Demon Forged (42 page)

She glanced at Joe and asked before she could stop herself, “Would you become one of them—one of the Guardians?”

“In a heartbeat.” Joe studied her face. “Are you worried about this prophecy thing?”

“No.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Let’s go see if we can find some coffee from a field that’s been proudly slashed and burned.”

No one knew where Rosalia was, or how to reach her. But since Irena was back in her territory and had to visit Prague’s new community leader anyway, she would drop in on Eva and Petra first. She knew Deacon cared for them; he might have kept in touch.

If nothing else, she’d find out why they hadn’t stood by him.

She arrived in Prague a few minutes after sunset, and flew directly to Deacon’s place on the north side of the city. She landed behind the tall stone building as the sun’s orange glow faded from the sky. Thirty years ago, Deacon had converted the second floor of a textile factory into a living area for him and his partners. Through the square, barred windows on the ground floor, she saw the two antique automobiles Deacon had been restoring—both sat abandoned, tools still laid out on a cloth spread over the hood of the vehicle in the first bay.

Irena frowned and vanished her wings, feeling the first stir-rings of unease. Those cars were Deacon’s; they didn’t belong to the community, and his personal property wouldn’t be transferred to the new community leader after he’d been defeated. Why hadn’t he at least made arrangements to have them stored until he could come back for them?

Khavi appeared beside Irena as she was walking up the steps to the apartment. The small woman was almost swimming in a bright yellow slicker and boots. Rain from wherever she’d teleported still streaked the plastic.

Irena paused to let the demon spawn go ahead of her. “Why are you here?”

“Because I finally have enough boats in my cache.”

Boats? Irena eyed the back of Khavi’s braided hair. Two thousand years in Hell
had
driven the grigori insane.

Irena knocked, then used her Gift to unbolt the locks when the vampires didn’t answer. The scent of stale air and old blood filled her lungs. Destruction met her eyes.

The living room and a portion of the library had been torn apart. Beside an overturned sofa, a body-sized, irregular patch of dried blood discolored a cream rug. Deacon’s blood, Irena realized. She’d assumed he’d been challenged at one of the community’s gathering places, but Deacon had been beaten here in his home. Perhaps that explained why Eva and Petra weren’t at the apartment—and hadn’t been for some time. They might have felt too vulnerable to stay.

An hour later, she’d crossed the city four times, and had to face the terrible truth: It wasn’t just Eva and Petra;
all
of the community was gone. She hadn’t detected a single psychic whiff, let alone a living vampire.

She left the final, empty gathering spot, her hands in fists, ready to fight—but no one was here. Khavi tromped along next to her, ridiculous in her yellow slicker. Irena could not even sneer at the grigori; at that moment, her dislike of the demon spawn wasn’t half as sharp as the hate she directed at herself.

She should have come earlier. She should have come back when Deacon said he’d been beaten by a nosferatu-born vampire. She’d wondered then if it had been a demon masquerading as a vampire; she shouldn’t have assumed that Deacon’s impressions had been right. Maybe a demon could temporarily fake cold hands; maybe, in the midst of being pulverized by a demon’s fists, a vampire could mistake their temperature. Maybe it had been one of the nephilim.

But she couldn’t linger here and try to flush out the demon. She had other communities to visit and to warn.

Then she had to find Deacon and tell him what she feared.

She turned, looked out over the city, felt the cold bite of the night wind against her cheeks. Maybe, after the change in leadership, the community had just moved to another location. Maybe one of the other communities would have heard.

She could not even convince herself of it.

With a heavy heart, she glanced at Khavi. Teleporting to the other communities would be faster.

“You will ask,” Khavi said and held out her hand. “I will say yes.”

Rael waited before coming to SI, but no longer than Alejandro had anticipated. Just enough time had passed—the time it might take for a close-mouthed butler to give in and tell her employer why Bradshaw had asked her to come in for an additional interview. Of course Wren hadn’t, but Rael claimed she did. And in Rael’s place, Alejandro would have done the same thing.

Knowing that didn’t bother him; thinking like the demon would be an asset later. He escorted Rael into the conference room where Preston and Taylor waited and took the opportunity to study the demon’s walk, the way he nodded as he greeted the detectives. Alejandro knew Rael called his receptionist by her first name and his personal assistant by his surname. Later, he’d watch recordings from the floor of the Senate, interviews, and campaign speeches.

But the congressman wouldn’t be the same. He’d sell his house and take a modest apartment in the city. He wouldn’t be as outgoing, he wouldn’t smile much, and he wouldn’t attend as many functions. He’d be passionate about his work, focused— if somewhat solitary. The changes would be blamed on his recent personal loss. Grief would do that to a man.

Not a demon. Rael sat at the conference table with barely contained energy, like a child waiting for a gift.

He spread his hands as he addressed the detectives sitting at the end of the table. “I’ll get right to it. You are looking at my personal head of staff, Maggie Wren. You’re looking in the wrong direction.”

Alejandro rested his back against the wall directly across from the demon. “That is not what the evidence suggests,” he said.

Rael’s frown managed to be both earnest and irritated. “Then you aren’t looking hard enough, Guardian. I don’t expect
you
to take my word for this—but she’s a good woman.”

“She was an assassin. She made her living by murdering humans,” he said, laying it on thick.

Alejandro saw a distinct difference between government assassins and murderers, but he preferred Rael to think of him as a narrow-minded, sanctimonious Guardian. The demon would be less likely to expect what came later.

“You don’t believe a human deserves a second chance? That’s all I’ve wanted, to offer her—” He broke off. In a human, Alejandro might have believed the suppressed display of emotion. “You must see that this is the work of a demon—one of Lucifer’s followers—who is looking to hurt me, and to discredit me and mine. And the FBI are following the clues they’ve laid like dogs. You need to dig deeper—”

Khavi appeared at the end of the room, with Irena beside her, blinking through her disorientation. Rael’s shock hit Alejandro’s psychic shields.

“Khavi!” The demon’s greeting was surprised and welcoming.

And Alejandro believed
that
display of emotion. A leaden weight formed in his gut. “You know each other?”

Preston sat forward, as if uncertain whether he should be standing—either because the women had appeared or to get out of the way. Irena began to walk along the table on Rael’s side, toward the detectives.

“Yes,” Khavi said, making no effort to approach the demon. “He was a friend to Zakril, Anaria, Aaron, and me in the centuries after Michael ordered Anaria’s execution. We hid from the Doyen together, fought together.” Her smile was sharp. “It is lovely to see that he is a friend to the Guardians again.”

As if uneasy, Rael looked away from Khavi. He glanced to his side, as if just noticing Irena walking past him. For an instant, he seemed surprised again. He quickly recovered, flashed his smile at her, and turned away from her to look at Khavi again.

Idiot,
Alejandro thought.

Irena smashed the demon’s face into the table. The impact cracked as loud as a gunshot. Taylor jumped up, her hand flying to her weapon. Preston rocked back in his chair, his face slack with surprise.

Her muscles visibly straining, Irena held the demon down, her fingers clamped over the back of his head. “I am not your friend. And when the time comes, I
will
kill you.”

Rael forced his head up. Blood dripped from his nose, his mouth. His teeth clenched, he gripped her arm, and tossed her over the table. Apparently finished, Irena went without resistance. She landed on her feet beside Alejandro.

Rael laughed as he stood, holding a white handkerchief over his nose. He glanced at Khavi. “You will tell her, I hope, that she has not a chance of defeating me.”

“Oh, you are safe from her. She does not slay you.” Khavi’s eyes softened. “Anaria will.”

Rael’s smile faltered. Khavi vanished.

Alejandro thought Rael appeared almost lost for moment. Then the demon recovered, and looked across the table.

“Please remember what I said about Maggie. You’re looking in the wrong place.”

He left. Alejandro followed him to the door, and watched until the demon reached the hub and turned for the exit. He looked over at Irena.

You don’t have your cell phone?
he signed.

Where the device was absolutely useless. But he let it go. Trouble darkened her eyes—he didn’t think Rael had been the cause. The demon had only been the recipient of her frustration.

Christ.
The nephilim?

Guilt weighed heavily in her psychic scent. Alejandro signed,
Ames-Beaumont and Savitri are scheduled to be here after sunset. We’ll use their contacts. Perhaps they will uncover something.

At the table, Preston cleared his throat. They both glanced his way.

“So . . . is anyone else sitting here wondering if maybe we are looking in the wrong direction?”

Irena frowned. Alejandro quickly summarized Rael’s visit.

“Oh.” Irena turned back to the detectives and sighed. “He is very good at what he does.”

“Maybe. So he sets Wren up in the most obvious way, then comes to argue against it. Why?”

“Because playing with us gives him pleasure,” Alejandro said.

Taylor’s gaze was steady. “There’s no doubt in your mind? Castleford couldn’t have misread the video or Wren?”

“No,” he and Irena said together. She continued, “Demons were made to create doubt. That is what they do. And so Rael has.”

Taylor and Preston exchanged a glance. Alejandro couldn’t read that look, but they seemed to settle something between them when Taylor shrugged.

Irena must have thought so, too. She turned back to him. “Rael was surprised to see Khavi. Did he not know she was alive?”

Alejandro didn’t think Rael had known. But he was more interested in the demon’s reaction to Irena’s appearance. “He was surprised to see Khavi
and
you.”

He watched her take that in. Alejandro had wondered that morning, during Rael’s conversation with Taylor, if the demon had known of the nephilim’s attack on Irena. He hadn’t been sure then, but seeing Rael’s surprise here had erased his uncertainty.

Irena’s brow creased as she asked the same question that plagued him. “How did he know?”

Taylor stood. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about, and we’re going to leave you to figure it out. We’ve got some things back at the station to take care of.”

Sundown was in less than an hour. Taylor wouldn’t be leaving here without protection.

Alejandro met Irena’s eyes. She raised her brows, silently asking if he had other obligations. He shook his head. “Have you had an opportunity to speak with Jake?”