Demon Forged (25 page)

Earlier that morning, when Jorgenson had called Taylor into his office, she’d thought the tension in that room had been thick. But the captain could have taken lessons from the two Guardians standing on opposite sides of Lilith and Castleford’s office. Irena, in particular, had her death glare down to an art.

And Jorgenson had said
her
attitude needed adjusting. She’d have liked to introduce him to Irena.

So, for the first time in two years, she wasn’t the one in the room most likely to go flying off the edge, which meant this whole thing had started off much better than Taylor had thought it would.

Lilith’s hellhound lay in front of her desk, practically on Taylor’s feet. Sir Pup looked normal today—if normal was a Labrador who sported three heads and was the size of a small pony. The huge teeth and steel-spiked fur weren’t in evidence, but Taylor wouldn’t be making any sudden moves.

Last night, she’d been thinking of questioning Sir Pup as part of an investigation that wasn’t hers. Now it was. That was freaking crazy, but she’d take it.

She glanced over at Preston. Her partner’s usually droopy face wasn’t so droopy right now, and he watched with undisguised interest as Lilith and the other Guardian—Cordoba—ran through a list of assignments that Cordoba had to delegate while he focused on Julia Stafford.

Joe was eating it up. Her partner had loved the idea of SI and the Guardians since he’d heard of them. Maybe he’d have looked to transfer here, if not for her.

If she’d known about this task force, she’d have asked for a place, fought for it. She’d have swallowed her dislike for Lilith and begged her to include them. Hell, she’d have crawled for Joe if that was what it took. He’d been there every time her family had gone to hell, beginning when she was a rookie and her dad had been killed in the line of duty, and again when her brother’s life had been shattered. Later, Joe had faced Hell with her, when Lucifer had come after them to get to Lilith’s dog. And her partner had remained at her side through every reprimand, supporting her, covering her ass.

And he’d worried all the while. Quite a few of those lines on his face were hers.

But knowing that Lilith had requested them specifically wasn’t exactly comforting. Taylor’s history with SI’s director hadn’t been smooth—and the antagonism was mutual. They’d butted heads more than once . . . and every time, Taylor had been the only one to come away with lumps.

Lilith didn’t seem interested in butting heads now. She’d probably had her fill all morning. Since
early
morning. Jorgenson had made a point to let Taylor know that he’d been woken up.

She hadn’t shown him enough sympathy, Taylor guessed; she’d barely gotten to sleep by then herself.

Guardians operated on no sleep. Which probably explained why one Guardian had so many freaking assignments—the case load she and Joe juggled was a joke in comparison to Cordoba’s. Did the list ever end? And was it normal for Lilith to just trot out the entire list in front of everyone?

Even Irena had stopped giving Cordoba the evil eye and was frowning at Lilith.

Lilith didn’t look Irena’s way. “And the Argentinean situation?”

“Will be contained tonight. There’s no need to reassign. I’ll handle it.”

Lilith gave a satisfied nod, but Joe leaned forward. “How, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Cordoba apparently didn’t mind. “Two demons have taken over leadership of a vampire community in Buenos Aires. They’ve scheduled a community gathering tonight. I’ll slay them in front of the vampires, so they will know what will happen if they choose to follow demons again.”

“They
chose
the demons?”

“They’ve been promised protection and training. In exchange, the vampires give their blood, because it weakens the nephilim.”

Joe frowned. “If they’ve chosen the demons of their free will, why not let them lie in the bed they’ve made?”

“Because they don’t know what that bed is. I’ll tell them.”

“And if they do it again?”

“Next time, it will not only be demons that I slay, but the vampires who fought to put them there.” Cordoba turned when Irena snorted. “You disagree?”

She spoke slowly—and to Taylor’s surprise, without a hint of the accent she’d had the day before. “Not with killing the demons. But slaying the vampires’ chosen leaders and offering nothing in return will only breed resentment. And if you kill the strongest vampires, you leave them with no protection at all.”

“And so I should wait, and let the vampires find out for themselves what they’ve invited in?”

Irena’s eyes flashed a poisonous green, but her words were still measured. “You have said the Ascension put a knife to our throat. The nephilim have put a knife to the vampires’ throats. If we cannot protect them directly, what would you have them do?”

“Do you think this is how I wish it to be?” His eyes darkened. A hint of Spain bled into his voice. “The vampires
must
choose a side. They don’t have to actively join the Guardians’ fight, but if the demons come to them, they should take up arms . . . or inform us, so that we can. The nosferatu were cursed because they wouldn’t choose between Heaven or Lucifer’s rebels, and if that is not a lesson of history for the vampires to learn, I do not know what else could be. And Khavi’s prophecy—” He paused as Irena snorted again. “That is your response, and yet you are in this room because of Khavi.”

“What prophecy?” Joe said.

Lilith spoke to Irena over him. “Our standard procedure is to send a team of vampires to follow up after Alejandro has slain the demons. Then we’ll send someone to train them properly—or have a few from their community come here. We won’t leave the community to wonder what comes next.”

Irena nodded, her gaze still on Cordoba, but no longer glowing with toxic light. “I see.”

“What prophecy?” Joe repeated.

Lilith glanced at him, then at her watch. “The prophecy might have bearing on this investigation, so Cordoba can fill you in after you get to Ohio. In about five minutes, Selah will be here to teleport you; a car will be waiting for you there.”

Taylor saw Joe was speechless and stepped in. “Are you going to tell us why we’re going to Ohio?”

“
You
aren’t. Cordoba and Preston are. You and Irena—”

“Steele,” Irena said with an unfathomable smile.

“Steele will be talking to Margaret Wren at Rael’s house. As for Ohio, they’ll be interviewing Mark Brandt, whose daddy wanted to go public about Guardians, demons, and vampires—and/or wipe us off the face of the Earth. And that was
before
he died and a nephil possessed his body. So Brandt might have heard if anyone is following in his daddy’s footsteps.”

“Brandt?” Taylor frowned, her memory ticking. “Senator Brandt? Died of a heart attack on the steps of the Capitol Building—that was one of the nephilim?”

“No. That was him.” With a slight grin, Lilith nodded toward Cordoba. “The nephil had been slain three weeks before, in Seattle.”

That was too much. Taylor turned to Cordoba. “You impersonated a
senator
?”

“Yes.”

The way Cordoba said it, so calmly and without humor, deflated most of her outrage. However Lilith saw it, the impersonation hadn’t been a game to him. And what would the alternative have been? Announcing that they’d slain a demon-possessed senator?

“So, Cordoba is talking to Brandt, checking in with Bradshaw at the FBI, then hitting Rael’s office to speak with his staff. Taylor—you have Wren, the follow-up from that, then Rael. Your appointment with him is at his house, at one this afternoon.”

She’d be interviewing the demon? Jesus.

Lilith pushed two folders across the desk. “Wren was CIA. She went into the private sector about three years ago. Most of her records are sealed; Savi will work on cracking them tonight, but see what you can get now.”

What could they get that a regular team wouldn’t? But Taylor didn’t argue. “All right.”

“Taylor,” Lilith said as she stood. “I’ve got Guardians who can kick any demon’s ass, but who don’t have investigative experience. You do, and that’s why I’ve pulled you in. Now, Jorgenson made sure I knew that Preston and you have been playing real-life good cop, bad cop—with a side of
Kolchak: The Night Stalker
thrown in—and that
you
are one step away from playing real-life mall security guard.”

Anger shook through her. She opened her mouth. Lilith held up her hand. “Let me finish, detective. I’m telling you that I don’t give a fuck about his issues with you or how he thinks you’ve gone off the deep end; I just want to know if Rael is the reason Julia Stafford is on a slab in the morgue. So get the job done, however it needs to be done. I’ll cover your ass if you have to bend any rules.”

Taylor hadn’t expected that. Not from Lilith. Her throat tightened. “Yes, sir.”

“But try not to bend
the
Rules. You know the ones I mean?” At her nod, Lilith said, “And for fuck’s sake, if you play good cop, bad cop during Rael’s interview, let Irena be the bad one.”

“What prophecy?”

Preston’s tone told Irena that he wouldn’t be teleporting anywhere without hearing this first. She liked that he’d gotten his teeth into it and wasn’t letting go. And she’d have wagered he wanted to know
now
so that he could judge Taylor’s reaction to whatever they learned. They were obviously close, and moved together with the ease of longtime partners. Like Taylor, he was creased and worn. But unlike Taylor, who looked pale and shadowed, Preston just looked comfortably lived in.

She turned to Alejandro. “Do you have the translation?”

Although she’d made Alice read the prophecy to her until she’d memorized each line, Irena didn’t carry a copy.

“You do not wish to recite it?” His eyes held amusement.

Somewhere, she thought, after some time in Lilith’s office, they’d both lost the burn of anger that had followed them from the conference room. Perhaps it was only knowing that he was as frustrated as she was by how little the Guardians could help the vampire communities targeted by the demons.

Perhaps it was that she wanted to let the anger go.

“It is too stupid to say aloud,” she told him.

“At what point do you begin laughing?”

He knew her well. It was not just that the prophecy was stupid; she could barely make it through the recitation. “Caelum’s voice.”

“Ah.” Triumph filled his tone. He produced a single sheet of paper, held it out for Preston. His gaze remained on her. “I last longer than you.”

Her eyes narrowed. As Preston took the paper, she said, “You will not provoke me into reciting it. I will not be your amusement.”

“Not my amusement. Enjoyment. That is your laughter: the most incredible pleasure.”

She drew in a breath, and held it. Everything inside her seemed to be waiting. She would laugh, she thought. Laugh, just from the pleasure his words gave her.

His voice lowered, inaudible to human ears. “And the deepest pain. I do not know why I ask for it.”

Her heart jolted and squeezed, as if he’d dropped it to the floor and stepped on it as he strode past her. Heading toward Selah, she realized. Irena hadn’t been aware that the other Guardian had teleported into the hallway with them.

Her breath would not steady. Her emotions rebounded between anger and hurt, but her reaction went unnoticed. Preston and Taylor quietly read over the prophecy. Preston’s psychic scent churned with confusion; Taylor’s mind was shielded, as usual. Making certain her own shields were strong, Irena looked at Alejandro again, found his gaze on her.

When had this happened? The balance they had maintained for so long, the sharp edge they’d walked . . . it had disappeared beneath their feet. She didn’t know whether to find it again, or keep stumbling until they fell to one side or the other: everything, or nothing.

Both options gripped her throat with fear. She signed to him.
What is happening between us?

His hands briefly clenched at his sides.
I don’t know.

“So what does this all mean?”

Preston’s voice filtered through the heavy silence that seemed to surround them. Alejandro blinked slowly, like a human waking, and unsure if he was still sleeping. Irony filled his reply. “We don’t know.”

Selah scoffed before vanishing and reappearing behind Preston. Standing on shoes that were nothing but ribbons and spiked heels that put her at a few inches over his height, she looked over his shoulder. The detective glanced up at her. Then peered up again, as if once hadn’t been enough to take in the waves of light blond hair and the perfection of Selah’s features, warmed by the smile she gave him. His gaze dropped a little more slowly, and his lips formed a soundless whistle as soon as he was facing away from her.

“We know some of it,” she said, reaching around him to run her fingers over the first line. “ ‘She waits below’—that is Anaria, Michael’s sister. And she’s not waiting anymore, because the nephilim found her.”