Demon Forged (29 page)

Irena and Taylor had learned nothing from Julia Stafford’s friend except that Julia had suspected Rael was cheating on her about two years ago. He’d still been as attentive, her friend had said, but he hadn’t shown any interest in bed. But then, the sex got better, and Julia had stopped worrying.

Irena left the woman’s house in a dark mood.

Taylor didn’t speak until she’d started the car. “You don’t eat, so I’m choosing where we’re having lunch. And SI is paying.”

“I have the credit cards,” Irena said. “And I want meat.”

“Don’t we all?” Taylor glanced at her. “Rael having sex bothers you. Why? He can’t do it to her if she doesn’t want it.”

Irena struggled with her answer. She didn’t often pick apart her emotional reactions like she’d been required to today. “It would not be for his pleasure.” Demons could physically simulate arousal, but they didn’t feel sexual desire. “And not for hers, either—it’s only to keep her with him. To secure their marriage.”

“And if he’s making that effort, it sits on the side of ‘he wasn’t looking to kill her.’ ”

“Yes.” Irena heard the anger in her own voice. She’d hoped Rael was responsible for Julia’s murder, just so that she could slay him—but the guilt
she
felt for hoping that frustrated her. There was no reason for guilt. She had not hoped Julia Stafford dead.

Perhaps the guilt came from not killing Rael before he’d arranged Julia’s death—
if
he’d arranged it.

“So you don’t have a problem with a demon having sex with a human.”

Irena had a problem with demons existing, not just fucking. “I do.”

“What about humans and Guardians?” Taylor laughed at Irena’s expression. “I’m not coming on to you. Just in general.”

“In general, I have no issue with it. I’ve done so myself.”

“Okay, this place looks like it has potential,” Taylor said as she pulled into the parking lot of a small restaurant with green and white striped awnings over the windows. “So you like humans?”

“Yes. I am always surprised by what you have accomplished. And what you continue to accomplish,” Irena said, then frowned, bothered by her own answer.

If she was always surprised, did that mean her expectations were low? Did she expect so little of humans? She hadn’t thought so.

And pulling apart her responses wasn’t good for her. She hadn’t doubted or questioned herself this much in centuries.

“You see the bad, don’t you?” Taylor broke into her thoughts.

“Like this job. If they aren’t scum, then they’re self-centered or just . . . out of control.”

“I see the worst of humanity, yes. But I also see the best.” And everything in between. Most of it was in between.

“Do you even consider yourself human anymore?”

“No.” She met Taylor’s surprised glance. “Because I am not. A human’s free will is always honored. A Guardian’s is not.”

“Is that the only distinction you make?”

“Distinctions?” Frustration rattled against her nerves like a knife against her teeth. “What good are distinctions? There is no comparison to be made. No humans train for a century as Guardians do. No humans live sixteen centuries. Or longer,” she added, thinking of Michael. “Are Guardians what humans would be if they had longer lives? Or have we been changed in an even deeper way by the transformation? It is impossible to know. But I do know that I must honor your free will, and I don’t have to honor a Guardian’s.”

“Or a demon’s? Doesn’t that make you more like them and less like us?”

Irena stared at her.

Taylor sucked in a slow breath between her teeth, as if preparing to run from a predator, but trying not to startle it first. “Forget I said that. Right now, I guess I’m grateful for those Rules.”

Irena forced herself to let go of her anger. Evenly, she said, “Do not compare us to them. We
were
human. If we Fall, we become human again. Demons never were, and never will be.”

“Fair enough.” Taylor nodded. “And when
you
were a human, what were you?”

When they were sitting at a small table by a window, Irena told Taylor about her mother, who’d come from a defeated tribe of people—Irena didn’t know who they’d been. Her memories of life before Rome were only brief flickers sparked by the scent of burning peat, or the gentleness in a father’s voice, or a dog’s sharp bark. Clearer were the years as a slave—and of watching her mother executed after she’d killed the Roman senator who’d raped her daughter.

“Jesus,” was Taylor’s reply, and then she said nothing for several seconds. “But I guess you don’t have to worry about that now.”

“Do you think there has never been a rape in Caelum? A murder?” Irena used her fingers to tear a chunk of bread from the coarse brown loaf between them, and dipped it into the small dish of sweetened butter. Taylor had barely eaten from her share. “They are infrequent, yes. But not everyone transformed has been worthy of their wings.”

“What do you do when that happens? It’s not against the Rules, is it?”

“It is against decency.” Some rules shouldn’t need to be spoken. “There is a trial. If the Guardian is found guilty, we are not forgiving.”

Irena paused, thinking back over several trials she’d witnessed. Michael had never seemed to enjoy administering the sentence—a Fall or an Ascension. Each time, Irena sensed that Michael thought he’d personally failed by transforming the Guardian who’d committed the offense.

But she didn’t know if he had a choice when transforming Guardians. If a human sacrificed himself to save another’s life or soul, Michael was called to offer that human a place in Caelum. He’d never said whether he could resist that call.

Quietly, she continued, “But of course, what you say is true. I do not have the same worry now.” And after her transformation, she’d have given anything to Michael, who’d given her the strength to prevent her body from being taken against her will. Who’d given her the ability to choose who and when. That had been power far greater than her physical strength.

A power that she’d still had with the demon. The demon hadn’t left her without a choice; her heart had. Irena couldn’t regret it—her body meant less to her than her heart—but she should never have had to decide between them.
That
was indecency.

And
that
was on the demon’s head.

His decapitated, charred, and roasted head. Invigorated by the image, Irena cut into her steak.

“So what did you do after your mom died?”

“I endured. I dreamed of killing them all, but when I finally got the opportunity, I escaped Rome, instead. We traveled—” She frowned, trying to remember how long it had taken. “More than two winters. We walked from Rome until we reached the Black Sea—what is now the Ukraine. There, we settled. Or attempted to. I don’t know if we remained after the nosferatu attacked us.”

“You killed one?”

Irena shook her head. “I died trying, but injured it badly enough that I saved the others. After Michael arrived, he finished what I’d started.”

“Yay, Michael,” Taylor said, then set her fork down next to her half-finished pasta.

Irena continued eating. Always, with food, she wanted to savor it—and also wanted to devour it as quickly as possible. She kept a steady pace as Taylor called Preston and left a message for him, updating their progress.

“They must still be in with Rael’s staff.” Taylor put away her phone. “You were pissed in Lilith’s office this morning. Why?”

Irena snorted. “Which time?”

“When they were going through Cordoba’s assignments. Do you think they’ve loaded too much on him?”

Irena had to laugh. At Taylor’s questioning look, she said, “No. And I wasn’t angry; I was envious. I have a territory, I check in on the vampire communities and slay any demons that I come across, but my numbers are nothing like Olek’s. Cordoba’s.”

Taylor’s brow creased. “So Lilith was just sticking it to you?”

Irena didn’t know if Lilith or Alejandro had thought of going over his assignments in front of her. It was something both would do. And it was both challenge and declaration, though a subtle one: If Irena would be visiting SI more frequently, then they would use her.

“They know I want more to do. But I am stubborn, and Lilith or Ol—Cordoba will give me assignments in another way.”

“You don’t seem the type to take orders from Lilith.”

Her stomach heaved at the thought. “Not orders. Information, which I choose to act upon.”

She wouldn’t ignore it, just as she wouldn’t have ignored Deacon’s request even if she hadn’t known the vampire.

“You won’t work for SI?”

“No.” Irena lost her humor. “Not with Rael behind it.”

Taylor nodded and her gaze fell to Irena’s empty plate. “The sniper rifle was a semiautomatic. No one knows we found the weapon; that info wasn’t released. And Wren might have said all that shit just to throw us off—to make it look like she’s trying to help us, when really she’s just covering her own ass—but there’s also another option: The guy only shot once because he didn’t miss. Then you’ve got the
appearance
of an attempted assassination on the congressman, which I bet he can spin to the voters a million ways, but the wife was always the real target. No one looks at Rael because, well, he was shot, too. And even if someone does, no jury is going to buy that he put himself in the line of fire. Not unless everyone finds out he’s a demon . . . but if that happens it all goes to hell, doesn’t it?”

Irena regarded her quietly. “You would make a fine Guardian.”

“Oh, good. Even if we nail him on the evidence at some point, he’s not going down for it—but it’s all right because I’d look great with wings and leather garter belts and thigh-highs. Lifetime goal, achieved.”

Irena continued looking at her, wondering about the vampire Khavi had predicted—and if, instead of wings, fangs would be in Taylor’s future. Had Khavi mentioned death? Or had Michael—and Irena—just assumed it?

Not that it mattered. They would change whatever fate it was. No human should be transformed against their will.

The detective sighed. “Shit. No offense.”

“I took none.”

Taylor checked her watch. “We’re due at Rael’s place in twenty. How do I go after him?”

A demon who’d lived as a saint? Who had made creating the appearance of a good man the work of a human’s lifetime? Irena thought it over as she finished off the bread.

“Do not go after him,” she decided. “Question him as if it never occurred to you that he might be behind his wife’s assassination.”

“Why?”

“There is a demon beneath the man he shows to everyone. One who wants credit for what he did.
If
he did it. And even if he did not, he will at least expect that we suspect him. Or that you do. If
I
do not, he will suspect
us
.” Irena stopped, realizing that she was heading into a circle and confusing herself; planning a deception did not fit her well. She barged through on the course she wanted. “But when you do not do the same—act as if you suspect him—his ego and his pride will be damaged. It might lead him to act in a way where he exposes himself.”

“Do you think he’d be that careless?”

“No.”

Taylor fell into another of her silences as Irena paid for their lunch with one of the credit cards Olek had given her. As they headed back to the car, she felt Taylor’s sudden tension.

“Someone’s in the back seat of my car.”

Irena recognized the dark braids, the stunning face. “It is Khavi.”

“Prophecy Girl?”

“Yes.”

Taylor didn’t hide her irritation. She dropped into the driver’s seat and slammed her door. “You’ve broken into police property. I should haul your ass to the station.”

“I broke nothing. I teleported.”

“Then teleport out.” Taylor backed out of the parking spot.

“And fasten your seat belt, or I’ll cite you just for the fun of it.” She frowned at Irena. “You, too.”

Strapped to a seat, facing forward with Khavi behind her? No. Irena continued sitting sideways, watching the grigori. By the time they were driving along the street, Taylor’s irritation had turned to anger.

So did Irena’s. “What do you want, demon spawn?”

Khavi’s gaze remained fixed on the back of the detective’s head. “Will you not ask me about Jason? I have seen futures in which you ask.”

Taylor’s face paled. “Then I’m going to change that.”

Khavi’s Gift rushed out in a powerful wave. “And so you have. But even if you never ask, the answer is the same: He will never wake up.”

Taylor slammed the brakes. Irena flew forward, cracking her head against the window. Through the stars exploding behind her eyes, she saw Taylor whip around, her gun pointed at Khavi’s face.

“Get out! Get the fuck out
now
!”

Khavi vanished.

Her eyes wet, Taylor faced forward and holstered her weapon. She spared Irena a glance, then looked again. “Jesus.”

Irena wiped at the blood streaming down her forehead. Until the laceration healed, vanishing the blood from her face and clothes was pointless. “It looks bad. But it is nothing.”

The detective’s expression hardened. “Screw
nothing
. I listen to you about Wren, about Rael, all your goddamn centuries of experience. Next time, you fucking listen to mine when I tell you to buckle up.” She started driving. After a minute, her lips twitched. “Are you okay?”

Irena started to laugh. Yes, she liked some humans very much.