Jake laughed softly into Alice's hair, and paused in front of the Gate to ask, “Did you tell Belial the truth?”

“Yes.” Her smile was thin and amused. “But not all of it.”

CHAPTER 17

Shockingly cold water enveloped Alice the moment she stepped through the Gate. She contained her gasp, sealed her mouth. She'd breathed underwater once before, and did not want to repeat the experience—the burning pain as water entered her lungs, the indignity of heaving it out.

She swam forward, giving Jake room to clear the Gate. After a few arm strokes, she came up against a smooth white wall that completely encircled them, as if they were in the shaft of a giant well. Light shone from above; she could not see the bottom.

She couldn't guess where they were. Obviously not in the sea surrounding Caelum—not if the walls surrounded
them
.

The hum of the Gate disappeared. Khavi hadn't delayed closing it.

Her dark hair floated around Alice's shoulders as she faced Jake. He stared upward, and a grin slowly widened his mouth.

You won't believe what this is,
he signed.

What?
she asked, but he only took her hand, and dug the toes of his boots against the wall to propel them up faster than they could have swum.

They didn't have far to go—only one or two hundred meters. Alice broke the surface first, blinking in astonishment through a sheet of falling water.

They were in a fountain at the center of an unfamiliar courtyard. But she recognized the buildings and towers around them; this was near the Archives and Michael's temple. From outside the courtyard, she heard several Guardians talking, and sensed more psyches than had been in Caelum at one time since the Ascension.

For the gathering Michael had called, she realized.

Behind her, Jake began laughing. First in relief, then harder. She turned just as he went under. He bobbed up an instant later, choking and sputtering, but still laughing.

Seeing that he was unable to share the joke, she swam nearer to him, and saw the words inscribed in Latin at the bottom of an obelisk.

“Deeper than you think,” she translated in disbelief, and set Jake off again. He sank, came up, and coughed out another mouthful of water.

She couldn't hold back her own laugh after that. It shook through her, and she steadied herself against the obelisk, running her fingers over the inscription.

Someone had a very strange sense of humor.

 

Alice dried her clothes as they walked to the square facing Michael's temple, but the stench of Hell still clung to her dress, her hair, her skin. But there was no time to wash properly, and the smell would provide the answer of where she and Jake had been, without requiring a word to be spoken.

Beside her, Jake tensed. She listened, heard the mutterings, the raised voices. The ebb of conversation told her there were several groups, large and small; other Guardians had broken off into pairs.

“I think they've finished,” Jake said quietly. “And I don't think everyone likes what they've heard.”

“Did we?”

“I'm reserving judgment. I've still got questions.” The set of his face was grim. “I'm hoping Michael has answers.”

“Yes.” She called in Khavi's scroll, opened it. “I hope that some of them are here—Oh, blast. I'd also hoped it would be in Greek.”

Jake glanced over at the demonic symbols. “At least it's not a bunch of stick figures miming the prophecy.”

Yes, there was that. “I hesitate to ask Michael for the translation. Will you—?”